#so this will be the last time in a while things change this much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leonarecs · 4 hours ago

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PIZZA. this was such a fucking masterpiece, i’m in tears and i haven’t even gotten to part two yet??? i know how much love and soul and dedication you poured into this fic and it truly was so so fucking worth it. i think i told you this before when you first sent me bits and pieces of this fic, but seriously, i can feel every bit of the reader’s heartache in this. its so potent and real and i feel so incredibly honored to be friends with such a talented person!! okie now let’s get into this…

the way he melts when he looks at her 😭 ‘best friends’ my ass, he was so down bad for her from the very start, UGH they’re so dumb

His fingers hook over the spine of the book, pulling it down to see your sweet face. “Hey there Ace.”

THE WAY I SQUEALED AAAAHHHHHHJFH this is the cutest fucking thing it’s so romcom coded i’m gonna burst. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, you always include the tiniest details that make me go insane!!!

“You know I hate that damn nickname. It’s not a good representation of me. You’re going to scare off my prized possessions with the softness.”

okay first of all, that’s a LIE, you love the nickname, and second, FUCKING EWWWWW “prized possessions” I’M GONNA THROW UPPPP HE’S SUCH A MAN 🤢🤢🤢

HE. COULD. ONLY. FALL. ASLEEP. IN. HER. ARMS. SHE HELPED HIS NIGHTMARES GO AWAY. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. i genuinely don’t know how to put my feelings into words at this moment so i’m just going to shut up and use memes instead.

It stung he’d never considered you an option, someone willing to open his doors, to melt the hardened rock that caged his heart, to patch it up with a warmness he deserved. But maybe it was your fault for always being available, too in reach, desperate for any time he threw your way. Mattheo loved the chase and if he was a dog, you were about as exciting as a flobberworm.

i’ll never get over how good you are at capturing emotion like this. no exaggeration, this is just so beautiful and i can feel my heart aching for her. ‘never even considered you an option,’ OUCH IF ONLY YOU KNEW. and her thinking she’s not exciting to him. babe, this is the chase of the century to me.

You felt it too, feeling like the two of you shared something special, but nothing ever changed, nothing more ever came.

I CAN’TTTT, THE WAY SHE KNOWS THEY HAVE SOMETHING BUT SHE CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT PLEASE

And so you were stuck with just watching from afar as he broke your heart, shattering it into tiny grains of sand slipping through your fingers into an hourglass. That turned over and over at each new glimpse of hope, an endless time loop that had you feeling useless.

no words. just in complete adoration of this metaphor and your brain.

His courteous and considerate nature was at large all day, making sure your basket was full of every Honeyduke flavoured candy, to reaching for magical assortments on the highest shelf in Zonkos.

i’m melting at the way he spoils her goodnight

Swarmed by a couple of girls stalling his exertion of returning to you, though he’s chatting away to them happily as if he has all the time in the world.

oh. yeah i take that last part the fuck back. the fact that he’s not even thinking about how she’s waiting outside in the cold for him while he’s just talking to other bitches? i can’t tell if my heart is aching or filling with something that says ‘punch him.’

Dean widens his grin, finding yours utterly gorgeous. “Going in right?”

DEANNN YOU BEAUTIFUL GENTLEMAN, COME SAVE THE DAY PLEASEE

oh, mixed feelings here. glad he’s jealous, upset that he ruined my moment of happiness 😾

He wouldn’t allow anyone unworthy to take up a moment of your time, and a lousy shithead, Gryffindor, definitely didn't tick the box.

oh please, dean is the furthest thing from a shithead 🙄✋

AUGHSHFH I JUST—… this pisses me off bc he’s such a hypocrite, expecting her to be completely his and give all her attention to him when he doesn’t do the same in return for her. but also… i love a possessive man what can i say 🥹 it’s one of my flaws. ‘down your adorable face’ ADORABLE EEHGFHASFG I’M GONNA CRY

He’ll find himself outside your dorm as if the hallway is lit with a thousand glowing signs guiding him.

this is incredibly random but the thought came to me so i have to say it. you know in the movie brave, how those little blue whisps guided merida to wherever she needed to go? thats what i’m imagining right now

“S‘good to me, Ace.” He pushes himself up further into the bosoms of your chest, his arm dangling heavily over your shoulder and his own fingers tickle the nape of your neck. “Don’t know what I'd do without you.”

i’m hurting rn

mattheo when asked to explain his feelings for reader ^^

Dean, like Mattheo, was stuck on the interaction, daydreaming about the small, fond moment he shared with you. How your smile had warmed your face with a radiance unlike any other he’d seen before

AWWWWSAGSDS HE’S SO CUTE

When he had heard through the grapevine that Eli, his closest Hufflepuff friend, had grown and started a routine studying session with you twice a week. He practically leaps at the chance and the boy to let him tag along

do men actually do this too? i thought only girls daydreamed about tiny little moments and conspired plans to meet their crushes like this 🤯

The conflicting rising affections for Dean begin to sprout vines along the already fortified stone wall Mattheo has set inside your heart.

THIS SENTENCE HELLO????? i’m in awe its such good imagery

His laugh only deepens, and he reaches over grabbing the cutlery, “Let me you damn klutz.” You watch his hands grip the silverware, his veins popping prominently under the flex of his movements.

CUTTING HER FOOD FOR HER THE DOMESTICITY I’M SOBBINGGGHGHG also the veins omg i came

“Want me to feed you too, Ace.”

yes actually yes please

A multitude of inappropriate names and answers filter to the forefront of your brain, like a slideshow that practically screams ‘You’re horny for your best friend!'

LMFAOOOOO my mind right now: daddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddy

A habit he undeniably loves, only wishing it was his lips you were so sensually nipping.

ok now i’m horny again that’s not fair 😐 you can’t play with my emotions like this

“You giving me attitude now, little brat?.” He grabs your head into a tight headlock, rustling his knuckle into the crown of your hair, envisioning putting you in your place in an alternative method.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME I’M CUMMING AND WE HAVEN’T EVEN DONE ANYTHING JSDHFJFGHSDJGFFSDKG

“Yeah, it should be entertaining. Kind of hoping to use it as an excuse to finally get that stuck-up bitch Everly, to at least let me get to second base. No offense.. to women.”

the way i would fucking drag this man out to the courtyard by the hair… god give me patience he’s so fucking GROSS FOR SAYING THAT, TF YOU MEAN STUCK UP??? gonna slap him… on a lighter note, this also made me giggle a little bc that last bit reminded me of diary of a wimpy kid, the part where the mom finds a magazine rodrick had with a bikini model on the front and she was like “do you have anything you want to say to women for having owned this offensive magazine?” and he was like “… i’m sorry, women” LMFAOOOOO

The casual standby and unbothered appearance tightens his chest knowing you don’t care what he does with girls. It breaks him never getting a real reaction, and only fuels his conclusions regarding you only seeing him platonically.

oh so he says this shit to her on purpose. to make her jealous. to get a reaction. FUCK. YOU. but also omg feelings 🤗

It pains him to utter the next few words, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t tag along, of course. You know I'd never ditch my number one girl.”

FUCKKKK YOUUU DUDE IF I WAS YOUR NUMBER ONE GIRL YOU’D BE GOING WITH ME INSTEAD OF TELLING ME TO “TAG ALONG” AND THIRD WHEEL

“You have a date?” He cuts you off with a little hostility.

the italics on ‘you’ pain me, like he thinks it’s impossible for someone to like her (ik that’s not what his thoughts are but that’s how it feels to her ☹️)

No fucking way. He looks between you and back to Dean, feeling an upchuck of jealousy gurgle in his stomach. The clocks churn, working overtime to filter through his memories. The same dazed smile you cast to him in Hogsmeade reflects on your expression as you wave back.

he’s suchhhh a fucking hypocrite, i love the jealousy but he’s so annoying

He’s not used to this kind of hostility from you, and while he feels a wave of pride, he can’t wrap his head around you getting angry at him over the sake of a Gryffindor.

HIM BEING INTERNALLY PROUD OF HER FOR SPEAKING UP FOR HERSELF UGHGHGGHG MY HEART

He walks with Everly confidently hanging off his arm, looking like a sparkly prized charm that, you know, means his eyes won't be anywhere but on her.

it hurts please stop, one second i’m swooning and the next i want to be far far away from him

He's as attractive as ever, dressed in all black. His curls look decent for once, coiled neatly, which might have made you swoon, but you can't help question if she did it for him.

instantly i thought of this pic

What he really needed was you, a nice tall glass to satisfy his thirsting desire. His eyes linger on you for another moment. You look nice. Who’s he kidding? You look gorgeous. It’s such a simple outfit and yet it suits your figure so well. He doesn’t know the last time he saw you so dressed up, definitely never for himself like that.

YEAHHHHH BITCH NOW YOU’RE HORNY FOR ME SUCK IT UP 🖕

He wanted to stand beside you now as the group moved to the stage and scream the lyrics with you in each other's faces. He wanted to have your smile directed at him and be the one to spin you, listening to your infectious laugh meant for only him.

stop now i’m imagining them doing just that and i want to cry. they’re so fucking cute together.

But Dean isn’t one to back down from a little intimidation, and eyes him, “I see what this is about. You're jealous, aren’t you?”

call his ass out king

In the split second the word leaves Dean's lips, Mattheo connects his fist with his nose. There’s a loud crack of the bone and Dean yelps, grasping it as blood streams covering his fingers.

IT TOOK TWO SECONDS FOR HIM TO SNAP OMGGGNDGHG

He meets your gaze, his eyes lighting up at seeing you noticing him properly, but then you’re walking towards him hastily. He has little time to escape before the familiar pulling pain shoots from his ear down and he yelps, cursing.

I’M CRYINGGG NOT THE EAR PULL LMFAOOOO I LOVE HER

“He doesn’t even like you, y/n, he’s still hung up on his ex - I don’t know why you’re wasting time with him anyway, you’re not that oblivious, are you?”

that’s so fucking mean

“Fine. I can see I’m not wanted.” He’s bitter and heartbroken as you completely disregard him with no trust. But he holds his tongue further, not wishing to damage the ship. “I’ll stay out of your way to avoid ruining your life further.”

my heart is literally clenching shut up. why do i feel bad for him right now when he literally did this to himself.

You had been the one to ask Dean.

WHAT A FUCKING WAY TO END IT OH MY GOD. the fact that he only processed that part when he got back to his dorm?? the fact that he was trying not to CRY?? i’m so done.

jfc i’m scared to get to part two, BUT i know we have a happy ending so its okay, i can power through 🙏 i currently feel the same way that i did as a child after watching that spongebob episode where gary ran away, i need to—

She will be loved

Sum: Reader is hopelessly and madly in love with her best friend Mattheo while constantly having her heart broken living in the shadows of other girls. Unaware that he’s hiding a secret and unable to express the truth about how he feels for her too. Wc: 8.7 k

Warn: This is part one, as it was so long, I decided to break it up. angst, (V angsty I guess), fluffy, use of Ace nickname, one mention of blood, bit of y/n in there, swearing - you will probably be unhappy with Mattheo in this part. Eli, Everly and the eloquent editorial are all made up by me.

A/n: inspired by the song she will be loved for my delayed milestone!!! (apologises for those who have been here since april ilysm!!) I also listened to butterflies which I think encapsulates their relationship more! dividers from here & here 🩵

You watch with eyes peering over the book, keeping yourself conspicuous while your heart clenches once again at the way he talks to her. The arrogant smirk, the subtle touches and sultry words that leave his sweet lips, and she’s caught hooked as he digs his fangs into another victim. Bagging another venture for some late-night plans, watching the way his hands squeeze her hip in farewell before he turns, and his eyes shift their gaze.

Dark and brooding, his eyes scan through the crowds of students like an eagle targeting its prey before they relax set on you. As he makes his way ambling towards, his eyes soften, his lips curving upwards, at the crouched position you sat. You avert your gaze downwards to the words you’ve continuously reread appearing busy on his arrival.

His fingers hook over the spine of the book, pulling it down to see your sweet face. “Hey there Ace.”

With nowhere to hide, you drop the novel and grin up at him. All feelings of hurt wash away as you greet your best friend. “Hi Matty.” His lips curl scoffing at the nickname, with an over dramatic eye roll, and he plants himself beside you with exhaust, leaning back into the bench seat.

“You know I hate that damn nickname. It’s not a good representation of me. You’re going to scare off my prized possessions with the softness.” His lips mumble out, pursuing a cigarette between them, his hands covering the end to light it.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at his careless habit, “and you know I hate when you smoke. Can’t win every battle.” You ignore his comment about the girls he likes to collect as trophies. It’s easier if you pretend your feelings for him don’t exist.

His eyes light up in amusement at the remark, “Touché little Acey.” Pulling back the cigarette, he playfully blows his next exhale in your face, making you fan it with your book. A deep chuckle cascades out of him smooth like honey, and you swoon internally as it vibrates from his body to yours.

His eyes stare off into the distance, thinking for a moment, and you take the time to study his features. Something you often did, unable to help yourself from admiring the boy you loved. He was gorgeous. But of course he knew that, and so did every other girl in school.

Sometimes you wonder how life would be if you had never stumbled upon the then frightened boy hidden out in the wooden dockyards. If the two of you had never bonded so closely, then maybe you would have had a chance with him, too.

Despite sharing similar trauma, one of the mainframes of your relationship, you still felt he was holding back. Not that he couldn’t trust you, but someone who has gone without love for so long, struggled with giving it and even harder to receive it without any doubt.

It brought him comfort knowing you would always be there for him, always when he was in trouble, a helping hand, a guiding light. At times, he felt like you were the only one he could go to.

For you, it was a curse and a blessing. You loved him truly as a friend always. But something lay deep beneath those friendly feelings, a growing sensation that burned in your heart.

It cut deep to know Mattheo was hurting too, every time he would lie quietly in your arms. A homely embrace that often was the only way he could fall asleep, the treacherous nightmares finally blurring away into nothing but distant dust particles. He’d never been fully able to express the gratitude he held for you being in his life, in how you made him feel seen like he finally was someone of importance and not for his lineage.

Someone who mattered and deserved to be loved. Even if he continued to suffer in denial over his conflicting thoughts about you as more than a friend, that kind of emotion never came easy for him to express. He’d freeze up as if Medusa herself had flashed her eyes, turning him instantly to stone. His palms clammed up, heart slowed and in the end he’d brush it off with a joke and bury those ambivalent feelings.

But the way he felt for you was nothing like anything he’d ever experienced for anyone. You were kind and compassionate, with a heart of pure gold; the complete opposite of him. As far as he believed. He cared for you like you were kin, a treasured item with the utmost value, and it was his duty to protect. It was the only way he knew how to articulate those weakened feelings, soft thoughts of vulnerability taught to hinder.

So he acted like a dragon, almost guarding you fiercely, and sometimes a little cold even to you by being overprotective. His loyalty and possessive nature grew stronger over your years at Hogwarts. The fear of destruction lingering behind every action, spiking his anxiety controling him like a puppet on a string, the dread of losing you dangling dangerously.

If something were to happen and he was the one to watch your bright flame flicker and extinguish because of the chaotic whirlwind that is his life, he’d never forgive himself. It didn’t matter anyway, he had all but virtually convinced himself that you felt nothing for him but brotherly love. So he kept you at a distance, not allowing anything to fester outside of platonic.

His eyes dark and contemplative glimpse down the corridor, admiring the newest gaggle of girls who flocked, his hair moving with the calm breeze that floats through the concrete archways. Students bustle around between the transfiguration courtyard, moving with enthusiasm for what the weekend brings as classes wrap up for the day. You can't tear your eyes off how he checks them out despite already scoring a date for later. Your jealousy is so potent it's a good thing he can’t smell it.

You knew he was wounded, seeking enrichment and attention through women. A way to fill his emptiness from the absence of love he sought. It stung he’d never considered you an option, someone willing to open his doors, to melt the hardened rock that caged his heart, to patch it up with a warmness he deserved. But maybe it was your fault for always being available, too in reach, desperate for any time he threw your way. Mattheo loved the chase and if he was a dog, you were about as exciting as a flobberworm.

He was a boy with a broken smile, and to most it seemed to only stretch wider when you were near. You felt it too, feeling like the two of you shared something special, but nothing ever changed, nothing more ever came. And so you were stuck with just watching from afar as he broke your heart, shattering it into tiny grains of sand slipping through your fingers into an hourglass. That turned over and over at each new glimpse of hope, an endless time loop that had you feeling useless.

“I saw you got partnered in potions with that Badger boy. How’s that going?” His voice slices through your thoughts, redirecting your mind to the present, and you blink away the tattered heartbreak. His eyes are now observing you, lips sucking in the nicotine he badly craves, before his head falls to flick the butt against the seat.

You don’t catch his own undertone of jealousy laced in his curiosity, for it wasn’t odd of Mattheo to pay attention to how guys acted around you. You were, after all, someone significant to him. “Oh Eli? yeah, he’s fine. We’ve got plans to study in the library this weekend.”

“You can’t. We have plans.” He rebuttals hastily, his voice low with a hint of seriousness that means don’t push him. His eyes study your reaction, letting out a drag before he continues, “Come on, I think it’s time I owe you that trip to Hosgmeade together. I know how badly you want to go.” He raises a brow, flashing you a boyish grin, his seriousness simmering with hopes of convicing.

The suddeness in which he jumps at your long ago suggestion, one you’ve been pestering him about for weeks. The one always met with a shrug and a sheepish sorry-excuse decline that he has other things planned. A small frown forms in confusion, till you toss the idea over and the mere idea that he’s finally free to go with you overturns the doubt and you mirror his smile, excited and giddy.

The idea now blooming in your chest of spending a whole weekend with Mattheo. His smile widens at the fact he knows you so well, and he gets you out of your plans. “Okay, yeah, I’m sure Eli won’t mind waiting. We were getting ahead of ourselves, anyway.”

The day spent in Hogsemade went fast, a wonderful speed drive of hyper adrenaline that radiated deep in your chest. It was a dream, everything you’d imagine a date with Mattheo would be like. Which was a problem, because this most definitely wasn’t a date.

Mattheo was a notorious charmer. For someone who grew up with unusual and pratically zero social contact, he was surprisingly quick on his feet. He knew the way to sweep and woo a girl with the subtlety of a chameleon, and the ability to match anyone's aura as easily as alternating his colours.

His courteous and considerate nature was at large all day, making sure your basket was full of every Honeyduke flavoured candy, to reaching for magical assortments on the highest shelf in Zonkos. All little thoughtful things that had made you woozy with delusion and a pounding heart that rang out like smashing symbols repeatedly.

Mattheo, though he might never admit it, was always subtly paying attention to you. You were his best friend, and he wanted to keep you near, concealing his longing gazes with reasons of just being defensive. A part of him felt responsible to repay you in the best way he knew how, if not with words of gratitude - avoiding ripping down the robust fortress that protected his vulnerability - he’d be there in other ways that held less hardship on him.

When he excuses himself to the bathroom in the three broomsticks, you decide best to wait outside the inn for him. Huddling near the entrance underneath the roof that overhangs, the last stop of your outing before the two of you head back up to the castle as the afternoon sun sets. The minutes tick by slowly, making you apprehensive and irked, wondering what’s taking him so long. Peering back through the dusty windows, you find the cause of his delay.

He’s nested at the far back of the pub close to the bathrooms, but he’s no longer alone. Swarmed by a couple of girls stalling his exertion of returning to you, though he’s chatting away to them happily as if he has all the time in the world. The usual bitter feelings of neglect and redundancy rise, stirring the once settled butterbeer, now threatening to creep back up and paint the windows.

Turning around with a heavy heart, you lean back on the cool panels, taking a shaky breath to control the hurt you feel. It's not the first time he’s done it, throwing you aside temporarily, replacing you with something more shiny and alluring to him. You’re almost certain he doesn’t do it purposefully, he just gets swept up in having positive attention on him, and well with girls, it's always favourable.

As time turns, those grains of sands sift further through the gap in the hourglass, questioning with logic why you're not just barging in and yanking him out by the ear. The bell goes signalling the exit of customers, and you turn in hope only to find yourself planted in the middle of a loud, deafening talkative group of Gryffindor boys. Alarmed, you step back, attempting to save yourself from being flattened by the load of them as they mingle past you.

Giving polite smiles to the passing lads, you wait patiently, till there's only left still holding the door in offering. He’s easily recognizable with his towering height and his signature kind smile, one that has you feeling as if a thousand rays of sunlight were glowing from deep inside your body, leaving you feeling warm and cozy.

Dean widens his grin, finding yours utterly gorgeous. “Going in right?”

Nodding absentmindedly, you still don't move, a little frozen by his dazzling smile. “Uh huh.”

He tilts his head, studying curiously, his expression shifting into an amused smirk. “You alright y/n?”

“She’s fine. She’s with me.” Mattheo’s voice grabs your attention as he finally appears at the doorway, coldly shoving past Dean, his eyes narrowing into unpleasant slits meeting the Gryffindor's eye. A silent warning that he’s walking a thin line into deathly territory talking to you when he’s present.

He falls back in his place, slinging an arm over your shoulder protectively, and steers you away from the pub without another word to Dean. Looking back, you give a brief goodbye smile to Dean before your undivided attention returns to Mattheo.

“What did he want?” He grumbles, walking with a quicken pace much faster than your legs can keep up with.

“Nothing. He was just leaving the pub too.” Mattheo’s eyes are distant, flickering back between the cobblestones and the castle emerging in the distance.

“What took you so long?” You push for a truthful answer, watching his reaction carefully.

He shoots you a glare, though he can’t help the boyish smirk that shines through. Despite knowing he had made you wait longer than needed, he’ll bend the truth to avoid admitting a fault.

He pulls you in closer with his arm, “I just got stopped by some classmates, no big deal. Quit overthinking Ace.” He ruffles your hair with childlike mannerisms and your nose scrunches, feeling babied, the constant reminder that he sees you as nothing more than a sister.

Contrarily, Mattheo’s mind still lingers on seeing your dazed look radiating from the simple act of kindness Dean had shown you. Defensively, he assured himself that it's probably nothing; you were just being your friendly self.

He swallows, the bitter taste rising, promising himself he wouldn’t let you out of his grasp. You were precious to him. He wouldn’t allow anyone unworthy to take up a moment of your time, and a lousy shithead, Gryffindor, definitely didn't tick the box.

The next few weeks pass in a blur, the seriousness of the potions assignment weighing down on you and Eli. The two of you had worked together seamlessly, coordinating portions of the workload evenly to one another and sharing ideas and discussions together to get it done efficiently.

In the time since working on the Antidote for Veritaserum, Eli and you had grown closer together, strictly platonic. A routine was beginning, finding yourself commonly buried in the library working alongside one another more often than not with an intellectual mutualism.

It was nice to find a common interest with someone outside of Mattheo, as he wasn’t the biggest fan of studying. His interest in it was minimal. Being naturally smart, he found the absence of it didn’t alter his grades and more so a waste of time. Not to mention he had a multitude of other talents that he believed were superior to the education of most Hogwarts classes.

Mattheo wasn’t entirely fond of your new friendship with the puff, stuck in a loop of eye rolls and grumbles when you would escape away from him to the library. Even though he had concluded that Eli was an unworthy and pitiable threat, the idea of your attention suddenly being split from him nagged at the back of his head.

Call him selfish, but with the long history and close bond the two of you shared, he had always felt you were his. His friend, his study partner, his number one supporter at quidditch games, his go to for advice, his favourite person to pester lovingly, to sneak up on or make you laugh so hard tears would stream down your adorable face. He might have not fully comprehended his feelings, continuing to act as though you were nothing more than a friend. But he was still loyal to that possessive idea, and he didn’t want anyone else taking his treasure away.

He had managed so far to brush off his imaginary jealousy for your attention, not wanting to appear clingy or needy for it. Two traits he despises with deep, pure hatred. Never wishing to be associated with the dread of appearing weak or desperate, haunted by his past punishment.

Especially for something so pathetic as this. They had no place in his heart.

His line of vulnerability was already thin enough, and you barely just crossed it being his best friend. But that was when he had the safety net of darkness, all the lights off where he could release a heavy sigh from his chest and into your embrace. In the middle of the night, where it was silent and the only noises were the colliding beats of your hearts and mingled breaths, a world for just the two of you.

Or the occasional times when he’s too drunk to coherently fulfill his plans of hooking up with someone. He’ll find himself outside your dorm as if the hallway is lit with a thousand glowing signs guiding him. The intensity blares his vision, and he’d stumble with his hand lifting to block them. They shine with hope and all things good as he makes his way into your room. Calling your name into the dark, a voice filled with contentment arrived at the epitome of a home.

“Matty?” Bedsheets ruffle and a soft glow illuminates the room at the switch of your lamp, which he profoundly protests at.

“Noooo, turn the light off.” He shields his eyes, still feeling the blur from his invisible imagery, and flops down on your bed. You groan at the pressured weight of him half collapsing on top of you and the vivid stink of his alcohol infused breath, his hands coming to constrict around you in a tight squeeze. “Ace! Turn the light off.”

Grumbling with irritation, you flick the lamp off and sigh heavily under the weight, but when he mumbles a slur of incoherent words to you, the anger melts away. Bringing the familiar soothing hand to his head, your fingers rack through his curls and he sighs peacefully.

His words cause that familiar churn in your heart, even with the understanding of where his words pull from, you can’t help but ache pining for more. As usual, you say nothing to reflect the desperate truth and continue to be only a good friend for him. Comforting him as he spills drunk, vulnerable babbles one after another till he succumbs to the sleep he so severely needs.

And when the morning light shines and wakes him from his slumber, he’d give you the smallest of an indebted smile, that broken smile begging to be loved - a boy clinging to the one radiant thing in his life, completely convinced he’s reached the peak fulfilment of love confined to never earn it romantically before he’s back to the overconfident composed boy with a secret so big he might break if it spills.

Dean, like Mattheo, was stuck on the interaction, daydreaming about the small, fond moment he shared with you. How your smile had warmed your face with a radiance unlike any other he’d seen before and while he knew who you were, he wanted to further that acquaintance. Perhaps friends, though Dean wished for better luck than that.

When he had heard through the grapevine that Eli, his closest Hufflepuff friend - for the mere bonding over the muggle football club, West Ham - had grown and started a routine studying session with you twice a week. He practically leaps at the chance and the boy to let him tag along, with N.E.W.T.S drawing nearer he found himself cumulative by stress and wanting to buckle down.

“Eli! El- wait up.” Surprisingly, the measly boy had a speed like a roadrunner, zipping his way along the hallways up the grand staircase, causing Dean’s larger body to mutter a substantial amount of ‘excuse me’ before he catches up grasping the puff's shoulder. “Bloody hell, you’re fast.”

“Oh hey Dean, where’d you come from?” Eli turns, smiling once he recognizes his friend.

“Just got out of DADA with the Slytherins, anyway I wanted to ask if I could join your next study session. Seamus is snoring a lot and talkin' in his sleep. It's driving me mental mate. I’m so behind on my workload.” Dean huffs out his worries, hoping it seals the deal.

Eli's smile just widens, nodding, “Course! The more the merrier, I'm sure y/n won’t mind. It's just the two of us, anyway, so there's plenty of room on the table!”

Dean grins, pleased, “Cheers, mate.” He presses a bit for further info on you. “So, what’s she like? y/n I mean.” He leans against the banister as the stairwell churns, moving upwards.

“Nice, very nice. She’s super smart too, wouldn’t be able to cover half the material without her…” Eli watches Dean’s expression, noticing the highly engrossed look, and raises a brow with a small laugh. “Is this some sort of set up?”

“W-hat-what? No course not. I need help, really.” Dean smiles widely, trying to appear less suspicious, though he’s not lying. Getting to spend time with you is just a bonus. A very nice bonus.

The library is packed with students, squeezed into every nook and crevice, stressed for the upcoming last few weeks before exams. The table you and Eli accommodated no longer resembled one of dignity—scattered with papers, books, quills laid out among the extra assortments of snacks and water.

“So still cool if my mate joins us today? Seamus is driving him mental! He told me his accent has thickened stronger and he can barely understand him.”

Shaking your head in a no, you laugh at the idea of Seamus Flingans Irish accent becoming more incoherent with how you already struggled to make out what the poor boy was saying. The absence of your usual sleeping routine alters your ability to make the connection of who Seamus’s friend was.

He’s hard to miss when he comes bounding round the towering shelves that lined the interior of the library, with a clear height on himself. His head topples over the other students, beelining towards the two of you. That same contagious smile graces his face, lighting the browns of his eyes to warm ambers and he offers a friendly wave.

“Blimey! The library is bloodyfull today. I’ve never seen so many students here at once.” His voice is smooth and lulling, filled with an enthusiastic kick that zaps the sleep right out of your body.

You sit leaning your head in your palm, nodding in agreement at his observation. “Yeah, cram studying, I guess.”

He grins, opening his books, and takes the moment to glance appreciatively at you. “Nice to see you again, y/n.”

A warm glow of pink flashes under your skin and you nod, “Yeah, you too, Dean.”

Eli watches, noticing the small flustering effect the two of you seem to have on one another, giving Dean an eye, who shoots him one back, telling him to keep it cool. Dean rubs the back of his neck, trying not to gaze too long at you. He hadn’t been into another girl since Ginny Weasely had dumped him for Potter, leaving him gutted and shocked. So spending time slowly easing in with you felt nice compared to the drama of endless fighting he’d had endured with his ex.

The longer the two of you work alongside one over the weeks of sessions, Dean can’t help himself crushing a little deeper on you. The way you talk about your passions with so much enthusiasm, his own face can't help but match your ecstatic smile. He finds you listen well, and he gets to match his own excitement about quidditch and football. The two of you often get distracted chatting about your interests, with Eli having to rein your focus back in.

His warm brown eyes have a habit of igniting the deepest red upon your cheeks and your hands suddenly can’t stop playing with your hair. It feels odd and completely different to how you feel with Mattheo. You find you can’t take your eyes off of him wanting to be the one to see that pearly smile and hear his deep chuckle.

The feeling is refreshing and his attention feels reciprocated, which only makes you glow brighter. For every time you glance at him, he’s already staring back with a slight twinkle, like he finds amusement in your shyness.

Though there’s a part of you that aches with betrayal, with disloyalty, like none other than Mattheo has thrown a cold bucket of water at you. The conflicting rising affections for Dean begin to sprout vines along the already fortified stone wall Mattheo has set inside your heart.

If only you could merge the traits of both boys to make the perfect specimen. You’d take Mattheo’s charm, those moments of compassion he saves for you and the ability to make you laugh even on your darkest days. Added with Dean's patience, kind nature and positive outlook on life and Voilà, you’d never have to deal with these frustrating thoughts again, which have made your head throb.

You decide its best to keep the feelings at bay, under observation and stick to only friendly interactions with Dean outside of sessions. A kind wave in the halls, or a smile over breakfast at the far away tables. It’s not like you want to unravel a new crush to blossom, you just want Mattheo that’s always been true.

But you know you won’t be able to contain the feeling for long. The desperate yearning for attention, for something real and that’s only yours.

The latest bulletin publication in Hogwarts’s eloquent editorial, engrossed the topic of witnesses spotting the popular band Weird Sisters and their crew arriving down in Hogsmeade, sparking school wide chatter. For many, the band hadn’t been seen since the Yule Ball, and their next gig performing this weekend for eighteen plus only made it even more exclusive.

Everywhere you walked the whispers about the wicked gig breezed whispering in your ears, between classes, to the common room and down to the great hall. Where you sat pressed up to Mattheo, the news making this evening's dinner even more packed. He shoots you an amused grin, watching how you struggle to eat your dinner without your elbows flying up.

He lowers the left one, near missing his jaw, and chuckles, “Fuckin hell Ace, trying to finally land a blow to me, huh.”

Embarrassed, you tuck your arms inwards, instantly giving a light apology, thinking up new tactics for how to cut your steak. His laugh only deepens, and he reaches over grabbing the cutlery, “Let me you damn klutz.” You watch his hands grip the silverware, his veins popping prominently under the flex of his movements.

It's hard not to daydream whenever he’s sweet and considerate like this, imagining a life with him away from all the trauma. The two of you, a life of your own, him cutting you dinner and you as his loveable wife. But it’s really watching his hands go to work that makes your mind wander a little more down the lane to the bedroom.

“Want me to feed you too, Ace.” His teasing question interrupts your hopeless fantasy, causing a flush to break rising your neck, and you laugh rolling your eyes at his playful antics. He grins, matching you, glad to know you can always take a joke from him. He puts the cutlery down, his eyes twinkling with lively energy, the spark that makes him feel like himself.

“Just checking, ya know, cause you looked like you were drooling.” An adorable smirk graces his face, watching for your reaction.

Another wave of heat adorns your cheeks and you have to thank Merlin that there are candles in the hall concealing your clear flustering. “Shut up, you sod.”

Reaching over to steal a potato from his plate, you pop it in your mouth and scrunch your nose at him in displeasure. “You little thief. Where are your manners, Ace? And no ‘thank you’ either.” His face feigns disapproval, arching a brow like a disappointed father. His once charming eyes stare down with an intensity that halts your breath.

As subtle as you can you bite your lip and frantically search your mind that's currently occupied in a foggy haze under your aroused state. A multitude of inappropriate names and answers filter to the forefront of your brain, like a slideshow that practically screams ‘You’re horny for your best friend!'

When the words finally find you, you thank Merlin, again, for the rational part of your brain and utters a sarcastic response. “Sorrrry your highness, thank you for your cutlery knight ship.”

He reacts with an eye roll of his own, stealing a potato of yours back, his full cheeks bearing his own cheeky grin. Watching you laugh, he questions the habit of having noted the brief second your teeth had sunk into your lips, something you only did when nervous or in thought. A habit he undeniably loves, only wishing it was his lips you were so sensually nipping.

Your laughs echo around the large hall and you swat at him, shoving a hand up into his face, making him groan in protest. “Watch those grubby fingers! Gonna poke my eye out.”

“Well, stop messing up my hair!” The constant back and forth of your argumentative banter continues until dessert appears and you make a truce for the tradition of sharing a banana split.

“So.. you heard about the gig?” You ask, easing into the next conversation, one you’ve been contemplating since this morning. Heading down to the village on a Saturday night is customary to have a date, especially for an event such as this.

Mattheo takes another spoonful of his ice cream, humming in acknowledgement at the topic. “Yeah, it should be entertaining. Kind of hoping to use it as an excuse to finally get that stuck-up bitch Everly, to at least let me get to second base. No offense.. to women.” He adds.

You should be ticked off about the comment, but you’re completely transfixed on the way your heart has fallen out of your chest. It's laying right there on the ground, a knife shoved in the centre and then it pops like a balloon and the remaining sand runs out of it. Biting back the tears, you give a small nod as he meets your eye, watching as he goes about like nothing has happened, offering you the last bite.

Mattheo raises a brow, offering a kind smile, though he’s watching the way you seem as usual indifferent about his forward encounters. The casual standby and unbothered appearance tightens his chest knowing you don’t care what he does with girls. It breaks him never getting a real reaction, and only fuels his conclusions regarding you only seeing him platonically.

It pains him to utter the next few words, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t tag along, of course. You know I'd never ditch my number one girl.”

Number one girl is right, sitting in your rightful place on top of the podium of his heart. And yet he can never give you the medal just for being here. In his presence, he can never tell you how he truly feels. But it's the next words he hears that cause him critical heart palpitations.

You shake your head, declining his offer to friend zone you, refusing to be the awkward tag along while he gets his dick wet. Thus you lie. “No, it’s alright. I just wanted to ask in case you didn’t. I actually have one-”

“You have a date?” He cuts you off with a little hostility.

The sharpness of his interrogation takes you back, shutting your mouth, eyes fixed on how his one's narrow skeptically. Your brows furrow together with offense. Does he not think you could get a date? Though it's true you don’t have one, he doesn’t know that, so you lie again. “Yes.”

“Who?” The one word spits bluntly.

A loud scoff of disbelief falls from your lips at his audacity to not ask, but demand an answer. Rolling your eyes, you look out around at the other houses, buying yourself time to think of a partner. You spot Dean who meets your gaze and offers a friendly wave.

Mattheo observes, his eyes darkened and fixed on where you look. No fucking way. He looks between you and back to Dean, feeling an upchuck of jealousy gurgle in his stomach. The clocks churn, working overtime to filter through his memories. The same dazed smile you cast to him in Hogsmeade reflects on your expression as you wave back.

“Him?! Dean Thomas asked you?”

How could he not have seen this? All this time he’d been dismissing the notion that he had nothing to worry about, and then it clicks like the last piece of the puzzle. Wherever Eli was, Dean was, too. Every trip to the library he had blown off as just another geek session with your Puffle friend, that slick son of a bitch got you in effect alone. The only place Mattheo wouldn’t dare go. His fists clench, shake with a raging adrenaline and he eyes you hard, waiting for a good reason for this illogical decision.

Shit. Catching Mattheo’s expression from the corner of your eye, your muscles tense, afraid to face him full on. His tone laced with accusation as if you’ve committed treason, which in his eyes it's far worse than that.

But seeing how ticked he is, and the lingering thought that maybe, just maybe, he’s jealous drives you to lie again. “Yes, he did.”

When you meet his eye finally, they’re clouded with a dark, fiery intensity, not detecting any hesitation in your answer. He’s up instantly and you grab his arm to tempt him back down. “Mattheo sit down-“

“Need to have a word with that fucking lowlife. What was he thinking asking you?!”

You. The way he spits the word with animosity causes a deep frown to appear. Was he really that disturbed for you to have a date? Knowing it’s most likely from his short circuit brain reacting with brute protectiveness doesn’t exactly ease your thoughts. What made you so unloveable for you to be forbidden to spend an evening with someone outside of Mattheo? While you felt regret for falsely informing him, the aggravation of his skepticism bruises your heart more and pushes you to defend yourself.

Pulling on his arm harder, you rebuttal with strength, almost sneering the words out of ache. “I can go to a gig with whoever I want. Not sure why you care so much if you have your own date.”

His jaw clenches with a stubbornness not willing to explain his reasonings, sensing the growing tension brewing between you two. He huffs agitated, “That’s besides the point-”

“-I don’t need protection. You don’t need to baby me.”

He can see that you’re not allowing room for argumentation, his eyes tinting with dark coldness swallowing his bitterness. He’s not used to this kind of hostility from you, and while he feels a wave of pride, he can’t wrap his head around you getting angry at him over the sake of a Gryffindor.

"Whatever. I don’t have time for this shit.” He pushes past you, leaving you aghast and hurt.

“Matt-” His name dies on your tongue, watching him retreat without any remorse. You release a deep sigh, forcing down the part of you that reeks of guilt, ceasing the tidal wave of pity urging to wash ashore.

The newfound spite irks, refusing him to control your social interactions and you pick yourself up, marching with determination over to the Gryffindor table. “Hey Dean. Are you going to the gig? Because I was wondering if you wanted to, uh—gowithme?” The adrenaline spits out in a hurried ramble, standing behind the sprightly boy.

Ron snorts, snickering lightly. “What a skitzball,” he mutters to Seamus.

Dean, who had only just turned at your arrival, catches the half rushed question and grins. “Are you asking me to the gig? Like on a date?”

You nod. His smile brightens. “Sure sounds fun!”

You blink, surprised. “Really?” His answer is so straightforward. There’s no teasing or joking, a stark difference from how Mattheo interacts with you.

He laughs nodding, “Yeah really, can’t wait!”

You grin, biting your lip excitedly, “Okay cool, see you then!” Leaving the hall with a light spring in your step, your mood instantly lifted at having a date for the first time.

The following weekend, students of age make their way down to the village crowding around the entrance to Hogs Head, the hosts of this evening. The interior, normally consisting of minimal effort, had surprisingly transformed, outdoing itself for the performance with dark black cloth hanging to encapsulate the atmosphere of a muggle venue. The ceiling is enchanted with glistening disco lights twinkling and streams of smoke that surround the main platform the band will perform on.

Dean grins, offering his arm chivalry out to you, liking the idea of you entering the venue as one. He's chuffed, and a little surprised that you had been the one to initiate, asking him to be your date.

Dean’s fondness for you had continued to bloom, his trips to the library becoming more frequent, happily using every opportunity to get more acquainted. It seemed to be the only time you weren't attached at the hip to Mattheo, and Dean, though not entirely scared of Riddle, didn't want to end up on his shit side.

“Woah, the pub looks wicked, doesn’t it?” He speaks down to you, his voice attempting to be on the softer side still booms with elation.

Laughing sweetly, you nod in agreement, admiring the pub as it fills, people already gathering towards the stage. Dean moves inwards, his arm gently pressing to your back to stop the two of you getting separated.

“Yeah, I’m excited!” Responding with positive optimism for a good night, though you can't help searching around for someone in particular.

Already aware of his date, there's no room for unwanted assumptions to creep in. It's all laid on the table. He’s easily noticeable, entering among his other Slytherin friends and their obnoxious energy suffocating anyone in a one step radiance. He walks with Everly confidently hanging off his arm, looking like a sparkly prized charm that, you know, means his eyes won't be anywhere but on her.

The desperation slithers up your throat, constricting your breath. Thankfully, Dean’s not paying attention caught in his own zone. For when Mattheo scans the floor and his eyes lock on yours, there's no force strong enough to lure your attention from him.

He's as attractive as ever, dressed in all black. His curls look decent for once, coiled neatly, which might have made you swoon, but you can't help question if she did it for him. The bitterness drenches your tongue with the disturbing truth that he’ll always pick someone else over you.

Your heart sinks further, drowning in the waves of pain and ultimately it’s the part of you with any dignity left that turns your focus back to Dean. Mattheo watches how Dean waves over his other mates, his smile widening for a moment at Ginny, and he frowns as you are forced to blend in with his rivals. He rubs his temple, a throbbing headache banging as he fights the battle, evading the pressure rising of hurt and jealousy threatening to breach the surface.

“Fuck off, since when did y/n mingle with the Gryffindorks.” Draco’s disdainful comment snaps Mattheo’s head back as the others identify the reasoning for your absence.

“What did you do?” Theo asks Mattheo bluntly, the crowd roaring, welcoming the band strolling onto the stage.

Mattheo scowls with bitter irritation, snapping louder over the noise. “I didn't do shit. She did that all on her own.”

Theo observes perplexing Mattheo’s response, noting the nonstop chatter you’re spewing to Dean as the two of you move closer to the stage. He leans down to point out whispering, “I doubt it. She hasn’t even waved at you once.”

“Well, maybe she’s too busy fawning over dickhead Dean to give a shit about the rest of us.” Mattheo grits, defensively grouping everyone in to share the fault of his wrongdoings on why you hadn’t said hi.

“I need a fucking drink.” He mutters, his high hopes of smashing dissolving no longer interested in using Everly as a distraction. What he really needed was you, a nice tall glass to satisfy his thirsting desire. His eyes linger on you for another moment. You look nice. Who’s he kidding?

You look gorgeous. It’s such a simple outfit and yet it suits your figure so well. He doesn’t know the last time he saw you so dressed up, definitely never for himself like that.

His eyes flicker back to his date and he can’t help but compare the two of you. There's an energy about you tonight he rarely sees. You’re holding yourself with tallness, an appearance that makes you even more attractive. You look happy and confident and his eyes can’t help but scan your exposed legs. That skirt is definitely shorter than your uniform.

He always knew his feelings would resurface, couldn’t stay down forever despite how hard he fought them. However, the intense jealousy and pain was something he thought he could escape. Having kept it at bay for so long, why was it now that his mind weakened, allowing the sweet essence of you to slip through?

He wanted to run to your side and embrace you, to shove Dean to the ground with one swing of his fist, for even daring to look. He wanted to stand beside you now as the group moved to the stage and scream the lyrics with you in each other's faces. He wanted to have your smile directed at him and be the one to spin you, listening to your infectious laugh meant for only him.

But of course he’d been afraid and pushed you again and even as he ponders and dreams of the possibilities of what ifs, he can’t deny how happy you look beside Dean. Smiling brightly up at the git, he knows he’s being selfish and greedy. He wants to fight for you, to make things right, to tell you how much you mean to him.

He leaves you be for the first few songs, eyes fixated on you only, before he spots Dean excuse himself to the bathroom, and in a flash he’s doing the same ditching his date. He walks casually so as to not draw suspicion, keeping a distance between Dean and himself.

The bathrooms down the corridor in the pub are dark and dingy and mostly empty as everyone’s still listening to the band. He spots Dean stalking past him down a few urine stands before he takes a wiz himself. It’s more awkward than the usual boys' bathroom encounter.

Dean can feel the prickling burn of deathly eyes on him, and peeks sideways at Mattheo. They finish washing their hands and then Mattheo speaks up before Dean can escape his interrogation. “Thomas. Doing well?”

Dean looks over at Mattheo in surprise. He dries his hands and clears his throat. “Yeah fine. Yourself?”

Mattheo runs a hand through his hair, eyeing him with a sharp look, trying to pinpoint what about him you might like over himself. Sure, he was tall and strong like Mattheo. But he’s a loudmouth Gryffindor. There's nothing worth tolerating about them. “Fine.”

Dean watches, sensing Mattheo is pissed about something, and he can only imagine it’s his presence around you. “You seem like you're digging for something. Why don’t you just say it?”

He chuckles darkly, a little impressed with his boldness - guess Gryffindors' are brave after all. For the anger Mattheo felt was reaching a peak like a volcano about to explode and Dean was standing in the danger zone.

“Not sure why you’re hanging around her when you’re clearly still hung up on your ex.” Dean frowns, looking at Mattheo in confusion. “I can see the way you look at Weasley still, so I suggest you back the fuck off y/n, before I make you.”

Dean looks at Mattheo like he’s mental. “I actually like her, you know. I’m not into Ginny anymore.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, shithead.” Mattheo moves forwards looming, he’s a tad shorter than Dean, but it doesn’t diminish the look he’s shooting his way.

He’s still standing tall and brooding enough to have Dean a little uncomfortable in his shoes. But Dean isn’t one to back down from a little intimidation, and eyes him, “I see what this is about. You're jealous, aren’t you?”

Mattheo scowls, hating that he’s hit it right on the nail, but only laughs instead. “Good one, Thomas.”

“You are, though, and you missed your chance to tell her, didn't you?” Dean uncharacteristically taunts him, unaware of the insecurity he’s about to strike. “Not like you deserve her anyway with how you act-.”

In the split second the word leaves Dean's lips, Mattheo connects his fist with his nose. There’s a loud crack of the bone and Dean yelps, grasping it as blood streams covering his fingers.

“The fuck are you, to talk to me like that?” He watches Dean’s bravado crumble as he stares into the intense and wired eyes of Mattheo. “You don’t know shit about me or her. Get the fuck out of here before I do something I actually regret.”

Dean, still clutching his nose, gives him a look that easily reads what he thinks about him before he decides it’s best just to leave, heading back out into the hallway. Mattheo stays pacing a little longer and gazes at himself in the mirror. He’s craving a cigarette now; he should just ditch this shitty gig and call it a night.

The few people hovering outside the hall’s entrance, dousle themselves with refreshing glasses of water. You’re one of them having gotten hot and thought it would be good to wait somewhere visible to him. All too easily Dean is noticeable pushing out the door with his hand still pressed to his nose.

“Holy shit! What happened to you?” Rushing over you ask Dean, though you have a tickling suspicion already.

For once, Dean’s usual aura is low, and he gives you an indifferent look. “Who do you think, y/n. Riddle of course.”

Hot flashes of anger blur your vision, washing over you with a feverish intensity at Mattheo's audacity and you stare at the bathroom door as if trying to summon him out. Dean gives you another look, muttering an irritated, “I’m gonna go wash up elsewhere. I think you should talk to him.”

Dean walks off back down the hall to another bathroom, and your shoulders drop in defeat at the disappearance of your date. How had your night flipped one eighty? Your sunny optimism now drenched by the pelted rain of trouble that Mattheo Riddle brings, and then he appears.

He’s shaking out his fist, flexing his fingers, a clear sign he’s just used them in combat, and your eyes narrow on him. He meets your gaze, his eyes lighting up at seeing you noticing him properly, but then you’re walking towards him hastily. He has little time to escape before the familiar pulling pain shoots from his ear down and he yelps, cursing.

He could never defeat the strength of an angry woman's ear pull, as you drag him down and outside the pub, pleading at you. “Ace! Geez, come on, is this really ow- necessary!? Fuck-“

It had been forever since you’d pulled the move, one that was extremely effective and often required when the two of you were younger. His ear swells a deep red and continues to throb even once released from your hold.

He winces, straightening up to shoot you an unappreciative glare, but he’s met with an equally disappointed face. A look he never wishes to see again, eyes vacant their usual glimmer, left with only a look of disappointment that fears him worse than his father.

He swallows, but acts nonchalantly. "What’s this all about?”

Gritting your teeth, eyes narrowed into slits as thin as paper. “You hit him? You hit Dean! What is wrong with you, Mattheo?”

His sympathy and sorrow vanish in the return of his anger, muttering. “He had it coming.”

“How? What did he say?”

He rolls his eyes, rubbing his aching ear. “It doesn’t matter. It was uncalled for, and I shut him up.”

“You always do this, always an excuse that makes you look like the victim. What could he have possibly said that would make you need to act like that?”

“He doesn’t even like you, y/n, he’s still hung up on his ex - I don’t know why you’re wasting time with him anyway, you’re not that oblivious, are you?” He snaps, his frustrations growing.

His words sting, like a slap to the face, and you blink, standing back from him. Oblivious? Who was he to call blind when he couldn’t even comprehend how you felt about him? There's no recollection of seeing Dean pining after Ginny, and the tears build at the lengths he will go to destroy your first possibility of romance.

“Are you seriously making this up now because you're upset? That I had the courage to ask someone to be my date, and he happens to be a Gryffindor?”

He groans, frustrated, “No fuck, I’m not making this up.” He walks closer to you, trying to get you to understand, but he can see he’s hurt you. “Ace, come on, I’m not trying to ruin-”

“Well, you are!” It’s his turn to be slapped, and he stares a little taken back, absorbing your words. There's a chill in the air, like your words squeezed all the joy out and it shows in his eyes.

They harden, staring you down, and he gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Fine. I can see I’m not wanted.” He’s bitter and heartbroken as you completely disregard him with no trust. But he holds his tongue further, not wishing to damage the ship. “I’ll stay out of your way to avoid ruining your life further.”

He doesn’t even mean to say that much, for the idea of staying away breaks him. The concept that his worst fears are coming to life, cracking, pushing their way to the surface, and it frightens him. As he storms off, glad to escape the awful changing reality, he can't stop thinking about how this is all his fault.

Fuck. Fuck! He walks hastily away, not daring to turn back around and see the despair he’s left you in, heading straight back to the castle with a tornado of mixed emotions. Anger and sadness that push and shove at one another, fighting for dominance in who will break the surface first.

He collapses on his bed, stuffing his pillow over his face and erupts into a raw yell, fighting back the tears. In the end anger wins, and he kills his self-pity, deciding to down himself in a bottle of fire whiskey till he blacks out with the last remaining thought on his mind. You had been the one to ask Dean.

Any and all interacts are greatly appreciated, thank you for reading! 💫 Masterlist! Part two should be up next few days- to a week.

ALSO the biggest shoutout to @amongemeraldclouds who patiently dealt with my ass about this for like a month ilyyy pookie 🤍 @leona-hawthorne who for without I’d never have restarted this I swear ilyyyy and @slytherinslut0 thank you for proof reading!! 🩵

©️pizzaapeteer 2025

#— 𝐥𝐞𝐨’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬 ༯ #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader

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kxsagi · 2 days ago

Note

heyy! would you be okay with writing headcanons with yukimiya and sae whose dating a reader who cares a lot about their appearance? like for example, whenever they go out on a quick errand, they essentially try to look their best. thank you so much!

“𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭: 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞”

a/n: long headcanons ahead for you, love!

ft. yukimiya kenyu, itoshi sae

𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐮 – “𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰?”

yukimiya totally gets it. like, completely.

he’s the last person who will ever judge you for wanting to look your best, even if it’s just a two-minute walk to the konbini (convenience store). in fact, when you first started dating, he thought it was cute. he’d wait patiently, playing with his rings while you put on your gloss. he didn’t even flinch when you pulled out a lash curler like you were going to war.

you’re both on the same wavelength: “look good, feel good.” and honestly? it becomes your love language.

he’ll straighten his bangs while you fix your baby hairs. he’ll fix your necklace clasp if it turns around. he carries blotting papers in his wallet just for you. you're basically that couple that walks into a store and people lowkey assume you're influencers. even if it’s just to buy toilet paper.

one time you were running late to meet your friends and told him to go ahead while you “touched up.”

he stayed.

“we’re walking in together,” he said with the softest smile, perched on your bed, elbow on his knee. “you always wait for me when i’m being a diva, remember?”

(you almost cried. it was just blush, but it wasn’t just artificial blush.)

the only time he ever gets slightly annoyed is when you start spiraling. like if you're fussing with your outfit in front of the mirror for the fourth time and going, “i look bloated. i hate this top. should i change? be honest. do i look weird from the side?”

yukimiya’s already behind you, arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder like clockwork. “you look stunning. and no, i’m not just saying that. do you wanna wear something else because you feel like it, or because your brain’s lying to you again?”

he doesn’t let you self-sabotage. he reminds you how you glow in every outfit.

and the rare days you feel like crap and don’t wanna dress up at all? yukimiya always finds something to compliment.

“barefaced looks good on you. it’s giving natural model in paris energy.”

“your hair’s a little messy. i like it, it’s hot.”

“you’re always pretty, you know that, right?”

and you’ll roll your eyes like ugh shut up, but he’ll smile and whisper, “seriously. my prettiest girl.”

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐞 – “𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤.”

sae does not get it.

the first time you delayed a quick coffee run by 30 minutes because you were fixing your hair, he just stood at the door with his arms crossed like “… you know this isn’t a photo shoot, right?”

he’s not rude about it. but he’s definitely a little judgy. like he’ll stare blankly while you layer lipliner and mutter, “you’re stalling. again.”

if he had it his way, you’d both leave the house in hoodies and unbrushed hair. but nooo, his hot girlfriend wants to look like a pinterest board every time you step out.

“you literally look good all the time. stop trying to impress the cashiers.”

“it’s for me, sae.”

“… and the cashiers.” (he’s joking. mostly.)

the weird thing is… he does notice the effort. he may not understand why you do it, but the little things never go unseen.

he sees the way you match your earrings to your bag. the way you fix your collar in the reflection of a shop window. the way your eyes light up when he says something compliments-adjacent, like: “is that a new lipstick?”

“you wore this jacket last time we came here.”

“your makeup looks different today. good different.”

he says it in that flat, lazy voice of his, but it still makes your stomach flutter.

and god help him the day you don’t do any of it.

you’re in his shirt, bare-faced, and your hair’s in a clip because you gave up halfway. and he pauses. blinks at you like you’re speaking another language. “you okay?”

“yeah?”

“… why aren’t you doing the whole… thing?”

“i didn’t feel like it.”

and suddenly, he’s on high alert. wrapping his arms around you from behind like what’s wrong? why are you not overdressing for literally nothing?

but he won’t say all that. he’ll just grumble into your hair, “don’t get used to this. i like the little eyeliner flicks.”

and even if he gripes about it every time, he still slows down his pace when you’re walking so you can reapply your gloss. still turns the car mirror your way without you asking. and when you ask, “do i look okay?” he doesn’t even blink before answering, “you always do.”

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #yukimiya kenyu #kenyu yukimiya #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #yukimiya kenyu x reader #kenyu yukimiya x reader #for the plot: looking cute

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hyperfixiation-station · 18 hours ago

Text

Behind Enemy Lines Pt.2

CW: Detailed description of wounds and torture, talk of derealization, disassociation, medical inaccuracies Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. ALSO I CAN'T FIND THE SAME GIF I USED FOR THE LAST ONE IM SO SAD and also this is shorter than the last one idea playlist part 1 thanks to @haven247 for being my beta

“I'm a medic, please I don't know anything!” wrists strapped, metal on metal, ears ringing

“Stop please I-” touching, pulling, biting

“Im just a medic pl-” it hurts it hurts stop it please

“I don't know anything!” I'm innocent in this

“Please!” just let me die

“Stop it, please!” hurts hurts hurts

God just let me go

Humans are a funny thing. They crave life and living, no matter how awful the circumstance. You thought a lot about the apocalypse shows you used to binge watch, though about how they all fought to survive, even when it would have been better to die. You never really understood them until now. How someone could lose everything, be betrayed and hurt again and again and still want to live. And yet here you are.

Maybe hope if foolish. You'd lost hope for a long time, or at least you'd thought you'd had. But as the soldiers came crashing into your prison, as they held you at gunpoint as you tried to save their friend, you could feel her crawling out of the dark recesses of your heart. Her light was flickering, but there.

Stepping outside almost sends you into shock. The sights, the sounds the smells, everything just came rushing at you like a freight train. For so long you'd been floating in some half-aware state, the world around you muted and dull, and to have it crash back in like this was startling, to say the least. You would have fallen if not for the dark-skinned soldier holding your arm in a vice-like grip.

You can hear gunfire and screaming, so loud it almost made your ears hurt. Smell the smoke and the burning rubber. Feel the wind in your tangled hair and the blood slicking your hands. The blood. It is hot and slippery, coating your hands and soaking into your ratty t-shirt. You can hear Ghost's rattling, wet breaths, smell the metallic scent of his blood, feel the way his meat, his muscles and fat, brushed against your hand as you kept him from bleeding out, can feel his organs pressing against your fingers with each shuddering breath he takes.

Oddly enough, these sensation help ground you. They were things you knew, feeling you had grown accustomed to since your first day in med school.

You reach a helicopter, the rotors already spinning. Its a bit of a struggle to get in while making sure you don't let go of Ghost, but you manage. The soldiers carrying him place him on a row of seats, and you kneel down next to his body, hand still firmly holding gauze in place.

It wasn't doing much good, but it's not like you could tell anyone.

"Help him." The soldier with the mustache orders the moment you're in the air. He thrusts a med-kit at you, and the dark-skinned soldier opens it for you, showing you the contents.

They don't give you much to work with. Some gauze, a needle and thread, bandages, and a lighter. Rudimentary supplies. But hey, you've done more with less. Probably.

Your free hand drifts to the lighter, a distant memory of a soldier and a gunshot wound in a similar area flashing through your mind. It's not quite the same, more than just an artery nicked this time, but cauterization is all you can really do.

You grab the lighter, flicking it on and holding to his body. a hand closes like vice around your wrist, yanking your hand away.

"What the 'ell are ye doin'" A man with a Scottish accent practically snarls at you. You whine in response, tugging your arm uselessly.

"Soap." The mustache man says sharply, "Let 'em work."

"Sir-"

"Let them go." Your wrist drops, and you fumble with the lighter before holding the fame to Ghost's skin. You watch in sick fascination as his skin bubbles and burns, the fat and muscles shrinking away under the flame, the blood vessels sealing precariously as the heat sears them shut.

You don't know what effects this will have on his organs, if he'll be able to function the same way again. But you have to keep him alive. You look at his pale face, watch the way his chest shudders with every breath.

God you hope he makes it.

~line break~

They don't let you was before throwing you in a cell. Okay, maybe they didn't throw you, but regardless, you were still cuffed to a table with Ghost's blood crusted to your skin. It was gross. And cruel. They had stripped you away the second you reached the infirmary, not letting you see what was going to happen to your patient.

The door swings open and you flinch, looking up at the soldier that comes in with eyes. Its the man from the helicopter. Soap, you think his name is.

"Yer lucky the medics sayd he'll live." He says, his voice distinctly Scottish. He stalks towards you, sitting on the table on your left side.

" 've been instructed tae question ye, but first we ha'e tae git a look at yer face." He reaches for your mask, tugging it off your ear. All he succeeds in doing is pulling your head forward.

The mask is secured behind your head with a metal clasp, and could only be opened with a specific key, ensuring you couldn't take it off. You had tried, at first, to pull the stitches out, and this was the solution. You can't pull out stiches if you can't touch your mouth.

Soaps brow furrows, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. HE grimaces as he touches your hair, finally just pulling a knife out of his pocket. You tense automatically, squirming away as he brings it closer to you.

"Oh for fu- hold still!" He grasps your head, sliding the knife through the cloth by your ear. The mask falls away, leaving your face exposed

"Lets see what we're-" He freezes, the knife dropping to the floor with a clatter as he sees the mess that is your face. Your lips are sewn together, and the skin of your cheeks is red and raw from the tape that holds your feedign tube on.

"Oh shit." the blood drains from his face, his hand fumbling for the comm unit on his vest.

"Cap? Yeah, we've got a problem."

A/N: Okay, i'm not sure I like the second half, but here it is! Part 3 will have more Ghost/medic interaction :) tags: I definitely didn't get them all, I'm sorry there was just so many of you @smile6890 @cricricorner @unclearblur @redzluvvesage @just-a-harmless-potato-05 @vesna-the-spring @princess312 @norsehorseofcourse-blog @bonniperinktrance @soggywafflezz @littlebunie @sirbonesly @havoc973 @mommymilkers0526 @thegreyjoyed @pinkiliciousgunp0int @poopoobuttsy @darcellethedreamer @kamote-kuneho @z-wantstowrite @i-ate-ur-fries @fakeguysarehot @shitrandom @yunho-leeknow @idontreallyexistyet

#cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #cod #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #angst #john price #kyle gaz garrick #behind enemy lines

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bjlipss · 2 days ago

Text

— until the quiet finds you;

༉‧₊˚. synopsis: you’re 24, a single mom just trying to survive off of temporary jobs—until a chance elevator ride with gojo satoru, the too-charming ceo of gojo industries, shifts everything. what starts as coffee and kindness slowly turns into something real. but when you’ve spent the last 2 years in survival mode, learning to trust might be the hardest thing of all.

contents: ceo!gojo x single mom!reader, slow burn-ish, slice of life maybe? fluff, some angst, trust issues ig, very exhausted reader, eventual smut, office setting, i will add warnings as the story goes on! current word count: 9,6k. header art: @_3aem on X.

miyan’s notes: i’m so sorry for the long wait!!! i hope you guys enjoy this :))

chapter 1 <- chapter 2 -> chapter 3

mornings start early.

too early, if you’re being honest.

tomo wakes up around five-thirty these days—grumpy, half-hungry, and somehow full of energy despite not sleeping through the night. it’s a cruel magic, the way babies defy exhaustion with wide eyes and flailing limbs, like they’re immune to the laws of physics.

you’ve mastered the art of one-handed bottle prepping and diaper changes in the dark. your body moves on autopilot now: shuffle to the kitchenette, warm the bottle while bouncing tomo on your hip, whisper soothing nonsense into his ear even though your eyes are barely open. the floorboards creak like they’re complaining. the fridge hums. the radiator clicks. it’s a tired symphony you’ve come to know by heart.

by six, you’re both on the floor, surrounded by plastic stacking rings, a half-eaten teething cracker, and the giraffe tomo loves chewing on more than any pacifier you’ve ever bought. the news plays low in the background, not that you’re listening. it’s just noise—something to fill the quiet and keep your mind from spiraling.

your apartment is small. one room that serves as bedroom, nursery, and living space all at once. the kitchenette is barely a step away from the foot of your mattress. the bathroom door doesn’t close all the way unless you jiggle it just right. there’s a crack in the ceiling you’ve learned to stop noticing, and the window sticks if you try to open it too fast. the wallpaper near the radiator is peeling like sunburn.

but it’s yours. it’s warm. it’s safe.

barely paid for, held together with goodwill and duct tape, but clean enough that you can pretend. pretend this isn’t the furthest you’ve ever felt from the version of yourself you used to be.

tomo babbles through most of his morning bottle, half-asleep in your lap, his tiny fingers tangled in the fabric of your stretched-out cardigan. sometimes you just sit there like that, still and quiet, the two of you curled up on the thin rug, watching the light crawl through the blinds while the rest of the world wakes up without you.

this morning is no different.

except it is.

because today marks a week since your temporary shift at gojo industries.

a week since the elevator. the accidental coffee date. the skyline office. him.

you’ve stared at that business card more times than you’d like to admit. it lives on the windowsill now, right beside the sad little basil plant that’s somehow hanging on by a thread—much like you. you water it out of habit, even though the leaves are already curling. something about it makes you feel less like you’re failing. like maybe hope is still salvageable.

his number is written on the card in looping, swooping handwriting. only if you say yes, he’d said.

you’re not.

you don’t think you are.

but every day, that little white card weighs heavier in your chest. the possibility of something better. something different. terrifying and fragile and real.

gojo satoru offering you a job felt like something out of someone else’s story. not yours. someone with options. someone with time. someone without a baby strapped to their chest and formula stains on their shirt and a bank account that makes your stomach hurt to look at.

and yet his voice keeps echoing in your mind.

you shouldn’t have to choose between your kid and your career.

you wish that didn’t make you want to cry.

you think about the day everything changed.

you were sitting in your old boss’s office, clutching a printout of your blood test results with fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking. the numbers were clear. the double lines were real. and in that moment, the version of you that had worked late nights, prepped pitch decks, graduated with honors, mapped out five-year plans—she disappeared.

your ex didn’t stick around long. he panicked. said all the right wrong things. “it’s not the right time.” “we’re too young.” “you’ll ruin your future.” then he ghosted, like a bad memory you still dream about.

your mother didn’t react much better.

she stared at you like you were an alien. like she didn’t know the girl sitting in front of her. you can still hear her voice—tight, cold, disappointed.

“you had potential.”

“you could’ve done something with your life.”

“don’t expect me to clean up after your mess.”

you chose tomo anyway.

and that choice cost you nearly everything.

she stopped calling. stopped asking. months passed in silence. and when the silence finally broke, her voice was always clipped, edged with guilt and bitterness. she never apologized. never asked if you were okay. just called occasionally, like she wanted to check if you were still struggling.

today, the phone buzzes on the counter like it knows.

you glance at the screen. mom.

you hesitate. but you answer.

“hello?”

“so,” she says, immediately, “did you find another temp job yet?”

no hello. no warmth. no curiosity about her grandson.

just judgment in the shape of a question.

your jaw tightens. “i’m figuring it out.”

a pause.

“you know, if you’d just moved back in with us when i asked, you wouldn’t be scraping by in a shoebox. but no, you always have to be so independent.”

tomo stirs in your lap, sensing the shift in your energy. you press a hand to his back, trying to stay calm.

“i’m doing the best i can.”

“well, your best clearly isn’t good enough if you’re still struggling. maybe if you’d listened to me before getting involved with that deadbeat—”

you hang up.

not intentionally. not dramatically. just… automatically.

your hand moves faster than your brain.

the silence afterward is deafening. it fills your ears, your chest, your throat. you press your lips together. hard. try to blink the heat out of your eyes.

tomo reaches up. his hand brushes your cheek.

and you break.

quietly. completely.

because this isn’t just about a phone call. it’s about every time you’ve felt like a disappointment. every time someone looked at you and only saw a mistake. every time you told yourself this is enough, even when it wasn’t.

you hold tomo close. breathe him in. he smells like oatmeal and baby soap and home. he looks up at you with those big, blinking eyes like you are his whole world.

and maybe that’s what makes your hand move.

you reach for your phone. pull the business card off the sill. trace your thumb across his name.

gojo satoru.

you open your messages.

type. delete. type again.

your fingers are trembling.

then, finally, you hit send:

hi. it’s me.

i’ve been thinking.

can we talk?

you stare at the message. the little “delivered” icon pops up. the screen goes still.

tomo gurgles softly, gnawing on his fingers like he knows something’s shifted.

you exhale slowly. your heart is pounding.

you don’t know if this is the right decision. you also don’t expect an immediate reply.

gojo satoru strikes you as the kind of man who’s constantly busy—meetings and contracts and boardrooms with floor-to-ceiling windows. the kind of man who probably has three phones, all managed by assistants in suits sharper than your best kitchen knife. the kind of man who silences his personal messages after a certain hour because nothing is ever that urgent. who leaves people on read because he can. because that’s what powerful people do.

and you’re not anyone important. you’re a temp who spilled coffee on her blouse and once cried in the break room over an expired granola bar.

so when your phone buzzes—less than two minutes after you hit send—your breath stutters.

come by the office tomorrow.

10 a.m.

i’ll be waiting.

no emoji. no fluff. no awkward exclamation point to soften the impact.

just quiet, grounded certainty.

like he already knew you’d say yes.

like this was never a gamble to begin with.

you stare at the message, rereading it so many times it starts to blur. your thumb hovers over the screen, like you might reply. like you might ask, are you sure? but your heart is already racing, too fast, too loud. you can hear it in your ears.

tomo babbles beside you, kicking his chubby legs on the couch cushions and patting your knee like he’s trying to get your attention. like he can feel the shift in the air. the electric current in your chest.

“baby,” you whisper, eyes still on the screen, “what are we doing?”

he offers you a gummy, two-toothed smile in response. utterly unbothered. utterly safe.

ten a.m.

you don’t even have clean dress pants.

panic clicks in like a switch.

you check the time—already past seven—and scramble to your feet. tomo lets out a squawk of protest as you scoop him up and carry him to the bouncer, apologizing softly as you buckle him in. he’s tired, cranky, but mercifully distracted by the blinking toy lights and the soft jingle of the hanging elephant.

you dart to your closet—a shallow thing wedged into the wall, the sliding door forever off-track—and rifle through hangers with increasing despair.

you pull out your nicest blouse. cream-colored, once. now vaguely off-white, with a few suspicious stains near the cuff and a hem that’s coming undone. still, it’s the only one without a cartoon character or formula spit-up on it, so it wins by default. you toss it onto the bed. dig out the one pair of black pants you haven’t worn to death, and hold them up with a silent prayer. they might still fit.

your stomach clenches.

you turn on the iron—cheap, secondhand, missing the water cap—and lay the blouse flat on a towel. the fabric hisses under the heat. it smells faintly of lavender detergent and old stress. you imagine walking into that skyscraper tomorrow, the doors opening with a soft chime, gojo standing there in his tailored suit, smiling like this is all perfectly normal.

and you—creased blouse, worn shoes, baby bag slung over one shoulder—walking toward him like you belong.

you don’t. not really. but maybe you want to.

and that want is dangerous.

you glance over at the business card on your windowsill again, resting beneath your sad little basil plant that’s more stem than leaves. it’s been there all week—untouched, waiting, like it knew you’d cave eventually.

you didn’t text him because you were ready.

you texted him because you were tired.

tired of shrinking. of pretending. of feeling like the world is slipping through your fingers while you juggle formula prices and unpaid bills and the lingering voice of your mother in your head.

you smooth the blouse down with your palm and stare at the makeshift outfit on your mattress.

it’s not perfect. it’s not polished or expensive or anything that screams “CEO material.” but it’s yours and it’s important.

your chest tightens in a way that’s hard to explain. not panic. not dread. just the slow, aching stretch of something you haven’t let yourself feel in a long time:

hope.

not the glittery, unrealistic kind.

but the quiet, stubborn version. the kind that crawls into your lungs when you let your guard down for half a second. the kind that whispers, maybe this time it’s different.

maybe this time, someone actually means it.

you scoop tomo into your arms. press a kiss to his soft, downy hair.

“we’ve got somewhere to be tomorrow,” you murmur.

he yawns, already half-asleep.

you sit on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, blouse cooling behind you, and stare at gojo’s message again.

10 a.m.

you don’t know what’s waiting on the other side of that elevator.

but you’ll be there.

and for the first time in what feels like forever—

you don’t feel alone walking toward it.

you step into the lobby of gojo industries at 9:56.

the security guard waves you through this time without a second glance. someone must’ve cleared your name.

you glance down at yourself once more. sweater neat. hair in place. tomo fast asleep in his carrier, his little nose pressed against your collarbone. you adjust the strap on your shoulder and exhale.

the elevator ride feels faster than last time.

you keep one hand against the cool metal of the wall and the other cradled under tomo’s bottom, grounding yourself with his soft, rhythmic breathing. you’re not sure what to expect when the doors open.

but you don’t expect him to be standing right there.

no assistant. no buffer. just gojo, leaning casually against the frame of his office doorway in a dark slate suit and a crisp white shirt, no tie, sleeves rolled up. he’s looking at his phone until the soft ding draws his eyes up—and when he sees you, he smiles.

not the cocky grin you’ve seen before.

something gentler.

welcoming.

“you came,” he says simply.

you nod, a little breathless. “i said i would.”

“yeah, but people say a lot of things.” his gaze drops briefly to tomo, then back up. “you look good.”

you huff a laugh. “i feel like a walking spit-up rag.”

he steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. “then you wear it well.”

you follow him into the office.

the space is just as pristine as you remember—sunlight spilling through the windows, soft leather couches, a faint scent of something expensive and citrusy hanging in the air. it should feel intimidating.

but it doesn’t.

maybe because he doesn’t make it feel that way.

“sit wherever you want,” he says. “can i get you anything? water? tea? another overpriced pastry?”

you blink. “…you remembered.”

“how could i forget? you were seconds away from stabbing me with a plastic fork.”

you snort, easing down onto the couch and shifting tomo slightly. he stirs but doesn’t wake. gojo sits across from you, legs crossed, that same calm expression on his face.

“i’m glad you texted,” he says.

you nod slowly. “i wasn’t sure if i should.”

“you should’ve.” he leans forward, elbows on his knees. “and i’m not just saying that to be polite.”

you study him. his tone, his posture, his eyes.

he’s serious.

“i’m not just saying that to be polite,” he says again, gaze steady.

you believe him. and that’s maybe the strangest part of all this—how easy it is to believe him. you’re used to sugarcoated pity, to people who speak in soft tones and wide eyes, offering hollow compliments as if they’re handing out charity. but with gojo, there’s none of that. just… honesty.

you look down at tomo, curled safe against you, and then back at him.

“so,” you say cautiously, “what exactly does ‘come by the office’ mean?”

he grins, leans back into the couch. “well, that depends. are you here because you’re curious, or are you here because you’re ready?”

you frown a little. “i’m here because i’m desperate.”

“wrong answer,” he replies, shaking his head. “try again.”

you blink. “excuse me?”

“you’re not here because you’re desperate. you’re here because you’re smart. because you’ve done the math. because you know you’re capable and tired of pretending that barely scraping by is some noble sacrifice.” he tilts his head. “desperation didn’t get you here. you did.”

you sit there, stunned.

“…that was weirdly motivational.”

“i’ll take that as a compliment.” he claps his hands once, like he’s shifting into business mode. “okay. here’s what i’m offering.”

your breath catches.

“there’s an open position in operations. mid-level, but room to grow. salary’s decent. benefits are better. part of your contract would include an in-office childcare stipend—either on-site or third-party, depending on what makes you more comfortable. i don’t want you worrying about coverage. i want you here.”

“what would i… be doing?”

“project tracking. internal comms. streamlining client onboarding. we’ve got systems in place, but they’re clunky. we need someone who can translate chaos into clarity. from what i’ve read about you—and what i’ve seen—you’re built for that.”

you stare at him.

he says it so matter-of-factly. like this isn’t some massive life change. like he’s not throwing you a rope in the middle of the ocean.

“gojo—”

“satoru,” he corrects gently. “you can call me satoru.”

“okay, satoru…” you exhale slowly. “i haven’t done this in a long time. i’m… rusty.”

“so oil the hinges,” he says. “you’re allowed to learn. you’re allowed to be human. hell, i’m winging half of what i do on any given day. we all are.”

your lips twitch into the smallest smile.

“i haven’t even updated my resume in years.”

“don’t care. i’ve already seen it.”

“…i don’t have a suit.”

“neither do half the engineers here. you’ll be fine.”

you look down, suddenly blinking back tears. you don’t even know why—nothing he’s said is new. he offered this before. said all of it, more or less. but hearing it again, spoken so clearly, with no condescension, no caveats—it hits different.

because he doesn’t just believe in your potential.

he treats it like a fact.

“you okay?” he asks, voice softer now.

you nod, throat tight. “yeah. just… processing.”

“that’s fair.”

a long pause stretches between you.

outside, the city glows gold and glass, the skyline catching every shard of morning sun.

“you don’t have to decide today,” he says gently. “you don’t owe me anything. this offer doesn’t expire.”

you nod again. then, after a beat: “you always this generous with your temps?”

he shrugs. “only the ones who make me laugh and threaten me with forks.”

you laugh, watery and real.

“okay,” you whisper. “okay. i’ll think about it.”

he smiles.

and something in you—something small and scared—starts to breathe again.

“can i ask you something?” you say quietly, after the laughter fades.

gojo’s still watching you—relaxed, open, sleeves rolled up, tie askew like he’s not the ceo of anything. like he’s just… someone. someone who happened to be in the elevator at the right time.

he nods. “sure.”

“why me?”

he doesn’t look surprised by the question. if anything, it seems like he’s been waiting for it.

“because you didn’t flinch,” he says simply.

you frown. “what do you mean?”

“the elevator. the first day. tomo crying. the phones blowing up. half the execs acting like you didn’t exist—and you just handled it. no panic, no fake smiles. just you, doing what needed to be done.” he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “most people would’ve crumbled. you didn’t.”

you look down at your lap, cheeks hot.

“i didn’t really have a choice.”

“you still could’ve walked away.”

“yeah, well.” you adjust tomo gently in your arms. “he deserves better.”

gojo smiles, slow and thoughtful. “so do you.”

those three words settle heavy in your chest—simple, but seismic.

“i think you’ve been underestimated your whole life,” he continues. “and now you’re doing the same to yourself. i’m not offering you a favor. i’m offering you a damn seat at the table. because you’ve earned it. even if no one ever told you that before.”

you blink fast, because now your eyes are stinging.

you’re so tired of fighting for space. so tired of squeezing yourself smaller, of pretending you don’t want more than survival. you forgot what it even felt like to have someone see you.

and now—this.

him.

“i don’t know if i’ll be good at it,” you say honestly.

gojo tilts his head, then grins. “so what? that’s what training is for. you’re not a robot. you’re not supposed to be perfect.”

“i just… i’m scared,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “what if i mess it up?”

he doesn’t even hesitate. “then you try again.”

a beat.

“i’ll make mistakes.”

“great. so does everyone.”

“i might cry in the bathroom.”

“we’ve got tissues. very soft ones.”

you huff a laugh, wiping at your eyes.

“you’re really not letting me talk myself out of this, huh?”

“nope,” he says, popping the p. “not a chance.”

you breathe, deep and slow. then again.

tomo stirs in your arms, his little face smushing into your chest, a soft snuffle escaping him. instinctively, you run a soothing hand along his back, and the motion calms you, too.

“okay,” you say, finally. “i’ll take the job.”

gojo doesn’t cheer. doesn’t fist-pump or throw confetti. he just smiles—warm, genuine, and full of something you can’t quite name.

“good,” he says, voice softer now. “i was hoping you’d say that.”

another silence settles between you. this one gentler. easier.

you feel it now—that strange, tentative hope curling inside your ribs.

“i’ll email you the contract this afternoon,” gojo says as he stands. “start date’s flexible, but i’d love to get you onboard by next week. sound good?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “that sounds… really good.”

you shift tomo and rise slowly, adjusting the strap across your shoulder. he walks you to the door, hands in his pockets.

“i mean it,” he says one last time. “whatever you need—childcare, flexibility, mentorship—ask. you’re not doing this alone.”

you nod, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from crying again.

“thank you,” you whisper.

he holds your gaze a moment longer, then smiles, just a little crooked.

“you’re welcome.”

──────────────────────

you wake before your alarm.

not because tomo stirs—miraculously, he’s still asleep—but because your body is brimming with something close to anticipation. not quite excitement. not quite dread. somewhere in the middle. like standing at the edge of a cold pool, toes skimming the surface, heart hammering.

you watch him for a few seconds—your son, curled like a little comma under his blanket, his mouth slack with sleep. it’s rare to catch him this still. your phone says 5:38 a.m., but you already know you won’t fall back asleep.

today’s your first day.

you don’t let yourself overthink it. you can’t.

you just move through the motions—bottle, diaper, quiet lullabies hummed through trembling lips. you pull on the outfit you ironed last night (twice, just to be sure). hair pinned, blouse tucked. cheap drugstore concealer dabbed under tired eyes. you look… okay. passable. maybe even competent, if no one looks too close.

you drop tomo off with the woman from down the hall—mrs. suzuki, kind-eyed and no-nonsense, who agreed to help watch him for a few hours while you figure out the new schedule. she pats your shoulder and tells you to “go get ‘em, tiger,” which is strange coming from someone old enough to be your grandmother. but you smile anyway.

your bus is late, of course.

and then it’s crowded.

and then a man steps on your foot and doesn’t apologize.

by the time you reach gojo industries, your nerves are twisted tight in your chest, coiled like piano wire.

you recognize the lobby immediately—same pristine floors, same enormous glass windows spilling light in from every direction. same elevator.

you press the button with a shaky breath.

this time, it opens right away.

no crying babies. no spilled coffee. just the quiet whir of movement and your reflection in the mirrored walls, staring back at you like she’s still not sure this is real.

the 27th floor is sleek and intimidating. desks arranged in polished rows, computer monitors blinking to life. the sound of typing, soft chatter, the smell of fresh espresso. people move with purpose, confident and dressed like they know what they’re doing.

you do not feel like you know what you’re doing.

but you walk forward anyway.

“you must be our new admin,” a voice says cheerfully from a nearby desk.

you glance over. a woman—probably mid-thirties, stylish, smart eyes—rises and offers you a smile and a handshake.

“i’m rika. i work in project development. gojo told me to expect you.”

you nod, fumbling briefly before managing a proper handshake. “nice to meet you.”

“he’s in his office,” she says. “go on in. don’t worry—he’s actually on time today, which is a miracle.”

you give a nervous laugh and thank her, crossing the floor with stiff steps. the glass door bears his name in gold letters—GOJO SATORU, CEO—and your reflection wavers as you lift a hand to knock.

“come in,” he calls, already grinning as you open the door.

he’s standing by the window, suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, shirt sleeves rolled up, hands in his pockets. casual. like he’s been waiting.

“you came,” he says, like he didn’t expect anything else.

you nod, closing the door behind you.

“i did.”

“and you’re still standing. impressive.”

“barely,” you admit, and that earns a warm chuckle.

“well,” he gestures to the empty seat across from his desk. “welcome to your first day. let’s make it a good one.”

—

he starts simple.

“i’m not throwing you into the deep end,” he says, sliding a stack of neatly printed documents across the desk. “no terrifying spreadsheets. no corporate jargon. not yet, anyway.”

you glance down at them. a list of contacts. an office map. a gentle breakdown of your responsibilities in plain, human language.

“you’ll be assisting rika mostly,” he explains, leaning back in his chair with a lazy sort of ease. “she runs project development and needs someone organized, fast-thinking, and impossible to intimidate.” he grins. “you’ve survived parenthood and public transit—i think you qualify.”

you huff a breath of laughter, nerves dissolving just a little. “what exactly does assisting her involve?”

“scheduling, emails, helping prepare reports, making sure our more chaotic team members don’t miss deadlines.” he pauses. “also, making sure i remember to eat lunch.”

you blink.

“i’m serious,” he says, holding up a hand. “rika tried. she gave up after a month.”

you shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “so i’m… part-time executive babysitter?”

“exactly.” he flashes you a thumbs-up. “you’re gonna be great.”

—

the first hour is mostly learning names. faces. passwords. where the emergency coffee stash is kept. your desk is tucked near the back corner—small, but sunlit, with a decent chair and a drawer that doesn’t stick. someone left a little sticky note on the monitor that says “welcome!” in loopy handwriting. you suspect rika.

it’s… quiet. peaceful. structured.

your fingers move cautiously over the keyboard as you set up your email. every so often, someone walks by with a nod or a friendly smile, but no one overwhelms you. rika checks in once with a smooth, “doing okay?” and offers you half a croissant from the breakroom.

by noon, you’ve sent your first batch of confirmation emails and helped organize a messy meeting schedule. nothing exploded. no one yelled. no one looked at you like you didn’t belong.

that alone feels monumental.

you eat lunch by the window—just a sad little sandwich from home, but it tastes better than usual. there’s a sense of calm in your chest you haven’t felt in… months.

and just as you’re finishing, someone taps on your desk.

“you didn’t remind me to eat,” gojo says, holding up his own sad little bento with an exaggerated pout. “you’re already failing me.”

you give him a flat look. “you’ve been in meetings since nine.”

“excuses, excuses.”

but he’s teasing, light and warm, and you find yourself rolling your eyes in a way you haven’t in a long time.

“how’s day one?” he asks after a beat.

you hesitate, then tell the truth. “better than i expected.”

he nods. “you’ll settle in fast. just don’t be afraid to ask questions. or tell me if someone gives you trouble. or if you need time for tomo. that’s not negotiable.”

the mention of your son tugs something deep in your chest.

“…thank you.”

“don’t mention it.” his voice drops, just a touch.

and then he walks off, humming to himself, leaving you blinking at the space he left behind.

—

by late afternoon, your fingers ache a little, but it’s the good kind of tired—earned and real. you check your phone. mrs. suzuki sent a picture of tomo gnawing on a rattle, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. your heart stutters.

you text her a thank-you. linger on the photo for a few seconds. then gently set the phone aside and return to your screen.

you’re not just surviving today.

you’re working.

you’re rebuilding.

you’re here.

──────────────────────

you make it to five o’clock without breaking anything. without crying, freezing up, or doubting your right to be here.

that, in itself, feels like a small miracle.

you pack up slowly—careful, quiet, your hands moving on autopilot as your brain replays the day like a reel. names and notes and little victories. no disasters. no one looking at you like you’re fragile or temporary.

just… steady, real work.

you’re slipping your bag over your shoulder when you hear his voice.

“heading out?”

you glance up, startled. gojo’s leaning against the nearest cubicle wall, jacket slung over one shoulder, tie loose around his neck. the office has mostly cleared, the usual hum of chatter and clacking keys now faded into evening stillness.

“yeah,” you say, adjusting your strap. “just—finishing up.”

he nods, eyes skimming over you—sharp, but not in a way that makes you nervous. just observant. curious.

“you taking the train?”

you blink. “um. yeah.”

a pause.

then, casually: “let me give you a ride.”

you stare at him. “what?”

he shrugs. “i’ve got my car downstairs. you’ve had a long first day. let me drive you.”

“you really don’t have to—”

“i know.” he smiles, boyish and light, like it’s no big deal. “but i want to.”

you hesitate. not because you don’t trust him—surprisingly, impossibly, you are more inclined to do rather than not—but because it’s been so long since someone offered without expecting something in return.

you grip your bag a little tighter. “it’s kind of out of the way…”

“lucky for you,” he says, already turning toward the elevator, “i’m rich and have no concept of time or fuel efficiency.”

you snort and something in his expression softens, like he’s glad he made you laugh.

“you sure?” you ask again.

“deadly.”

so you follow him.

his car is sleek, smooth, dark inside and out. it smells like leather and mint gum and something expensive you can’t name. the stereo’s turned down low—some mellow instrumental track pulsing like background noise.

he drives like he talks. relaxed. confident. one hand on the wheel, the other draped across his knee.

for a while, it’s quiet. the good kind. you watch the city roll by, neon signs blurring past. he doesn’t fill the silence, doesn’t ask questions he knows you’re too tired to answer. he just lets it be.

after a while, he glances over. “you hungry?”

“a little,” you admit. “but i’ve got leftovers at home.”

“hm.” he taps the wheel. “well, if you ever want something better than sad fridge rice, i know a great takeout place.”

“is this part of the job?”

“mandatory,” he says solemnly. “nobody works well when they’re underfed and miserable.”

you smile again—smaller this time, but real. “noted.”

he pulls up in front of your building without asking for directions. you don’t know why that doesn’t surprise you.

you glance up at your window. the light is still on.

“thanks,” you say softly. “for the ride. for… everything.”

he meets your eyes, one arm still slung over the back of his seat. “you’re welcome.”

you open the door, step out. the air is cooler now. crisper.

before you shut the door, he says—like it’s nothing, like it’s everything—“text me when you get inside.”

your breath catches.

you nod.

and upstairs, with tomo curled against your chest and the world finally quiet again, you stare at your phone for a long moment before texting back:

home. thank you again.

the reply comes seconds later.

anytime.

taglist: @nina-from-317 @theanaoevre @poopooindamouf @asxprse @satorusinfinityy @lost-but-done-for-you @changbinsalonsblog @satorupied @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @kanekisheart @ssetsuka @auroras-pleasures @bexxli (comment or dm me if ya wanna be added)

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searchingforserendipity25 · 2 days ago

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playing around in the sandbox of queerplatonic benítez/lawrence.

and i'm not even talking about stifled desire or weird ecstatic sex dreams, no matter how fun that is. and i'm not even talking one-side pining in any direction, or innocent xiv blurring the edges of what devotion and worship stand for in cardinal lawrence's eyes.

i mean a real, an honest-to-god secret third thing. taking the whole brothers-in-christ thing in a bold new contemporary direction.

deeply intimate spiritual communion happening regularly during walks, and over paperwork, and behind bulletproof glass. all day every day. affirming conversations and touches and looks.

it's passionate. it's intense. it's something like infatuation. it's something like falling in love, quick friendship, human adoration - and nothing like that either.

it's a very clear understanding, a sharp and sudden and very strong connection, and it alters the world around them and it is not like they have a great deal of references for this.

so! naturally, a thought follows on the other. an assumption follows on the other, and as they have taken to an encompassing honesty, it doesn't take very, very long before they hash it out.

it is, all things considered, startlingly easy. nerve-wracking, of course, but there's a route to these things, and if kissing is not entirely pleasant, then it's not as if either of them has a great deal of experience.

they do break their vows together. schedule it in advance and everything!! a whole fraught arc involved, about repression and choice and sacrifice, and recontextualizing celibacy and chastity, and affirming their closeness as a vow in itself.

and it is. fine.

a spiritually meaningful experience! pleasurable in its way! but kinda mid, as far as generally meaningful experiences go. the quiet of a room with the air conditioning on is less erotic than most of their confessional sessions, and the not-take-backies of it give it a weight and pressure that isn't very enjoyable, even going into it together.

not really worth repeating. it's possibly lawrence regrets it at once and mourns his lost chaste chivalric ideal with real anguish, is filled with remorse for besmirching his friend and diminishing their companionship to something base. can't stand to look as benítez afterwards; can't stand to live inside himself.

it's possible benítez has to face the turmoil in his heart with being largely sex-repulsed even about the person who knows his self, body and spirit, the most. to find he prefers pleasure by himself, or not at all; that he does not find truth for himself in the idea of marriage or romantic affection.

no more now than he ever has before, even though he had believed it - even though he does love lawrence with a singular focus he hasn't felt before, as near to possessive attachment as he has ever come, and without the redeeming element of any defined, traditional term to it.

amatonormativity will get you anywhere, even in the vatican!

possibly there's a spin on the last-minute rush to the airport/train station/bus stop on the way to a tiny monastery in the alps to keep the love interest from flying off to london/new york/a tiny monastery in the alps, and an heartfelt heart to heart.

possibly benítez is wearing the same clothes he did when he arrived in rome, unexpected and unwanted. the first time he went out into the world as vincent benítez.

it's incredible, he says (it is possible, even likely, that his voice breaks a little), how much people don't really see him, when he's not wearing white. out of everyone in the world, no one looks at him as clearly as lawrence does. does this have to change, just because they have seen each other's nakedness and desire?

they are not adam or even, or noah's children; they should not need to break their ties because of shame. there is no harm in loving as they do, as there is none in loving otherwise. how just is it to argue otherwise, to work for an encompassing church, while casting themselves aside? he should leave rome, if he feels it is what he is called to go, but not because of shame.

lawrence comes back. lawrence takes his hands with his trembling fingers in apology and says, wrenched with love, with pity: oh vincent. no, it is not fair at all, is it?

he has been a fool. he has lived his life in ignorance of himself, and so narrowly he did not notice it. life to him was the church or marriage, and to have one was not to have the other, and nothing in between seemed possible, or correct, or permissible, or genuine.

they make it work! the times they wash each other's feet after particularly trying days, or the hand massages, and all the quietly ecstatic praying with fingers wound around the same rosary?

those can be sensual experiences too. there's closeness there. also possibly they try out guided masturbation involved from across the confessional grid, but that's a whole other thing.

#lawrenitez #thomas lawrence #vincent benitez #conclave spoilers #conclave #lawrence x benitez

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sulkenswan · 11 hours ago

Text

❥ care for you, ellie comforting you while you're on your period

cw: slightly nsfw/suggestive + a joke, boob play, can u tell im in severe pain, not edited (1k words)

groaning, you roll over onto the other side of your shared queen bed for what felt like the millionth time, ellie's quiet snoring emitting from beside you, her arm sliding off your from around your waist in the process. nothing changing. the cramps you were experiencing right now felt like the equivalent of your stomach collapsing in on itself, even after you took painkillers. simply nothing seemed to help, not a hot compress, not staying active, not even stuffing your face. the clock read 1:02am beside you, you didn't want to wake up ellie, but you feel as if you could cry. the room is closing in on you as you curl up into a ball under the thick covers. holding on to your legs underneath you as tears shamefully roll down your cheeks, frame shaking.

you can feel your girlfriend stir beside you, causing panic to rise within as you rapidly try to calm your frantic being down. breathing in... and out... in... and ou-

"mmm baby?" ellie tiredly mumbles, feeling around for you beside her. when she can't find you immediately, she wakes up even more, sitting up slightly trying to figure out where you've gone before seeing the lump underneath the covers.

"you okay?" she asks, you can hear her flop back down onto the pillows, calmer now that she knows you're still in bed. lazily throwing an arm somewhere on you.

you don't answer. if you even try to speak you know your voice will wobble and fluxate so much she'll clock your fragile state immediately, so you stay silent in hopes she'll just think you're asleep, and that you shaking is some kind of bad dream.

but ellie's not that tired. sitting up once more, focusing in on your body language.

"you okay baby?" her voice is raspy from sleep, and if you weren't in such immense pain, you probably would've jumped on her.

with no answer, she slowly pulls the duvet cover down, you don't have the energy to try and stop her or fight it. you just let her expose you, tears slowing down but still staining your face as cold air hits you.

"what's wrong? what happened?" her concerned voice comes from above you, rubbing your arm soothingly & watching for your reaction, the last thing she wants to do is hurt you.

"just um... cramps." your voice wavers as you speak, and ellie's eyes turn soft straight away, her touch becoming even gentler than before, almost as if she was afraid to break you.

"oh babe..." she comforts, laying down cuddling into your side. you turn around to face her and smother your head into her shoulder as she loops an arm around your waist and head, playing with your hair while simultaneously rubbing soothing circles on your panty line.

"do you want me to run you a bath? get you some medicine? give you some head?" she whispers, chuckling to herself at her poorly made joke

you shake your head no but can't help to let out a small laugh, "it hurts to move."

"i can move you? you know i can."

contemplating her offer for a minute, you figure it can't hurt to have some hot water surround you.

"as long as you join me." you bargain, ellie practically jumps at the opportunity, removing herself from bed (not without giving you a kiss on the forehead first" and swiftly making her way to the bathroom. long sleeve drawn up to her mid arms and boy shorts clinging loosely to her hips, gosh, you're gonna marry her one day.

you fall asleep briefly, eyes tired, but she's back before you know it and lifting you gently from your position in bed, carrying you bridal style to the bath that's already halfway filled with water. signalling for you to lift your arms up where she removes your tank top, before pulling off your panties & socks. she's not disgusted at you being on your period, or seeing it, she's a girl too. and you've done this for her more times than she could even try to count.

carefully, she grabs your hand and gently guides you into the water. it's in nice contrast to the cool house, as the hot water envelops your senses completely, you moan at the feeling.

ellie's quick to follow in after you, positioning herself so she's behind you while you're in between her legs, laying against her chest, the sound of the tap is oddly comforting as you lean into your girlfriends body that is somehow warm.

the two of you sit in a relaxing silence for a few moments, before ellie interrupts it.

"how you feeling baby?" she questions, there's no urgency to her voice, she just wants to make sure you're okay, and hopefully a little better. her hands run up and down your body methodically before massaging into your shoulders.

"better." you sigh, enjoying the feeling of ellie's hands working your shoulders.

"anything hurt?" she genuinely asks

"my boobs do a little." you cheekily answer, but ellie pays no mind to it, if you say you're in pain there then she'll try to help however she can, shifting her position slightly to begin massaging and pinching at your boobs, you moan into it, relieved that the pain is slowly fading away, in both your lower abdomen & tits.

"that feel better?"

"so much better."

silence takes over the two you once again, but it's tranquil. ellie's turned off the tap at some point so the barely noticeable drip of water is the only think you're hearing every once in awhile, alongside your sighs of relief.

you can't help but think about how grateful you are for the girl behind you, she loves her sleep yet here she is, keeping herself awake and fully attentive to you, trying her best to help you however she can at an issue that seemed unsolvable not even fifteen minutes ago.

wherever ellie goes, you would follow. but you're more than happy sitting in the tub, soaking all of her in.

#𖦹 aria's works #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x fem reader #ellie willams x reader #ellie x reader #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x you #ellie comfort #ellie williams comfort #ellie williams smut

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 3 days ago

Text

I’m Just Chock-Full of Ideas (jason todd x reader x roy harper smut)

Jason accepts the invite to join you and Roy in bed. (After getting himself off while watching Roy eat you out). You and Roy act immediately.

—

The sequel to I Know You Want Me on Your Team, but you don’t have to read it to understand. because guess what it’s mostly smut

I have so much fun writing this dynamic! If you have any thoughts please please lmk

Anyway—

SMUT, PWP, oral, penetration, established relationship (Roy x reader), swearing, as always

I don’t know how long this is

———

You’re laying in bed, on the verge of falling asleep for the night, when Roy’s text comes through:

JASON IS COMING WITH ME BACK TO YOUR PLACE

THIS IS NOT A FUCKING DRILL, CHANGE THE SHEETS

Gasping, you throw yourself out of bed, texting back furiously.

How long till you get here???

You don’t expect an answer, and after a few seconds, you drop the phone and rip the sheets from your bed. Dashing to the linen closet, you grab the first clean sheets you see and wrestle them onto the bed. Then you strip and throw yourself in the shower.

Jason’s on his way here, Roy in tow. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself, but you’re pretty sure you’re going to get dicked down. Fucking finally.

It’s been two weeks since you and Roy had invited Jason into bed, two weeks since he’d watched Roy eat you out with a hand down his pants, and fuck-nothing has happened since then. By the time he’d left Roy’s place that night, tucking himself back into his pants and mopping up his come with a t shirt, Jason still hadn’t answered if he wanted to join you and Roy for anything more than vouyerism. And in the last two weeks, he hasn’t said anything. It’s got you climbing the walls.

But now he’s on his way here, with Roy. To your apartment, a crucial detail. And Roy said change the sheets. Another clue.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure Jason wants to fuck. You exhale into the steam of the shower, then scrub yourself methodically, making sure you’re clean all over. You don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, and you want to be prepared.

Just as you’re rinsing conditioner from your hair, you hear pounding at the door. “Hold the fuck on!” you shout as you shut off the water and wrap yourself in a towel. Crossing your apartment, hair dripping onto the floor, you unbolt your door and hold it open. Jason and Roy wait at the doorway.

“Couldn’t wait five minutes?” you gripe. Roy laughs, moving inside to pull you into a kiss.

“Sorry, babe,” he snickers into your mouth.

“I had conditioner in my hair,” you pout, but you don’t mean it. Roy’s excited; his hands are darting here and there across your body and his kisses are electric, lips like a livewire. He knows something is going to happen. Your anticipation rises, and you grin, bumping your teeth against his.

“And just how’re you doin’, babycakes?” he asks, pressing his cheek to yours.

You roll your eyes at the nickname. “‘M good. Today was good. How ‘bout you?”

“Same old, same old,” Roy answers.

You step slightly out of Roy’s arms. “And how are you, Jason?” you ask politely.

He seems caught off guard. “Uh—okay.”

“Good,” you nod. An awkward silence brews. “Glad you’re here,” you offer.

“Yeah, uh…” Jason’s hand rises to worry at the back of his neck. “Look, I, I already said this to Roy, but, uh.” He bites at his lip. “But uh, I wanted to let you know that I want to…to try something. With you. Both of you.” He looks to Roy, who grins at him. Jason answers with a look you’ve never seen before, giving Roy a soft, almost tender smile. It does something complicated to your insides.

You decide to do something stupid. “Hell yeah, brother,” you say earnestly. Jason’s face twists in disgust while Roy groans, shoving at your shoulder.

“You just suck the mood right out of things, huh? Fucking dipshit,” he chastises you while you laugh loudly.

Still hesitating at the doorway, Jason rolls his eyes. “Come on in, Jason,” you say happily. “Take off your boots—”

“—take off your pants,” Roy adds cheekily, stepping out of range of your elbow jabbing at him.

“Stay a while,” you beckon him further inside. Jason steps carefully into the apartment, leaving his shoes neatly by the door.

He stands in your living room, looking at you expectantly, if a little unsure. Roy speaks up.

“Listen, Jay, we…” he moves behind you, pulling you to his chest. “We really wanted you to say yes.” He rests his elbows on your shoulders, rubbing slow circles into your chest with the pads of his fingers.

“Mmm,” you add, letting desire color your gaze. “Had us waiting on pins and needles for two whole weeks.” Your hand slides into Roy’s hair as you stare appreciatively at Jason. “Bet it’s worth the wait though.”

Jason blushes, eyes falling to the ground. “Can I do something,” Roy mutters in your ear. You nod.

All of a sudden, he knocks his knees against yours, clutching your towel as you stumble away from him, fully naked. “Fucking hell, Roy!” you shout as you right yourself, slapping him upside the head. “What was that for?”

Roy shrugs, wearing a sly grin. He steps back into place behind you, taking your hips and squaring them forward. What the fuck is he doing? You frown, elbowing at him, but he’s not even looking at you, he’s looking at Jason over your head. You follow his gaze.

Oh. Jason’s stare is a knife.

He looks at you like his narrowed eyes are cataloging every inch of your skin. His gaze is razor-sharp, and it darts from point to point on your body with strict focus. Roy moves his hands from your hips, lightly tracing up over ribs, across your stomach, down to just the edge of your sex. Jason tracks the movement eagerly, likely noting the goosebumps that form in the wake of Roy’s fingers.

Eventually, Jason’s gaze moves to your face, almost questioning. You nod, giving a slight smile. He begins looking you over again, eyes still sharp, but this time he lets himself linger. Roy notices the change and lets his hands wander wherever Jason pauses, caressing your hips, the skin just under your breasts, the meat of your thighs. He groans in your ear and kisses you, neatly sliding his tongue in your mouth. “Too fucking beautiful,” he mutters. “Can’t believe you’re mine, can’t believe I get to have you in my bed.”

He pulls back, eyes dark and glittering. “You in a porno or somethin’?” he teases, voice low and rough. “Waitin’ in just a towel for the pizza guy to come dick you down? For us to come dick you down?” he adds gleefully, turning to Jason.

“Shut up! That wasn’t what I was doing!” you insist, then gasp when Roy lets his teeth catch your earlobe.

“Mm, sure,” Roy purrs. “Keep telling yourself that, babydoll.”

“Ugh!” You ignore the desire leaking into your gut. “You know what, just for that, you can hang the towel up.” You hold it out to him, staring pointedly.

Sighing dramatically, Roy grabs the towel and stalks off to the bathroom. Leaving you and Jason alone.

He’s still staring. You meet his gaze head on, holding it before letting your eyes carefully tread down his body, just as he did yours. He’s so beautiful, you have to tell him so.

“Jason, I—” you take a slow, careful step toward him. “I’m so glad you’re here, I was so hoping you’d say yes.” Your voice shakes, cracking slightly. “I’ve wanted to touch you all week, wanted to touch you since you left Roy’s place.” Looking at him earnestly, you say, “couldn’t get you out of my mind. Kept thinking about how beautiful you are, how gorgeous you looked last time.”

Jason looks slightly shocked. “I’ve, uh, I’ve been thinking about it too,” he mutters eventually.

You break out into a wide smile. “Can I touch you now?” you ask carefully. He opens his mouth but stays silent. “Only if you want to,” you add, holding your hands out in front of you.

After what feels like ages, Jason nods. “Oh—okay.”

You step into his orbit. “On your arms?”

Jason nods again. It feels like he’s holding his breath.

Slowly, telegraphing every move, you rest your hand on his bicep. Jason closes his eyes, tensing, and you wait, stilling yourself. Eventually, he opens his eyes and looks down at you, and you begin to trace your fingers around the hard muscle.

Good lord. His arm is huge. You splay your hand flat and you can’t even reach the curve of it, even stretching your fingers. You take your other hand to see if you can lock your fingers around it; you only just manage.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter. You hear a chuckle above you, and you look up to see Jason smirking. You color, and he laughs at you.

You see an opportunity. “I mean, fuck, Jason.” You let your voice dip, eyes wide. “Don’t know what you expect me to do with those.” You run a fingernail up to his shoulder. “Makes me want to…” you trail off, biting your lip.

Jason stifles a shiver. Slowly, always slowly, you move your hand over his shoulder and back down his arm, skimming his forearm. You rub your thumb into the muscle there. “So pretty, Jason,” you murmur, moving to caress his wrist. “You’re so beautiful.”

Jason squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth like he’s trying to keep himself together. You examine his arm again, without an audience. Jason has a lot of scars. A lot. Way more than Roy, even though they’re in the same line of work.

Jesus. No wonder he’s insecure, he’s got a body that’s been ripped apart.

You hear a step, and suddenly Roy’s arms come up around your middle. You try to meet his eyes, but he’s looking at Jason, smile half encouraging, half smirking. Huh.

“So what’re we doin’ tonight, Jaybird?” he asks, grinning, hands softly caressing your breasts. You gasp, leaning heavily into Roy.

Jason pulls his face together, cools his eyes so they can stare you down. “Can I eat you out?”

Uh, yup.

“Yeah, of course,” you breathe. “Whatever you want.” Especially if it’s that.

“Hold on.” Roy frowns. “Slow your roll, there.”

What is with him today? You pinch at his thigh, and he looks down at you, willing you to understand something. “We want to make you feel good, too, Jay,” he adds, sliding a hand up Jason’s arm.

Oh. Okay, fair. Jason’s not going to be getting much attention if he’s giving you head. Damn Roy for his insight.

“Will you let us take care of you, Jason?” you add softly.

He freezes, then nods.

“Can I blow you?” Roy asks, voice breathless. You pull in a sharp breath.

Jason looks shocked all over again. “Uh, ye—yeah.” He gives Roy that soft smile again. Roy smiles back winningly.

All well and good, but what about you? You’re not ready to just sit back and watch, not yet.

As if thinking the same, Jason opens his mouth. “But I still want to eat you out.” He looks at you, determined.

You grin at him. “I think we can make that work.” You stroke your fingers up Roy’s arm. Annoyingly, he stays quiet.

Jason’s face settles, and he gives a confident grin. “Wanna sit on my face?”

Yes please! But Roy’s been weird, so you turn to him first.

He looks down at you, sees how eager you are, and gives a mock sigh. “I guess I can let you fall on that sword,” he teases. Then he grins wickedly, and you smirk in return.

“Not the sword I wanted to fall on!” you say together, laughing.

“Christ, that was bad,” Jason mutters. You and Roy grab him by the arms and muscle him into your bedroom.

As soon as you get inside, Roy shoves him toward the bed. Rolling his eyes, Jason unbuttons his pants and starts to slide them down. You and Roy freeze, watching eagerly.

“What?” Jason looks at you, frowning over his shoulder.

“Nothing, nothing,” you answer quickly.

“Keep going,” Roy prods impatiently.

Cheeks going pink, Jason lets his pants drop to the floor, followed by his underwear.

Good god. “Batman’s training has that ass tight,” Roy notes.

“Harper, I will walk the fuck out right now,” Jason threatens.

“Yeah, Roy, how about you go ahead and shut the fuck up,” you mutter. Roy frowns, and you soothe him by sliding a hand into his sweatpants and gripping his ass tightly. He stands ramrod straight at your touch, grinning at you. “I mean, this is just unfair,” you add. “Surely too much of a good thing is too much of a good thing, right?”

Jason turns, eyes zooming in on your hand down the back of Roy’s pants. “You got me excited,” you say, shrugging. “I needed a stress ball.”

Jason snorts while Roy laughs outright.

“Come on, cowboy,” you say to Roy. “Don’t leave Jason and I hanging.” You start to tug his sweats down. Roy kicks them out of the way and shrugs off his shirt.

You look at Jason and frown. “Can you take your shirt off?”

Jason’s face goes stony. You can almost hear his armor slot into place. “Nope.”

You try to recover. “Okay, no worries.” You look over at Roy, whose face is even, resigned.

Turning, Jason climbs onto your bed. “Come on then, princess.”

Princess? And just who does he think he is?

You take him in, strong arms cradling his head on your pillow, cock leaning against his muscled thigh in a bed of thick, curly hair.

Your mouth goes dry. Yeah, okay, you can be princess. For now.

You glance at Roy, then climb onto the bed. “You ever done this before?” Jason raises an eyebrow. “Just—just don’t let me suffocate you, okay?”

“If you can’t breathe, tap the thigh three times,” Roy adds.

Jason rolls his eyes. “I think I can handle it. Come on.”

Cautiously, you position yourself over him, holding onto the headboard and keeping most of your weight on your knees. Looking down, you see Jason roll his eyes again before grabbing your thighs and forcing you down onto his face, lips suddenly in your cunt.

“Fuck, Jason,” you hiss, pulling his hair. “You good?”

He ignores you, kissing his way lightly through your folds. You settle against his face and grip the headboard. “Ah-ah, feels good,” you smile down at him. Jason’s lips skim your clit and you gasp. He kisses it eagerly, still soft in a way that has you sighing.

Jason keeps it for another minute, alternating between kissing lightly at your clit and moving his lips down your folds. It feels nice, but it’s not giving you enough. You need more.

“Jason.” You look down to see his eyes staring up at you, guarded. “Jason, use your tongue,” you instruct.

His eyes narrow. Immediately, his tongue runs flush up your folds, laving heavily at your clit. Sparks fly from your core, and your entire body jolts.

“Jesus, fuck!” you scream. Jason digs his hands into the meat of your thighs and positions you right where he wants you, tongue reaching up and rubbing ceaselessly against your clit.

Your hips chase away from him. “Jason,” you pant, “Jason, it’s too much.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “A second ago it wasn’t enough.”

He jerks you back down, tongue going greedily back to your clit. The shocks to your core are too intense, too much too soon. You whine, moving your hips against his face to try as find a rhythm you can handle. Jason lets out a groan when you grind against him.

You smile, running your fingers in your hair. “Yeah? You like it when I grind on you?”

Jason’s answering stare is brutal, and you laugh out loud. Then he gets his lips around your clit and sucks and sucks and sucks, and you almost lose your mind.

“F-fuck! Fuck, Jason, that feels so good, please don’t stop—”

“Yeah?” Jason smirks at you. “Not too much anym—ugh!”

He moans, and you can feel his hips buck. “Fuck, Roy,” he growls when he resurfaces.

You gasp out loud; you almost forgot. Roy is sucking Jason’s cock, in this room, right behind you.

You shift your weight onto one knee, hips eagerly turning to get a better look. The strong hands on your thighs tighten, pulling you back into place.

You look down. “Nuh-uh.” Jason’s wearing a stern look. “You’re staying right here.”

“But Jason, I wanna see!” you whine, craning your neck.

“Tough shit.” He resettles you against his face and picks up right where he left off, lips wrapped around your clit.

“Fuck,” you groan, melting against his lips. “Jesus, Jason,” you pant. “Who knew—fuck—who knew you were such an asshole,” you say, grinning at him through ragged breath. He looks up at you like he knows exactly what you mean, and you thread your fingers into his hair and pull.

“Mmh,” he moans into your pussy as his hips buck again. His chin jumps, nose bumping against your clit. You gasp, gripping the headboard and grinding down on him.

“That’s it, princess,” he growls. “Fuck my face, wanna see what it feels like.”

Holy fucking shit. Is this man for real?

You gasp, nodding. Then you do what you’ve wanted to do from the start and slam your hips down against him, bucking and rolling and chasing an orgasm that’s getting closer every time Jason’s hands squeeze your thighs.

Jason doesn’t let up, licking and sucking at your clit. You find a rhythm that burns you all the way to your fingertips and ride his face just like he told you to. “Shit, Jason, it’s too good,” you pant. “‘S too good, I’m gonna—”

The crest of your orgasm punches through you. You cry out, limbs going stiff around Jason’s head. His eyes run through you as he carefully watches, carefully licks against you as you come down.

“Fucking hell, baby, that was so good.” You smile down at him, moving to get off and let him breathe. Again, his hands lock you in place. You roll your eyes. “Jason, what—”

He shakes his head. “Not done,” he grunts, panting against you. You place a hand behind you and feel his abs flex and roll under his t shirt; can hear the slick sounds of Roy’s head bobbing on his cock.

Ah. Guy’s got an oral fixation, or something. Whatever.

You nod, settling back around him, letting him lick against you. A thought pops into your head, and you give him a wicked grin, fingernails scraping against his scalp.

“Roy’s really good at that, huh,” you say, voice slick and smooth and loud enough for Roy to hear.

Jason’s eyes widen a fraction, then narrow. You stare him down, grin widening.

“What’s he doing, Jason-baby?” you coo. “Is he taking you down his throat, are his lips moving up and down around your cock?”

Jason’s hips stutter, and you hear Roy groan.

“Or is he taking his time,” you continue. “I bet you are, Roy, you always like to enjoy yourself.” Roy laughs, and Jason’s eyes widen again. “He’s like that, baby,” you tell him, gently caressing his hair. “I bet he’s—ah!”

Jason sucks viciously at your clit. You roll your hips against his face, then find your voice again. “I bet he’s dragging his tongue up and down your shaft,” you say confidently. “Is he, baby? Has he run his tongue along your tip so he can taste your pre? Or were you too sensitive?”

Both of them moan at that. You shiver happily, moving both arms down to cradle Jason’s head in your hands. “Has he played with your balls?” you ask, then purse your lips, considering. “I bet he has, Roy, have you?” you call over your shoulder.

Roy grunts, and beneath you, Jason nods shakily. “Uh-huh, I knew it.” You nod in satisfaction. “Knew he got his hands there to make you feel good. Or was it his mouth? Did he suck gently at the skin around them? Did he take one into his mouth?”

Jason moans, hips stuttering wildly. “Harper,” he calls out, voice unsteady. “Harper, ‘m—”

His sentence is cut off with a strangled groan as he comes. You look down at him happily. Jason’s eyes are squeezed shut, face twisted. You run your dingers through his hair as he pants through it, grinning at him as he opens his eyes. “So fucking hot, baby,” you tell him.

“Okay,” you hear Roy call from behind you. “Get the fuck over here.” He grabs you, manhandling you over Jason’s body to his side of the bed.

“Jesus, Roy!” you shout in surprise, turning to look at him. His face shuts you right up.

Roy’s eyes are dark, gaze heavy. You look at his lips and gasp—Jason’s come still lingers at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t have you talkin’ like that all the way over there,” he growls. Getting up on his knees behind you, pulling you upright, he grinds his dick into your ass.

You smile, moving with him. “Got you all riled up, huh?"

Roy shakes his head. “Both of you,” he says, voice rough. “Fuck, babydoll, talking so fucking filthy, made me wanna fuck you till you scream.” His hand reaches around for your cunt, easily sliding his fingers between your folds. He goes right for your clit, and you gasp, hands holding his arm in a vice grip. “Lemme fuck you, babygirl,” Roy coaxes, sucking a hickey into your neck.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Yeah, Roy, c’mon.”

“Jay,” Roy calls, fingers sliding maddeningly against your clit. “Grab me a condom from the nightstand, would you?”

Shit, that’s hot. Jason looks like he’s been struck dumb. Nodding unsteadily, chin still shiny after you rode it, Jason turns and reaches for the nightstand, rummaging for a condom. Fishing one out, he tosses it to Roy.

“Thank you, baby,” Roy sighs, ripping it open and slipping it onto his cock. He bites your neck in warning, then slams his way inside you.

You groan. “Mm, already so wet, huh?” Roy pants. “So ready for my dick.” He swipes at your clit faster, and when you pull your hips back for breath you find yourself trapped, grinding on his cock.

“Ugh, Roy,” you whine. “Too much.” You rake your nails down his arm hard enough to scratch and he hisses, relenting. “Sorry, sweetheart.” He circles your clit instead, passing over it in a rhythm that has you grinding in time with his thrusts. “Jus’ can’t get enough of you.”

“Mmh.” You grin, tilting your head back and looking at Jason. Just like last time, his eyes—slightly wide—are trained on the two of you. You’re closer this time, and facing him, you can see his eyes dart between your faces, down to your breasts, to Roy’s hand on your cunt. “Always seem to be putting on a show for you, huh, baby?” you say, smiling.

“Can’t, help it, Jay,” Roy pants. He shifts and suddenly his dick hits a new angle.

“Yeah, there, Roy,” you mumble. He drills into you hitting that spot again and again. His fingers circling your clit give you sharp bursts of heat before letting you relax, only to hit you again. Roy knows what you like, and every time his finger hits home the heat burns hotter, getting you closer to the edge.

“Taking your dick down my throat just got me too excited,” Roy says to Jason, growling into your ear.

“Shit Roy!” you sob as he pinches at your clit, electricity flooding through your core.

“I know, babydoll, I know,” he says soothingly. “Jus’ let me—” he grabs at your hips and slams into you wildly, all rhythm gone as he fucks into your pussy till he comes. You feel it when his hips slow, when he lets some of his weight fall on you. His hand in your pussy doesn’t stop, though, and you widen your hips to get a better angle.

“Gonna make you come again, yeah?” Roy asks sweetly, almost condescendingly, and you nod dumbly. “Gonna make you come on my hand.” And he fucking is. Once he brings his other hand up to play with your nipples, it’s all over. You crumble in the face of your orgasm, and Roy lifts his arms up to catch you.

“Mmh, so good, Roy,” you mumble, dropping onto the bed with a thump.

Roy quickly joins you, reaching out to smooth a hand over your hip. “Mmh,” he agrees.

You both look up at Jason. He hesitates, then makes to get up.

“You can stay,” you say hastily, motioning him toward you.

Jason studies the two of you and shakes his head. “Nah. But uh—” his gaze flits between the two of you. “Uh—thanks.” He rolls off the bed and quickly dresses himself.

“Of course!” you say cheerily, feeling like a customer service rep.

“Anytime, Jaybird.” Roy’s voice is thick with satisfaction.

Pants on, Jason stares, nods once, and makes his exit.

“Let us know when we can do this again!” you shout after him, then collapse against Roy.

“Mm, that was great,” Roy says, putting an arm around you.

You narrow your eyes. It was, but you have a bone to pick with Roy. “That was weird.” You poke him in the chest. “You were being weird.”

Immediately, Roy’s demeanor changes. He moves away from you, getting off the bed. “No, I wasn’t.” He leaves your bedroom.

You follow him to the bathroom. “Yeah, you were. What is it?”

Roy pulls off the condom and throws it in the trash, refusing to meet your eyes.

You sigh, leaning against the doorjamb. “Okay, well, that shit with the towel? Presenting me to Jason like I’m some animal?” You wait until he meets your eyes, gaze uneasy. “Wasn’t a fan of that shit, Roy.”

He blows a strand of hair out of his face. “I know.” He moves to the sink, running the tap to wash his hands.

You run a tongue over your teeth, then hug him from behind. “Tell me what’s going on,” you say quietly.

You feel Roy’s back tense. “It’s just—he’s so pretty, you know?” he says finally, shutting off the water. “He’s so gorgeous, and jacked as fuck to boot. When we’re out, he always gets more attention. Not that I want it.” He reaches down to rub your thigh. “But it’s so obvious, all the time.”

“Ah.” You rub a cheek against his back. “But what’s that got to do with me?”

Roy deflates. “Was using you, I think,” he mumbles. “To prove…” he trails off.

“To prove?” you nudge him with your chin.

“…if I can pull you, and he thinks you’re smokin’ hot, then that means I’m…” again, he doesn’t finish, but you get the gist.

You kiss your way down his spine. “Sounds like I’ve been neglecting my kitten, hm?” you murmur. “Sounds like I need to remind him how pretty he is.” You slide your hand over the curve of his ass, teasing between his cheeks. Roy jolts, then shifts his hips back into your hand. He’s blushing, you can see it in the mirror, but he’s wearing a wide grin.

Raising your eyebrows, you give him a challenging look. “What do you think, baby? Do I need to fuck you until you remember how beautiful you are?” You slip your hand in further, fingertips just skimming his asshole.

Roy nods in the mirror, smirking, flush creeping down his neck. “I think you do.”

Quick as a flash, you drop to your knees and sink your teeth into the flesh of his ass, making him yelp. “Anything for you, babygirl.”

Ten minutes later you’re lying on your back, watching Roy fuck himself on your strap. “Jesus, baby, aren’t you a picture,” you praise. He looks impossibly sinful, muscles flexing as he rolls himself down against you. He smiles widely at you, brow twisted in concentration, moaning as he grinds his hips just right. You rub your hands up and down his thighs. “You know these thighs keep me up at night, don’t you, kitten?” you coo softly.

Roy stifles a groan. “Ye—yeah?” he pants.

“Mm.” You run your fingers over the corded muscle. “Don’t even need the headboard, don’t even need to use your arms,” you murmur, voice awed. “Just bouncing yourself up and down on my cock with only your thighs and your abs.”

He grins happily and increases his pace, showing off. “Fuck, kitten,” you moan, “you look like you could do that all day.”

“Bet I could,” he smirks. “Bet I could—ah—fuck myself on your cock for hours straight.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, babygirl,” you tease. You bring a hand up to swipe at his nipple. Roy gasps, then whines, chasing your hand with his own and bringing it back to his chest.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I’ll play with your tits,” you reassure him. “Just gotta get my fill of your abs first.” One hand on his hip, you lay the other flat on his stomach, tracing the outline of his muscles. “God, Roy,” you say, mesmerized. “Your body is so fucking perfect.” You look him dead in the eyes as he goes uncharacteristically shy, turning his face away from you. “Such a gorgeous, perfect body, I want to kiss every inch of you.”

“Yeah?” he asks, voice quiet.

“Yeah. And you’re so handsome. Every time I look at you it’s all I can think about, how beautiful you are.” You caress his hips, running your thumbs over them gently. “I’m so lucky,” you murmur, “I’m so grateful that it’s me that gets to be with you.”

Roy smiles softly, leaning down and putting an arm on either side of you. You tilt your hips up, planting your feet on the bed, and raise your chin to meet his lips with your own.

You kiss him as softly and sweetly as you can, bringing your hands up to cradle his face. “Love you so much,” you whisper against him.

Roy exhales. “Love you too, baby. Thank you.” He knocks his head lightly against yours.

“Anytime.” You run your hand up his side and he shivers. You grin at him. “Almost forgot you had a dick inside you.”

“I didn’t,” he pants. Knees driving into the mattress, Roy grinds himself on your strap, inching toward you before slamming himself back down. This time, you roll your hips to meet him, making him moan and pick up his rhythm.

“Since you love me,” Roy breathes, “how about you jerk me off, hm?”

You eye his cock, laying flushed and stiff between you. “Please, baby?” he wheedles.

You slap his ass, making him shriek. “I don’t think so, kitten.”

“So mean to me,” he mutters, absolutely shaking.

“Oh, come on.” You bring a hand up to sharply pinch his nipple, rolling it between your fingers. “We both know you can finish all by yourself,” you call over his moan, hips keeping pace to drive the strap inside him.

“Don’t—don’t stop,” Roy pleads.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I know what you need.”

And you do. You play with his nipples and roll your hips and Roy grunts and moans and comes all over your chest. After his breathing calms down, you dip a finger in his spend and hold it up to Roy, who licks it clean.

“Rating?” you ask.

He scrunches his face. “Two out of ten.”

“Really?” You taste his come yourself. “Ugh, Roy, what did you eat? It’s nasty this time.”

“Dunno.” He rolls off of you and into the bathroom.

“Eat more pineapple,” you call after him. He returns and tosses you a damp washcloth. “Especially before we see Jason again,” you add meaningfully.

That stops Roy cold. “Holy shit. You think he’ll blow me?”

“He gave me head,” you reason. “That means you’re next, pal.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” he resettles himself on the bed while you pull the strap off of you. “You good, by the way?” Roy asks. “You want me to,” he mimes fingering you.

You shove him. “Dumbass. No, I’m good.”

He grins at you. “Yeah, I bet you are. ‘Cause Jason gave you fucking head.”

“I know!” you squeal, kicking your legs.

“You lucky sunovabitch,” Roy says longingly.

“Well, you sucked him off,” you remind him.

“Ugh, dude.” Roy shakes his head. “What a privilege.”

You burst out laughing. “Okay, tell me all about it in the shower.” You get up from the bed.

Roy stands up. “Only if you tell me all about it.”

“Done.” You follow him into the bathroom.

———

That was so much fun!!

I had to establish that reader can also be a dom. So two sex scenes for the price of this taking me fucking forever

Tag list:

@xxwelshqueenxx

@porcelain-winter-doll

#teeth writes #jason todd #roy harper x fem!reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x roy harper x reader #roy harper x reader #roy harper smut #roy harper #roy harper x you #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #roy harper imagine #jason todd smut

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yllwjktscult · 1 day ago

Text

New found feelings -Lottie Matthews x reader (pt 2)

!!disclaimer- english is NOT my native language so there for sure will be grammar mistakes!!

an anon asked for a part two and who am i to deny, hope you will enjoy it🫶🏻

in short: lottie and you have sex for the first after dating for months (also your first time ever) and it swirls new emotions you didnt thought you had (you little freak)

WC: 2,7K (👀)

TW: smut☝🏻😭 you bitches are SO horny goddamn it.. but so valid. ANYWAY its lowkey cute ig (just typical me shit sns i write sweet one shots things☝🏻🥹) also, its SUCH a shit, im not good at writing smuts, but i love a good challenge but still, god damnit.. but if i keep staring at it in my notes, i woulndt post it at all, because i start to overthinking it and starts to change/rewrite it to a point it makes no sense after that so enjoy cuz even tho i said im posting it on friday, im posting it randomly with 'ah fuck it' mindset or i woulndt at all, girl bye-

oh and btw, this is probably my last smut for a while, so hihihi 🫶🏻🥹

well anyway, enjoy🫶🏻

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Who would have thought that couple months ago your stupid mouth that was faster than your brain and a hickey would lead you into a relationship with Lottie. Yes you heard that right. With Lottie fucking Matthews. Your close friend, who you are happily dating for months now.

How did that happened? you have no fucking idea.

Actually its a bullshit, you know damn well and each time it makes your stomach do flips.

It happened few weeks after the hickey. Lottie was joking (she wasnt) she would show you how right kissing feels like, and your curious and confused ass wanted to know. You agreed because, HELL you were confused about your feeling for her at that time.

After Lottie kissed you, she admitted she liked you, well shit scratch that. She literally said she was in love with you. And you were happy to hear that. However you did tell her you are confused about your feelings at the moment and she was sweet and understandable about it. Couple weeks after that and more kissing practice, you realised you are in love with her too and thats how you ended dating eachtoher. Your friends (yellowjackets) were about to throw a party because it took you way too fucking long to a point they made bets when you two will start dating.

It was a sweet relationship and you wanted to cry each time you realised you are dating someone so sweet as Lottie. She wanted to hold hand all the time, was so kind and gentle with you, saying it will be in your own pace and had eyes only for you. Like you literally could see her giving you heart eyes it made you want to cry, noone looked at you with so much love as she did. It was almost as if puppy was looking at you with adoration and pure love. Literally a Lottie. She was the kindness soul and you couldnt be more happier that your first relationship was with someone as her. Yes, you did kissed a guy or two before at some party (you were little drunk and wanted to know what the hype is about) but you werent in a relationship yet. You wanted to, you were a hopeless romantic after all, but noone sparked that fire inside you that screamed 'they are worth to give them my all' well.. that was until Lottie, you wanted to give her everything. Like literally, you were so in love with her it physically hurted you.

However, you were still scared shittless. Scared you will fuck this up somehow, scared she will find someone else, someone better who isnt a ball of anxiety and needs time. You were so in love with her you were scared you will lose her over wrongly holding her hand (unknown to you, it was one of the many things why Lottie fell in love with you, in her eyes, you were so cute to her no matter what, it was your charm, how shy you acted with her since you started dating)

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

You felt Lottie rest on top of you completely as she deepened the kiss, her tongue licking your bottom lip, lowkey begging for you to open your mouth and you did.

Did you moan? well yes.. yes you did. Did she smirk at that reaction? fuck yes she did. And she loved it.

The kiss got heated after a while, you both breathing heavily, you both making sounds of enjoyment and the sound of kissing hitting your ears made you want to moan again with how good its making you feel in your whole body but mainly in your lower abdomen.

You were so lost into the kiss you didnt notice Lottie sneaking her hand under your shirt on your stomach, until the tips of her fingers peaked inside the waistband of your pants.

That woke you up and you grabbed her hand and stopped the kissing.

"W-what are you doing?" you stuttered it out, cheek flushed and looking deep into her eyes.

Lottie with her own reddish cheeks got embarrassed that she got too lost into the kiss she smiled shyly as she looked at you.

"S-sorry, i got carried away" she mumbles shyly and leaned down and kisses you again. But you are certarly not into is as you were before, your brain is stuck in the moments few seconds ago. You are conflicted. You want her to, but at the same time, you are scared shitless. What if you do something wrong during it? or what if you are horrible at it and she will break up with you?

"Stop it, you are overthinking again" Lottie mumbles against your lips.

"Did you really wanted to..?" you asked shyly and unsurely. You wanted to, like really really wanted to but at the same time you were scared. Terrified even.

Lottie goes quiet for a bit, her cheeks still flushed and bites her lip before she nods "But we dont have to okay?" she kissed your cheek after she smiled at you sweetly and started cuddling you instead.

You wont lie, you were glad, because you felt like your heart will burst out of your chest at the time.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

For the next few days your brain was stuck in the moment, yes, exactly, the moment when Lotties fingers were peaking into your pants. Its was like a loop, and hell, the more days passed, the more you craved it.

So, thats whats happening now, you coulndnt take it anymore and when you got to Lotties house again and changed into her hoodie (she might once said you looked cute in her clothes and fuck it you loved wearing her clothes if we are being honest in here, they are so comfy, smells like her and they are warm and they are hers) you went to her and asked if she still wants you like that (actually you were way too straight forward, you literally asked her "Do you still want to have sex with me" and Lottie almost choked on her soda can when you said that, looking at you like a deer in headlights with her mouth hang open and cheeks flushed)

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

How it happened you dont know, but currently, you are once again in the same position you were days ago, you laying on your back in her bed and Lottie is on top of you with her knee in between your bare legs pressed flushed against you.

She kisses you more desperately than before, almost roughly yet still gentle, parting your lips immediately due to you opening your mouth in shock.

One of her hands that wasnt holding her weight above you went behind your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair and tugging gently to deepen the kiss even more. Lottie moans into your mouth as she bite your lip when she moves her hips against you. You could feel your heart speeding at that, like every single time Lottie makes a sound like this.

She kisses you like shes a starving woman in the dessert, her body flush against you, her fingers gripping your hair tightly yet still very gentle. Because thats Lottie, always gentle with you.

Lottie started to rock her hips against your thigh more now, in slow steady motion.

You couldnt help yourself and let a desperate moan out of your mouth at that. The feeling in your stomach grew warmer and you could feel yourself get wetter each grind and moan she made. You were certain Lottie could feel it on her knee thats between your legs, which made you whine even more at that thought in embarrassment.

Lotties hand, that was in your hair, started wandering lower, down to your chest, to your stomach right above the waistband of your underwear, exactly where you needed her the most.

"Are you sure?" Lottie asked, she wanted you to be sure you are ready for this, after all, its a big step for you and even tho she wont admit it, shes very nervous about it too. She loved you too much and would feel really bad if she felt like you are doing it only because she wanted to or because its expected from you.

"Y-yeah, im sure" You smiled at her and grabbed her hand that was resting above your hipbone and pushed it down your underwear, knowing that she would ask you few more times if you didnt do that.

When her fingers touched you, you moaned a little 'fuck' under your breath and closed your eyes. What you didnt see was how Lottie widened her eyes over how wet you actually were and how it turned into a slight smile right after that, because yeah, shes the reason you are so worked up and it stroke her ego a little bit, knowing your body reacts to her like that. It did made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. Beacuse clearly your body wants her as much as your soul does.

Her touch is both confident and teasing, her movements both gentle and demanding. She takes her time, savoring the way your body responds to her, the way your breathing hitches and your hips arch involuntarily at her touch.

You shivered and you have no idea what came over you but you just straight up told Lottie to take off your underwear, and with a soft chuckle she did it. She repositioned herself back to her previous position, which was straddling one of your thighs as she went back to kiss you as her hand went back in between your legs.

You feel her slender finger gently push into your entrance after a few seconds teasing your clit (AN-i HATE that word lord help me, but a bundle of joy would fry me up if i was a reader, ANYWAY back to the story-), slowly and gently. Making you close your eyes and leave an involuntary moan as you break the kiss and tittle your head backwards against the pillow whimpering a little fuck under your breath.. shit, is this how sex feels? no wonder people like it so much, it feels so fucking good. Lottie feels so fucking good in you.

Lotties breathing against your ear quicker, clearly affected by this as well. Lottie lets out a soft moan just from the feeling of you clenching around her finger when she slipped it in. She went to your neck and continues pressing kisses to your neck, her skin buzzing with excitement that shes finally able to show you with nothing but pure love how much she loves you.

“You feel so good..” she mumbles against your throat, taking her sweet time as she pushes her finger in as deep as she can go. Lottie begins slowly pumping her finger in and out, wanting to give you the best possible experience for your first time. Even tho, she has no idea if shes doing it right. After all, you might or might not be her first girlfriend and in intimacy with a girl as well. She moves herself against your tight from time to time.

“I love you..” she mumbles against your neck, still leaving kisses there and there. Her touch is soft and loving, her body weight keeping you in place beneath her.

Shes watching your face carefully, studying your every expression to make sure that this is all okay.

“Are you okay, baby?” she mumbles against your cheek, pressing a sweet kiss here gently. “No pain or anything?”

You couldnt form words with how flustered mess you were so all you could do was nod at the firts question and shake your head with a no when she asked the second question. You didnt trust your voice at all.

She smiles at you softly, giving you a reassuring look even tho you couldnt see it due to having your eyes closed and letting the feeling Lottie is making you feel completely consume you. Carefully, she pushes another finger in, starting to slowly move them back and forth as her palm rubs against your clit. Making a delicious friction that makes your eyes roll back, but thankfully you have your eyes closed, but shit, it feels way too fucking good. All your worries leaving your brain completely and you are just consumed by the feeling of Lottie. Your girlfriend. Your sweet, caring, lovely girlfriend who loves you so damn much and you can tell based how gentle shes being with you right now.

You made a very very loud moan of her name when a second finger enters you, your body arching as your hand grabs a fistful of her hair at the back of her head pulling her face into your neck. She made a light moan at that.

“I got you..” she whispers softly against your ear, her words coming out somewhat ragged and breathless.

You just nodded again, shifting your hips a little and spreading your legs more apart, so Lottie has a better access to that amazing feeling shes slowly making you feel. As you did that, your tight that Lottie was straddling made a friction against her. Making her moan slightly at the feeling.

Lottie took that as a good sigh and increased in speed, Lotties fingers move in and out of you, still making sure she’s being gentle and not too rough.

You were a moaning and whining mess, shit NOW you fully understand why people have sex, like hello? it feels amazing, especially if you do it with the person you are so deeply in love like you are with Lottie.

Lottie smiles at the way you moan, loving that she caused those reactions. Shes looking at your face that has closed eyes and face screwed in pleasure lovingly, her expression is nothing but pure affection and love. Her heart swells at the sigh of you “I love you..” she breathes out with a whisper as she leans down and kisses you lovingly, her fingers moving with the same rhythm now.

You mumble a shaky 'i love you too' against her lips as your brain gets little too fuzzy over this whole experience. You could feel yourself getting closer. Like really fucking closer.

And Lottie could sense that based on your ragged short breath and the way you clench around her fingers more often now, so her fingers start moving even faster and slightly making her palm press against you more, still not too hard or rough. She keeps murmuring sweet nothings against your neck such as telling you that you are so beautiful, that you are perfect and how much she loves you.

She even added a little praise here and there, like

“You are so good” she basically purrs against your ear or “You are so good for me, baby”

And that was it. That send you over the edge couple second after that, Lotties soft deep voice praising you. You felt your body stiffen, your brain going completely blank, your back arching and your breath hitching in your throat as you make a shaky moan of Lotties name leaving your lips until your body goes limp. The orgasm hitting your body like a wave, the most amazing feeling you have experienced. You might shredded a tear or two due to how emotional you were, but just maybe..

She moves her head slightly, kissing your temple as she keeps her fingers moving steadily in and out, letting you ride your orgasm out. Lottie loves being gentle with you, taking it slow and making sure that you are getting exactly what you want.

After couple seconds later she pulls her fingers from you and pepper your face with kisses telling you how much she loves you and how good you were and how you did so well for her.

Oh and dont worry, Lottie had her turn too that night.

You copied exactly what Lottie did to you and it was filled with giggles and pure love as you did it the second time that night. It was perfect you could say. It wasnt serious as people tend to make it, it was carefree, filled with nothing but love and security.

If anything, you both fell more in love with eachother that night.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

Well.. lets just say that night you discovered your inner freak in you. Did you find out you have a praise kink? yes, yes you did.

Maybe later you discovered you like being choked too (👀) but one thing for sure, you were so madly in love with Lottie it was absolutely gross, you were like a lost puppy and Lottie wasnt any different, she was even worse to be honest.

All of the yellowjackets were so sick of you two (they werent, they were happy for you both, and probably jealous of your relationship because it was so fucking cute it was nauseous) they kinda clocked your shits couple days later, because you both were way too clingy and touchy with eachother more than usual, it was either Van or Nat who clocked it with 'You two had sex" it wasnt even a question but a statement and meant it as a joke and you gave it away when blushed and Lottie bit her lip. The locker room erupted in "ohhhh" and "NO FUCKING WAY!".

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

well... i might come later to edit it, but now, imma leave it because my overthinking ass would change it and for fucks sake it would NOT end up well✋🏻😭 so, jn case there are mistakes, just ignore them, i will come back in a while and edit it. But i hope it WASNT that bad hihi🤞🏻

also @t-wylia i didnt forgot about you!

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fandom #lottie yellowjackets #lottie matthews x reader #lottie mathews x reader #lottie matthews x you #yellowjackets x reader

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gunwoo-bh · 2 days ago

Text

The Night Shift - Part 6 [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, lotsa flirting, yoongi is so far gone for reader, some swearing, reader is starting to use the word oppa as a weapon A/N: WELL. I have figured things out. We are just about at the halfway mark of this series. I'm so grateful for all the love you've given this. It inspires me to keep going. I have updated the tag list, but if I forgot anybody? Let me know please! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I promise this slow burn WILL come to an end. :D

THE NIGHT SHIFT

PART 6

Yoongi [3:14 PM]: I do not have dimples.

You [3:14 PM]: I hate to break it to you but you do.

Yoongi [3:15 PM]: Well, do you like them?

You [3:15 PM]: (rolling eyes emoji) You never stop do you?

Yoongi [3:15 PM]: Never will (winky face emoji)

Since getting that first text from Yoongi, neither of you have been able to stop texting the other. Every time your phone buzzes, you anticipate with excitement a message from him and are rarely disappointed. He’s such a texter and that has been your blessing. You have discovered more about him through texting than any interaction you’ve had, and this only proves to you just how much you like him.

“Iced Americano for…” you hear your name get called out, getting up to pick up your drink.

You’re at a café to study, needing a change of scenery from the four walls of your bedroom. Eunji’s family is still visiting, leaving the next day but you’re still wanting to give them the space to enjoy time alone. You walked around to find a nice café with enough space for you to spread out at a table.

Since your last meeting with Yoongi you’ve been venturing out of your comfort zone, going to new restaurants that look interesting or visiting a store that had something you liked. This is how you ended up at this coffee shop in the first place. You had resigned yourself to studying at the library until you spotted this quaint spot.

As you’re sitting back down your phone buzzes in your hand.

Yoongi [3:18 PM]: I’m free, want me to walk you to work?

You smile, biting your lower lip.

You [3:18 PM]: Not working today, remember? Days changed. I’m studying.

Yoongi [3:19 PM]: Ahhh. So…can I come pick you up from the library where you’re studying to go grab some food?

You snort. What an idiot.

You [3:20 PM]: I’m not at the library. (shocked emoji)

Yoongi [3:20 PM]: Where are you?

You send him a photo of your view from where you sit.

Yoongi [3:21 PM]: (shocked emoji)

Yoongi [3:21 PM]: A café! Shocking!

You [3:21PM]: Ha. Ha. (sighing emoji) I’m trying new things. Saw this café from the street and I’m trying it out.

You [3:22 PM]: You keep saying I need to try new things.

Yoongi [3:22 PM]: Is it nice? How are the Americanos?

Yoongi [3:23 PM]: Are there snacks? Is it cold or warm?

You chew on the straw of your americano, shaking your head and looking around to make sure no one sees your goofy smile.

You [3:25 PM]: Oppa.

Even writing that makes you nervous.

Yoongi [3:25 PM]: Mhm?

You [3:26 PM]: (sends location pin)

You [3:26 PM]: Come on over. Just know I’m studying and I’m boring.

He reads the message right away but says nothing for a while, making you wonder if he’s unsure he wants to come until you see him typing.

Yoongi [3:28 PM]: Make space for me.

You [3:29 PM]: Always.

You put your phone face down on the table, sighing softly and grinning. You go back up to the counter and order another iced Americano for him. You’ve figured out his order based on your texts over the last few days. He’s a simple man. A black iced Americano.

You tell the employee to start preparing ten minutes from when you ordered it, assuming he wasn’t too far off. Or that he would be here soon. And you’re proven right when he walks right in as you hear your name be called again, he hears it too. He follows the barista’s eyesight directly to you as he grins, walking to pick up the drink and walking to you.

“How many have you had so far?” He teases, placing it in front of you.

“Just one. I ordered this one for you.” You slide it to him.

He looks down to it, then back at you as you smile. He’s surprised, because this is the first time you’ve actually bought him something.

“You didn’t have to do that. I have money.”

You frown, glaring at him, “I know you do. But you don’t get to buy me stuff all the time. Sometimes, I’ll buy.”

“Mhm.”

“Say thank you like a normal person, Min Yoongi.” He starts grinning at that, grabbing the iced americano and sipping it.

“Thanks.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, “I’m gonna study now. What are you gonna do while I do that?”

He lifts his bag, taking out his laptop and textbooks, “Same thing. Writing an essay.”

You give him a sly smile, looking back at your laptop with the smallest shake of your head. You put one earbud back in, looking back at Yoongi as he does the same.

7 PM

You don’t realize how much time passes until you hear the familiar dong of the clock, snapping you out of your hyperfocus to glance at your phone and at the time. You gasp softly, realizing a little over three hours have gone by as you look to Yoongi, still buried in highlighting a section of his textbook. You reach out to tap his arm, leaving your fingers there as he looks up.

“Oppa…” His mouth falls open at that, prompting you to resist a grin from forming. “I’m hungry.”

He looks up at the clock on the wall then back to his phone to confirm he didn’t imagine, leaning back and stretching, reaching for his earbud and taking it out too, “You’re what now?”

“Hungry.”

He smirks, licking his lips, “Wanna wrap up and find food?”

You start smiling at that, nodding softly while shutting your books and laptop, “Yes, and yes, please!”

You feel him reach for the strap of your bag as you slip your laptop last into it, not protesting his desire to carry it for you. He lets you walk ahead as you exit the café with you waiting for him at the bottom of the steps.

“So, where did you have in mind? I’m sure you already have a spot.” You say when he meets up with you.

He grins while looking at you with warmth, “I do, actually.”

“Then lead the way.”

You look at his profile as you walk, your gaze tender as you avert your eyes when he turns to look at you. He makes you nervous, but the kind of nervous that leaves you feeling giddy. You’re enamoured with him, every new facet of his personality making it easy for you to like him even more. You glance down to his arm hanging by his eyes, moving closer to it before swiftly wrapping your fingers around his forearm.

You feel him tense for a brief moment before he relaxes again, glancing down to your hand then up to your face as you look ahead. You try to hide your amusement at his look, which you spot from the corner of your eyes. If he wants to say something he doesn’t, instead keeping quiet as you walk up a familiar street.

You gently apply pressure to his arm, stopping him as he stops in front of the restaurant.

“Here?”

Here is his parents’ restaurant. Why do you suddenly grow nervous? You don’t know. It’s food. You’re just grabbing a bite to eat.

With your crush. Admitting it is much easier than denying it.

“Yeah? I seem to remember you ordering three tons of food once…” He teases as you playfully shove him.

“I told you it was for me and my roommates! I didn’t eat all of that by myself, jeez…” He laughs as you let go of his arm, crossing your arms over your chest.

He reaches for you, “I’m sorry, I was just teasing again…” he wraps his fingers around your forearm. “We can keep working while eating, my parents will let us use a table…”

You look back to the building then him, feeling his fingers gently squeeze your arm while tugging you closer. You start smiling before following him inside, his hand still holding your arm but you don’t pull it out of his grasp.

He only lets go once you walk inside, Yoongi holding the door open for you as he says hello to his mom whose eyes move from brightly looking at her son to looking over to you walking up closely behind. You see the light shock on her face but she manages to keep it under wraps, to not break out into the smile you know most moms would break into seeing their son walk in with a girl.

He points to a table in the corner as he guides you to lead the way, following behind you as you settle at the table. You both begin to take your work out as his mother walks over with side dishes and water.

“Oh, hi it’s you again…” she says, sweetly smiling at you.

Yoongi looks at his mom, “She’s not here to raid our kitchen this time, though.”

You look to glare at him, kicking him under the table, “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“It wasn’t just for her, you know?” His mom defends as you look up full of adoration.

“See! Even your mom knows!”

Yoongi just sits there looking between you and his mom with amusement, like this is what he wanted out of the comment he made. You look down to your hands and then back to his mom, “Was he always like this?”

“A little demon, you mean?” He snaps his head at his mother, mockingly offended. “Yes, sweet angel most times, mischievous sometimes.” She reaches over to squeeze his cheek while Yoongi protests loudly but does nothing to stop her.

“Alright, alright! Mom, can we get food. We have to work still…” he pleads with her, and you watch them have some sort of silent conversation as she cups his cheek instead.

“Mhm, fine. Let me take care of you kids.” She looks between you and Yoongi one final time before disappearing in the kitchen.

You raise your gaze to meet his, “Your mom is nice.”

“She likes you.” He must see the shock on your face because he grins, eyes softening when looking at you. “But yes, she is nice. Sometimes she’s too nice.”

You nod while opening your textbook, “I think you get that from her…” you comment while not looking at him, too embarrassed to see his look on his face.

He stays quiet but you still feel his eyes on you, and before long he turns his focus to his own school work. His mother brings over some japchae, some galbi jim and kimbap on the side. You eat in between work but soon enough, you push your books off to the side to focus solely on the food.

Yoongi, on the other hand, still works diligently without eating much. He takes a bit here and there but his eyes remain glued to his textbook. You even stare at him for longer than necessary and he doesn’t even notice. With your chopsticks you grab a kimbap and raise it before reaching over the table, placing it in his eyesight as he startles at the sudden object in front of him.

“Eat, please.” You keep holding it there, expecting him to refuse it or to ask you to put it down on his plate but he instead manages to surprise you yet again as he leans forward with his mouth open to take it directly from you.

The faintest smile tugs at your lips, grabbing some rice and kimchi, doing the same. And in between bites of food, some reading and some talking, you manage to finish the meal prepared by his parents.

The restaurant begins to empty as seven turns to eight and then nine. And as you approach 9:30 p.m. you lean back as you respond to a text on your phone. And another one. Yoongi is still reading and taking notes this entire time, but he takes note of your work pushed aside as he glances over the edge of his book.

“Everything okay?” He asks, looking back down to his book to not show the light concern he’s feeling right now.

You snap your head up and realize you’ve been on your phone instead of working, “Shoot, yeah, just…trying to organize something with my friends and it’s slowly falling apart…” you sigh.

He stands up suddenly, catching you off guard while you watch him go behind the counter to grab another soda and a beer for himself. He returns, opening the soda and giving it to you as he pops his beer open, “I think we’ve done enough studying and work tonight. What’s not working with your friends and your plans?”

You grab the can, taking a sip while opening your phone up and looking something up under his curious gaze. You turn it around to show him a photo of an ad online about a couch being sold.

“My friends and I have been looking for a bigger couch to be able to host friends or like, have movie nights without ending up on the floor. And we found this one but,” you stand up to come around as he pulls out the chair next to him, “our problem is, we need a van because it’s too big. Even though it comes in sections.”

He nods while looking at you, waiting for you to keep going, “And the second issue we have is the location. The person selling it lives an hour away, just outside of Seoul. The main issue is that none of us drive, or have a car. But we can afford it. We’ve been trying to see if they’d be willing to deliver it but no luck so far.”

He looks at the address on your phone, looking at the location and then back to the couch. He looks deep in thought as you sit there, picking at your nails.

“You like the couch?”

He looks up at you, “We love it.”

He nods softly before handing your phone back, “Gimme a sec…”

He stands up, walking around and disappearing in the kitchen for a moment as you sit there, bewildered. You look down to your phone, biting your lower lip as your friends’ texts still come through.

You hear Yoongi’s voice even from the back as he hums his thanks to his parents, stepping out to jog back to your table and finding his spot next to you again. He asks for your phone again and when he holds it, he sends himself the location. You take it from him, frowning as you mouth the air, but he beats you to it.

“I asked my parents if I could borrow the restaurant van we use for deliveries for one day and they said yes. Mom said as long as we have it back within one day it won’t be a problem. She also says to let her know which day, she’ll make us snacks so we save our money.” He chuckles at that last part, not realizing all the information you have to process.

“Wait, what?”

He laughs, his gummy smile showing, “Tell your friend speaking to whoever owns the couch that you’ll take it, and to figure out a day. I’ll ask my friends to help with moving it up to your building.”

Your mouth hangs open as he adds, “Preferably on the weekend, obviously.”

You shake your head as you reach for his hands, “Oppa, I didn’t mean…I wasn’t asking–”

“You said you liked the couch. Right?” He turns his chair to face you, holding your hands now in his. At your small nod, he smiles. “Then let’s get you the couch.”

You sit there still in shock, looking at his face and how simple it seems to be for him to say such things. You exhale before launching yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him.

You don’t realize as you half sit, half stand there with your face buried in his neck that he looks over your shoulder with his cheeks bright red as he finally wraps one arm around you.

“Are you sure?” Your breath hits his ear, sending a shiver down his spine and goosebumps all over his body.

He nods, “Mhm. One hundred percent.”

“Thank you…” Yoongi squeezes you tighter before removing his arm, prompting you to pull back as you clear your throat. “And sorry about…” you point between yourselves.

“The hug?” You nod when he asks, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Don’t. I like that you felt you could do that with me.”

He grabs your hand and shakes it, “So, text your friends now! Let them know you figured out a way.”

You jump to it, texting away on your phone for a moment as he watches you. You’re so excited you can’t even contain it as you smile while texts are coming in from your friends.

When you put your phone face down a little while later, you turn to him with the softest smile, “Have I said thank you?”

He grins at you, “Yes, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again.”

“Thank you…” you watch his gummy smile, his cheeks flush, “Oppa.” You see his smile falter as he mouths the air at that.

You figure that there must be some mutual interest in some way, shape, or form. Otherwise he wouldn’t blush this hard when you call him that. You nudge his leg with yours so he looks at you.

“You made my day.” Your voice is timid as you tenderly look into his eyes.

He nods while looking away, “Any time.” Squeezing your leg he stands up, “I’ll walk you home, okay? I’ll just let my mom know.”

You sit there watching after him as he disappears again. These last few weeks would have overwhelmed you had it been anybody else but Yoongi has somehow made himself a space in your life you can’t see him ever leaving.

You like Min Yoongi.

And maybe, just maybe, he likes you too.

And that is why when you hug him one final time in front of your building that night, you press a sweet kiss to the high point of his cheek before pulling completely out of the embrace. You keep your hands on his shoulders, “Goodnight. Thank you for everything.”

“Anytime.”

Here we go! Another chapter down! I'm so excited for what's next, I can't wait to show it to you all! ENJOY :D

tag list: @muchwita @kam9404 @ot72025 @lalazilz @janeelizabeth1216 @rinkud @yngisstuff @lolpanda94 @angelicbunnee @wubbz05 @illicitelle @legendarydreamqueen @flyxfall @mintmango-min @moorepls @gojomyoneandonly @yoongiiuu93 @wobblewobble822 @michaela0901 @ariakamil

Post separator credit to @hyuneskkami

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stanart4clearskin · 3 days ago

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a/n: this came to me in a dream so the plot is kinda weird

frat!art x stalker-ish!reader

perhaps you knew you were being naive when you agreed to have a no strings relationship with him. maybe a small part of you thought that he might change his mind during your time together and possibly even love you. it always worked out in the movies, so why wouldn't it work for you?

the first night you had spent with art had been magical. he was unlike any other guy you'd been with during your time at stanford. even though he was the stereotypical obnoxious frat boy, behind closed doors he was something else entirely. he kissed you like it was his last dying wish, as if that kiss was the only thing he’d ever wanted in life. art's hands were gentle against your skin as he touched you; they were like a feather that traced over your features. he'd only be rough when you asked him to, always making sure that you were okay with anything he was doing.

maybe it was the way he treated you that made you fall for him. he was a genuinely nice guy, and somewhere in your brain you confused manners for love. outside of the bedroom, art didn't pretend that you didn't exist. at parties he'd come over and say hello, making friendly conversation. during classes he'd sit by you and lend you pencils whenever you forgot yours. it was hard to judge where the line started and ended because the two of you had grown so close. that's why when he wanted to end things so that he could start having a serious girlfriend, you were lost.

hadn't he treated you like a girlfriend? the two of you went on dates, held hands during movies, and kissed every time you walked under a bridge. hadn't that been art telling you he wanted more? hadn’t that been him going beyond no strings attached?

you watched as art and his actual girlfriend held hands around campus. you watched as they did everything that the two of you had done. it made you feel sick. every time their boisterous laugh rung through quiet halls of the school, you wanted to take a tennis racket to their beautiful faces.

it wasn't fair that art had acted like he was your boyfriend, just to leave like the months had meant nothing. you didn't even notice when you'd started taking residence outside his dorm window at night. you watched through his open window as he kissed his girlfriend the way he'd once kissed you. you watched as the two of them stumbled towards art's bed, giggling their heads off.

in some way it was a sort of sick torture watching the two of them; mainly you just watched him. you watched as art would play with her hair as they cuddled in bed. sometimes you'd imagine you were in her place, what it'd feel like to have his hands in your hair. on days when art closed the blinds, you'd walk past his dorm just to hear what they were doing inside. you wanted to hear how she made him moan. you needed to know if she was better than you.

you took some pride in knowing that his sounds were strained; they sounded fake. you started writing him letters about how he deserved so much better. he deserved a girlfriend who could treat him well. you dropped them off while he was away at tennis practice, signing them with a kiss.

—

it had come to you as a bit of a shock when art had broken up with his girlfriend a few months later. you hadn't expected them to end things so soon, but you couldn't be happier. within days art was calling you up and soon enough you were crawling back into his bed.

after a long night of being tangled in his sheets, the two of you cuddled. art's hands ran through your hair, combing the tangled locks. "why'd you guys break up?" you asked as casually as you could muster. not only were you running on after glow, early that day when you'd entered his dorm you saw your letters sitting on his desk. it was surprising that he hadn’t thrown them away like any sensible person would’ve.

you felt him shrug behind you. "don't know. we just didn't really click all that well." you could tell he wasn't telling the whole truth, but you didn't want to pry.

"that sucks," you said, sympathetically. art snorted, burying his face into your hair.

"i know you were happy when you got my text." your cheeks flushed pink. he knew you too well.

you shrugged. "maybe," you muttered meekly.

"and i know they're from you." he said, his free hand tracing shapes along your thigh.

"know what's from me?" you asked, confused. there's no way he could've figured out the letters, right? after all they’re only been two; they were vague enough to not reveal who you were.

art pinched your thigh lightly and laughed when you squeaked at him. "don't play dumb," he whispered into your ear. his breath was hot against your skin and you shivered. "the letters. i know they're from you."

you could feel your blood go cold. had this all been a trap to get you expelled? maybe even report you to the police?

"don't worry," he said quickly. "i don't really care. it's a little flattering."

"flattering?" you stammered, pulling away from him and sitting up. you could hardly meet his eyes, but when you did he was smiling ear to ear—it was confusing. people would usually be frightened or angry, but art was neither. he looked as if you'd just told him some form of good news. not that the girl in his bed was some form of a stalker.

art nodded, "i was testing you, you know." at your bewildered look he continued. "i treated you like a girlfriend and then broke it off on purpose. i wanted to see if you'd be upset and want me back."

you took a moment to process his words. "well did i pass?" you asked awkwardly. this whole situation was beyond confusing and a little weird, but art didn’t seem to mind. in fact, he seemed to like it.

art nodded. "and that's why i want you to be my girlfriend."

well, isn't that a fucked up way to start dating?

tag list: @mattstimberlands @lexiiscorect @matchpointfaist @tigerlillizz @severe-mental-illness @coolgrl111 @spiritkissin @liabiamiakiawia @tequilawithissues @katsuniverse

#challengers #art donaldson #mike faist #art donaldson x you #art donalson x reader #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #challengers movie #josh o'connor #zendaya #frat!art donaldson #frat!art donaldson x reader #frat boy!art donaldson x reader #frat boy!art donaldson #stalker!reader

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atangledfate · 3 days ago

Text

The General didn't seem to budge from his stoic pose with his hands behind his back. That single eye locked on Rowan as accusations were thrown at him. It was an impossibly steel gaze that revealed nothing of his current emotional state. Like staring into the eyes of a statue he revealed nothing to Rowan as he was accused of with holding information. Yet when Lupus spoke it was filled with authority, and years of hard earned experience. He had an Air about him, that was both awe inspiring and terrifying at the same time.

" I assure you that we were not waiting for a situation like this to arise. We simply required Mimic to make a move before we could move in and deal with him. Imagine the political fallout if we burst on base and arrested the wrong person... Trust me when i say, the fate that awaits Mimic is far worse then anything he could hope to bring upon your family... "

His eyes turned to Mimic as his tail swished behind him and he locked eyes with Mimic. Yet the Eyes of Mimic told a story the likes of which few could. Fear, pure and untainted was resting in those eyes of the would be killer. For the first time since Rowan had seen Mimic and in all he battles he fought--- there was no mistaking that look. Mimic knew he was cooked and, he was practically begging Rowan not to leave him there.

Yet that desperate call would go unanswered as the last thing Mimic would see was Rowan's gaze meeting his---and then, he was gone. The Wolf turned back to stare at where that portal had been almost as if he could perceive something the others couldn't.

" Take the Prisoner to the brig... and Sedate him, i have no doubts he'd come up with some way to weasel his way out... so have the Medics put him under until further notice..."

Well one piece of the puzzle was captured, now if they could just get there hands on the cyborg and the Badnik girl they'd have all the pieces of the puzzle.

==============================================

Sonic Smiled at belle and rubbed a finger under his nose as she asked him not to get himself in trouble for her. He simply pushed himself from the wall and walk past her waggling a finger in a classic sonic way he was practically famous for now!

" Ah don't worry Belle! i'm already on GUN's shit list at this point. Its not the first time i've crossed swords with those punks! and besides! i'll always be there for my friends! no matter how dire things look... that goes for you to Surgie! even if you'd rather strangle me dead! hah! "

He smiled back at Surge as she came out of the office

" How about we go top side and glare menacingly at the command ship! that'll give your little bro time to do his thing! and put the fear of Gaia into those soldier boys! hold the fort down for us while we are gone alright Belle! "

Miles finally free of the office came to sit next to Belle watching as Sonic disappeared out the door. The Fox only smiled and leaned back in the chair with a shake of his head. Some things never changed and no matter how much he grew Sonic was always going to put his neck on the line for those he cared for. The fact h worked past his distaste for who and what Belle was when they first met. To now swearing to protect her even if GUN attacked them was a big leap.

" You doing ok Belle? what was that about? "

He didn't know the context of the discussion though he assumed maybe this was all a bit much for Belle.

" If ya need anything just say the word..."

================================================

Jewel entered her office and closed the door taking a second to take a deep breath. Alot was riding on this and frankly she was nervous beyond words. She buzzed her way over to her office Phone hoping it was still operational. It gave her a direct line to the UFN among other places. It still didn't make this any less nerve racking. She wasn't a diplomat, nor any kind of leader really. She was just a girl from a small town who knew about rocks and liked to organize things!

Honestly she almost wished she had a some bourbon on hand for a quick shot of liquid courage! but then she probably should be at her best for this one! She sat down at her desk, and picked up the phone holding it in her hands.

" Here goes... i hope Blaze is able to keep the general occupied... at least until i have the president on the phone..."

================================================

The general's body shifted when he saw the Com channel open to Restoration. He tilted his head in a curious manner as it was still early. They had time, even 20 minutes was alot when you were working out a plan of action. This was curious, and he wondered if they were simply caving to there demands or was there some other plan at work? No that princess wouldn't just give up like that and he doubted Sonic would either. He'd been alive long enough to know

Things were about to get interesting...

" Open Coms, and keep a close monitor on restoration activities... "

He stood on the center platform and crossed his arms as Blaze's face appeared on the screen.

" Princess... Its a pleasure to see you again, have you and your people made a decision? Or perhaps is this some effort to gain more time..."

Sonic knew deep down that Belle was doing this for all the right reasons. She had this lofty goal of seeing the badniks made into something good and just. To see them freed and given a chance to be there own bot. He also had a feeling that down the road this could lead to something good---but also bad. The people of mobius wouldn't be so ready to open there hearts to machines as Tails and himself were. Hell even he lashed out at Belle at first and yet... he still wished her all the luck in the world!

" I think deep down you already knew you were going to leave ... it's fine though! i'm sure they'll miss you, but i think your cause is a noble one! i hope you find what you are looking for out there and if you ever need a hand! don't be afraid to call... i'll be there in a flash to lend a paw! "

He gave her a thumbs up and a warm smile

" I do think its good of you to stick by a bit just till things cool down as for GUN. Don't worry about those losers--- If they ever lay a finger on you ill personally give them a beat down! "

===============================================

" That's a sound idea ... the more high level threats the less likely gun will do something foolish. But it sounds like we have a plan of action! i'll head to my office to contact this president fellow... and when everything is in place we'll make our move! time to shine people! lets go! "

Jewel wasn't even sure if her plan would work but she had to have confidence in herself and her team. She buzzed her wings and dashed through the halls to her office to engage with the president, which left Blaze to deal with the general.

" I'll round up our heavy hitters... Lanolin you should stick with Blaze, you know our people better then she does. She might need you for intell... be careful Blaze. That old codger seems more cunning then he lets on... honestly i hope Jewel can handle that president... "

Miles headed out into the main room and whistled at Sonic and headed over to him and Belle. He jogged a bit to make the distance as quick as he could and paused as he watched Blaze closely a moment before his eyes went back to sonic.

" Jewel wants our heavy hitters out in the open where GUN can see them. A deterrent of sorts... so you and Surge mostly... Jewel and blaze are about to contact that general and the president so things will pop off soon... so we should all be ready for a worst case scenario... but hope it doesn't come to it..."

" Gotcha... so if GUN is dumb Surge and i go ham... i think she'll be cool with that. I'll head top side i've been standing still to long anyway! Belle you think you can tell Surge? You know if i do it she'll just glare and snap at me... even if she is kinda cute when she does it! haha! "

===============================================

He felt it long before he saw it. That tingling sensation in the tips of his ears. For all his upgrades, implants and nanotech he had shoved in his body. He was still so reliant on his gift to warn him of impending doom. After all how does one live as long as he had with out some edge. Above and to the left he let his eyes turn slowly as if time itself had slowed down for just a moment. as he sensed the change in the air itself.

Yet he did not move or act despite the sensation. Sonic and his people aren't that foolish, and yet Rowan saw the Wolfs one good eye meet his a moment before he stepped through that shadowy portal as if he could see him despite that being impossible.

" You are a brave man walking into the Wolfs Den without so much as a care in the world. Men of such courage are so rare today... i commend your courage... "

He looked up to the dangling Octopus and tilted his head.

" Mimic is a loose end i've tried to clean up on many occasions. I taught him better then this... taught him better then to run off on some personal vendetta... but here we are. "

He finally turned to Rowan and approached him with arms behind his back in a very non-threatening manner.

" I had a suspicion he was on base but if your implying he was working for us. That's a solid negative, but he was once one of mine, and i do take some responsibility for the chaos he's created. I thank you for his return... i'll make sure he's locked away where he'll never be a problem again. Now if you'll kindly depart my ship... I think our business is done here "

#Heroes of Mobius #Sonic and Tails #The Imposters #Surge and Kitsunami #Director of Restoration #Jewel #Restoration Commander #Lanolin #General of Gun #Lupus #UFN President #Thawn

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bambisturns · 20 hours ago

Text

𝑐𝘩²

Warnings: kissing A LOT OF IT, name calling (slut like 2x???), suggestive (things that lead to the se of x but no sex,) i think thats it lmk what i missed 😋

a/n: yall can tell me if yall fw this or not. I hade to edge yall a lil. 😋🥸

wc: 2183

A few days had passed since you last saw Matt. Clearly, you two have been texting, and he was supposed to come over today, but not being able to see each other was unbearable. You’ve grown accustomed to this routine you both have—Matt would visit your dorm on Mondays, Thursdays, and some Fridays, while you’d spend time at his and his brother's apartment every other weekend. Building a connection with them was easy; you realized they are truly kind-hearted, generous, and compassionate individuals. Matt in particular. As you wait for him to arrive, you reflect on your conversations, how he mentioned finding you cute, and how he thought you looked pretty even when you cried.

Twenty minutes later, Matt arrives and, true to his word as mentioned in his message, gently runs his fingers over the fresh ink on your abdomen. The chill of his touch makes your breath hitch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "Did it hurt?" he asked, his fingers continuing to trace the lines but refraining from moving further down, not wanting to overstep that boundary—at least not yet. "Mm, n-no, not really. It was just a bit uncomfortable the lower he went," you replied, glancing over at him. His eyes quickly darted up to meet yours. "He?" he questioned. "A man tattooed you there?" he added. "Yeah, the woman I usually go to wasn't available, and I really wanted it done, so I just went through with it," you answered, fiddling with the ends of your hair. He hums softly, and you raise an amused eyebrow. "Matt, are you jealous?" you ask teasingly.

"What? Jealous? Pfft, not at all, kid," he says, then adds, "Do you want me to be?" You shake your head no, but a slight shiver escapes you, likely because your shorts are unzipped to give him a clearer view of the tattoo. Despite the situation, it doesn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable to be like this around him. You trusted him, and while it might seem unusual to others since you only began growing close about a month ago, their opinions didn’t matter. What mattered was that you both understood and trusted each other, feeling at ease in each other's company. "Are you cold?" he asks again, pulling you out of your thoughts. "A little," you reply softly, glancing over at him as he lies beside you on your bed, his eyes red and glassy from the high of the weed you both smoked shortly after he arrived.

His eyes meet yours, and his brows furrow as though he's lost in thought. "What's on your mind, Matthew?" you ask gently. "Honestly, I'm just thinking about how much I want to take a nap. For a dorm bed, yours is surprisingly comfortable," he replies. "Do you want to take a nap?" you ask, your eyes meeting his. "Kind of. Do you?" he replies. You hum in agreement. "Alright, but let’s change into some pajamas because I’m not napping in jeans and a flannel," he says, prompting you to let out a gentle giggle. Matt indeed has clothes at your place. The last time he stayed, he brought a few over, saying, I’m here almost every day anyway. It’s the same situation for you when you’re at his apartment. You had your own clothes and a dedicated drawer in his bedroom. You gradually sit up and pick out some clothes from your drawer of sleepwear. As you walk to the bathroom, Matt grabs your wrist to stop you.

"Can... can I help you change?" he asks hesitantly. You let out a small laugh, "You want to help me get changed?" you giggle. "Do you not remember the last time we smoked and you tried changing? You tripped in the bathroom, hit your elbow on my sink, and started crying," he says, laughing. You chuckle along with him and agree to let him help you. The room is softly illuminated as he gently removes your shirt, leaving you in your bra and shorts. Avoiding his gaze, you turn away, and he instantly understands the unspoken message, also aware that you don’t sleep with a bra on. He gently pushes your hair aside and slowly unhooks your bra, allowing it to slide off your shoulders. He rests his hands on your shoulders and turns you to face him again. He slowly unbuttons and unzips your shorts, sliding them down over your hips until they drop to the floor with a gentle thud.

Feeling exposed, you cross your arms over your chest for comfort. "Don't hide, you're beautiful," he reassures you, gently taking hold of your arms and raising them as he carefully helps you put the shirt on. You wait there while he changes as well. He takes hold of your hand and leads you both to the bed, gently lifting you before laying you down and curling up beside you. Pressing your back against his chest. "I could really get used to this," he murmurs, nuzzling his face into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder and gently pressing a soft kiss there. Both of you stop abruptly as the reality of Matt's actions sinks in. The room became completely silent. You turn to face him, saying, "Sorry, it was just… in the moment, I didn’t mean—" but you cut off his hurried words by placing your hand over his mouth, his eyes widening in surprise at the gesture.

"Matt, it’s alright. I liked it… I think I could get used to this too," you say, shifting your hand from his mouth to the back of his neck, toying with the ends of his hair. Matt exhales a sigh of relief and draws you closer, both of you wrapping your arms around each other. He softly kisses the top of your head and quietly whispers goodnight as you both fall asleep.

At 8:30 p.m., you finally wake up to find Matt still curled up against your side, sleeping with his shirt off, probably taken off while you were asleep. You are startled out of your slumber by the loud knocking on your door. Kelly's voice echoes, "Room check, Crybaby! Don't make me come in there!" as you're scurrying over Matt to get out of bed, but the door flings open before you can do so. You sit on Matt's lap, frozen in place, while you turn to see Kelly looking at you with wide eyes. As she says, "Wow, crybaby… didn't know you were such a slut," her startled expression quickly shifts to one of amusement. She asks as she moves deeper into your room, "Who's the guy?". Matt's eyes are wide and bewildered as you turn to look at him. He's wondering why you're on top of him and why there's another voice in the room. She screams, laughing aloud, "Oh my god… you're caught up with Matt!". Still giggling, she continues, "This is priceless,".

You hastily get off Matt's lap, exclaiming, "No, it's not like that! Kelly, it's not what you think!" you say, clearly anxious. ‘Shit, Kelly is going to tell everyone at school that I’m a slut and sleeping with Matt. It's not true!’ you said to yourself. Matt gradually sits up, shifting his gaze between you and Kelly. "Kelly, why do you care what she does or who she does it with?" Matt says, rolling his eyes at her. 'God, he looks and sounds so hot right now. No!' Be quiet! You block out your thoughts and glance back and forth between the two of them. "So, you're hooking up with her? Wow, who would've guessed that Matt Sturniolo, the star lacrosse player, would get involved with such a complete loser," she says with a laugh. Your lips start to quiver as your gaze drops to your feet.

"Oh my god, don't tell me you're crying just because you got caught," Kelly groans. "You're still such a crybaby!" she exclaims. "Kelly, you should leave. You've checked the room, now go," Matt says, standing up and pulling you closer to him. You step behind him to discreetly wipe the tears from your eyes. Not because you're angry, but because you're humiliated and aware that Kelly will twist the story to shame you. "Alright, alright, I'm leaving. But don't think I won't share this with someone—it's pure comedy gold." She chuckles while exiting the room. Matt walks over and locks the door. "Are you alright?" he asks, gently running his hands along your arms. "Yes? No… I’m not sure. Kelly… Kelly is going to slut shame me," you murmured quietly, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground as more tears streamed down your face.

Matt gently places his hand under your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze. "Hey... it's okay. Don't worry about her, and why should it matter what others think of you? I know the truth, and you're none of those things," he says softly, his thumbs brushing away the tears from your cheeks. You offer him a gentle smile, and he draws you into a hug, the two of you standing in the center of the room, embraced in each other's arms. As you both eventually break away, Matt lifts you up and places you on the edge of the bed, standing between your legs while gently brushing the hair from your face. His touch is gentle and fragile, as if you might shatter at any second. He studies your face for a moment, as if analyzing you, before asking, "Can I kiss you?" The question takes your breath away, leaving you momentarily speechless. After a pause, you nod in agreement. "No," he says, "I want you to say that I can kiss you."

"Yes, Matt, kiss me, please." Those words escaped your mouth, giving you both permission to enjoy the moment you both had been waiting for what seemed like forever. Matt slowly leans in closer, his lips hovering just above yours as his breath brushes against your skin. He seems to be hesitating, as if he wants to make sure that this is what you really want. His hesitation vanishes when you don't try to pull away, and he eventually gets close enough to plant a passionate, tender kiss on your lips. A whole swarm of butterflies seems to take flight inside your stomach, causing a fluttering sensation that is both overwhelming and thrilling. He pulls you closer, holding your cheeks in his hands as you place your hands lightly under his jaw.

It felt as though the world had fallen into silence. Just the two of you, with your breaths mingling as one. "Matt," you murmured softly against his lips. He leaned back just a little, his gaze meeting yours. "Hmm?" he responded quietly, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. You let your gaze travel over his face, noticing the details of his lips, the stubble along his jawline, and the scar on his brow. You take in every feature, and as your eyes meet his again, you realize he's doing the same—studying your face closely. Your breath catches, and you whisper, "Please don't stop," leaning in to kiss him more deeply as your fingers tangle in his hair. Matt gently lowers you onto the bed, his body moving over yours as his lips remain locked with yours. "Like this?" he murmurs against your lips. "Exactly like this," you reply

You both were so lost in the taste of each other's lips. Matt groans, moving his lips from yours to your neck, leaving open mouth kisses and lightly nipping your neck. There was one spot in particular just beneath your ear that caused you to let out a soft moan. Matt pauses looking up at you. “Is… is this okay?” He asks hesitantly “yes, its- its okay” you say while trying to ground your breathing. His hands trail down your sides and stop near your thighs just right where the hem of the shirt - matts shirt rests. He looks up at you as if asking if it's okay to remove the shirt. You nod your head giving him the okay to do so. You sit up as Matt slowly pulls the shirt over your head, now left in just your panties he lies you back against the bed once more.

You werent a virgin, no thats for certain and a mistake that was made on your behalf to lose. But its also almost been a year since you last had sex. “W-wait Matt… are we moving to fast?” You ask sitting up “If you feel like we are we can stop.” He says trailing his lips to the side of your neck “I… I dont want too, its just its been a long time.” You say craning your head to give him more access “Its okay, its been a long time for me too, ill be gentle i promise.” He says you let out a hum as he trails his lips back up to meet yours “god I want you so bad.” He murmurs against your lips “then have me”

#𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔... ✎#𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⊹ ‧₊˚#𝑐𝑟𝑦𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑜 #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo au #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo au

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am-i-interrupting · 3 days ago

Text

Worth Keeping | Haymitch x Everdeen!Reader

Prologue

Summary: For the first five years of mentoring, Haymitch was not numb but indifferent to these new tributes, on their way towards death. This year, he's forced to change that approach when his childhood friend's little sibling is called at the reaping.

Haymitch Abernathy was a constant in your life.

He'd been there for as long as you could remember. All the way back into those fuzzy, not enough to be memories but pictures in your mind.

He was friends with your brother, Burdock.

Burdock was older than you by three years and Haymitch was less than a year older than him. The two boys had been linked at their hips from at least four years old, if not earlier.

They were rather like you and your childhood friend, Louella McCoy. You couldn't recall when you'd become friends with Louella. You'd just always had been.

She held your hand tight on the day of the 50th reaping for the annual Hunger Games. It was her second time being eligible and your first. You were more nervous than her but the warmth in her hand kept you more steady than you otherwise would have been.

Burdock told you, reassured you, as you left your home in clothes too formal for your tastes, that you had nothing to worry about. You would be fine, he'd said.

Your name was only in there once.

And you had been fine. Sort of. Kind of. In a way, you supposed but that day would change everything forever.

Louella would be reaped. You'd get sprayed with blood as Woodbine Chance got shot in the back of the head. Haymitch would be forced to take his place, all while simply trying to protect your cousin; his girlfriend.

Burdock would lead you home, a hand on your shoulder. He'd clean the blood off your face. Then he would pull the itchy wool dress you wore off your body and replace it with more comfortable clothes.

You disappeared for several days after that. As soon as he left you alone, you grabbed a bow and a couple of arrows and gone off into the woods.

When you came back, it was getting late in the evening. Nightfall was beginning to come.

You heard your cousin's tune box. Immediately you sought out it's angry and mournful tone. You found Lenore Dove playing on the very stage which you'd been when two of the most important people in your world were taken from you.

“The law locks up the man or woman

Who steals the goose from off the common

But leaves the greater villain loose

Who steals the common from off the goose"

You placed the couple of squirrel which you'd tied to your belt down beside the steps to the stage.

People began to creep towards the stage. A small crowd had started to form and you didn't know how long it would be until the peace keepers would come. The logical part in your brain supplying you that much.

Yet, you didn't care about the peace keepers.

You sat on the top step. You pounded your hand against the wood planks. Lenore Dove's head snapped towards you. The hollowness beneath the stage caused something which sort of resembled the sound of a drum. She smiled at you and continued.

Yours was the first voice to join her.

"The law demands that we atone

When we take things we do not own

But leaves the lords and ladies fine

Who take things that are yours and mine"

Your voice was the last voice to still linger with Lenore Dove's as she continued to sing, even being taken by the so called peace keepers.

"Are you, are you coming to the tree?

Wear a necklace of rope

Side by side with me"

You picked up the squirrels and finished out the song, walking in the opposite direction of that which she was being dragged.

"Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight

In the hanging tree"

You got to a small, modest house in the seam.

Three doors down was the McCoy house but that wasn't where you went.

The McCoy family was a large one. They would. .

They would be alright.

It was the Abernathy residence which you walked into. You pushed open the door. It creaked ever so slightly. The house was silent except for your footsteps.

That was the only way in which you broke the silence. Even when a second pair of footsteps joined your own.

A call of your name, confused, "What are you doing here?"

You held up the squirrels in reply.

You knew your way to the kitchen. You'd become well versed in how to skin and prep all assortments of animals. You worked silently.

Sid joined you eventually. He prepared himself a cup of water. Then he hauled himself onto the countertop. His legs curled against his torso as his arms wrapped around them.

Your hands were covered in blood. You knew that your hair was filled with tangles and knots and leaves and branches. You weren't exactly a pretty sight. Dirt was lodged beneath your nails. That and pollen coated your clothes.

It didn't matter though.

Sid ate. You got water for Mrs. Abernathy. She barely drank it. You did neither.

"What did he score?" you asked. “Lenore Dove seemed pretty upset about it.”

"A one," Willamae answered.

"What about Louella?"

"A three."

All that ran in your mind was the cynical thought, accompanied by dry and pained laughter, that you were going to lose them both.

That day started the routine. You would stay with the Abernathys during the day and go out to hunt at night as the games grew closer and closer.

You left any left over game at your own residence to let them know you were alive. You had a lot of leftover game, things for them to sell or eat. You spent most of the night gone, very little of it sleeping.

On one night, you found yourself shaken awake where you slept on the couch. In the dark you could only see the silhouette of a small figure but you knew who it was.

"What is it, Sid?"

"Can you sleep in my room with me?" he asked.

"It's too quiet without Haymitch."

You nodded as you pulled yourself up. You let him cling onto your arm as he led you to the brothers® shared room.

He didn't let go, causing you to sit on the edge of the bed with him. You ran your fingers through his light brown hair, catching in tangles which you carefully undid.

You recounted what your brother would do you sought out his room instead of your parents.

Fitting for this occasion, as it led to the grave.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, soft green pillow

Lay down your head and close your eyes

And when the open, the sun will rise"

The interviews, they gave way to so much. So much information, packed in these little short clips, the capital gave without knowing they gave it.

That was not Louella McCoy.

Not the one you knew. Whether they'd done something to her specifically or replaced her, you couldn't tell. Neither mattered.

Louella McCoy was already dead either way.

At least you wouldn't have to grieve when you saw this body go down in the arena. At least you had that much.

A decency or a curse, you didn't know.

You let Willamae grip your hand so tight it turned white when the countdown began. You gripped back just as tight. On her other side she hand her arm around Sid, a hand in his hair.

You gave an exhale when Haymitch managed to grab a pack and sprint away from the oncoming bloodbath. You didn't know if it came from relief or what exactly, but it came from you either way.

You'd only watched the games once before. It was the year your parents decided that you were old enough to start mentally preparing for the fate you may face. Quickly, you had decided that you had enough bloodshed in your life as a hunter. You couldn't bare to watch any more.

That left you ill prepared for the bloodshed, even though you knew it was to come. You felt your stomach turn inside out, flipping itself. It took only an instant for half of these children to be gone, most only a few years older than you and even some your own age.

You had to swallow down vomit that rose up in your throat when you saw Wyatt Callow (of whom you had little to no relation with other than town hearsay) get stabbed with a sword, all while protecting the girl who looked like your Louella.

She ran off into the woods. Maysilee Donner soon on her tail.

They didn't show much of Haymitch. The only thing which allowed anyone in the house any source of comfort was that when the canon went off, they showed the tribute who'd died.

You were wrong though.

You bolted up and ran out the house when the girl who looked like Louella died. In a patch of flowers meant for healing.

You expelled the little food you'd been able to force down. Looking down the street, you saw one of her sisters doing the same.

Ima McCoy leaned her body against the exterior of her home. Her breathing a heaving and wheezing thing. You could hear her, even three houses down.

Not conscious of what you were doing, you walked forward towards her.

She startled when you grabbed her hand. Her eyes were bloodshot and tears streamed down her face. You were sure you looked no better.

You reached up to wrap your arm around her neck and pull her down. Her free arm went around your torso. Her hand clenched a tight grip on your shirt.

Together, the two of sobbed. Comforted only by the fact that you were not alone in your pain.

That night, you didn't sleep at all.

You knocked on the McCoy door, knowing it would open. You didn't say a word as you handed half of your bounty of the night to Carson. It was far more than enough for him, his parents, and his siblings. He didn't say a word as he took it.

The games went on for several more days. You weren't surprised to see Haymitch pair up with Maysilee Donner. Maybe in other circumstances but in these? No.

You were surprised to see her vocal cords torn out by pink birds.

Your shoulders shook and your eyes burned. You covered Sid's with your hand. He didn't question or object.

That last day not one of the three of you slept. All watching as Haymitch and a girl from district six slept in a tree together. The single career left was nowhere to be found.

That girl's head would end up off and thrown to the side. Sid's eyes would be covered again but by his ma. She would hold him close. A grip so hard it would leave you bruised was on your hands. The girl from district one would have her eyes gouged out and Haymitch's intestines would be held by his own hands.

Willamae let out a sob at the sight. Hot tears rolled down your eyes.

"Is he alive?" Sid asked, his hands going to his mother's.

He pulled her hand away when neither of you could form an answer. Just in time to see Haymitch collapse, the girl's head be impaled by her own axe, and Haymitch shaking in the ground as he went into shock but still alive.

Willamae collapsed on herself.

"He's okay?" Sid asked.

"He's alive." you said. You reached across his mother and grabbed his hand. "He's alive."

Sid and Willamae would not be. Not for much longer.

You continued to stay at the Abernathy residence.

The feeling less like a haunted house now. A bit more lively. Although, without Haymitch's return, it was still tense.

You were lucky, people would say. You were lucky you just so happened to be out of the house when it happened but you knew better.

There had been a noise and you would forever feel guilt for not waking the two.

You saw the people who set the house aflame begin to run. You called out for help as you tried to get the water to pump. The fire spread unnaturally quick.

You were not excited when you saw Haymitch, slowly succumbing to sleep as he was held by Burdock and Blair. All you felt in that moment was a sadness so deep in your soul it caused you to fall to your knees.

Blair nodded your way. Burdock left Haymitch in his arms as he took you in his own.

You could muster no other words other than

"Why?"

" don't know was all he said each time.

A day later were five graves were dug into the ground for six people. Jethro Callow; lost to his own pride. Willamae and Sid Abernathy; lost to a fire but not one another. Maysilee Donner and Wyatt Callow; lost in the games. Louella McCoy; lost to something you didn't know.

Her casket emitted a smell, stronger than that of any of the others.

“You’re headed for Heaven

The sweet old hereafter"

You grabbed Burdock's hand. You joined him with the melody. The birds paused their own song for this one. A solemn understanding.

"And l've got one foot in the door

But before I can fly up

I've loose ends to tie up

Right here, in the old therebefore

“I'II be along

When I've finished my song

When I've shut down the band

When I've played out my hand

When I've paid all my debts

When I have no regrets

Right here, in the old therebefore

When nothing is left anymore"

When the song and funerals came to a close, you entered your proper home. You went straight to Burdock's wardrobe and grabbed a shirt and pants, a pair of shoes as well.

Haymitch looked far too much like someone from the capital in clothes like what he wore. It unsettled you and you were sure him as well.

He wasn't at the McCoy's house, which you admittedly expected. To Victor's Village you went then to see the sole resident. A knot tightened in your stomach as you walked that way.

Nearly there you saw Blair. “Oh, you have clothes." he said. You nodded.

Never before had you experienced air conditioning but it gave a small hum as it went through the house along with the lights.

You let Blair take the clothing and give to Haymitch. He then departed once again to go collect more sleep syrup for Haymitch.

Haymitch flinched when you ran up and hugged him. Then his arms slowly engulfed you. You squeezed him as tightly as you could. Almost as if squeezing him hard enough would cause the pain he'd suffered to overflow and leave him.

The next day your cousin, Lenore Dove, died. They would say she got sick but it was no accident.

Haymitch started drinking.

He successfully pushed many away from him, even Burdock and Asterid after he hit her with a rock. You let him think he'd succeeded in pushing you away as well but you still stood by him when he would wander drunken into town.

"Come on, Haymitch." you would say when you were sixteen and he was twenty. "Get up."

He groaned as you tried to haul him upright. He drank more when the reaping drew closer. From July to August he was incoherent every year. You couldn't blame him and you weren't mad.

People would ask you why you never gave up on Haymitch Abernathy and the answers you have never satisfied.

You'd known him all your life. Everyone knew everyone.

You were his friend. Well, he certainly wasn't yours. Not anymore. He was no one's friend but his bottle's.

You couldn't stand to see him like this. Then just leave him alone and you wouldn't have to.

You were one of the few who knew.

You didn't know all of it, not even most of it, but you knew. You knew he was never supposed to be in those games. You knew that Louella McCoy, his sweetheart, was not who entered that arena.

Whether her body was alive didn't matter. You knew that Willamae and Sid were scheduled to die when he would see it. You knew Lenore Dove did not sick. You knew every year he was forced to relive it all by being dragged up to the capital.

You loved Haymitch Abernathy and you always had. You couldn't imagine you never would.

You kicked him regardless.

“Get up! I will drag you if I have to! Don’t think I won’t!”

#haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #it fucking finally worked!#it’s in the tags!#why it wasn’t I don’t know!

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