#the way her face softens and her eyes widen...

[dissapointu]

Could you please write arcane characters with crybaby S/O?? If you want, of course! Whatever, thank you, I love your works 💗💗

I’m so glad you enjoy my work! Arcane characters and their crybaby s/o,:

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Jinx

Jinx’s first instinct is to panic when she sees you crying. Her eyes widen, and her brain short circuits a bit as she scrambles to figure out what’s wrong.

“Oh no! Did I break something? Was it my bombs again?!” She pulls you into her arms and starts rattling off a series of wild suggestions to make you smile. “Maybe some candy? Or I could build you a new toy—no, wait, I’ll make a whole new everything!”

When she finally calms down enough to hold you and see the tears are simply from emotion, she softens, giving you a tight hug and whispering, “Don’t cry, okay? I can’t handle it.” She might still end up doing something completely ridiculous to cheer you up, but she loves you so much and hates seeing you sad.

Vi

Vi’s reaction to you crying is immediately protective. She’s quick to scoop you up in her strong arms, cradling you against her chest like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“Hey, hey… you’re okay,” she murmurs softly, gently stroking your hair. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

She’s not great with words when it comes to comforting, but her touch speaks volumes. She’ll just hold you close, letting you cry it out in her arms, her jaw tight and eyes soft as she assures you, “You’re the toughest person I know, don’t forget that.” She’d never let anything hurt you.

Sevika

Sevika is a lot tougher on the outside but crumbles when you’re upset. When she sees you crying, it’s like a switch flips, and all her usual hardness melts.

“Why are you crying?” she asks, her voice surprisingly soft, but her posture tense as if she’s trying to hold it together. She gently wipes away your tears with her thumb.

Sevika doesn’t quite know how to comfort in a traditional sense, so she might pull you into her lap, leaning against the wall as she lets you cry it out. “You’re tough, you don’t need to cry, alright?” But there’s a softness in her tone, a vulnerability she doesn’t often show to anyone but you.

Silco

Silco is stern, but when he sees you crying, a strange protectiveness takes over him. He’s never really been great at comforting anyone, but when it comes to you, he’s incredibly tender.

“Enough of this,” he says, voice low and commanding, yet his actions are the opposite. He gently pulls you into his arms, running a hand through your hair, his grip surprisingly delicate.

“You’re the last person I ever wanted to see in tears,” he mutters, his voice rough. He may not have the right words, but the way he holds you speaks volumes. “Don’t waste your tears. I’ll handle whatever is making you sad.” He’ll find a way to fix it—because you mean that much to him.

Vander

Vander’s heart aches whenever you cry. The moment you start, he’s immediately by your side, pulling you into his massive arms with an almost fatherly tenderness.

“There, there,” he murmurs, rocking you gently as he lets you cry it out. “You don’t have to hide your tears from me, sweetheart.”

His voice is soothing and steady, like a calm in the storm. He doesn’t ask questions right away; he just holds you, rubbing your back and whispering, “I’m here. You’re safe.”

Vander’s the type to offer warmth and security, his hands gentle on your back as he helps you through whatever’s troubling you.

Ekko

Ekko’s heart drops when he sees you upset, especially when it’s tears. He immediately drops everything, running over to wrap his arms around you in a tight hug.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” he asks, his voice full of concern. His hands are all over you—touching your arms, face, shoulders—as if making sure you’re real, that you’re okay.

“Come on, you know you can tell me anything, right?” he says, trying to reassure you. Ekko’s never good with seeing you cry, and he’ll do anything to stop it. He might even go a little overboard with distractions—making you laugh, telling you a silly story, or offering to make you something special—because the last thing he wants is for you to feel sad for long.

Jayce

Jayce is the type to immediately feel overwhelmed when you cry, unsure of what to do at first. He’s a man of action, and seeing you upset makes him want to fix everything.

“Sweetheart, please, tell me what’s wrong. I can help, I swear,” he pleads, his voice urgent yet gentle as he pulls you into his arms.

Jayce is the kind to try and solve whatever’s troubling you, whether it’s with words or some grand gesture. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it together,” he promises, brushing your hair out of your face.

He might even work himself into a frenzy, trying to make everything perfect just so you’ll stop crying, but ultimately, his soft embrace and the way he looks at you with concern will make you feel safe again.

Viktor

Viktor is a mix of confusion and worry when he sees you in tears. He’s so used to dealing with problems with logic and technology that when it comes to comforting you, it’s like stepping into uncharted territory.

“Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice soft and a little uncertain. “This isn’t like you.”

Viktor doesn’t understand all of your emotions, but what he does understand is that you’re important to him. He’ll sit beside you, reaching out to hold your hand, carefully avoiding overwhelming you with words.

He’s more likely to offer you quiet, thoughtful gestures—making you tea, working on something together—anything to make you feel better.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is a little flustered when she sees you cry, especially if it’s about something that’s beyond her control. She’s so used to solving problems in a structured way, but she wants to do everything to help you feel better.

“Darling, what happened?” she asks, her voice soft but filled with concern as she wipes your tears away.

She’s very gentle with you, rubbing your back or combing through your hair, and she’ll do anything to get you to stop crying. Caitlyn might get a little frustrated with herself if she can’t figure out the cause, but she’ll keep reassuring you with sweet words and actions: “You’re safe with me, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Mel Medarda

Mel’s reaction to you crying is calm, yet deeply caring. She’s not overly sentimental, but she’s not cold either. She’s incredibly composed, and she’ll use her sharp intellect to try and get you to open up about what’s troubling you.

“Tell me, my dear,” she says softly, her voice full of warmth. “What’s weighing on your heart?”

Mel will sit down with you, her hands resting on yours as she listens carefully, offering advice only if she thinks it’s needed. She doesn’t want to push you, but she’ll always make sure you know you’re not alone, and that you have her support, no matter what.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa’s reactions are subtle, but her presence is commanding. She doesn’t like seeing you cry, and while she may not be the most emotionally open, she’ll show you affection in her own way.

“Don’t cry,” she says with quiet authority, pulling you into her arms. “Tears are for weakness.”

But her actions are softer than her words. She’ll stroke your back gently, offering you silence as she lets you cry it out, and then, once you calm down, she’ll make sure you’re taken care of, ready to shield you from whatever caused the pain.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie’s heart breaks the moment she sees your tears. She’s quick to offer comfort, wrapping you in a tight hug, kissing your forehead, and telling you everything will be okay.

“You’re everything to me,” she whispers, her voice low and soothing. “Please don’t cry.”

She might be a little overwhelmed by how much she cares for you, but she does everything she can to help you calm down. Maddie will talk with you for hours if she has to, just to make sure you know you’re not alone, and that she’s there for you.

Lest

Lest’s heart always skips a beat when she sees you upset. She’s very protective of you, and she’s quick to wrap you up in a soft embrace, not quite knowing what to do but instinctively wanting to shield you from anything causing you pain.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she says softly, her hands gentle as she holds you close. “Don’t cry, I’m here.”

She doesn’t rush you to stop crying, letting you take your time. She’s patient, and she’ll listen quietly, never pushing you for answers, just offering her warmth and comfort.

[prentissmultiverse]

Behind Fogged Windows

On a rainy night, you (fem!reader) and Emily Prentiss find yourselves tangled in the charged space of a parked car, where unspoken tensions finally come to a head. tw: smut, power dynamics, mention of death

(words: 4895)

The hum of the SUV engine filled the tense silence, a low, steady drone that matched the rain tapping against the windshield. Emily’s hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles taut and pale in the glow of the dashboard lights. Her eyes were locked on the road ahead, jaw set in a way that made your chest ache and your stomach twist.

You turned your gaze back to the passenger side window, counting raindrops as they streaked across the glass, smearing the passing streetlights into watery streaks of gold and white. Anything to keep your mind off the weight of the silence between you. But it was impossible to ignore the occasional scoff that escaped Emily's lips or the way her fingers flexed against the wheel every now and then, betraying the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior.

You didn’t need her to say it. You already knew what she was thinking. You’d seen the anger flash in her dark eyes when your hand collided with the unsub’s face earlier, and the sharp edge of her voice when she pulled you aside afterward still echoed in your ears.

“You crossed the line, and you know it.”

And you did. But standing in that suffocating basement, staring at the lifeless bodies of three more women, three more victims who looked just like you, the rage had swallowed you whole. The unsub’s smug grin had been the match, and you, the kindling. You hadn’t even realized what you were doing until the sting of the punch echoed against the concrete walls.

Now, Emily wouldn’t even look at you.

Another sigh from her side of the car. This one was heavier, laced with something you couldn’t quite place, frustration, maybe, or disappointment. It cut deeper than the silence, leaving you restless in your seat.

“Emily,” you finally said, your voice soft, testing the waters.

Nothing.

“Emily, I—”

“Not now,” she interrupted, her tone clipped and final. Her fingers tightened on the wheel as the SUV turned onto the long stretch of highway that led to Quantico. “Just… not now.”

Her words silenced you, but they didn’t ease the tension. If anything, the chasm between you seemed to widen, leaving you grasping for something—anything—that might bridge it.

You stole a glance at her out of the corner of your eye. The sharp angles of her face were cast in shadows, her focus unwavering as the windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm against the rain. She looked impossibly composed, but you knew better. You’d worked alongside her long enough to know when the cracks were there, even if she kept them well hidden.

“I couldn’t just stand there,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Her scoff was sharp this time, cutting through the low rumble of the engine. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” you pressed, unable to keep the frustration from creeping into your voice. “We’re supposed to just sit back and let him—?”

“The point,” she snapped, finally tearing her eyes from the road to glare at you, “is that you let your emotions take over. You compromised yourself, and you compromised the team.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, but you refused to back down. “He killed seven women, Emily. Seven. And they—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your seat. “They all looked like me.”

For a moment, her expression softened, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same steely resolve she always wore when she was trying to keep her own emotions in check. She looked away, focusing on the road again, and the silence returned, heavier than before.

You turned back to the window, blinking away the sting in your eyes as the rain blurred the world outside. Minutes stretched into miles, each one heavier than the last. The distance between you felt unbearable, but neither of you seemed willing to cross it.

Then, as the SUV passed under the dim glow of an overpass, you felt it—a brief, almost imperceptible brush of her hand against yours where it rested on the center console. It was fleeting, so light you might have imagined it, but it sent a jolt through you all the same.

You glanced at her, heart pounding, but her gaze was fixed on the road, her expression unreadable.

The faint touch lingered like a phantom, sparking something between you that you couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore. You thought about saying something—an apology, an explanation, anything to chip away at the wall between you—but the words caught in your throat. You settled for stealing another glance at her, hoping to find a clue in the sharp line of her jaw or the tight set of her lips.

Nothing.

“I get it, you know,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure she even heard you until her grip on the wheel faltered, the car veering just enough for her to correct it with a light pull.

Her scoff came next, brittle and full of disbelief. “Do you?”

“Yes,” you shot back, louder this time. “I get why you’re mad. I get why I shouldn’t have done it. But don’t stand there and act like you wouldn’t have felt the same way if it was you.”

Her laugh was humorless, a sharp exhale that cut through the cabin like a blade. “This isn’t about what I would feel. It’s about what I would do. And I wouldn’t risk everything we’ve worked for just to feel better for five seconds.”

Her words were cold, calculated, but there was something underneath them—something raw and unspoken that made your heart twist.

“That’s not fair,” you said finally, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

Emily’s eyes snapped to you, sharp and full of fire. “Don’t you dare.”

For a moment, the tension between you was a living thing, crackling in the air like the storm outside. The rain had picked up, pounding against the roof and drowning out everything but the sound of your shallow breaths.

But then her gaze softened—just a fraction—and she turned back to the road, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “You can’t just lose control like that, not in this job. Not ever.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died on your lips. She was right, of course. You’d let your emotions take over, and it had put everything at risk—your career, your credibility, even her trust.

But beneath her anger, you could see something else now. Something deeper. Something she wasn’t saying.

The rain continued to beat against the windshield as the SUV approached a red light. Emily slowed to a stop, her hands gripping the wheel like it was the only thing anchoring her. You turned to face her fully, the soft glow of the streetlights catching on her profile.

“I’m sorry,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” she said, cutting you off. Her voice was softer now. She still wouldn’t look at you. As the light turned green, she hesitated, her foot hovering over the pedal. For a moment, you thought she might say something, but then she shook her head and pressed forward, the car lurching back into motion.

The hum of the engine returned, a quiet backdrop to the sound of the rain drumming hard against the roof. The occasional flash of lightning lit up the interior of the SUV, casting fleeting shadows over Emily’s sharp profile. Her silence wasn’t as sharp as before, but it was no less weighted. It pressed against you, the unspoken words between you vibrating like a taut string.

You shifted in your seat, the leather cool beneath you, and risked another glance at her. Her dark eyes locked with yours, and for the first time that night, she didn’t look angry. She looked… conflicted. The storm outside had nothing on the tempest swirling in her eyes.

“What?” she asked finally, her voice low, almost a growl. The word wasn’t as biting as you expected, but it carried enough heat to send a shiver down your spine.

“I—” You hesitated, searching her face for something—permission, maybe, or understanding. “I just… I’m not good at holding it in. Not like you.”

Her jaw tensed, and she looked away again, but you caught the flicker of something in her expression before she turned. Something vulnerable. “That’s not an excuse,” she muttered, but there was less venom in her tone now.

“I’m not trying to excuse it,” you said quickly, leaning slightly toward her. The space between you felt unbearably wide, and the need to close it—to reach her—was almost overwhelming. “I’m trying to explain.”

She exhaled sharply, her grip on the wheel tightening again. “You don’t need to explain. I already know why you did it. I know what you were feeling.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. You weren’t sure if she meant to say them aloud, but the way her throat worked as she swallowed told you she hadn’t planned to.

The SUV slowed as she pulled into an empty rest stop, the rain shimmering under the flickering fluorescent lights. She threw the car into park and turned off the engine.

Finally, she turned to face you, and the look in her eyes stole the breath from your lungs. There was still anger there, but it was layered with something else now—something darker, more intimate. The way her gaze swept over your face, lingering on your lips for just a fraction of a second too long, made your skin tingle.

“You’re always so in control,”  you said softly, breaking the quiet. The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted it when her jaw tightened.

Her laugh was low and bitter, barely more than a breath. “Is that what you think?” she asked. Her voice was calmer now, but there was an edge to it, like a wire pulled taut and ready to snap.

“Isn’t it true?” you pressed, unable to ignore the question burning in your chest. “You never let anything get to you. You’re always composed, always one step ahead. It’s like nothing fazes you.”

 “You think I’m in control?” she repeated, her voice quieter now, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry under the weight of her gaze. “You make it seem effortless.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, her dark eyes unreadable. Then she exhaled sharply and leaned back in her seat, her hand moving to rake through her hair. The movement was uncharacteristically unguarded, almost vulnerable.

“I’m not in control,” she said finally, her voice low but steady. “Not when it comes to you.”

Her admission sent a jolt through your chest, your heart thudding painfully as her words hung in the air.

“Emily…” You said her name carefully, as if speaking it too loudly might shatter the fragile moment.

“You don’t get it,” she continued, cutting you off. “Every time you’re close, every time you look at me like that—” Her voice faltered, and she swallowed hard, her eyes darting away. “I have to fight every instinct I have not to—”

She stopped abruptly, her teeth clenching as she turned back to face the windshield. Her fingers dug into the edge of the console now, and the sight of it made your chest tighten.

“Not to what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her jaw worked as she clenched it, the tension radiating off her like heat. “Not to touch you,” she said finally, her voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “Not to cross a line I can’t uncross.”

The raw honesty in her tone made your breath hitch. The woman who always seemed untouchable, unshakable, was unraveling right in front of you, and it made your pulse race in a way you couldn’t control. “I know what I want…”

 Her lips parted like she was about to say something, but she stopped herself, looking away sharply.  “You’re playing with fire,” she said finally, her tone measured, deliberate. “And I don’t think you’re ready for what happens if you get burned.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs as her words sank in. The warning in her voice should have scared you, should have made you pull back—but instead, it only drew you closer.

“Maybe I want to get burned,” you murmured, your voice trembling but steady enough to hold her gaze.

Her eyes darkened, and her grip on the console tightened. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“Don’t I?” you challenged, leaning closer, the space between you shrinking. “Maybe it’s okay to lose control sometimes. Maybe it’s okay to—” You hesitated, searching her face for a sign, for anything that might give you courage. “To cross that line.”

Her head snapped toward you, her eyes narrowing as her jaw tightened. “You don’t get it. This isn’t just about what you want. It’s about what I can’t have. What I shouldn’t…” she said, her voice sharp, almost acusatory.

“You shouldn’t want me, I shouldn't want you...,” you interrupted softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the emotions churning inside you. “I know that. I know all the reasons why this is wrong – b-but I want you, too…” you said quickly, shaking your head.

The silence that followed was deafening. Her gaze bore into you, unrelenting and intense, and you could see the war she was waging with herself. The lines around her mouth softened, but the tension in her shoulders remained, like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff and couldn’t decide whether to fall or pull herself back.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, her fingers flexing against the console. Her eyes darted to yours again, and this time, they were filled with something raw and unguarded.

Her jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as she fought for control. For a long moment, she didn’t move, didn’t speak, and the silence between you grew heavier with every passing second. Then, with a slow, deliberate exhale, she shifted in her seat, reaching down to adjust the lever at her side.

The click of the seat sliding back was deafening in the quiet car. She leaned back, her shoulders pressing against the seat as she settled into the new space, her dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that pinned you in place. She didn’t say a word, but the command was clear in the way her hands rested on her thighs, her fingers twitching like she was daring you to make the next move.

You swallowed hard, the weight of her gaze almost unbearable as you unbuckled your seatbelt and shifted toward her. Her hands were on you the moment you were close enough. Her strength was intoxicating, her presence overwhelming, and before you knew it, you were straddling her lap, her hands settling on your waist like they’d been there a thousand times before. The leather seat creaked beneath you, the only sound aside from the rain and your shallow breaths.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice quiet but laced with steel.

You did, your gaze locking onto hers as her hands slid up your sides, her touch measured and deliberate, as though she was reminding you—reminding herself—that she was still the one in control here. Her eyes were dark, her pupils blown wide, but there was no hesitation in them, no sign of the internal war you’d seen earlier.

“Do you know why I don’t let myself lose control?” she asked, her voice low and deliberate, her hands tightening slightly on your waist.

You shook your head, unable to find the words, too caught up in the intensity of her gaze and the steady, deliberate way her thumbs brushed against your ribs.

“Because when I do,” she continued, her tone soft but carrying the weight of an unspoken promise, “I don’t stop. I don’t hold back.”

The meaning behind her words settled over you, sending a shiver down your spine. Her grip on you shifted, her hands sliding lower, her fingers splaying across your thighs as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your cheek.

“You think you’re ready for that?” she asked, her voice a quiet challenge, her lips so close to yours now that it was almost unbearable.

“I know I am,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain.

Her lips curved, her approval subtle but unmistakable as her hands slid up, tracing the curve of your waist with a possessive, measured touch. The warmth of her palms seeped through the thin fabric of your shirt, leaving your skin tingling in their wake. “We’ll see,” she murmured, her voice low and laced with a dangerous kind of promise that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

Her eyes locked onto yours, her gaze heavy with control and desire. The warmth of her hands seeped through your shirt as her fingers skimmed up your waist, deliberate in their exploration. “You’re so sure of yourself,” she murmured, her voice a low hum that vibrated in the space between you. “Let’s see if that holds.”

Her lips met yours with a commanding force, the kiss deep and unyielding, stealing the breath from your lungs. Her fingers slipped under the fabric of your shirt, her touch firm and purposeful as she mapped the bare skin of your ribs. The heat of her palms lingered wherever she touched, drawing soft gasps from you as your hands clutched her shoulders for balance.

Her lips left yours, trailing down your jawline, the scrape of her teeth against your pulse making your breath stutter. A soft sound escaped you—a gasp you couldn’t hold back—and she paused just long enough for her lips to curve into a faint smirk against your skin.

“You like that,” she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction, the words rolling over you like silk. “Good.”

The creak of the leather seat beneath you was sharp against the muffled rhythm of the rain now falling in earnest. The windows around you had begun to fog, blurring the outside world into nothingness. Her lips pressed to the spot just below your ear, lingering there with unhurried confidence, while her hands moved with certainty. One hand slipped higher, her fingers brushing the curve of your breast, teasing without fully giving in.

Her other hand at your waist slipped lower, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. She paused, her gaze snapping back to yours, her dark eyes piercing through the haze between you.

“You’re going to let me, aren’t you?” The question wasn’t really a question, her voice carrying a weight that made refusal impossible.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling, the answer pulled from somewhere deep inside you.

Her gaze locked onto yours, dark and unrelenting, holding you captive in the charged space between you. The hand under your shirt slid even higher, the rough pad of her thumb finding your nipple through the lace of your bra. She pressed just enough to elicit a gasp from you, her touch precise as she began to circle, testing your sensitivity with each deliberate motion.

“Let’s get this out of the way,” she murmured, her voice low and commanding, her hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. You lifted your arms instinctively, allowing her to pull the fabric over your head in one fluid motion. She paused for a moment, her dark eyes roving over your exposed skin with an intensity that left your heart racing.

Her fingers found the clasp of your bra, and with practiced ease, she unhooked it, sliding the straps down your arms. The lace fell away, and the cool air of the car brushed against your heated skin, making you shiver under her gaze.

Her hand returned, cupping you fully now, her thumb brushing over your bare nipple in a slow, deliberate motion. The sensation sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach, your body arching slightly into her touch. Her other hand settled on your waist, holding you steady, grounding you as her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, her voice soft but filled with an authority that made the compliment hit deeper. Her thumb rolled over your nipple again, firmer this time, coaxing a breathless sound from you that she caught with a satisfied hum.

The hand on your hip moved with purpose, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants and brushing against your damp underwear with a deliberate slowness that made your breath hitch. The heat of her palm burned into you, her touch igniting a fire in your core as her fingers traced the edge of the thin fabric, the only barrier between you and her touch.

Each pass was maddeningly light, the barest graze that left your hips shifting instinctively toward her, chasing the contact. The smirk tugging at her lips was both infuriating and intoxicating, her dominance evident, taking her time to watch every quiver of your body under her hands.

"You're already shaking," she murmured, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction, her thumb brushing a line that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. Her teasing was intentional, her restraint designed to unravel you inch by inch, as if she could sense the tension coiling tighter in your stomach.

Her lips found yours again, her kiss more commanding this time. She nipped at your bottom lip before deepening it, her tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched the way her fingers moved, stroking just enough to make your hips lift involuntarily toward her touch.

Emily leaned back slightly against the driver’s seat, her dark eyes fixed on you with a teasing intensity. “Impatient, aren’t you?” she murmured, her voice low and edged with dark amusement. Her lips brushed against yours as she spoke, the faintest contact that left you chasing her for more. She let the question linger, savoring the way your breath hitched when her fingers finally slipped beneath the last barrier of fabric, brushing against the slick heat that betrayed how much you needed her.

Her movements were slow, maddeningly precise, her fingers exploring every sensitive spot as if committing a map to memory. Your breathing became shallow, uneven, and when her touch finally found the place that made your body arch instinctively, she paused, testing. Her smirk deepened at your stuttered moan as she circled her fingers, slowly, deliberately, before pushing two fingers inside you. The pressure of her thumb on your nub increased just enough to draw a gasp from you.

Emily’s eyes werr locked with yours, her fingers never faltering in their rhythm as her free hand slid up your back, pulling you closer until her breath ghosted over your ear. “Go on,” she murmured, her voice a velvet command, low and rough enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Ride my fingers. Show me how much you want this.”

Her grip on your hip tightened, guiding you as she pressed her hand more firmly against you. The angle changed just enough to draw a sharp gasp from your lips, your body moving instinctively to meet her. Your fingers dug into her shoulders, seeking some anchor as the steady, insistent rhythm of her touch threatened to overwhelm you.

“That’s it,” Emily murmured, her voice dripping with encouragement as her eyes never left your face, dark and intent. “Take what you need.”

Her fingers moved in perfect synchronization with your movements, their pace matching the urgency you set. Each roll of your hips sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you, your breath coming in ragged bursts. Emily’s low hum vibrated against your chest, her hand on your hip holding you steady as you lost yourself in the sensations.

“You’re doing so well,” she whispered, her words melting into a kiss against your jawline, her lips brushing against your skin in a way that made your movements falter for just a moment. She didn’t let up, didn’t waver, her fingers coaxing you, urging you to keep going. “Don’t stop now. I want to feel you come apart for me.”

The sound you made was swallowed by her lips, the kiss deep and consuming as her other hand skimmed over your bare skin. Her touch was unhurried, deliberate, her palm warm as it traced the curve of your side before finding your breast again. Her thumb and forefinger brushed over your nipple with a precision that drew a soft, involuntary cry from you, her movements synchronizing perfectly with the rhythm of her hand and your hips below.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, her voice low and filled with a reverence that sent a shiver down your spine. Her lips brushed against your jaw as she spoke, the intimacy of her praise wrapping around you like a cocoon. The words were soft, almost a secret, meant only for you as she continued to unravel you piece by piece.

Her fingers below shifted as your movements became more urgent, her touch becoming more insistent, her pace quickening just enough to coax another moan from your lips. You clinged to her as your body arched into her touch, unable to resist the tension building with each precise movement. She tilted her head slightly, her breath warm against your skin as her lips traveled lower, leaving a line of kisses along the curve of your neck. Each press of her lips was slow, deliberate, designed to set your skin aflame.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” she purred into your ear, the words like molten heat. Her voice was rich, the approval in her tone unmistakable as her fingers moved with unwavering confidence, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. She drank in every gasp, every tremble, every moan, her hold on you steady and unyielding, as she guides you to ride her hand.

The praise sent a rush of heat through you, your body arching against hers as she took you higher. The fogged windows turned the world outside into a blur, all your focus narrowed to the way her fingers moved inside you, the way her lips claimed every sound you made. Her fingers pressed deeper now, her movements steady and confident.

Her lips found the curve of your neck, her teeth grazing lightly before pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. The contrast of her gentleness there and the unrelenting rhythm of her hand and your rolling hips left you reeling, every nerve in your body alight.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmured. The praise hit you with a force that made your chest tighten, your stomach fluttering as you arched closer to her, seeking more, needing more.

Your nails dug into the fabric of her shirt as you clung to her, barely able to keep yourself steady. She responded with a low hum of approval.

“Emily —” her name fell from your lips, broken and pleading, your voice trembling with need. She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her dark eyes locking onto yours.

“Come on,” she urged softly, her breath warm against your temple. “I want to feel you. Let me take care of you. Let go for me,” she said, her tone firm but filled with an intimacy that stole the air from your lungs.

Her words were a command and a promise all at once, her fingers pressing just right as the tension that had been building within you finally snapped. The world blurred at the edges as your body arched against hers, a strangled cry escaping you as waves of pleasure crashed through you, each stronger than the last. You fell apart in her arms, she held you through it, her touch never faltering, her kisses a steady anchor in the storm.

You collapsed against her, your forehead resting on her shoulder as you tried to catch your breath, your heart racing so hard you thought it might burst. But she didn’t let you go, her arms wrapping around you securely, holding you as though you were something precious.

Her lips pressed softly against your temple, the tenderness of the gesture a stark contrast to the intensity of what had just passed between you. “You’re safe,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing, her hand rubbing gentle circles into your back.

Even as your body trembled with aftershocks, the warmth of her embrace grounded you, a silent reassurance that she wouldn’t let you drift away. You closed your eyes, melting into her, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself surrender completely.

The rain outside had intensified, now battering the windows in rhythmic drumming that matched the pulse still thrumming in your veins. The fog had settled over the glass, blurring the world outside as if it was a dream—fuzzy, indistinct, just like the space between you two now.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

regulus black x reader where christmas at the potters brings back two brothers together

Regulus Black rarely trembled. He was a man of precision, poise, and well-practiced restraint. Yet here he stood, fidgeting with the cuffs of his tailored coat, staring at the warmly lit Potter residence as though it were a dragon’s lair. His free hand clasped yours tightly, clammy despite the biting chill of December air.

“Amour,” he began nervously, his tone a mixture of urgency and dread, “are you certain the invitation was for me too? Perhaps Lily and James only meant you, and it would be terribly awkward if—”

“Reg.” You squeezed his hand, cutting through his spiral. “You’re overthinking this. They invited both of us. Lily wrote your name herself, remember? In that beautiful gold ink? You’re family.”

His jaw tensed, his grey eyes darting to the door and then back to you. “Family,” he echoed softly, the word heavy with doubt and hope intertwined. “It’s been years. Sirius—he’s—what if—”

“What if he’s been waiting for this moment?” you interrupted gently, reaching up to cup his face. His eyes softened, the worry in them breaking your heart. “You’re here because they want you here. And so do I. Sirius will come around, love. And if he doesn’t, you’ll have me to hex him. Alright?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips, though his fingers still fidgeted. He leaned into your touch for a moment, taking a deep breath before he muttered, “I still think this might be a mistake.”

“It’s not,” you assured him, squeezing his hand again as you turned to knock on the door. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, his voice stopped you.

“Amour, wait,” he said quickly. “Are you absolutely certain? What if—”

You silenced him with a pointed look, raising an eyebrow. “Regulus Arcturus Black, if you ask me one more time, I’ll drag you inside myself.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, nodding reluctantly. “Alright,” he whispered, though his grip on your hand tightened as the door swung open.

Lily stood there, her radiant smile lighting up the wintry evening. “You’re here!” she exclaimed warmly, pulling you into a hug before turning to Regulus. Her arms wrapped around him without hesitation, her genuine affection clear. “Regulus, welcome.”

He stiffened at first, his posture rigid and uncertain. But then, slowly, he returned the hug, a quiet “Thank you” escaping him. You could see the way his shoulders began to relax, the faintest sheen of tears in his eyes as he pulled back.

“Come in, come in,” Lily urged, her excitement genuine as she ushered you both inside.

James appeared next, his grin as boyish as ever. “Look who decided to join the fun!” he teased, clapping Regulus on the shoulder. “About time, mate.”

“James,” Regulus greeted stiffly, his voice carefully polite but uncertain. He glanced at you, and you smiled encouragingly. James didn’t seem fazed by Reg’s formality, stepping aside with a welcoming gesture.

Before anyone could say more, a small figure darted out from behind James, a mop of black hair bouncing as the toddler jumped forward with a loud “BAH!” aimed directly at Regulus.

Regulus froze, staring down at the child with wide eyes. Harry, oblivious to the tension, pouted, his tiny face scrunching in disappointment. “He’s not scared!” he whined, looking up at James for confirmation.

“Oh no,” Regulus said suddenly, his voice low and serious. He stepped back dramatically, clutching his chest as though struck. “You’ve frightened me terribly!” His grey eyes widened in mock terror, and his hand shot to yours for support.

Harry’s pout disappeared instantly, replaced by an elated giggle. “I scared him!” he cried, jumping up and down with glee. “Mum, I scared him!”

“You sure did, darling!” Lily laughed, beaming at her son.

James ruffled Harry’s hair with exaggerated pride. “Great job, young man. Now, go on, bring your uncle and aunt inside.”

Regulus froze at the word, his gaze snapping to James. He seemed to falter for a moment, swallowing hard as emotion flickered across his face. Then, a tiny tug on his coat brought him back.

“Come on, Uncle!” Harry demanded with a toothy grin, his little hands pulling insistently.

Regulus stared down at him, his breath catching. Slowly, hesitantly, a small, soft smile crept onto his lips. He bent down and lifted Harry into his arms, the toddler laughing as he looped his arms around Reg’s neck.

You watched, your chest tightening with emotion as tears pricked your eyes. The sight of Regulus, holding Harry so tenderly despite his nerves, was enough to overwhelm you. He turned to you, his smile shy but genuine, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss both his cheek and Harry’s.

“See?” you whispered against his ear. “You’re exactly where you belong.”

Regulus didn’t reply, but the tear that slipped down his cheek as he carried Harry inside said everything.

The warmth of the Potter home enveloped you as you wandered into the kitchen, leaving Regulus in the living room with Harry still babbling excitedly in his arms. The sound of laughter and soft music filled the air, and the smell of something sweet baking teased your senses. You stepped inside, only to pause at the sight before you.

Peter Pettigrew and Mary Macdonald stood by the counter, hands brushing as they decorated a tray of cookies. Peter was a blushing mess, his usually pale cheeks bright pink as Mary whispered something that had him grinning like a schoolboy.

You cleared your throat loudly, hiding a smirk as they jumped apart, the spatula Mary had been holding clattering onto the counter. Peter looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Mary’s blush matched the rosy frosting she was piping.

“Am I interrupting something?” you teased, leaning against the doorframe.

“Bun!” Peter exclaimed, his voice a bit too high-pitched as he tried to regain his composure. “You’re here! We were just… uh, baking! Cookies!”

Mary rolled her eyes fondly but recovered quicker, smiling warmly at you. “Welcome, sweetie. It’s so good to see you again.”

“Good to see you too,” you replied with a chuckle. “And no need to explain. You two are adorable, by the way.”

Peter fumbled with the tray of cookies, muttering something under his breath as Mary handed you a warm one to taste. “Here, try these,” Peter said eagerly, watching your expression with nervous anticipation.

You bit into the cookie and hummed appreciatively. “Delicious. Seriously, you two make a great team in the kitchen. And overall.”

Peter blushed, but before he could say anything, Regulus stepped into the room. His presence seemed to shift the energy, quieting Peter’s usual bumbling nature.

“Regulus,” Mary greeted him brightly, her grin widening as you gave her a nod. She quickly plated a few cookies and handed them to him. “Here, try one. We’ve been working on these for ages.”

Regulus took the plate with a small, reluctant smile, glancing briefly at you as if for guidance. He picked up a cookie and took a careful bite, pausing as the flavors settled. Then, to everyone’s surprise, his lips curved into the faintest smile.

“They’re wonderful, Mary,” he said softly, nodding in approval.

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “And?”

Regulus hesitated, his gaze flickering to Peter, who was looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “...And Peter,” he added with a slight smirk.

Mary and Peter both grinned, looking utterly pleased with themselves. “Thanks, Regulus,” they said in unison, earning a chuckle from you.

The lighthearted moment was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. You turned to see Remus stepping in, his tall frame illuminated by the kitchen lights. He smiled warmly, his gaze soft as it landed on you.

“Dove,” he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug. “You look lovely as ever.” Then, turning to Regulus, he nodded. “Glad you made it, Regulus. Sirius will be joining in a minute.”

Regulus stiffened at those words, his hand instinctively seeking yours as his usual calm façade faltered. After exchanging pleasantries with Remus, he pulled you aside, his voice dropping to a frantic whisper.

“Did you hear him?” Regulus asked, his panic barely contained. “‘Sirius will be joining in a minute.’ That’s code for ‘he’s furious I’m here.’ I knew this was a mistake. Oh, Merlin, I should leave. I’ll just make an excuse—would they believe me if I said Barty accidentally set Evan on fire?”

You tried not to laugh, gently placing your hands on his shoulders. “Reg, no one’s furious you’re here. Sirius might be dramatic, but he doesn’t hate you. And yes, they would believe that excuse, love. But just stay with me, okay? You’re doing fine.”

Regulus opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of a door opening again silenced him. Both of you turned as Sirius stepped into the room, his grey eyes instantly locking onto you.

“Doll,” Sirius greeted with a grin, pulling you into a quick hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you replied, giving him a warm smile.

Then Sirius’s gaze shifted to Regulus. His expression softened slightly, though his tone held a quiet intensity as he spoke. “Can I talk to you alone, Regulus?”

Regulus tensed beside you, his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. His wide eyes darted to you in panic, but you just smiled reassuringly and leaned in to whisper, “You’ve got this.”

You blew him a quick kiss before stepping away, leaving him and Sirius alone in the kitchen. As you walked out, you caught Sirius glancing at you, his face unreadable, before turning back to his brother.

Sirius leaned against the counter, his arms crossed as he studied his brother with a carefully neutral expression. Regulus, for his part, was stiff as ever, his fingers twitching slightly as he tried to suppress his nerves.

“So…” Sirius began, dragging the word out. “You’re here.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I am. And you’re here.”

Sirius’s lips twitched upward in a small, begrudging smile. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

Regulus shifted on his feet. “You too.”

An awkward silence settled between them, the kind that years of estrangement couldn’t quite fill. Sirius scratched the back of his neck, clearly searching for the right words. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“I actually have something for you,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

Regulus blinked, startled. “You… do?”

Sirius nodded, his usual bravado muted as he turned and disappeared into the hallway. Regulus stood frozen, glancing back at the kitchen door as if considering fleeing, but before he could, Sirius returned. In his hands was a small package, wrapped haphazardly in parchment and tied with a crooked ribbon.

“Here,” Sirius said, shoving it toward him. “It’s, uh, not much.”

Regulus stared at the package, his brow furrowing. “I wasn’t aware there was going to be gift exchanging.”

“There’s not,” Sirius replied quickly, waving him off. “Just take it, alright?”

Regulus hesitated, then reached out and accepted the gift with the same care one might use to handle a priceless artifact. He carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper, revealing a neatly folded sweater inside. The soft fabric was midnight blue, and embroidered on the chest was a constellation—the Regulus star, shining bright—and a black dog stitched beside it, looking up toward the stars.

For a moment, Regulus just stared at it, his fingers brushing over the stitching. His throat tightened, and when he finally looked up, his eyes were glossy with unshed tears.

“I…” he began, but his voice failed him.

Sirius, clearly uncomfortable with the silence, began rambling. “I, uh, had some help from Remus, of course. I’m rubbish with sewing—nearly stabbed myself a dozen times. And the constellation—Remus said it should be accurate, so we looked it up in one of his star charts, and—"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as Regulus surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Sirius. A quiet sob escaped him as he buried his face against Sirius’s shoulder, his grip firm and unyielding.

Sirius froze for a moment before exhaling shakily. A small smile tugged at his lips as he returned the embrace, his own tears slipping free as he clung to his younger brother.

They stayed like that for a long moment, the tension between them melting away in the quiet of the kitchen.

When Regulus finally pulled back, his face was tear-streaked but calmer. Sirius gave him a lopsided grin and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Reggie,” Sirius said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m pretty sure dinner’s ready. And you know how James gets when people are late to the table.”

Regulus nodded, wiping his face as he smiled faintly. “Alright.”

Together, they stepped into the kitchen, their bond mended in a way neither had expected when the evening began. Everyone glanced up as they entered, noticing the tear tracks on both their faces, but no one said a word. Instead, they simply smiled and made room for the two brothers to join the gathering.

Regulus slid into the seat beside you, and Sirius took his place next to Remus. You gave Regulus a soft, knowing smile, gently squeezing his hand under the table. He squeezed back, his heart lighter than it had been in years.

The room soon filled with laughter as Harry began reenacting his earlier “scare” on an unsuspecting Remus, who pretended to faint dramatically. James and Lily chuckled, Mary and Peter exchanged amused glances, and Sirius leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around Remus as he laughed at Harry’s antics.

As you looked around the table, your hand still intertwined with Regulus’s, you couldn’t help but think that this was what Christmas was truly about—family, love, and finding light even after the darkest of times.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

AUTHOR'S NOTE I literally sobbed while writing this (╥ᆺ╥；)

[starlingflight]

Prompt: Sirius being a massive Hinny shipper, please and thank you ♥️♥️♥️

This was supposed to be a drabble. Read below or on AO3 here:

He had first noticed it in the summer.

At first, Sirius had thought Harry to have a particularly strong affection for Crookshanks, a sentiment that Sirius only found wholly sensible and had not questioned further.

It had taken a few weeks to realise it was not the charming bandy-legged cat that Harry’s eyes were subconsciously following. Likewise, the cat wasn’t the recipient of an increasingly frequent number of silent, secretive shared smiles whenever someone was unfortunate enough to do something that garnered Harry’s amusement; no, the honour of that bestowment fell to the equally charming — and equally ginger — young lady who had devoted a great deal of her summer to entertaining Crookshanks.

Again, Sirius couldn’t find anything to disagree with in the object of Harry’s attention, indeed, his good opinion of Ginny had been formed immediately upon meeting her, when, one balmy evening, at the very beginning of summer, she had come bounding into Grimmauld Place’s dank kitchen, flashed a bright grin at Sirius across the old wooden table and declared, “It’s nice to meet you, but I don’t think much of your family’s choice in interior decoration.”

Sirius’ smile was no longer familiar to him, but it had risen easily at the sentiment. “Was it the house-elf heads that put you off?”

The girl's eyes had widened in alarm; her nose had wrinkled in distaste. “House-elf heads?”

“Ah, so you haven't taken a trip upstairs yet?”

With that scant piece of information, she'd turned on her heel and marched straight back out of the kitchen, a harried-looking Molly Weasley calling “for Heaven's sake, Ginny,” behind her, but Ginny had only continued striding her path, set on inspecting the most gruesome spectacles lining the hallways of Grimmauld Place.

Harry hadn’t arrived at the Order's gloomy headquarters until weeks later. By that time, everyone but Sirius seemed to have accepted the chafing captivity offered by his parents' old house with, if not good humour, a grudging attempt at it.

And then Sirius had found his already-conflicted emotions torn once more as he'd reckoned with exactly what the task James and Lily had charged him with really meant.

Protecting Harry, keeping him safe, giving him enough information to protect himself in the face of direct orders from Dumbledore and the teenaged ire being thrown at him across the dining room table from his beloved Godson; his guilt not eased by the scorn that was being directed at him from a perfect replica of Lily's eyes, ones that silently assured him he'd already failed, otherwise, he wouldn't be in this situation to begin with.

It wasn't a new guilt though, Sirius had been living with it for fourteen years now, and it was certainly a lighter burden than it had been all those interminable days locked up with the Dementors. Though he’d exchanged Azkaban for another prison, one he'd thought he'd escaped at age sixteen, at least there were moments of levity now.

There was the Weasley family's easy affection with one another, and their warmth which seemed to fill the frigid house despite its determination to remain unwelcoming. There were hearty dinners and good conversation, and a sense of community that, while welcome, made Sirius ache for the best friends he would never share a meal with again.

There was also Ginny's bright, unrestrained laughter and the way Harry seemed to seek it out. There was the way his Godson's eyes seemed to soften on the youngest of the Weasleys, an occurrence which accomplished the seemingly impossible task of making all traces of James disappear from his face, leaving only Lily.

If Harry was aware of Ginny’s effect on him, however, he did an excellent job of hiding it. None of Sirius’ thinly veiled attempts at suggestion yielded the desired results.

After one of Molly’s delicious — and uncomfortably filling — meals, Sirius had tried to broach the subject in as delicate a manner as possible.

“Ginny’s very funny,” he’d said quietly to Harry, leaning across the small expanse of table that separated them.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed absently, ducking to avoid the dessert bowl Fred had just summoned, and that had gone soaring wildly towards Harry’s head. “She’s a laugh.”

Without giving the matter any further consideration, Harry pushed his chair back from the table, apparently intent on following Ron, who was already heading for the door, and Sirius, who was glad to see Harry in a rare congenial mood where his friends were concerned, had no heart to try and stop him.

Yet Sirius was only deterred temporarily; house arrest did not offer many opportunities for entertainment, and he seized upon this one.

His next attempt to force the matter occurred just days later.

Molly, persisting in her crusade to wipe away years of rot and decay that Sirius privately thought was likely weaved into the very foundations of the house, had seen fit to direct Harry to clear out an ancient wardrobe in one of the guest bedrooms; Sirius immediately volunteered to join the endeavour.

“I think your mum had a hoarding problem,” Harry informed him, removing a sinister-looking, ghostly white Venetian mask from one of the shelves and tossing it unceremoniously into the rubbish bag awaiting at their feet.

Sirius hummed in agreement. “You know, Ginny made a similar observation — she wasn’t very taken with the decor.”

“I’d think there was something seriously wrong with her if she was.”

“But you don’t,” Sirius prompted with forced nonchalance.

“Don’t what?” Harry frowned down at the pair of ancient — and hideous — buckled shoes he’d just collected from the wardrobe floor.

“You don’t think there’s something seriously wrong with Ginny.”

“No,” Harry replied, brow still furrowed as he turned to look at Sirius directly. “Do you?”

“No, of course not!” Sirius waved away the accusation. “I think she’s a charming girl.”

“Right,” Harry discarded the shoes and began flicking through the dusty garments hanging from the rail.

Sirius waited a moment but no other thoughts came forth. He swallowed a sigh. “And you already agreed she’s funny.”

Harry’s only response to this reminder was a noncommittal hum and Sirius was forced to forge ahead without any assistance from his impervious Godson.

“The prank she played on Ron last night with the fake spider was very amusing.”

In truth, Sirius was being generous with this compliment. While he appreciated Ginny’s dedication to the bit, and her willingness to provoke her mother’s ire, he had some notes on how her practical application could be improved that he planned to share with her later.

“Ron didn’t think so,” Harry replied, giving away nothing of his opinion on the matter. “He made me check every inch of our room three times before he’d go to bed.”

“He needn’t be so worried,” Sirius replied. “Crookshanks is dedicated to the task of keeping the house pest-free.”

Harry shook his head, whether at Sirius’ reassurance or the ghastly acid-green lace robes he’d just removed from the wardrobe, it was impossible to say.

There was no opportunity to ask, for at that moment Molly’s voice came calling from the corridor outside the room, beckoning them down to yet another dinner where Sirius was forced to watch Harry’s eyes wander to Ginny with painful obliviousness.

This pattern continued for the rest of the summer holidays, a period that was woefully short and allowed Sirius no further chance to help Harry reach the obvious conclusion. Indeed, any attempts he did make were met with little more than teenaged grunts and abrupt changes of subject and before Sirius knew it, Harry was boarding the Hogwarts Express, Ginny was swallowed by a group of her friends on the crowded platform and even this simple self-given mission had evaded success.

After that passed interminably long, lonely months locked up in the drafty old house with nothing but the fleeting company of Order members flitting in and out; Sirius’ only constant companion was Kreacher, possibly the only being he considered worse company than a dementor.

Undoubtedly, Sirius had not considered himself overcome with festive spirit in the run-up to Christmas. Nor could he find himself cheerful at the circumstances that brought house guests to him for the holidays, but once it was ascertained that Arthur would survive the terrible attack he’d sustained at the hands — or rather, fangs — of Voldemort’s snake, Sirius could not deny himself glad of the company provided once more by Harry and the Weasley’s.

By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around, Sirius was in a rare state of high spirits.

Grimmauld Place remained stubbornly bleak but the festoons of holly and glittering ribbons he’d draped from every available surface — helped by Ginny who certainly proved she had more of an eye for decoration than most of Sirius’ relatives — went some way to brightening the place up; as did the spectacularly impressive fireworks Fred and George had set off around the house well before the clock had begun to approach midnight.

By chance, a small party had gathered in the kitchen owing to Remus and Tonks’ unexpected early return from a mission, and Kingsley’s appearance with a collection of bottles of Ogden’s, which were quickly passed around the adults.

“I’ll have mine to go,” Sirius said as Kingsley poured him a generous measure of the amber liquid. “I really should make sure Buckbeak’s settled before things get too raucous.”

“I can go,” Harry offered from beside Sirius as he leaned to collect one of the bottles of butterbeer Kingsley had brought for the kids. “I haven’t seen him much since I’ve been back.”

“We’ll come with you,” Hermione offered, popping the cap on her own bottle of butterbeer.

Before Harry could think to respond, he was cut off by a groan from Ron who had been surveying the platter of mince pies, sausage rolls and various other finger foods Molly had just set out on the table. “I was just about to eat,” he protested.

Hermione’s lips pursed in unimpressed exasperation but Sirius was already formulating a plan, prepared to seize an opportunity that had not presented itself since the kids had returned from Hogwarts.

“Ginny can go with you,” he said quickly, eyes fixed on Harry even as he raised his voice loud enough for Ginny to hear from the opposite side of the kitchen where she was presently occupied ensuring Crookshanks didn’t burn his paws as he attempted to bat at the still-whizzing fireworks. “Ginny, could you go and check on Buckbeak for me, please?”

Her response was immediate. She scooped Crookshanks up into her arms as she stood, nodding enthusiastically at the suggestion.

“I can go alone,” Harry protested sullenly. “No one is going to attack me between here and the landing.”

“Of course not,” Sirius agreed, waving away his protests with the hand still clutching his whiskey glass. “But you don’t want to be alone on New Year’s, do you?”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “I think I’d survive for ten minutes.”

“Yes,” Sirius continued as Ginny’s form grew closer in his peripheral vision. “But Ginny is excellent with Buckbeak — she’s very good with animals, have you noticed?”

Harry shrugged again. “I suppose.”

Ginny paused her approach to deposit Crookshanks into Hermione’s waiting arms.

“Well, that’s settled then.” Lightly, Sirius nudged Harry towards her. “The two of you will go together.”

Ginny joined them just in time to hear this conclusion; her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I didn’t realise it was a two-person job.”

“Apparently Sirius thinks I need supervision,” Harry informed her.“

“And he chose me to supervise?” Ginny frowned in horror. “I’m disappointed in myself for giving a false impression of responsibility.”

Right on cue, Sirius watched as her eyes met Harry’s and identical smirks bloomed on both their faces.

“Come on,” Harry inclined his head towards the door. “We‘ll try not to get into too much trouble on the way upstairs.”

“Maybe you will,” Ginny countered, already following him out of the room. “I never made any such promises.”

Sirius watched them go with a self-satisfied smile of his own. His triumphant mood, however, did not last long before being quickly burst by the pointed sound of a throat clearing behind him.

He turned to find Remus and Tonks staring at him in amusement.

“What was that about?” Remus asked, his arms folded expectantly over his chest.

“What was what?” Sirius asked innocently.

Remus shook his head wearily. “Need I remind you I’ve witnessed that exact manoeuvre before, minutes prior to the Great Venomous Tentacula Debacle of 1976.”

Sirius huffed dismissively. “This is nothing like that,” he disagreed. “I’m quite confident neither Harry nor Ginny are going to attempt to feed the other to Buckbeak.”

Which was almost exactly what had happened when Sirius had schemed to have Lily and James partnered in Herbology at the beginning of their sixth year. Of course, Lily had assured Professor Evergreen that she had meant no harm to James when she’d shoved him into the awaiting jaws of the predatory plant; she had only meant for it to ‘take a few bites out of his over-inflated head’.

“That’s not what I meant,” Remus disagreed with his practised look of weak disapproval that was so easy to ignore. “As you well know.”

Sirius sighed, chancing a glance over his shoulder to confirm no one was nearby before stepping closer to Remus and Tonks and saying in a voice too low for anyone else to overhear over the revellers of the night. “They simply need a nudge in the right direction, one that I’m more than willing to provide.”

Remus’ frown deepened. “A nudge in which direction?”

“A romantic one,” Sirius responded imploringly, surely that much was obvious to anyone with eyes. “Don’t you see it? They’re perfect for one another.”

“Harry and Ginny?” Remus attempted to clarify, his voice dripping with scepticism.

Any answer Sirius might have made was abruptly drowned out by Tonks’ unbridled laughter.

“What?” Sirius demanded, immediately disliking the smug shake of her head. “What’s so amusing?”

“Oh, nothing,” Tonks replied as she brought her laughter back under control. “Only that you’re obviously completely out of the loop.”

“I am not,” he protested at once, indignance flaring at the suggestion he might be uninformed. “Out of the loop regarding what?”

“So many things,” Tonks replied, sighing with superiority. “But, in particular, Ginny’s boyfriend and Harry’s preferred choice of snogging partner.”

“Harry’s what?” Sirius demanded, feeling rather as though one of Fred and George’s fireworks had just struck him directly in the face. Surely, if Harry was seeing someone, he would at least bother to tell Sirius as much.

“Sounds like you have all the teenage gossip,” Remus said, encouraging Tonks to share the details while Sirius reeled from the revelation that he, apparently, knew nothing.

“I only know what Ginny tells me,” Tonks replied, shrugging as she took a sip of her firewhiskey. “Six brothers haven’t really left her with much in the way of female influence, and Hermione’s always off with Harry and Ron, she gets quite lonely, not that she’d ever admit as much out loud.”

“Evidently not that lonely if she’s cavorting around with this secret boyfriend you mentioned,” Sirius replied haughtily.

Remus and Tonks’ eyebrows rose in surprise at his uncharitable tone and Sirius took a sip of firewhiskey to burn away the faint pang of guilt surfacing within him.

“She’s not keeping him a secret,” Tonks disagreed. “She’s just protecting herself from meddling big brothers—“

“And interfering godfathers,” Remus added.

Tonks nodded in agreement. “At any rate, I don’t think they’re cavorting — which, by the way, isn’t a word anyone has used in the last century — by her own admission, she’s quite fed up with Michael.”

“Michael,” Sirius repeated brusquely. “Of course she is, how could anyone not be fed up with someone named Michael.”

Even with Sirius’ limited knowledge, it was entirely evident Harry was superior in every way that could possibly matter.

“Michael Corner?” Remus asked, ignoring this last pointed remark, his expression still perfectly, annoyingly genial. “I remember him from teaching — he seemed a perfectly pleasant young man.”

“More pleasant than Harry?” Sirius demanded, failing to see how that could possibly be true.

“Of course not,” Remus replied evenly. His eyes wandered to Tonks and they both shared a look of amusement not unlike the smirks Sirius was now used to witnessing pass between Ginny and Harry.

Sirius took note of the moment to question both Remus and Tonks about later. Separately.

“Anyway,” Remus said abruptly, tearing his eyes away from Tonks as a red flush worked its way across his cheeks. “It sounds like Harry has his sights set elsewhere.”

At the reminder, Sirius looked to Tonks expectantly. “What do you know?”

“Like I said, only what Ginny tells me.”

“Which is?” Sirius asked, schooling his features into a look of mild interest. Clearly, Tonks was enjoying holding the information over him, and he simply wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of having him beg for it.

“Just that Harry was kissing some Ravenclaw girl on the last night of term — she didn’t elaborate further, other than to say Cho’s whispering skills left a lot to be desired.”

“Cho?” Sirius directed the question at Remus.

“She’s in the year above him,” Remus replied at once. “She plays seeker for Ravenclaw — she was very popular from what I remember.”

Sirius shook his head in vehement denial. “Harry’s not going to marry a Ravenclaw.”

“He’s fifteen,” Tonks reminded him through a laugh. “I don’t think marriage is his main priority right now.”

Before Sirius could argue, a course he was quite set on taking, the door to the kitchen opened and a flash of bright red caught his eye.

Ginny re-entered first, closely followed by Harry; the two of them were deep in conversation, both of them smiling at one another in a way that, in Sirius’ opinion, proved his point for him.

He, Remus and Tonks, all fell silent, watching the young couple intently as they grabbed fresh bottles of butterbeer.

Ginny headed over to the table, eyes surveying the spread laid out upon it; Harry remained at her heels. She paused not at the food, but at a pile of glittering red and gold party hats Fred and George had laid out earlier, the ones which had caused quite a stir when the one resting jauntily on Kingsley’s head had started to sing loudly and woefully out of tune.

Ginny picked up one of the hats and beckoned Harry closer with a crooked finger. His weak attempts to refuse her obvious demand did little to deter; Ginny took a definitive step forward; Harry made no attempt to duck away as she rose up on her tiptoes and secured the eye-catching hat to the top of his head where it sparkled brilliantly in contrast with his dark hair. Upon seeing Ginny’s triumphant smile, an identical one bloomed upon Harry’s face.

Sirius was also grinning victoriously as he turned back to Remus and Tonks.

“I’m not telling you you’re right,” Remus said stubbornly, but the stiff manner in which he knocked back the remainder of his firewhiskey was confirmation enough for Sirius.

Tonks sighed, her eyes still glued to the pair, watching as Harry attempted to force a hat onto Ginny’s head and she stubbornly — and speedily — ducked out of his way.

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually,” Tonks said, a small smile appearing on her face.

Sirius nodded, unable to stop his thoughts from wandering to James and Lily and the many occasions upon which he’d been forced to watch them refuse to see what was plainly right in front of them.

He cleared his throat against the sudden emotion that swelled within, a strange mixture of longing for what had already passed and what was still yet to come. “They always do in the end.”

[paxtito]

pretty girl

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 3685

warnings: smut 18+. just lesbian sex innit (w receiving)— (all characters are 18+)

summary: wednesday put together a little surprise date night, but, enid being enid, couldn’t keep it a secret

a/n: based on this request: ‘I love your writing and was wondering if you could make another smut fic with Wednesday? Maybe something sorta soft, honestly anything would do. Thanks!’ hope this is what you were looking for and thank you!! spent the day resting which gave me plenty of time to do this because my lil’ anger issues of a dog bit my cheek after wanting my birthday cake 😒

The morning air is crisp as you walk across campus with Enid, her usual vibrant energy making up for your grogginess. You clutch your coffee tightly, half-listening as she chatters about the latest gossip in the werewolf pack.

“And then Ajax tried to—are you even listening to me?” she asks, bumping her shoulder into yours playfully.

“Barely,” you admit with a small smile, taking another sip of your coffee. “It’s too early for full Enid mode.”

“Rude,” she pouts dramatically before grinning. “But fine, I’ll get to the point. I’m sleeping over at Yoko’s tonight!”

“Wait, what?” you ask, blinking at her. “Why?”

Enid’s steps falter, and she looks away for a moment, biting her lip. “Oh, uh, no reason!”

You narrow your eyes at her, immediately suspicious. “Enid…”

“It’s nothing!” she insists, waving her hands defensively. “Totally normal, just, uh, bestie stuff. You know, girl talk, vampire-werewolf bonding, that kind of thing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “Fine! But you can’t tell Wednesday I told you, okay? She’d literally kill me. Like, for real this time.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Wednesday. “What does she have to do with this?”

Enid hesitates, looking torn. “Ugh, okay, fine,” she blurts out, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “She’s planning something for you tonight. Like, a date night or something. She told me to clear out so you two could have the dorm to yourselves.”

A warm, unexpected blush creeps up your neck. “Wait… Wednesday planned something? For me?”

Enid nods, her grin widening. “Yup! And let me tell you, she’s been stressing about it all week. She even glared at me less than usual yesterday, so you know it’s serious.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart fluttering at the thought of Wednesday going out of her way to plan something for you. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

“Right? But don’t tell her I told you, okay?” Enid warns, gripping your arm. “She swore me to secrecy and gave me this whole creepy ‘I’ll bury you alive’ speech. Classic Wednesday.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good. Because I value my life,” Enid says with mock seriousness before breaking into a smile. “But seriously, I’m happy for you guys. She’s got a soft spot for you, you know.”

Your smile grows as you think about Wednesday, her deadpan expression softening ever so slightly when she’s around you, the way her hand lingers in yours when no one’s looking. “Yeah,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to Enid. “I know.”

As the two of you reach the doors to your next class, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Whatever Wednesday has planned, you know it’ll be something only she could come up with—quiet, dark, and maybe a little macabre. And you can’t wait to see what she’s put together.

—

The afternoon sun filters through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow across your desk. Your fingers absentmindedly tap against the surface as you try to focus on the teacher's droning voice, but your thoughts keep drifting to Wednesday and the surprise she has planned for you.

Despite your best efforts to keep a straight face, a small, giddy smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You sneak a glance at Wednesday from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge her reaction.

To your surprise, she's already staring at you, her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. Your gaze meets hers, and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up under her intense scrutiny.

"You," she says flatly, her voice cutting through the monotony of the lecture. "Are you feeling alright? You seem... distracted."

You swallow hard, your mind racing for an excuse. "I'm fine," you manage, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. "Just thinking about the assignment."

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze bores into you, as if she's trying to read your thoughts.

You squirm in your seat, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope. You can practically hear Enid's voice in your head, warning you not to blow her cover.

But it's too late. Wednesday's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of panic crossing her face before she schools her features back into a neutral expression.

"Ah," she says slowly, leaning back in her chair. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

You bite your lip, wondering if you should press further. But before you can open your mouth, the bell rings, signaling the end of class.

Wednesday stands abruptly, gathering her books without another word. She brushes past you, her shoulder bumping against yours in a way that feels almost like a dismissal.

You watch her go, your heart sinking. You've blown it, haven't you? Ruined whatever surprise she had planned.

You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over your chair in your haste. Your backpack slips off the desk, scattering your belongings across the floor.

"Wednesday, wait!" you call out, your voice echoing in the now-empty classroom.

You chase after her, weaving through the throng of students in the hallway. Your heart pounds in your chest as you catch up to her, reaching out to grasp her arm.

Wednesday whirls around, her dark eyes flashing with irritation. "What?" she snaps, her voice sharp.

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "I... I'm sorry," you manage, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. "I didn't mean to ruin your surprise. I just... I couldn't help myself."

For a moment, Wednesday just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, her shoulders slump slightly, and she lets out a sigh.

"You're impossible," she mutters, but there's no real heat behind her words.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanor. "I... I know," you say softly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "But I meant what I said. I'm sorry."

Wednesday is silent for a moment, and then she nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Fine," she says, her tone grudging. "But don't think this means you're off the hook. You owe me one."

You grin, relief washing over you. "I can live with that," you say, your voice light and teasing. "So... are you going to tell me what you have planned, or do I have to guess?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in her gaze. "Guess," she says simply, before turning and walking away, leaving you to follow in her wake.

—

You stand outside Wednesday's dorm room, your hand hovering over the doorknob. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

Despite your earlier promise to keep quiet, you can't shake the nagging feeling that you've ruined whatever surprise she had planned. You glance down at your uniform, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, giving your skirt a quick smoothing. "She's not going to bite."

With a final nod of determination, you raise your hand and knock on the door. The sound echoes through the empty hallway, making you wince.

Silence greets you for a moment, and you wonder if Wednesday is ignoring you. But then, the door swings open, revealing Wednesday standing in the doorway.

She's changed out of her school uniform, now wearing a simple black dress that falls to her knees. Her hair is loose, tumbling down her back in dark waves.

For a moment, you're struck dumb, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of her. She looks... pretty. Soft. Nothing like her usual sharp edges and icy demeanor.

Wednesday arches an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smirk. "Cat got your tongue?" she asks, her voice dry.

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. "No," you manage, clearing your throat. "I just... I didn't expect you to look so..."

You trail off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence without sounding like a complete fool. Wednesday's smirk widens, and she steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"Come in," she says simply, before closing the door behind you with a soft click.

You step into Wednesday's dorm room, your eyes widening as you take in the scene before you. The furniture has been pushed to the sides, creating a large open space in the center of the room. Soft, ambient lighting casts a warm glow over everything, making the room feel intimate and cozy.

In the middle of it all stands Wednesday, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable. She's holding out her hand to you, a silent invitation.

"What's all this?" you ask, your voice coming out a little breathless.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "I'm going to teach you how to dance," she says simply, her tone matter-of-fact.

You blink, taken aback by her words. "Dance?" you repeat, feeling a little foolish. "Like... ballroom dancing?"

Wednesday nods, her dark eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "Yes," she confirms, her voice dry. "Like my parents do. It's a family tradition."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the thought of Wednesday's parents, of the life she leads outside of Nevermore. It's a side of her you've never seen before, and the idea of being a part of it, even in a small way, makes your stomach flutter.

"I... I'd like that," you manage, stepping forward to take her hand.

Wednesday's fingers are cool against yours, her grip firm and steady. She pulls you closer, her body mere inches from yours.

"Good," she says simply, before beginning to guide you through the steps.

You stumble a little at first. But Wednesday is patient, her instructions clear and concise. Slowly, you begin to find your rhythm, moving in tandem with her.

As you dance, you can't help but notice the way Wednesday's eyes never leave yours. There's an intensity there, a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her voice soft. "Just follow my lead."

You move gracefully in Wednesday's arms, your body reacting instinctively to her guidance. The fabric of your black trousers brushes against her dress as you spin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

Wednesday's gaze is intense, her dark eyes boring into yours with an unspoken question. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your heart races at her proximity.

"You're a natural," she murmurs, her voice low and intimate. "I knew you'd be good at this."

You duck your head, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It's easy when I have a good partner," you manage, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "Is that so?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You nod, your gaze flickering down to her lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again. "Definitely," you confirm, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday hums, her fingers tightening around yours. "Good," she says simply, before pulling you closer, your bodies now just inches apart.

You can feel the heat radiating off her skin, the scent of her perfume filling your nostrils. Your breath hitches, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Now," Wednesday says, her voice low and husky. "Let's try something a little more... challenging."

She steps back, her hand leaving yours. You feel a momentary pang of loss, your fingers aching to touch her again.

But then Wednesday begins to move, her body swaying to a beat only she can hear. She extends her hand, a silent invitation for you to join her.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest. But then, with a deep breath, you step forward, ready to follow wherever she leads.

You take Wednesday's hand, her fingers cool and strong in your grasp. She pulls you close, your bodies pressing together as she guides you into a new dance.

This one is more sensual, the steps slower and more deliberate. Wednesday's gaze never leaves yours, her dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You move together, your bodies swaying in perfect sync. The world around you fades away, until there is nothing but the two of you, lost in the rhythm of the dance.

Wednesday's hand slides up your arm, her fingers trailing over your skin. You shiver at the contact, your nerve endings igniting with each touch.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her lips barely brushing against your ear. "Keep going."

You nod, your body responding to her commands without hesitation. You've never felt so in tune with another person, so utterly in sync.

As the dance comes to an end, Wednesday pulls you into a final, tight embrace. You can feel the heat of her body against yours, the softness of her breasts pressing into your chest.

For a moment, you're frozen, your heart pounding in your ears. You know you should pull away, put some distance between you. But you can't bring yourself to move, not when Wednesday feels so perfect in your arms.

Slowly, tentatively, you raise your hand, your fingers brushing against the silky strands of her hair. Wednesday's eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her tongue. "I..."

Your heart races as Wednesday's breathy voice caresses your name. In this moment, suspended in time, the world seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you, hearts beating as one.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you lean in closer, your forehead resting against hers. Your hands slide up to cup her face, thumbs gently stroking her high cheekbones.

Wednesday's eyes flutter open, dark and filled with a vulnerability you've never seen before. Her hands come up to rest on your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

"I..." she starts, her voice barely a whisper. "I want..."

But she trails off, unable to finish the thought. Instead, she closes the remaining distance between you, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that steals your breath away.

You melt into the kiss, your body molding against hers like it was made to fit. Wednesday's lips are soft and warm, moving against yours with a desperate hunger.

Your hands slide into her hair, tangling in the silky strands as you deepen the kiss. Wednesday makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, a sound of pure need.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her. The rest of the world fades away, leaving only this moment, this connection.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Wednesday rests her forehead against yours, her hands still gripping your waist tightly.

"That was..." she starts, her voice rough with emotion.

"Perfect," you finish for her, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Wednesday hums in agreement, nuzzling her nose against yours. "I've wanted to do that for a while now," she admits, her tone shy.

You chuckle softly, your fingers carding through her hair. "I'm glad you did," you murmur, bringing your lips to hers once more.

As you kiss, you know that this is just the beginning. The start of something new, something beautiful and terrifying and utterly intoxicating.

Wednesday's hands slide down to your hips, her fingers gripping your waistband tightly. With a sudden tug, she pulls you flush against her, your body pressing into hers.

You gasp at the contact, your hands flying up to grip her shoulders for balance. Wednesday takes advantage of your momentary distraction, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

With a soft push, she sends you tumbling onto the mattress, her body following yours. You land with a bounce, your breath knocked from your lungs as Wednesday settles on top of you, her weight pinning you in place.

"Wednesday," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you..."

But your question is cut off as Wednesday captures your lips in another searing kiss. Her tongue delves into your mouth, exploring every inch of you with a desperate hunger.

You moan into the kiss, your hands sliding down to grip her hips, urging her closer. Wednesday grinds against you, the heat of her core seeping through the thin layers of fabric separating you.

Wednesday breaks the kiss, her dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath. She sits up, straddling your hips, her hands resting on your chest.

"I want you," she whispers, her voice low and husky. "But we don't have to..."

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands. "I want this," you assure her, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "I want you."

Wednesday nods, her gaze never leaving yours. Slowly, she leans down, pressing her lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

Your hands slide down her back, settling on her hips. You guide her movements, encouraging her to grind against you. The friction is delicious, the heat building between your legs.

Wednesday gasps into your mouth, her hips moving faster, more urgently. You can feel her growing wetter, her arousal soaking through your clothes.

You break the kiss, panting heavily. "Let me," you plead, your voice rough with desire.

Wednesday nods, shifting off of you. You sit up, your fingers trembling slightly as you reach for the hem of her dress. With a swift movement, you pull it over her head, tossing it aside.

She sits before you, clad only in a black lace bra and matching panties. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her, her pale skin flawless in the dim light.

You lean forward, pressing reverent kisses along her collarbone, down the swell of her breasts. Wednesday shivers, her fingers tangling in your hair.

Your hands slide down her sides, hooking into the waistband of her panties. With a gentle tug, you pull them down her legs, leaving her bare before you.

You take a moment to drink in the sight of her, your gaze roaming over her body appreciatively. Wednesday flushes under your attention, her thighs pressing together shyly.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper, your voice filled with awe.

Wednesday shakes her head, her dark hair falling in waves around her face. "I'm not..." she starts, but you silence her with a kiss.

Switching positions, you lay Wednesday down on the bed, your body covering hers. You capture her lips in a searing kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth, exploring every inch of her.

Wednesday moans softly into the kiss, her hips arching up to meet yours. Your hands slide down her sides, cupping her breasts through the thin lace of her bra.

You break the kiss, your lips trailing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone. Wednesday gasps, her fingers digging into your back, urging you on.

Your hand slides down her stomach, teasing the edge of her panties. Wednesday's breath hitches, her thighs parting slightly in invitation.

You dip your fingers beneath the fabric, finding her slick and ready for you. Wednesday whimpers, her hips bucking into your touch.

Your fingers glide through Wednesday's slick folds, finding her sensitive bud. She gasps, her hips jerking at the sudden contact.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her lips.

You circle her clit with teasing strokes, reveling in the way her body responds to your touch. Wednesday's thighs tremble, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her.

Slowly, you slide a finger inside her, groaning at the way her walls clench around you. Wednesday is so hot, so tight, so perfect.

You add a second finger, pumping them in and out of her slick heat. Wednesday's head thrashes on the pillow, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure.

Your thumb finds her clit again, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub. Wednesday's hips buck wildly, her body chasing the release you're so eager to give her.

"Please," she whimpers, her voice barely audible. "I need..."

But she doesn't finish the thought, her body arching off the bed as you curl your fingers just right. You can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around your digits.

With a final twist of your wrist, Wednesday comes undone, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. You hold her through it, whispering words of praise and encouragement.

As she comes down from her high, you press soft kisses to her sweat-dampened skin, murmuring your love and devotion. Wednesday clings to you, her body still trembling with aftershocks.

In this moment, the rest of the world fades away. There is only the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of love and passion.

—

You wake to the sound of the door opening, your eyes fluttering open to find Wednesday still asleep beside you. For a moment, you simply lie there, taking in the sight of her.

Her dark hair is fanned out across the pillow, her face relaxed in sleep. Your gaze travels down her body, tracing the curves and dips you explored so thoroughly the night before.

The door swings open fully, revealing a surprised Enid standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene before her - you and Wednesday, tangled together in the afterglow.

"Oh," she breathes, her cheeks flushing pink. "I... I didn't know you two were..."

You sit up quickly, pulling the covers up to your chin. Wednesday stirs, her eyes blinking open in confusion.

"Enid?" she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

Enid clears her throat, averting her gaze. "Sorry," she says, backing out of the room. "I'll just... I'll leave you two alone."

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you and Wednesday in a tense silence. You glance at her, unsure of what to say.

But Wednesday just sighs, turning to face you. "Well," she says, her tone dry. "That's one way to start the day."

[yallmakemyassitch]

The Shoe Store (⁠ﾉ⁠≧⁠∇⁠≦⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ 👠

Summary: A grumpy Elizabeth learns how to smile after her bad attitude at the shops today! And Mrs. Mulberry knows just what to do to whip her daughter into shape...

Word count: 4893

Tobi talks: Finally got around to finishing this as promised! This took a long time, but I grinded today to get this finished :3 Either way, I'm very happy with the results and I hope you are as well. The art was an art trade done by @ntj2pj, please go follow him, he's very talented! Either way, have a good weekend!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60765493

“But mummy, I don’t wanna gooooo!”

A little girl wailed dramatically, being dragged by the wrist. Her loud complaint got an annoyed sigh from her mother. The Mulberry was fighting with her body weight as Elizabeth defiantly tugged back to slow their journey.

The 8-year-old made surprising progress against slowing the over-40-year-old woman. The sound of her heels scraping against the ground made the British woman cringe. Her doing that was one of the multitude of reasons they were here in the first place!

“I know, Eliza, but we both know you need new shoes!” Her mother argued, looking down at her whining child for a split second. She felt momentary relief cascade over her psyche as the duo neared the revolving doors of the luxury shoe store.

Mrs. Mulberry felt the harsh tug of a ‘certain child’ pulling at her arm, which abruptly stopped them for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Elizabeth had burrowed her feet into the ground below, halting their approach into the dreaded shop.

Heather had had enough and whipped around, glaring softly down at her daughter, “Elizabeth Mulberry, behave yourself.” she exclaimed firmly, ticked off. Her golden eye’s typical gentle appearance had slightly widened into a piercing stare.

Elizabeth’s bright green eyes looked shocked at her mum for a few moments, before pouting and slouched her head with a compliant nodding. Heather softened her face and sighed deeply.

She crouched before the 8-year-old, reaching her gloved hand and softly holding her sagging head by her chin. Eliza’s eyes still gazed at the floor, however.

“Lizzy, darling…You know I care about your comfort more than anything else but, we’re here for a reason. I need you to behave for me, dear.”

She shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

“Can you do that for me, love?”

Eliza bit her lip, “Mhm…” she slowly nodded her head.

Mrs. Mulberry smiled, although it wasn’t visible from her void face, “Atta’ girl.” her yellow eye arched north to express her warm visage.

Mrs. Mulberry stood back up, her impressive height casting a heavy shadow over the small child. She quietly offered her gloved hand to her daughter. Eliza hesitated for a moment, glancing up at her smiling, welcoming as always. Just like that, she felt comforted, albeit still upset she had to be here, and beamed up at her.

Elizabeth was uncomfortable being here and her parent could tell, but she’d do her best for her mom. Eliza placed the nub of her arm in her hand, the far-too-long sleeve hanging as her mother lovingly grabbed the end of her limb.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go get you those shoes~”

Elizabeth didn’t respond and soon, the duo completed the journey to the revolving glass doors and entered the quaint, but elegant shop.

…

The establishment was very stylish looking. Shiny auburn wood planks lined the place beneath their feet. It was so shiny in fact, that Eliza could see her own, wobbly reflection. The ceiling was not very tall but still accommodated her mother.

It had chandeliers hung in every crevice of the store, sunbathing the single-roomed shop in its warm gleam. The aisles were tall, taller than her mother, and were lined with endless amounts of shoes, ranging from women's heels to children’s shoes.

The shop, L’Femme Paradis, as the name suggested, was directed primarily at girls and women. And the shoes weren’t cheap either! From what Elizabeth could see around her, all the customers were women and girls, save for a few boys.

They were scattered about the area’s floor and based on their fine gowns and extravagant hats, came from luxury, rich nobles just like her.

Elizabeth had parted ways with Heather with the excuse of looking for shoes to wear, in reality, she wanted to explore. Standing and listening to her mother gush about another pair she found was something she couldn’t bear to experience again.

‘I don’t belong here.’

That recurring thought shouted in the foretops of her mind. It tolerated her feeble tries to ignore it for a while, only for it to take over her line of thinking. She groaned frustratedly, finally accepting the uncomfortable aura this place radiated.

It was true, she couldn’t help but feel out of place in here. It was probably because she never left her home for any reason other than school, but the people here were…questionable, to say the least.

From what she eavesdropped, as she thoughtlessly looked up the mighty shelves, the women were shamelessly rude. One flamboyant lady, instead of helping, scolded her accompanying maids if they dropped a box. It was even more impressive that they only dropped one. The stacks they carried were dangerously high, almost near touching the ceiling.

It made Lizzy sad that they were spoken to so badly. She even saw a poor woman, an elder lady, on the verge of tears after being verbally lashed out at. Her employer, fan in hand, fanned her face and stormed past her, nearly knocking her over. But the two made eye contact when she passed.

The little girl’s sorrow-filled eyes reached into hers. The older one stopped to give her a weak smile, despite her leaking tears. She followed her employer in tow, in line with two other similarly dressed ladies. But they were much younger than her.

Elizabeth smiled bittersweetly to herself, that woman’s smile was what she liked to do the most. A trait inherited by her mom. She stopped and slid to the floor, leaning against the shelf. It was only the elite academy she attended and her mansion she knew intimately.

The Mulberry property was large enough for her and she had plenty of things to do while there, so why leave? She liked it that way. When it’s just her Ernie and Maxie, life is fun and simple.

But her lifestyle left her with a bit of a hole in her heart; Elizabeth had no friends. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she had her cute doggy and even cuter little brother as company. Along with that, an endless group of staff who were trained to entertain her. Seeing the same people every day never got to her, but a change in routine would surely be lovely.

Thoughts like these hardly seeped into her life, but when not playing in her home, her chance to retrospect always brought up the concept of just that; a new friend. What has kept that idea down for so long was seeing the way people treated others.

Eliza was afraid she would be subjected to that treatment and the thought of it only made her want to cry. She sniffled. The people in her class bored her, their only defining feature was that they were rich like her but pompous like everyone else.

Sometimes, there was the rare little boy or girl who accompanied their parents to one of her mom’s social events hosted at their mansion and they’d have a grand time together. But it never escalated into something more, a “one-time playdate”, a phrase coined by her staff.

Someone to fill that hole would be nice.

Funnily enough, Eliza had already come across someone she thought would fit in her fantasies just perfectly. She’d been in the back of her mind since she first laid eyes on her.

She was a girl like her and really pretty. She wore a puffy red dress, had locks of curly blond hair pulled into ponytails, and cute red ribbons on both sides of her head. Her hand held a similarly colored, red parasol.

From what Elizabeth could see on the end of the aisle, where it broke off into a walkway, the wall was also lined with shoes.

There stood the girl and her mom. She attempted to make her gawking and eavesdropping not so obvious, hiding her face against the wooden structure of the tall shelves.

She had a fetching laugh and spoke nicely to her mother, a nice change in pace from the honest-to-god brats children that bossed their mother around like a dog.

Eliza thought about what might happen to her if she talked to her mother in that tone. She immediately cringed to herself. Speaking of her mother, she was shopping in the aisle just next to her, unknown to Elizabeth that is.

Mrs. Mulberry turned the corner into the next row, nearly stepping on her daughter in the process, who was still seated on the ground. She gasped in surprise. The 10 boxes in her hands had their foundation shake before falling back into place smoothly after much squirming.

Elizabeth nearly didn’t realize it was her mother until she looked up and cringed even harder like the sourest lemon was plopped in her mouth. The number of boxes she carried had her appalled.

“Goodness Elizabeth, what are you doing on the floor?” Mrs. Mulberry exclaimed, exasperated.

“I was just looking around and then sat here,” said Eliza, now standing and motioning to her former spot on the glossy surface.

“Ah well, did you find anything you’d like to try on?” Heather perked up at the news of her daughter’s store exploration.

Uh oh. She had completely forgotten to do that, having spent the majority of her time wandering. And giggling at some of the ridiculous designs she saw on the shoes. Eliza decided to stop laughing when she got a couple of frowns from the employees. She couldn’t help it, they were just too funny.

Heather’s eyes thinned suspiciously. “Lizzy, you did find something, right? I didn’t let you out my sight for no reason…”

“Uhhhh…” Elizabeth didn’t want to be exposed for lying, so grabbed a random pair off the shelf and presented it to her mother. “I found these.”

Heather’s single golden eye arched up, indicating a smile. “That’s excellent, love. Let’s go try them on.” Her mom waltzed past her, carrying the stupid amount of merchandise with ease. Eliza, out of sight, rolled her eyes, knowing that the hardest part of shopping was about to begin.

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“Eliza, dear,” Her mother stared, deadpan. ���This pair is 5 sizes too big.”

Elizabeth was sitting on a shoe bench, no longer wearing her heels, her mother yet again crouched beside her with the boxes scattered next to them. The girl’s shoes were missing, showing off her stripy stockings to their fullest.

Her arms were crossed and the British child was looking away, her lips pulled in a somewhat guilty expression. A soft sigh rocked the older Brit’s shoulders and Eliza immediately knew she had disappointed her.

“Lizzy, why did you ask me to explore if you didn’t want to find anything?”

She knew the answer but knew that honesty would break her mother’s heart. Elizabeth, hated, absolutely loathed shopping for clothes. It was a tedious task that got under her skin and made her pouty and grumpy. How she behaved while clothes shopping was a stark contrast to who she was.

Elizabeth would do anything to share her mother’s enthusiasm, but just couldn’t. The answer was written all over her face; Eliza was bored. The mother’s eyes furrowed in retrospection, she knew her daughter didn’t like trips like these, but the two weren’t here for fun today.

Eliza’s shoes were worn and needed to be replaced; which included her daughter’s favorite heels, a grey-blue pair of heels. She was honest about it while at home and needless to say, she wasn’t very happy. It required a promise of a double helping of ice cream after supper to get her out into the carriage. But she grimaced the whole way there.

They generally shared a lot of interests, piano, fencing, playing games, and…

Playing games, of course. She suddenly had a curious, burst of genius, that made her surprise herself that she hadn’t thought of it before. But in this public space, Heather would have to be a bit more discreet. Her daughter could get pretty loud, so she would have to be increasingly gentle for this to work.

In one smooth motion, the tall Brit gently grasped her daughter’s ankle, her other hand promptly beginning to skitter the bottom of her foot softly.

Eliza yelped, jumping in her seat before the most adorable giggles began to pour out of her. Heather smiled to herself upon hearing them, it was a lovely break from her daughter’s grumpy attitude.

“M-mohohom! What are you- ehehehe- d-dohohoing?” Elizabeth giggled frantically. As Mrs. Mulberry predicted, she’d start squirming. In an instant, Eliza felt her legs freeze in place like they had been frozen in a block of ice, which left her poor feet at the mercy of her mother.

She knew what this was and bitterly shouted, “D-don’t use your mahahagic on mehehe!” a new wave of laughter came from her as she scritched the sole of her foot.

Mrs. Mulberry swallowed back a tease, instead, keeping her face cool as a cucumber, sporting an almost professional demeanor.

“Why all the giggles, dear? Is something funny?” She asked with feigned concern, a hint of a coo laced her tone.

She blushed and quickly shook her head, her laughter unabated.

“Oh well, let’s move on to the next pair.”

Mrs. Mulberry halted her wiggling fingers, giving her daughter a break, smiling a bit upon hearing her gentle pants. She grabbed another box and opened it.

The pair was a pastel pink ankle strap children’s heels, Heather unbuckled the strap and placed the heel on Elizabeth’s foot; she noticeably left her outstretched leg shoeless.

“How does that feel?”

“I-it feels alright- h-hey! Hehehehe!”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence, as her mother was back at it again, wiggling her fingertips all over her sole. Elizabeth couldn’t move a single inch from the waist down, not even being able to curl her toes in resistance, so she was forced to endure it.

Eliza’s belly shook with laughter, her waist twisting her torso despite her unmoving legs. The state of them was quite bizarre in fact; she couldn’t move them, but gravity didn’t seem to have a hold on her legs either. Her mother could bend or outstretch her leg and it wouldn’t fall.

This was only made aware to her when Mrs. Mulberry outstretched her leg forward and began to scrabble her clothed, neat nails on the fleshy bed that was the back of her knee.

She loudly squealed. The tickling stopped. And so did the action in the shop. Elizabeth felt the air freeze the moment her scream rang out. How could she be so careless? She was in public after all, but Eliza, along with Mrs. Mulberry was completely alone in this section of the store.

They were at one of the ends of the long wooden corridors that were shelves, Lizzy’s shoe bench was pressed up against its narrow width, conveniently placed for those who shopped and immediately had a seat to go to.

The seats were placed at every other shelf, which was made consciously apparent when she saw a figure through the gaps of several shelves stop and slowly make its way to the end.

The figure peeked over, a middle-aged woman, wearing an exuberant hat. Her scarlet petticoat made itself aware before her face did, a very confused and rather perturbed expression.

Elizabeth was staring at her, the women stared back. And her mother had quickly joined the stare-down. The room was silent before Eliza squeaked again, looking down horrified that her mother touched the back of her knee.

A warning for what was to come. She turned back to her daughter, an invisible smile stretched wide over her stygian face as continued to tickle the back of her knee.

“Coochie coochie coo~” She sang, clearly putting up a show for the woman watching. Like lightwork, her magic sparked up. A cyan cloud burst from nowhere and out of the wispy and sparkly residue of the cloud came two, blackened disembodied hands. Ones she could control freely as if they were attached to her arms.

The moment they spawned, the fingers were twitching and squirming, quite literally mirthful as their “body” was tormented by tickles. Eliza did the best that she could to control her hands and managed to clamp them on her mother’s shoulders.

Her fingers dug into the purple fabric of her shoulder pads and pulled, but her tugging was weakened by her endured giggles.

The woman who was gently staring, chuckled softly at the sight and returned behind the shelf. She was so embarrassed, her already flushed face warmed up even more knowing a stranger just saw her being tickled. Let alone tease her!

“Mahahahmuhaha! People are lohohoking!” She softly squealed, wiggling in her seat.

“I agree, darling. After all, your shoes are quite fetching!” Heather hummed.

“Thahat’s not whahat I meant!”

“Then what did you mean, sweetheart?” Her invisible smile stretched slightly.

Elizabeth laughter was her response.

“Ah I see, how interesting~”

Mrs. Mulberry stopped to grab one of the spectral hands clasped on her shoulder and took it gently into her palm. They were nearly as large as her hands, the long phalanges twitched in recovery.

With a single forefinger, she tranced a gentle line from the base of her middle finger, along the palm, and to the wrist. Eliza squeaked, somewhat alarmed giggles spilling out.

“Mohohom?! What are you d-dohoing?”

She responded curtly. “Nothing, darling.”

Heather's fingers wrapped hers around her daughters, caging them gently but firmly. Her thumb did the same to her child’s, pulling the charcoal skin taut. She repeated her actions from before, tracing a forefinger along the much more tender flesh.

Her face brightened with amusement at the happy noises her child was making. Lizzy’s laughter only increased when her mother traced slow, soft circles at the palm of her hand.

Her body screamed at her to move her lower half, to kick out and thrash. Just something to make her cope with the unbearable sensations, “Nohoohooho, m-mahahamuh!” Eliza has always had sensitive hands but to the point of ticklishness? Utterly ludicrous. But her mother would believe otherwise, as her unseen smile sat at a stretch and satisfied smirk.

Suddenly, she picked up the pace and her elegant tracing turned to merciless skittering, titillating off her flesh like a feather at an exquisite speed. Heather gently scratched at the very center and slowly outlined the creases, which boded lovely squeaks out of her sweet daughter.

Eliza giggled a lovely “Mehehercy!”, her cheeks now a precious shade of pink. Her uncontrollable laughter hitched and dipped at random intervals, she couldn’t handle the fiery trails traveling her tender palms. Which was made obvious by her fruitless squirming.

“Hahaha!”

Elizabeth heard a hearty chuckle coming from her left. She managed to open her scrunched-up eyes just a bit to see a young woman, holding a cyan parasol and sporting an elegant white dress. She was cracking up, as were her children, two girls, and a boy, all wearing similarly colored clothes.

“She’s so cute!” The girl with short hair blurted out.

She blushed furiously, despite already having a flushed face. It was miraculously Eliza was able to burn up more. Couldn’t they mind their own business?!

“Come now children!” Their mother said, still sniggering, “We mustn't stare. Come now, come!” she motioned them forward for them to follow her with the wag of her gloved hand.

“Yes, mother!” They exclaimed energetically.

They bounced along in front of her, shooting her playful and warm looks. A train of giggles filled her ears as they passed and quieted down the farther they got from her…

Before they could disappear in another aisle, the mother turned around. The parasol shadowed her face, but Elizabeth could still make out a large smirk on her face. She smooched the pads of her fingers and blew a kiss aimed at the small child.

Elizabeth was floored and looked away as soon as she did. Her free hand was trying to smother her lovely pink face, which only muffled her uncontrollable giggles.

“Aww…” The woman kissed her lips and cooed at the delightful scene before her. The lady with the parasol turned on her heel and continued with her rowdy bunch, who were crying out for their mother to follow them at this point.

Mrs. Mulberry chuckled heartily and stopped tickling her daughter. Lizzy’s hand was released from its restraint but lingered in her grasp as Mrs. Mulberry readjusted her hand. She now had the hand in hers and her mother was lovingly brushing her thumb over the knuckles.

“So cute…” the uttered gently, so soft in fact, Lizzy didn’t hear.

Mrs. Mulberry leaned over and pressed a tender kiss on the middle knuckle. This spawned a succession of gentle kisses, which took Eliza by surprise.

“My sweet little princess…”

Elizabeth smiled at the nouveau nickname, expressing this with a flustered giggle. If her happiness gave her the ability to swing her legs, Eliza would. The kisses explored each of her knuckles, her invisible lips slowly pressing up against the hard bone. She took her time to peck the pads of her fingers and smooched the bones of her fingers.

She flipped over her hand, palm up. Heather pressed a loud, tender smooch on the palm, which made Eliza spaz and laugh a little harder at the ticklish sensation. “Mohohommy! Nohoho!”

Heather didn’t come back after her, only smiling as she pulled back her hands. Heather’s eyes crinkled, signaling her present smile, which would have been a comfort if she hadn’t grabbed her leg again.

“W-wait!”

She bent her leg forward and let go, leaving it in its stuck position mid-air like she was some sort of puppet. Before she could say anything, Heather squeezed her thigh, nothing short of a squeal came out. All her attempts at talking voided in an instant, and belligerent laughter sputtered out of her.

She even snorted a couple of times, which made Mrs. Mulberry laugh. She was plucking and squeezing her thighs like she was clumping off chunks of dough, using both hands on both thighs.

Heather traveled her squeezing up to her hips and pinched the divots briefly, which got a delicious squeal out of her daughter.

“N-NOHOHOHO!” She cried, her mirth right now outsounded when Heather got to her toes. She’s found a new sweet spot and would dare to take advantage of it. Mrs. Mulberry pressed her thumbs into the divots and kneaded the flesh like a ticking clock.

“Poor baby…” Her coo went unheard as her child’s cackles overshadowed the woman’s tease. The elder Mulberry’s heart was close to bursting out of her chest, she’d never seen this sweet summer child laugh so hard.

She slowed down her tickling to a stop, allowing her daughter to catch her breath.

Once she did, her mother didn’t stop. Instead, she, again, scribbled wildly on the bottom of her foot, doing her the most to make sure her daughter squealed. And she did, Elizabeth hiccuped as she laughed joyously. Heather smiled at the sound of her daughter’s belly laughter.

“Hm…what else should you wear?” Her casual manner was driving her insane.

“N-nothihihing!” She cried, her laughter much squeakier than before.

“Oh, I swear Elizabeth…” Heather hummed. “What is so ridiculous about these shoes?”

“Whahat do you mehehean?”

“You laughed at all these poor shoes in the shop so much, they must feel bad about themselves now~”

“Hehehehe! Stop it, mohohom!” Lizzy giggled helplessly, the joke being played on her would have her pouting if it weren’t for the tickling. But thankfully, the scribbling slowed down to teasy tracing. The gloved hand mimicked the shape of her sole, Heather danced and traced the outline of the heart-shaped paw bean.

“Maybe you want to say “sorry for laughing at you” to these poor things?” Her pace picked up to gentle scribbles.

Through her titters, her daughter shook her head, “N-never!” she exclaimed defiantly.

“No? Hm…” Her mother began to let out pseudo-hums of contemplation, rubbing the bottom of her chin with her free hand.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth did her best to release herself of her loving mother’s magical restraint, but as she’s tried before, nothing worked. No matter how much she budged, Elizabeth could not escape. Which only added more butterflies to the swarming anticipation in her belly at the moment.

“How about this?”

Her mother pinched and began to wiggle around her pinkie toe, which caused her daughter to squeal quite delightfully.

“There are ten shoes left, just like you have ten toes.” She remarked. “Apologize to each one and I’ll move on to the next one. But be quick about it, or you’ll surely regret it.” The sinister hum in her tone was all that it took for Elizabeth to stay alert, but hysterical. Eliza could hardly say a word, her toes were deviously ticklish after all.

“Don’t you have something to say, darling?”

“Ahahaha! S-sahahahary!” Her howling made her tummy tremble to that of a mighty earthquake.

A smug satisfaction washed over Mrs. Mulberry, “Good girl~” her praise just about oozed with mischief.

The gloved fingers moved to tickle the other toe next in line, inspiring the British child to cry out in tearful mirth. “Kitchykitchykitchykoo” Her mother teased, her voice in a whisper so only her daughter could hear her taunts.

Elizabeth shook her head to distract herself from the rude mockery. Heather only laughed in response. “Did you really think I’d forget how ticklish these little things were?” She chuckled again, wiggling the toe in tandem. “You never fail to make me laugh, dearest…”

Her daughter merely giggled.

For the next few minutes, Mrs. Mulberry teased each digit with her flawless scribbling, not offering a smidgen of mercy for her child. Her dearest Lizzy was in tears at this point, her cheeks bathed in shades of pink and red.

The shop patrons were aware of what was going on at this point, with whispers flying about the women about the odd woman tickling her daughter. None could deny how the British child’s saccharine laughter warmed their hearts and made their shopping trip all the more pleasant.

Some “conveniently” needed to shop nearby and aw’d at the sight. Some children mimicked Lizzy’s laughter before running off. Even the old woman from before was passing by, no longer crying and wearing a wrinkly smile at the spectacle. In the back of her mind, she was reminded of her grandchildren and their darling laughter.

Elizabeth didn’t remember when her mother stopped, she was too stuck in her euphoria to notice. She only did when she felt the welcoming sensation of a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I believe that’s enough for you, dearest…”

She panted, residual hiccups and giggles spilling out, a sleepy smile graced her face from laughing so hard. Her mother lovingly placed her default heels back on, before pressing an extra tender kiss right on her cheek and forehead.

The magic ceased and she was free to move her legs once again. Heather collected the scatter boxes into two towers, one held in each hand. Before that, her mother kindly placed her default heels back on. Not without wiggling her fingers against her to get a few extra giggles, that is.

“I’m going to go buy these, stay put, sweetheart~”

Elizabeth didn’t bother to disobey, as fatigue already sank deep in her youthful flesh. She had recovered her breath, but the buzzing warmth still lingered in her chest like a blooming flower.

She couldn’t help but start to giggle a little, not from any phantom tickling, but just how funny it all was. Soft, squeaky snickering effortlessly escaped, the swing of her legs picking up to match her amusement.

“That was so cute…”

There was a soft voice that came from her far left. She opened her eyes to see who it was and her eyes widened. It was the pretty girl from earlier, the one with the red dress and golden hair.

Eliza blushed as she approached, still captivated by her beauty. Her demeanor was shy, as she kept her hands cusped together by her front. But her sparkling blue eyes maintained eye contact with hers.

The red-wearer’s smile stretched as she halted beside her, “W-what’s your name?” she stammered softly.

“Elizabeth.” Her lips moved before her brain could.

“That’s such a pretty name!” she mused excitedly, clasping her hands together over her heart. “M-my name is Cadence! I really like your laugh!”

Cadence went as crimson as her petticoat and pressed her hand over her mouth. Her gentle voice had gotten loud out of nowhere. Elizabeth smiled widely at her. “And I really like your dress!” Lizzy exclaimed, just as loudly.

The flustered girl paused for a second and brightened. “And I- and I l-like your hat!” Even louder. The British children took turns to one-up each other volume, raising their voices louder and louder with each compliment exchanged between one another.

Now, the shoppers were even more confused, first laughing, now shouting? The women exchanged odd glances at one another, sharing their mutual perplexity. Cadence’s mother was blissfully unaware of what was going on, trying on dresses in the changing chambers. Elizabeth’s mother could hear them loud and clear with the clerk.

She chuckled “A new friend, Elizabeth?” she exclaimed amusedly under her breath. She was due to make a new companion anyway.

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Fin~

[lvnleah]

Oooh what about Rory losing her first tooth??

She seems like she'd be all worried and panicked like 🥺 then would be so giddy once she finds out that a fairy is gonna be collecting it and giving her money

Rory looses her first tooth.

absolutely adore this so thank you for the request!

March 2024. 

“Mamma!” You called out, holding a flower up to Viv, “Look at the pretty flower!”

Viv turned to you with a big smile, reaching down to take the little flower from your hand. “Oh, that is a pretty one, Roo,” she said, adding it to the collection she had growing in the palm of her hand. 

“I’m gon’ find more!” you declared, turning to scan the grass for more flowers.

Beth smiled as she held Myle’s lead. “Just be careful, munchkin,” she called out as you ran in front, “don’t want you tripping over anything.”

You nodded, already on the hunt for another flower, a tiny patch of yellow petals catching your eye. You ran straight towards them but tripped over a small rock hidden in the grass, tumbling forward with a little yelp. 

“Mamma!” You instantly called out for Viv as tears built up in your eyes. 

Viv was by your side in seconds, crouching down to gently lift you up. “Oh, mijn meisje,” she said, brushing a few stray blades of grass off your hands, “You’re okay, it’s okay. Where does it hurt?”

You sniffled, pointing to your scraped knee, and Viv gently checked it, her face full of concern. “It’s a little red, but I think you’ll be okay.” 

Beth knelt down beside you too, rubbing your back. “Look at you, so strong. And you found another flower on your way, didn’t you?” She pointed to the little yellow flower you had clutched tightly in your fist.

But as you went to smile, you noticed that strange feeling in your mouth again. You touched your hand to it, eyes widening. “Mummy… my tooth feels funny,” you whispered, worry creeping into your voice.

Beth’s eyes softened, and she gave you a little smile. “Can I take a look?”

You nodded, opening your mouth as best as you could. “Roo, your tooth is wobbly! It’s your first loose tooth!”

You blinked, trying to make sense of it. “But… is it gonna fall out? Will it hurt?” you asked, voice shaky.

Viv wrapped an arm around you, rubbing your back soothingly. “It might feel a little funny, but it won’t hurt. It’s just a part of growing up,” she explained softly. “And remember what happens when your tooth falls out?”

You thought for a second, then your eyes went wide as you remembered the story they’d told you before. “The Tooth Fairy!” you squealed, a grin spreading across your face despite the wobble in your tooth. “She’s gonna come, right?”

Beth nodded, grinning back at you. “That’s right, and she’ll leave you a little surprise under your pillow!”

You jumped to your feet, excitement bubbling up as you forgot all about your scrape. “I’m gonna wiggle it lots now! I wan’ her to come soon!”

Viv chuckled. “Let’s let it get wobbly on its own, alright? The Tooth Fairy will come whenever it’s ready to come out.”

You nodded, holding both Beth and Viv’s hands as you continued on, a little more carefully this time, grinning with every step. The thought of the Tooth Fairy filled you with so much excitement, that you could barely keep from bouncing as you imagined all the magic waiting just around the corner.

As you walked hand in hand with Viv and Beth, you couldn’t help but ask questions, “Mamma, what does the Tooth Fairy look like? Does she have wings like the fairies in my storybook?”

Viv smiled, squeezing your hand. “I think she might, Roo. Maybe she has sparkly wings and wears a little crown too.”

Beth chimed in, “And she has a tiny bag to carry all the teeth she collects!”

Your eyes went wide with wonder. “Mummy, do you think she’s small enough to fit in my room? Or is she big?”

Beth laughed softly. “She’s very small, just the right size to fly right in and find your pillow!”

“Do I have to be asleep for her to come?” you asked, suddenly worried you might miss her.

Viv nodded. “Yeah, she only comes when you’re fast asleep. But don’t worry—you won’t even know she’s there!”

You looked up at both of them, your eyes shining with excitement. “What kind of surprise will she leave? Is it like a birthday present?”

Beth grinned, “It’s a little bit like a present, but something extra special just from the Tooth Fairy!”

“Oh! Can I write her a note? Like, to say hi?” You asked, bouncing up and down. 

Viv chuckled. “That’s a nice idea, Roo. I bet she’d love that!”

The questions kept tumbling out as you made your way back home. “Will she come even if I’m in my new pyjamas? Do you think she knows all the kids with wobbly teeth? Does she have her own little bed?”

Over the next couple of days, all you could think about was your tooth. You asked endless questions about it and couldn’t stop wobbling it, you couldn’t wait for it to come out so the tooth fairy could visit you. 

When Beth and Viv took you to training one day after school, you excitedly went around and showed everyone your wobbly tooth. The first person you showed it off to was of course Steph.   

“Steffy!” You screeched, using the nickname you had given her as you ran over to her. 

“Oooft,” Steph playfully huffed as you crashed into her legs, “Hey, Roo! What’s gotten you so excited, eh?”

You bounced on the balls of your feet. “I have a wobbly tooth! It’s going to fall out soon!”

Steph’s eyes widened. “No way! That’s awesome! I remember when I lost my first tooth!” 

“Did it hurt?” you asked, your curiosity high.

“Not at all! Just a little weird. But the best part? I got money from the tooth fairy! I bought loads of sweets with it.” Steph smiled. 

You gasped and started to bounce up and down. “I wan’ candy too!”

“Then you better be ready for that tooth to come out!” Steph teased.

You ran to the treadmills, where some of the other players were warming up. You spotted Lotte and ran up to her, “Lotts! Lotts! Guess what?!”

Lotte turned around, smiling brightly. “What’s up, Roo?”

“I have a loose tooth!” you announced proudly, “and when…when it comes out I’m gon’ buy loads and loads of sweets!”

“A loose tooth? No way! That’s so cool!” Lotte replied, squatting down to your level. “You’re growing up so fast! Are you ready for the tooth fairy?”

“Yeah! Steph, Mummy and Mamma said I might get money!” you exclaimed, practically bouncing on your toes again. 

“Absolutely! And when it comes out, you have to show me, okay? I want to see that gap!” Lotte said, ruffling your hair.

“Yeah!” You nodded, “I’m gon’ buy sweets with my money!”

Lotte gasped, “Make sure you hide them from Kyra! She might steal them!”

Just then the gym doors opened, “What am I stealing?” Kyra asked. 

You ran over to her, “Look at my loose tooth!” You said, wobbling it for them to see. 

Kyra grinned playfully, “You know that means you’re officially a big kid now, right Roo?”

You shook your head, “Nooo! I’m only five, I’m still a baby!” You grinned, holding up five fingers. 

“You’re not a baby!” Kyra teased, tickling your stomach, “You’re a big kid now!”

Beth and Viv finally made their way over, “What are you two devils planning, eh?” Beth teased, tickling you from behind. 

You squealed with laughter as Beth’s fingers tickled your sides, “Mummy, stop!” you giggled, trying to squirm away.

“Never!” Beth laughed, lifting you up into her arms before playfully tickling your belly once more. Viv shook her head at the chaos, smiling as she watched.

“Mamma….tell Mummy…to-to stop!” You said in between giggles.

Viv chuckled softly, “Beth, let her breathe!” she teased, giving Beth a playful nudge on the shoulder.

Beth finally stopped tickling you, giving you a chance to catch your breath. “Alright, alright,” she said with a grin, “I’ll stop… for now.”

You snuggled into Beth’s arms, still giggling, and looked up at her. “Mummy, everyone thinks my wobbly tooth is cool!”

Beth smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That’s because it is, Roo!”

“Everyone make their way to the pitches please!” A coach called out as they stuck their head through the gym door. 

Beth carried you outside, talking away to Steph, while Viv walked close behind you with Lotte. As you rested your head on Beth’s shoulder Lia came over and tickled your stomach. 

“Hi, Roo!” Lia smiled. You giggled and snuggled your head into Beth’s neck. “Are you going to be shy?” She gasped playfully. 

You shook your head before leaning back a little to face her, “Look at my wobbly tooth!” You said before wobbling it. 

She gasped again, “Wow Roo! Are you excited about the tooth fairy?”

“Yeah!” You nodded, “I’m gon’ buy loads of sweeties!”

“Not too many though, eh Roo?” Beth said, “Don’t want you to be hyper!”

The team began gathering for their warm-up, and you wriggled down from Beth's hip. You sat cross-legged on the grass with Twix and a colouring book. Training soon came to an end and Vic came over. 

“What’s this about a loose tooth, Roo?” She asked you as you jumped up from the ground to hug her. 

“Look!” You said, wobbling your tooth, “It’s loose!”

Vic crouched down to get a better look, her face lighting up. “Wow, Roo! That’s so exciting. You’ll have a big kid smile in no time!”

You beamed at her, already wobbling the tooth again. “Do you think I’ll be the first in my class to lose a tooth?”

Vic smiled. “You might be! And even if you’re not, you’ll definitely have the coolest tooth story.”

You tilted your head. “What’s the story?”

Vic thought for a moment. “How about… you lost it while playing football with me, and I scored a goal right after to celebrate?”

Your eyes lit up. “Can we play now? I wanna see if it falls out!”

Beth chuckled as she walked over with Viv, a water bottle in hand. “Roo, I’m not sure football is the best way to wobble your tooth out.”

But Vic was already holding your hand, leading you toward an empty part of the pitch. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t lose it too soon.”

Viv shook her head, amused. “Just don’t wear her out too much, Vic.”

You giggled as Vic helped you set up a mini-goal using a couple of cones. She handed you the ball. “Alright, Roo. Show me your best dribbling skills.”

You grinned, carefully dribbling the ball toward the goal. Vic pretended to defend, but she exaggerated her movements, letting you easily swerve past her. “Oh no! She’s too quick for me!”

You laughed, running past her and kicking the ball into the net. “I scored!” you cheered, throwing your hands in the air.

Vic clapped her hands. “Goal! You’re unstoppable, Roo!”

You ran over to her, jumping into her arms. “Did it fall out?!”

Vic laughed, pretending to inspect your tooth. “Not yet! But it’s definitely wobbling more.”

You giggled as Vic set you down, grabbing the ball again. “Vic, let’s play more! I wanna score again!”

Vic smiled, ruffling your hair. “Alright, one more game. But this time, I’m gonna be a tougher defender!”

You gasped dramatically. “I’ll still beat you!”

As you sprinted after the ball, you suddenly tripped over your own feet. You fell forward, landing on the grass with a soft thud. 

“Mamma!” You instantly called out for Viv as tears built up in your eyes. 

Viv ran over from where she was with Lotte and was by your side in seconds, crouching down to gently lift you up. “Oh, mijn meisje,” she said, brushing a few stray blades of grass off your hands, “You alright? Where does it hurt?”

You sniffled, pointing to your scraped knee, Viv gently looked at it, her face full of concern. “It’s a little red, but I think you’ll be okay.” She kissed your forehead softly, just like she always did whenever you got hurt, and you instantly felt a little braver.

Viv chuckled, lifting you gently. “There we go, Roo. You’re alright. But guess what? I think your tooth fell out when you tumbled!”

You gasped, instinctively reaching up to your mouth to check. Your fingers touched the now-empty spot where your wobbly tooth used to be. For a moment, you stared wide-eyed at Viv, not sure whether to be happy or worried.

Beth noticed and quickly joined you, kneeling beside Viv. “Look at that, munchkin! You lost your first tooth! Now the tooth fairy will definitely be visiting you tonight!”

Your face lit up with excitement as you looked at Beth. “Really? She’s gonna come tonight?”

Beth grinned, brushing some grass off your hair. “Absolutely! And we’ll make sure to put your tooth in a special spot under your pillow so she can find it.”

Vic handed Viv the tiny tooth she’d picked up from the grass. “Here’s the star of the show.”

You wrinkled your face up at the bloody tooth, then looked up at Viv with a smile. “Can we write her a note now? I wanna say thank you for visiting me!”

Beth laughed softly, lifting you into her arms. “How about we do that as soon as we get home? But first, let’s clean up that knee of yours.”

As you nestled into Beth’s arms, you pointed at her seriously. “You gotta tell the Tooth Fairy I was playing football when it fell out, okay? So she knows I’m a footballer!”

Beth chuckled. “We’ll make sure she knows, Roo. Maybe she’ll even leave you something football-themed!”

Your eyes went wide with excitement. “Like a football sticker? Or a mini ball?”

Viv smiled, stroking your back as Beth carried you toward the benches. “Maybe. The Tooth Fairy always knows the perfect surprise.”

That night, after Beth helped you write a carefully decorated note to the Tooth Fairy, you placed your tooth in a little box under your pillow. As you snuggled into bed, you could barely contain your excitement.

“Mamma, do you think she’s already flying here?” you whispered as Viv tucked you in.

Viv smiled, brushing your hair back gently. “She might be on her way right now. But remember, Roo, you need to be fast asleep for her to visit.”

You nodded seriously, squeezing Twix. “Okay, I’m gonna sleep super fast so she can come!”

Viv leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, mijn meisje. Sweet dreams.”

As the lights dimmed and you drifted off, Beth and Viv quietly slipped into the living room. Beth placed a shiny gold coin and a small pack of football stickers on the kitchen counter. “Think this will do the trick?” she whispered to Viv.

Viv grinned. “She’ll be over the moon.”

The next morning, your excited squeal echoed through the house, waking up everyone—including Myle. You ran into the living room clutching your stickers and coin, beaming from ear to ear.

“Mummy! Mamma! The Tooth Fairy came!” You threw yourself into Viv’s arms on the sofa, giggling. “She knew I liked football! She’s the best fairy ever!”

Viv kissed your head, laughing softly. “Told you she’d know, Roo.”

Beth ruffled your hair with a warm smile. “Alright, munchkin, what’s the plan for your money? Sweets?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “And maybe…a new ball!”

“Big dreams for a tiny tooth,” Beth teased, pulling you into a cuddle.

[nerdasaurus1200]

A little fix it fic cause the Zaun family deserved a better ending. Also, I just realized, this is my first Arcane fanfic, so I hope y’all like it!

Not Over Yet

“Is that singing I hear?” Caitlyn’s voice pulled Vi away from the fire for a moment. Despite the teasing smile, she still tried to covertly look at the plate on the table beside her partner. The sandwich was half eaten this time. That was at least some progress.

“Oh, yeah. It’s just this..silly little song my mom used to sing to me and Jinx when we were little.” Vi laughed under her breath. It was still a little strange calling her sister that.

“Before she…you know.” Vi looked back at the fire and shrugged, and she could see Caitlyn nodding slightly. The fire was a welcome distraction, but it still put her on edge. It reminded her too much of Vander dy-…of the accident. She swore she could see all their faces in the flames if she looked hard enough. All those she lost…or maybe she was just starting to see things too. Was this how Jinx felt all those years? That weird sense of…of emptiness while never being alone? Like some ghost was always watching over her shoulder?

Well, it wasn’t like she could ask her now.

“How did the service go?” Caitlyn wrapped an arm around Vi and leaned her head on her shoulder.

“Alright.” Vi shrugged again, unable to pull her face away from the flames, “I don’t know how I didn’t break down by the time it was my turn to get up there and spew sappy shit.”

Caitlyn chuckled, a dry and bittersweet sound.

“I think little man’s taking it pretty hard. He couldn’t even look me in the eye.” Vi recalled.

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed for a moment as she took in Vi’s words, trying to think of anything that would provide some comfort, “…I think Ekko just needs a bit of time. We all grieve in different ways.”

“Oh yeah, cupcake, some people go crazy, and other people decide to play dictator and declare martial law.” Vi remarked with a playful glare. Caitlyn huffed affectionately and flicked a strand of Vi’s hair, which in turn made Vi chuckle.

But then as soon as the happiness came, it vanished. It was so hard to be happy these days, with all that had happened.

“Have, uh…have the reports come back yet?” Vi asked cautiously.

Caitlyn’s eyes softened in sadness as she leaned forward to kiss Vi’s cheek, “Still no signs of any remains in the Hexgates. Only the bomb shrapnels we were able to initially recover.”

Vi’s jaw clenched ever so slightly and her eyes hardened for a moment. Damn it all, three times and they still couldn’t find any sign of her family??? Weren’t Enforcers supposed to be good at sticking their nose in stuff like this?

“However, I was looking at the schematics of the Hexgates, and…” Caitlyn let herself trail off as she dropped a piece of paper into Vi’s lap.

Vi’s eyes narrowed as she looked it over, some of it made sense but some of it was just nonsense, “Cupcake, what the hell is this?”

“If you and I know anything about your sister, it’s that she’s always two steps ahead.” Caitlyn pointed out, “The Hexgates have plenty of air ducts that she could’ve used as an escape route and we’d be nonethewiser.”

Vi’s eyes widened as Caitlyn’s implication hung in the air. So Jinx and Vander could be…her family really could be…

“If she’s alive she’ll turn up sooner or later. But we have a lot of work to do until that happens. For Piltover and for Zaun.” Caitlyn spoke softly, a gentle determination in her voice. Vi was helpless to the smirk that appeared on one side of her mouth. There she was, there was the Cupcake she knew.

“…Are you still in this fight, Violet?” Caitlyn couldn’t help but ask. At her question, a fond huff escaped Vi. She turned to look at her partner with a smile as she interlaced their fingers together.

“I am the dirt under your nails, cupcake.” She declared, “Nothing’s gonna clean me out.”

Caitlyn’s eyes sparkled with love, and then she smirked playfully, “That’s Sheriff Cupcake you you, creampuff.”

The couple shared another laugh as their forehead gently pressed together. For a moment, the world fell away…it was just them.

“…could you teach me that song?” Caitlyn asked.

Vi blinked in surprise, and then nodded, “Yeah sure.”

Then she began to sing, “Dear friend, across the river…my hands…are cold and bare…”

~~~~

“Dear friend, across the river, I’ll take…what you can spare…”

Jinx alternated between humming and singing as she steered the airship, just staring out at the horizon before her. She wasn’t even sure how far away from Piltover they were now.

A familiar little shove pulled her attention away however.

“Heyy, do not distract the driver.” Jinx scolded, though her tone betrayed that she wasn’t actually that serious. Not that she ever was.

Janna above, Jinx was more grateful than ever for that mischievous that little smile now. If Ekko hadn’t saved Isha, then, well…

Jinx thought it best not to dwell on that. Or else Mylo might start up again and the last thing she needed was his smart mouth. Either way, she owed Ekko a solid for it. And of course, for helping her steal an airship.

Isha giggled and hugged Jinx, but still made a bit of a stink face as she saw Jinx’s hair.

“What, you don’t like my new haircut?” Jinx teased, and rolled her eyes fondly when Isha shook her head.

“Ah, you’re just mad cause you can’t play jumprope with my braids for a while.” Jinx reached out and gently pushed Isha’s helmet to cover her eyes for a moment. Isha giggled again as she pushed her helmet back up. Jinx stepped back and let Isha take the wheel.

“Sooo, what next Fishbones?” Jinx pulled her shark rocket launcher out.

“We’ll do our laundry, wash the dishes, pay some bills, and get Isha into a good school!” Fishbones ‘spoke’ sounding rather excited about such mundane activities. Isha looked excited too as she steered, while Jinx looked incredibly annoyed.

“Stupid dumb rocket launcher.” She muttered, giving Fishbones a firm smack. At the sound, a rough old growl was heard a few feet away. Neither Jinx nor Isha flinched, they were used to that sound by now.

“Hey, don’t worry, Vander.” Jinx set the rocket launched down and sat beside her adopted father, “We’ll find another way. We always do. In the meantime, Vi can relax a little playing housewife to the Hat Lady.”

Isha pulled a lever near the steering wheel of the airship and moved over to sit next to Jinx and Vander. After she was settled all snug and cozy in Vander’s fur, she signed at Jinx.

“Oh, you want me to keep singing, huh? Mmmm…well alright.” Jinx agreed.

“You still haven’t mentioned where exactly you plan on going.” Silco’s voice could be heard, his hallucination lingering in the shadows by Mylo and Claggor.

Jinx smiled and shrugged in acknowledgement. She still hadn’t quite figured that part out yet. For now, the top priorities were keeping Isha safe, and getting Vander’s mind back.

This time, Jinx chose to ignore Silco for once as she sang, “We raise…no mighty towers, our homes…are built of stone, so come…across the river, and find…the world below…”

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 13

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of selling drugs, angst, cursing, mentions of death, funeral

Y/n’s POV

The question hangs in the air between us, heavy and loaded with meaning. Chris stares at me, his face open and expectant, as if my answer could anchor him in a storm.

But I’m torn. Of course, I want to say yes, I want to be his girlfriend, to hold onto this version of Chris that I know and love, the one who stayed up late talking with me, who made me laugh even when everything around us felt like it was falling apart. But there’s another side to him too, a side tied to danger and darkness, and I’m not sure I can step into that world willingly.

I hesitate, my thoughts racing. Part of me wonders if his sudden proposal is his way of trying to hold on to something good, something normal, while everything else crumbles around him. If that’s true, then I want to be there for him. I do. But I also need to protect myself.

I look down, fiddling with the hem of my hoodie as I gather my thoughts. “Chris..” I start, my voice quiet. He watches me intently, like his entire world is balancing on the edge of my words. “I’ll be your girlfriend..” I pause, and his face lights up with hope. “..but on one condition.”

His eyebrows furrow slightly, but he nods immediately. “Of course, Y/n. I’ll do anything.”

“You meet my parents. Thursday night. We all have dinner here.” I say, meeting his eyes steadily.

The shift in his expression is subtle but telling. His jaw tenses, and his eyes widen slightly in surprise, as if he hadn’t anticipated this. “Thursday?” he repeats, his tone neutral, but I can tell he’s taken aback.

“Yes” I say firmly. “I know it seems like it’s happening all very fast, but that’s just the way things have gone for us. I bite my lip, trying to find the right words. “Usually, if I’m seeing a guy, he meets my parents before I become their girlfriend. It’s just.. how I do things.”

He looks at me for a moment, processing what I’ve said. Then he nods, his expression softening. “No, no don’t worry. I get it. I’ll be there. Thursday night. I promise.”

I let out a small sigh of relief but kept my gaze steady on his. “I’m trusting you, Chris.” I say, my voice firm.

He steps closer, his eyes searching mine. “Good” he says, a small, determined smile tugging at his lips. “And you better know you can.”

His words hold weight, but I still feel a flicker of uncertainty in my chest. Before I can dwell on it, Chris leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips. It’s gentle and reassuring, and for a moment, I let myself sink into it, forgetting everything else.

When he pulls back, his eyes linger on mine, as if he’s memorising my face. Then he steps back toward the treehouse railing. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay” I whisper, watching as he climbs down the treehouse with ease, disappearing into the shadows of the night.

As I head back inside, my heart feels heavy with anticipation. I know I’ve just taken a step forward with Chris, but Thursday looms over me like a test for both of us. Meeting my parents feels like a necessary move, a way to bridge the gap between the life he’s trying to leave and the one we could have together.

I hope he’s ready. I hope I am too.

Chris’ POV

The moment I ask her the question, time seems to slow down. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for her answer, each second dragging on like an eternity. Her silence feels heavier with every passing moment, and I start to wonder if I miscalculated. Did I rush this? Was it too soon?

But then she finally speaks, her voice soft yet steady. "I’ll be your girlfriend.. but on one condition."

My stomach knots. A condition? What does she mean? I don’t care what it is, I just want her to say yes. “Of course, Y/n. I’ll do anything,” I reply quickly, my words spilling out before I can even think about them.

“You meet my parents. Thursday night. We all have dinner here.” she says.

My jaw almost drops. Thursday.

Danny’s funeral is Thursday.

Panic rises in my chest, but I shove it down. I can’t say no - not after I just told her I’d do anything. I can’t back out now, not after I’ve pushed for this. It’s fine. I’ll make it work. I’ll handle both.

“Thursday?” The word slips out before I can stop myself, my brain still scrambling to process the situation.

Y/n doesn’t miss a beat. “I know it seems like it’s happening all very fast, but that’s just the way things have gone for us. Usually, if I’m seeing a guy, he meets my parents before I become their girlfriend. It’s just… how I do things.”

She’s right. Nothing about this - us - has been normal. From the way we met again to the way everything has unfolded since, it’s all been chaos. But hearing her lay it out like that makes me realise how much she wants something solid, something normal.

And I want that too.

“No, nondon’t worry. I get it. I’ll be there. Thursday night. I promise.” I say, trying to reassure her as much as myself.

Her eyes search mine, and I can see the weight behind her next words. “I’m trusting you, Chris.”

“Good” I say, forcing a small smirk onto my face even as my thoughts race. “And you better know you can.”

I lean in to kiss her, trying to focus on the moment, on her. Her lips are soft and warm, grounding me in a way nothing else has been able to lately.

But as I climb down the treehouse, my mind is already spinning. Thursday is going to be a big day.

Danny’s funeral. Meeting Y/n’s parents. Balancing the life I’ve been stuck in with the one I want to build with her.

I’ve got to make this work. There’s no other option. For her, for us, I’ve got to figure it out.

Y/n’s POV

The next morning, I wake up with a spring in my step, a feeling I haven’t had in a long time. I’m someone’s girlfriend now. Chris’ girlfriend. The thought alone makes me giddy, and I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my face as I get out of bed.

Walking down the stairs, I’m greeted by the warm, sugary smell of pancakes wafting through the air. Mom must be making them. Everything about this moment feels so perfect, like my life is being romanticised in real time. The soft hum of a song on the radio, the sun streaming through the kitchen window - it’s all so idyllic.

"Good morning, sweetheart." my mom greets me as I walk into the kitchen.

"Good morning" I reply, my eyes darting to the stack of pancakes on the counter. "Those smell amazing."

“There are three there with your name on them” she says with a smile. “Any chance you can pick up a shift at the bridal studio early tomorrow?”

"Yeah, tomorrow’s cool with me" I say, grabbing a plate and drizzling syrup over my pancakes. Then, the thought strikes me – this feels like the perfect time to tell the news. "But.. I may have a request about tomorrow evening."

"A request?" she raises an eyebrow, setting down her coffee mug.

I hesitate for a second, then decide to just say it. "I may or may not have a boyfriend… and I’d like you and Dad to meet him. I’ve invited him around for dinner."

My mom freezes mid sip, her eyes widening. "Boyfriend?" she exclaims, her jaw practically dropping. "I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone! What’s the lucky boy’s name?"

"I know" I shrug casually, trying to downplay the excitement bubbling inside me. "His name is Chris. I’ve actually known him since I was 15, so we didn’t need to do the whole awkward getting to know each other thing."

"Oh, that sounds nice" she says, her tone softening. "Dinner’s perfect for me. Does seven o’clock sound okay?"

"Seven is perfect" I say with a grin. "I’ll let Chris know."

I pull out my phone to text him, but before I can type anything, I see a message from him already sitting there.

Good morning, girlfriend, it reads.

I blush, feeling the butterflies stir in my stomach as I reread his message. My fingers tap against the screen, my cheeks flushed.

Good morning, boyfriend, I reply, adding another message right after. Dinner at mine at 7 tomorrow.

As I press send, I can’t help but smile. Everything feels so good right now, so right. I just hope this moment isn’t fleeting. Tomorrow is going to be big, and I can only hope it’ll go as smoothly as this morning has.

Chris’ POV

The time between asking Y/n to be my girlfriend and Thursday morning blurred by like a whirlwind. It felt like I’d barely had a chance to breathe. Most of it was spent at Nate’s side, trying my best to console him. He’s been a wreck, and honestly, who could blame him? Danny was more than just family to him – he was like a brother.

When I arrive at Nate’s house early Thursday morning, dressed in a suit that feels too stiff and suffocating, the weight of the day ahead presses down on me. The door swings open, and Nate is there. His eyes are bloodshot, his face pale and hollow. He looks like he didn’t sleep a wink, and the lingering redness in his eyes tells me he’s been crying all night long.

"You ready, bro?" I ask softly.

Nate nods but doesn’t say a word. The silence is heavy between us as we climb into the car with a few other guys from the crew and head toward the church.

When we arrive, the sight of the crowd hits me like a ton of bricks. There are what feels like hundreds of people here, most of them dressed in black, with small hints of red - a tie here, a pocket square there. In the distance, someone sets off red flares, their smoke curling into the sky like ghostly fingers. Red for Crimson.

It leaves a strange, sour feeling in my stomach. Danny’s dead because of Crimson, more or less, yet here we all are, honouring him in a way that ties him forever to this life. It’s how he’ll always be remembered – not just as Danny, but as Danny of the Crimson Cartel.

As we step out of the car, the murmurs of the crowd grow louder. Everyone gathered outside the church, some crying softly, others exchanging quiet nods. We make our way inside, Nate walking just ahead of me, carrying Danny’s coffin. The air in the church is thick with grief, the kind that makes it hard to breathe.

Inside, the scene is sombre yet overwhelming. Huge flower displays are arranged near the altar, spelling out words that hit like a punch to the gut: Son, Friend, Cousin. Right beside them, a framed photo of Danny, smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

The priest steps up to the altar's microphone, his voice calm and steady as he welcomes everyone and begins with a few prayers. The soft hum of the organ fills the space, but my mind is elsewhere.

I glance over at Nate. He’s staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched so tight I wonder if it might shatter. I can feel his pain like a wave rolling off him, threatening to drown us both.

It still doesn’t feel real. Danny’s gone. And as much as I want to feel something, sadness, anger, guilt, it hasn’t fully hit me yet. Maybe I’m numb. Maybe I’m too deep in this world to process it the way I should. All I know is that this life we’re in..  it takes and takes until there’s nothing left.

The priest continues speaking, his words fading into the background of my thoughts. I glance back at the photo of Danny. He deserved better than this. We all do.

But deep down, I know that saying it won’t change a damn thing.

Nate slowly stands, as he makes his way to the front of the altar, his hands trembling as he grips the edges of the lectern. His face is pale, his eyes hollowed out by nights of crying and the sheer weight of his loss. He swallows hard, trying to find his voice amidst the deafening silence of the church.

“Danny..” he begins, his voice cracking. He clears his throat and tries again.

“Danny wasn’t just my cousin. He was my brother. My best friend. My partner in crime – some would say literally and figuratively” Nate says with a faint, bitter laugh, but his expression crumbles. “He was the person I could turn to for anything, no matter how stupid or serious it was. He always had my back.”

Nate pauses, his hands gripping the edge of the podium tighter.

“I don’t even know where to start because it still doesn’t feel real that he’s gone. Danny had this way of making life brighter, you know? He was funny as hell. That kind of funny where you’d laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe, and you didn’t even care. He had this stupid grin he’d flash whenever he knew he was about to get us into trouble, and, God, I’d give anything to see that grin one more time.”

His voice breaks, and he wipes his eyes quickly before continuing.

“Danny had this big heart, even if he didn’t show it all the time. He loved fiercely, his family, his friends, all of us. If you were in his corner, he’d do anything for you. He never hesitated. Never thought twice. That’s just who he was.”

Nate takes a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling as he fights to keep his composure.

“But life.. it doesn’t care how good of a person you are. It doesn’t care how much you’re loved, how much you’re needed. It just takes. And it took Danny from us.” His voice grows harder, sharper, filled with a pain that cuts deep.

“We all lost something when we lost Danny. I lost my brother. His mom and dad lost their son. And the world.. the world lost one of the good ones. One of the ones who could’ve been so much more if he’d just had the chance.”

Nate looks down at the coffin for a long moment, his eyes glistening with fresh tears. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, almost a whisper.

“Danny.. I love you, man. I hope you know that. I hope you knew that. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. But I promise.. I promise I’ll carry you with me. Every day. In everything I do. You’ll always be a part of me.”

Nate swallows hard and looks back out at the crowd, his gaze steady despite the tears streaming down his face.

“Thank you all for being here today. Thank you for showing Danny the love he deserves. He may be gone, but he’ll never be forgotten. Not by me. Not by any of us.”

With that, Nate steps down, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his grief settles on him once more. The silence in the church is deafening, save for the quiet sobs scattered among the crowd.

The heavy oak doors swing open with a deafening bang, the sound reverberating through the sombre silence of the church. A collective gasp rises from the mourners, followed by sharp screams of panic. My head snaps toward the commotion, and my pulse spikes.

"What the fuck?" I mutter under my breath, leaning forward in my seat to get a better look.

Before I can make out what’s happening, someone leaps up from the crowd and bolts toward the door. The figure slams into whoever burst in, taking them to the ground with a force that shakes the air. A scuffle breaks out, and almost immediately, several more people rush forward, a mix of chaos and determination in their movements. Until the doors close after them, letting everything take itself outside.

The whispers start immediately, frantic and fearful, the air now thick with confusion. I glance over at Nate, and my stomach tightens. His eyes are glued to the scene, his jaw set so tight it looks like it might snap. His whole body is coiled, vibrating with tension, and I know exactly what’s running through his head.

He’s going to go.

“Nate” I hiss, standing up and gripping his arm just as he starts to move. “Don’t. Not now. This is about Danny. Let it go, man. We’ll figure out what’s happening later, but right now, you stay here.”

For a moment, he doesn’t even look at me. His chest is heaving, his nostrils flaring, and for a second, I think he’s going to shake me off and storm out anyway. But then, slowly, he exhales. His shoulders drop, just slightly, and he gives me a small nod before sinking back into the benches.

"Not now" I repeat softly, my grip loosening.

I sit back down, but my eyes keep darting toward the doors. The priest clears his throat from the altar, trying to regain control of the room.

“Let us continue” he says, his voice steady, though there’s an unmistakable edge of unease.

The service picks back up, but the mood is undeniably fractured. My focus keeps slipping, my mind racing with questions. Who the hell was that? What just happened? And, more importantly, what does it mean?

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the service comes to an end. Nate stands, his movements stiff and mechanical, and makes his way toward the coffin. Along with the other pallbearers, he takes hold of the handles, his face a mask of grief and resolve.

The procession to the graveyard is slow and solemn, the sound of footsteps on the gravel path punctuated only by the quiet sobs of mourners. The sky is a dull grey, the kind of overcast that seems to swallow sound, and the chill in the air cuts through even the thickest of coats.

At the burial site, the priest begins the final prayers. I stand a few feet back, watching as Nate grips the edge of the coffin tightly, his knuckles white. The pain in his face is unbearable to look at.

But then, I catch the murmurs again, this time closer.

“...heard he’s in H Block… an attempted hit.” someone whispers behind me, the words slicing through the stillness.

My stomach drops.

A hit? At a funeral?

My legs feel weak, and I grip the back of a nearby chair to steady myself. My mind races as the pieces start falling into place. Danny’s death wasn’t just a tragedy – it was a message. And now, someone thought a funeral was the perfect place to send another one.

The thought makes me sick.

My eyes dart back to Nate, who’s still standing by the grave, his shoulders rigid as the coffin is lowered into the ground. Does he know? Was it meant for him?

The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Danny was family to Nate. If this was some kind of retaliation, they could be coming for him next.

I want to grab him, to pull him aside and tell him everything, to get him the hell out of here before something else happens. But I can’t. Not here. Not now.

This is Danny’s moment.

Nate deserves to say goodbye without the shadow of another threat looming over him. I’ll tell him later. When we’re away from all of this. When it’s safe. No doubt everyone in the cartel is on high alert if this is true.

As the priest closes the burial with a final prayer, I glance over my shoulder, scanning the crowd. The faces are a mix of grief, anger, and something darker. A chill runs down my spine.

This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

a/n: AY YAI YAI

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo @sophand4n4 @ilovepurpledragons @mattsside

[deathbyday]

-'⁠🫧*⁠.⁠✧ mouthwashing ✧.⁠*⁠🫧'⁠ -

P8

EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT. EAT.

Daisuke x implied F!Reader

TW: hallucinating, weapons, death, puke, cannibalism

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Written By: DeathByDay

(Also written on Mobile)

0 HOURS UNTIL JUDGEMENT

Seeing your loved one’s face sliced by the hands of yourself made you sick. You felt saliva gargle in your throat, triggering you to puke on the ground, droplets falling onto your jumper.

You were lucky enough to turn your body, leaning down before letting out the gruesome sound, followed by the liquid. You gasped, staring at the scene in shock. Tears flooded your eyes, rolling down your cheeks and onto the pile of puke.

Your breathing quickened, the tears swallowing your vision. Everything was blurry. You regretted what you had done, but it was necessary. He needed to go, otherwise he would’ve just suffered. Just like Curly.

Your eyes widen more, remembering the man in bandages who laid in the medical room. You instantly gained the strength to stand, ignoring the calls of Swansea behind you.

You ran to the room, your legs shaking as you walked inside. You lifted your hand, hiding the poor black haired woman from your view, settling your eyes on Curly. There he sat, his eye right on you.

Stepping over Anya, you placed your free hand on the side of the medical bed, staring down on him. You looked crazy. Sweat pooling over your forehead, hair matted and sticking out of place. Not to mention the tears, eyes widened and all.

You didn’t say anything, instead lifting the bandaged man in your arms. Although he was only flesh and bones, his body weight was still fairly heavy. You struggled to carry him, grunting as you stepped out of the room.

You needed to get Curly out of there and fast. You couldn’t let Jimmy get to him, knowing what he was capable of. You were too dumb to realize it before. It only took a friend and lover to figure everything out.

As you walked, you stared ahead of you, feeling Curly’s eye watch your every move. “It’s going to be okay.” You repeat to yourself, eyes darting around the hallway. You couldn’t let the brunette man know where you were.

Suddenly, you paused. You glanced down at Curly before grinning, relief washing over your features. “W-..Wait here.” You muttered, setting him down. His body laid flat on the hard metal ground, pain itching his body.

You ran back into the medical room, lowering your body to the bed before pulling out a briefcase. Your memory was a bit faded, but you could still recall the code to get inside.

You accidentally stumbled upon Anya in the medical room one day, who slid a briefcase into a little compartment in the bed. You wouldn’t let her leave until she would tell you the code, complaining that you may need it for safety.

In an instant, you rolled the correct numbers on the lock, hearing a click of the case before it slightly opened the latch. You fully open it to see the same gun that the woman had told you about.

After grabbing the weapon and making sure it was loaded, you ran back towards Curly, seeing him in the same position as before. Your grin softened, shoving the gun into your back pocket before picking up the man once again.

Making your way through the halls, you ended up finding the brunette you really didn’t want to see in the halls beside utility. He held Swansea’s axe in his hand, glaring at you from the other side of the hallway.

You couldn’t take out the gun without dropping Curly first. And you certainly didn’t want to risk his life. So, you stood still, frozen in fear and hesitation. You were almost to the Cryostasis pods. Why did he have to come out now..?

You opened your mouth to speak, but Jimmy cut you off with a chuckle. “Are you that fucking stupid?” His voice was quiet, but you could still hear him clearly. His tone was harsh, almost as an attempt to make you scared.

And it worked a little too well. Almost immediately, you forgot all your fears and held Curly up with one arm, his unbalanced legs barely touching the ground. Your arm wrapped over his chest, holding his upper body.

You grab the gun out of your back pocket, pointing it at the brunette. Yet, he didn’t drop his act. In fact, he got closer, taking light steps towards your figure.

“Go away!” You shout, backing away from the manYou choked back a sob, not ready to kill another person in the span of under a day. “I said go away!” You scream once again. Curly watched the scene in front of him, not know what to think.

Your poor, pathetic self couldn’t shoot the damn guy, yet that same guy was ready to axe your head off with no hesitation. If he could, he would’ve just taken that gun from your hand and shoot him himself.

But, that was only if he still had arms. He could’ve protected you, helping you get away from this whole thing. But that’s not how this story goes. Before his mind could go any further, your voice pulled him out.

“Please, just go!” You shout at the man who now stood a few feet away from you. Suddenly, you felt a slight breeze hit your shoulder. You choked back a sob, taking your eyes off Jimmy and adverting them to the side, wondering what hit you.

You heard an older man’s voice in your right ear, being muffled for a moment before shouting at you. You recognized that voice as Swansea’s.

“Shoot that bastard!” He would cry. “C’mon, just do it!” As he plead with you, your mind suddenly went blank. You couldn’t focus on anything but his voice.

Your breathing became faster, the weapon shaking in your hand, your palm getting sweaty from the pressure. You stepped back once more, finally hitting the metal wall behind you. As the voice of Swansea would continue, you finally pulled the trigger.

Jimmy fell back, the bullet landing in between his eyes. You stood there, staring at him as blood oozed out of his head. You fought the urge to puke once again, glancing down at Curly.

The voice of Swansea finally stopped, your mind becoming fuzzy. Your vision became a blur.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” You whisper, lowering yourself to the ground, knees to the floor. You cradled his head to your chest, wrapping your arms around his fleshed body. Relief washed through your veins, realizing the man who rose up for hell was finally gone.

He was on the ground, a bullet in his head. He was dead. You were free, but not for long. You didn’t have any food left, not even mouthwash. You sighed, taking one last glance at Curly before lifting him up into your arms.

You step around the body of Jimmy, not bearing a single eye down towards him. You turn to walk into the utility room, ready to end this nightmare. You groan, struggling to open the Cryostasis pod’s door. After a few seconds, you finally got it open.

You widen it with your foot before setting the wounded man in the compartment, leaning forward to do so. You unwrap your arms from him, staring into his one eye as you shut the door. You then turn to the small screen to the side, hesitating before pressing the freeze button.

You heard muffled cries from Curly, causing you to lift your head to him. You watch as the window becomes blurry, his figure fading from your vision. The cries suddenly stop, making you aware that he was gone.

Your hands formed fists before you left the utility room, guilt spreading in your blood like jelly. Your legs shook as you walked back into the lounge area, the air heavy.

The people you cared about were gone. You murdered one of them, the other gone on their own. The monster who started this paid for it, but the guilt couldn’t just be washed away with water.

Tears flooded for eyes for what seems to be the tenth time that day as you dropped to the ground, curling in on yourself. You wrap your arms around yourself, forehead hitting the floor.

Opening your mouth, you screamed. It was raspy, full of emotion. It hurt, but you couldn’t stop. You felt that familiar touch on your shoulder, causing you to scream louder, this time with words.

“No, don’t touch me!” You cried, attempting to shake the hand off. But it wouldn’t let go. You continued to cry, your body trembling from the weight of the hand. “Stop it, go away!” But it wouldn’t. It felt so real.. like someone was really behind you.

The weight of the hand became heavier as if it was trying to cause you pain. You shook your head, tightly shutting your eyes. “It’s okay.” Someone spoke in your ear, attempting to ease your mind.

You recognized that voice as soon as your ears registered it. You opened your eyes, glancing towards the side where the voice came from. There, you saw it. A brunette haired man who had an axe through his face. The same brunette who held a special connection to you.

You stared in shock for a few moments, trying to process what was happening. “Daisuke..?” You whisper, releasing your tight hold on yourself. Your fingers swept the metal ground, cold as ice. Your boyfriend only grinned, causing you to instantly embrace him.

As soon as you did so, he disappeared. Your eyes widened, staring at your hands in disbelief as they sat in your lap. You turned your head back towards the real Daisuke’s body, seeing it still lie on the floor.

“No..” You muttered, your body turning around before you crawl towards him. After a few moments, you sat in front of him, staring at his axe’d face. This time, you were too exhausted to puke or even cry.

You just stared, your breath at a normal pace for the first time in ages. You felt your body become weaker due to starvation. You haven’t drunken the mouthwash for a while now, making your stomach rumble, begging for something.

You glanced over his figure, disgust flowing through your body. You knew what you were about to do. He was dead. He wouldn’t feel it. He’d probably want you to eat him if it meant for your survival. You took a deep breath in before leaning over his forearm.

You held it in your hands, fingers grazing his skin. You opened your mouth before lowering your teeth, biting into his flesh. You softly groaned, closing your eyes. You tried to imagine his skin as meat. After all, it technically is.

But it wouldn’t work. You pulled on his skin, taking a small chunk of it off. You chew, ignoring the way your stomach twisted. After a few seconds you finally swallow, the taste of metal sitting on your tongue.

You lifted your head, staring at the corner of the ceiling. Red liquid spilt out of your mouth, dribbling down your chin. You let out a soft giggle, a bit embarrassed as if the crew was actually beside you, watching you eat Daisuke’s skin.

“I-..I’m sorry.” You chuckle, leaning your upper body on your boyfriend. Your forehead rests on his chest, wishing that his heartbeat was still there. “I don’t know what I just did, but ‘m sorry..” You stumble on your words like a drunk person.

“I’m so, so.. sorry, my sweet b-..” Cutting yourself off, you let out a small whine. You weren’t yourself. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Your brows turn upwards, tears falling down your cheeks, replacing the dried ones. They drop onto Daisuke’s clothed chest as you snuffle, tightening your grip on his arm. “What the fuck did I do..?!”

Cries spill out from your mouth, gradually getting louder as time passes on. Your body slowly shuts down, feeling the coldness of Daisuke’s arm in the grasp of your fingers. Blood spills out of your mouth, dripping onto his chest.

Your cries slowly calm, feeling the deprivation of sleep take a toll on you. One hand let go of his arm, wrapping your own around his torso. Your breath settled, eyes finally shutting after fighting to stay open for too long.

“I’m sorry..”

______

Those were the last words uttered from your mouth. The beating of your heart slowly withered away, skin decaying as you stayed in your spot beside Daisuke, barely moving.

There was no point in trying to survive anymore. There was no point in trying to escape the aching pain that laid upon you. You had given up. You knew it would end up with you dying in the end, but you never thought it would happen like this.

Your stomach continued to twist in knots as if it were begging you to eat something. But you couldn’t. You were too weak at this point. Licking your chapped lips, you stared at Daisuke.

You imagined he was still there, smiling beside you with his arms wrapped around your waist. But his touch was cold. One that was one warm and loving, now turned rough and cold.

Each day you opened your eyes, it got harder to do so. Day, after day, after day, you were just hoping you suddenly fell limp, heart finally stopping it’s rhythm. After staring at your boyfriend’s body for a few minutes, your eyes felt heavy.

You didn’t fight back this time. As soon as you shut them, the pain stopped. It was like it was never there to begin with. Your heartbeat slowed, your fingers gently curling around your palm.

You felt free for the first time in ages. Free at last, your lover beside you. The only person who understood you. Your body fell limp, letting out one last breath.

If someone were to tell you this is how you would die as you were boarding the space freighter, you would’ve chuckled before they finished their sentence.

You’ve heard many horror stories about people dying in space. Either due to suicidal thoughts or because of their idiotic behavior. You didn’t know which category you fell into, though.

It wasn’t like that mattered anyway. You were free. You were gone from the shitty hellhole called Tulpar.

Maybe in another life, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe you were living in a mansion with a loving husband. But, not in this universe.

Sometimes, stories don’t have an happy ending. Sometimes you just have to accept your fate, and that’s okay. You did what you could, and that’s what matters.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

authors note

thank you all for supporting this story throughout the past month or two. it means so much knowing i’ve gotten many people to see my work.

this fanfic has come to an end. but, there may be a few one shots aside this, showing more of interactions between the reader and the crew.

but again, thank you all. i appreciate each and every one of you. goodbye for now<3

[moonbyulsstuff]

Hi can you do a yandere navier from remarried empress with a female reader?

She's Mine.

Female Reader.

Requested.

Masterlist

Request Rules.

Tap tap tap..

Navier's footstep echoed through the halls, the moonlight shining through the windows creating a lucent look in the hallways. Her feet making her go to the usual chambers of a woman that she knows, loves and obsess over.

Her day has been hectic, ever since the death of Sovieshu by killed by a "assassin" caused a ruckus in the empire. The whole empire was in mourning for the loss of their Emperor but Navier could care less of her now ex husband's death.

She was tired of putting a facade for the entire week as nobles, commoners, and peasants showed their sympathy for her. Saying on how it must have been hard for Navier to know that her "beloved" husband had died to due an assassin.

Through countless tears and fake empathy about Sovieshu death, the day had finally ended and she can go back to not caring about him at all and show her love to the woman that had captured her heart.

The big wooden doors closed and on the other side the woman she all knew too well, her breath hitched and she can feel her palms sweating at the thought of seeing her once more.

Without knocking, Navier opened the door and saw the sleeping figure of the woman in the bed all by. The moonlight caressing her face softly, Navier could feel her heart beating against her chest.

Her gaze wondered over the gifts that she had given her, the vase that was filled of [Name] favorite flowers, her books laid across the tables and shelves, ones that Navier knew she would enjoy the most.

And then onto the jewelry laid across her vanity, and her dresses and shoes. Navier could feel her smile widen at the sight, and the countless times she saw [Name] wearing the clothes, shoes and jewelry she had given her.

Or how she spoke about the books that she had gifted to her, Navier liked to hear the sound of [Name] voice. It was better than anything, it calmed her senses and made her relaxed.

"Your majesty?" Oh, what a lovely sound..

"Oh, [Name].." Navier watched with hawk eyes as [Name] sat up on the bed, observing every detail. The way her hair was a mess, how close lidded her eyes were whenever she just woke up, how plump her lips were. Gosh, she was just so irresistible..

"What are you doing here?" The Empress smiled and sat down on her bed, her hand softly caressing the sheets. "Just wanted to check up on you.." Navier voice was soft and melodic, [Name] smiled.

"I appreciate the concern, your majesty.. but you don't need to. I'm perfectly fine.." [Name] smiled at the Empress which made her heart flutter at the sight of her smile. "... I can't sleep.." She gave a excuse.

"Huh..? You can't sleep?" Navier nodded. "I have a hard time sleeping ever since of Sovieshu death..." Navier said, acting sad to gain empathy from [Name]. Putting on the fake small tears, she could see [Name] gaze softened and moved closer to her.

"It's going to be alright your majesty..." [Name] wrapped her arms around Navier and pulled her close, Navier lip's twitched when they made contact. She buried her head against [Name] chest.

".... Can I sleep here with you? It'll make me sleep better.." Navier lied, feeling her smile widen and was glad that [Name] couldn't see her face right now.

"Of course, your majesty..." "Thank you.."

They laid on the bed and got comfortable, [Name] laid down on her side as well as Navier. Facing each other. "Goodnight your majesty.." [Name] said with a smile which Navier returned.

"Goodnight.."

[Name] closed her eyes and peacefully slept, Navier felt giddy and caress her face. Her face became flustered and possessively wrapped her arms around [Name], pulling her closer to her.

"You're mine.. [Name]..." She whispered, caressing her [H/C] locks. Running her fingers through it. "You're mine... and no one can take you away from me..." Navier placed a soft kiss on her forehead, tightening her hold around [Name] as she slept.

"You will be mine... and we'll be together... forever..."

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

No. Please. A century I have known naught but sorrow; rage. A century have I been Ketheric's captive. Release me. I beg you.

A bit that I find really heartbreaking happens if you try to leave the dialogue with Aylin in her Shadowfell prison, after you've convinced her you're not a Sharran. This is mere seconds after she was smirking at you with:

She sounds genuinely afraid that you, the only person in over a hundred years who isn't there to ritualistically kill her or torment her in some unthinkable way, are about to abandon her. In sheer contrast to all the brave posturing and proud defiance she was demonstrating not moments before, all the blustering and insisting that she, immortal, will simply outlast all of you, that this affects her not a bit and is in fact nothing in the grand scope of her life (which we later see is actually rather painfully untrue).

[eupheme]

— sugar, sugar

[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own personal version of hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh-uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

[misswynters]

Strapped up

Sevika x afab!reader / wc: ?

WARNINGS: 18+, smut again, riding, sevika with hexcore strap (i delivered), dom! sevika & switch!reader, BITING, rough rex, mating press, teasing, misspellings?

similar writings | Brothel

also on ao3 (not yet, under doorkiluv)

a/n: sipping on my ginger tea while i wait for yalls reactions, also pls give me feedback (and don’t only just like but also reblog and comment 🫶🏼)

You thought life couldn’t get any better. Standing in the same room with sevika, with whom you shared a special relationship with. You didn’t exactly know what kind of bond you guys had, but it was one filled with pleasure and love. Which brings you back to the current moment on had, sevika leaning against her bed frame. She looked amazing as always with her powerful build as a warm glow soften the edges of her place, which stood at the heart of Zaun. Her eyes followed you, a faint smirk on her lips as she watched you approach, her usual guarded expression giving way to something more inviting, almost hungry.

"Come here," she commanded softly, her voice smooth and warm, a note of challenge woven into her words. As you climbed onto her lap, Sevika's hands settled on your waist, her fingers strong and grounding as she held you close. The slight hum of her hextech prosthetic reminded you of the power she wielded over you. You couldn't help but shiver under her touch as her gaze slowly roamed over you.

As you settled, she adjusted the strap on her hexcore, its soft glow flickering against her skin as she tilted her head, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She looked up at you, her eyes flickering with amusement and something deeper, a silent confidence that made you feel like she knew every reaction she could pull from you before you did. You braced yourself, anticipation thrumming through your veins as her hands tightened on your hips. The strap was long, thick and had glowy blueish veins. Just by looking at it barely inches away made you feel wild, wondering how it the world it would fit.

Sevika guided you down onto her with a firm grip, setting the pace. She filled you slowly, letting you feel every inch of her as she watched your face. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't hold back a moan as you sank down. You could feel the subtle hum of her strap resonate within you. Sevika's smirk widened at your reaction, a faint chuckle escaping her as she took in every flicker of response. "Good," she murmured, her voice low and approving, fingers pressing into your hips to draw you down harder, setting a steady, demanding rhythm. "That's what I like to see... you taking all of it."

Her words made your face flush, and her hands held you tight, grounding you against her hips as she gazed down towards you. The wet, squelching sounds that your folds made filled the room, mingling with your soft moans as she urged you to keep going. Every time you tried to pull back, Sevika's grip would tighten, her gaze holding you in place. “Not so fast," she whispered, a hint of a smirk pulling at her lips. "I'm not done with you yet, we are just starting."

The intensity of her hold and the firmness of her voice left you breathless, and each time you moved, she met your rhythm with an unwavering strength, amplifying the sensations that were already overwhelming. The roughness of her hands against your hips alongside the hum of the hextech strap as she bounced you on her cock, left you trembling as you tried to keep up with her.

"Look at you," Sevika murmured, her voice a mixture of admiration and amusement as she took in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. Her eyes traced over you slowly, savoring every detail as she adjusted her grip. She placed her hands around your waist as she laced her fingers together, guiding you to a deeper angle that made you gasp. "You're something else, aren't you? Never thought you'd be able to handle all of me."

With a firm grip on your waist, Sevika shifted beneath you, her strength effortlessly flipping you over so that you were now pinned beneath her. You felt a thrill at the way she moved confidently. She loomed over you, her eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity, a mixture of dominance and affection in her gaze as she took in your flushed expression.

"You trust me, don't you?" she murmured, her voice a low, tantalizing whisper as her hands found your thighs, pushing them up toward your chest. Her grip was steady, but there was an undeniable gentleness in the way she held you, ensuring you were comfortable even as she positioned you to her liking. You barely managed a nod, but that was enough for her. With a satisfied smirk, Sevika leaned forward, planting a brief, possessive kiss on your lips before she pulled back, her gaze flicking down to where your bodies met. Her strap glowed against your wet folds as she slid it between them, you were so wet that it was completely coated with your arousal.

She shifted her hips, the intensity start to build as she pushed in deeply, her pace starting slow and measured, as if she was trying to savor each thrust. But soon enough, she picked up speed, finding a pace that left you gasping, your hands clutching onto her thick biceps as she began to push into you with a force that sent shivers through you. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound punctuating each movement. However you hardly noticed, too lost in the sensation as she pushed you closer to the edge with each rapid thrust.

As Sevika held your legs pressed up to your chest, driving into you with that unrelenting rhythm, you felt yourself unraveling under her touch. The wet, slick noises filled the room, each thrust punctuated by the steady creaking of the bed. The overwhelming sensations left you clinging to her shoulders, your voice breaking into desperate, pleading gasps. "Sevika, please," you whispered, nearly breathless, your hands gripping her broad shoulders, digging in with every surge of pleasure. "Don't stop... please, just like that... harder."

A wicked smirk crossed her face as she caught the raw desperation in your voice. "So needy," she murmured, her tone thick with satisfaction. "Look at you, begging for more. You want me to ruin you, don't you?" Sevika's hands tightened on your thighs, spreading your thighs further open as she drove into you with powerful thrusts. Her gaze never leaving your face as she took in every reaction, every shiver and gasp.

You nodded, too caught up to feel anything but the sheer need flooding through you. "Yes... please," you gasped, almost incoherent as she picked up the pace, pushing deeper and harder. Your thighs shook under her iron grip, pinned against your chest, each thrust sending a surge of sensation that left you on the edge of surrender.

Driven by the intensity, you instinctively leaned forward and bit down on her shoulder, desperate to ground yourself through the torrent of pleasure. Sevika froze for a heartbeat, her breath catching, and then she let out a deep, approving growl, her gaze dark and delighted as she felt the imprint of your teeth. "Oh, you like it rough, huh?" she murmured, her voice a husky whisper as she gazed down at you. "Good. Hold on tight, then."

Instead of slowing, she surged forward, her pace turning rapid, unyielding, her thrusts deep and forceful, spurred on by the way you clung to her. "Bite me all you want," she encouraged, her voice sultry, almost daring. "I want to hear how much you need this."

"Sevika, please-don't stop," you begged, your voice breaking into soft cries as the bed protested under her relentless rhythm, creaking with each thrust that left you gasping. "I... I need more, please... harder."

She chuckled, her fingers gripping your thighs even tighter, pressing them to your chest as she drove into you with renewed fervor, clearly enjoying every sound that escaped your lips. "Oh, you're not getting off easy," she taunted, her voice rough with pleasure. "I'm not stopping until you're completely spent... until you're begging for mercy."

Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, drawing helpless cries from your lips that only seemed to spur her on. Her gaze flicked down between you, and a wicked grin crept onto her face as she noticed the slick, glistening mess where you were connected, a white ring forming with each deep push. "Look at this," she murmured, her voice thick with pride. "Look at the mess you're making for me."

Her words sent a shiver through you, heightening the need coursing through your veins, and you clung to her even tighter, breathless, pleading. "Please, Sevika... I can't... I can't take much more."

"There you go," she whispered, her voice a mixture of praise and satisfaction as she watched you unravel beneath her. "Taking my cock so well... just like I knew you would." Her words sent a thrill through you, and you felt yourself clench around her, your breath hitching as she continued to move with unyielding precision. Her pace only grew, each thrust bringing a fresh wave of pleasure that left you breathless, your body arching up into her as you felt the pressure building to an overwhelming peak. She noticed, of course-she noticed everything-and her smirk widened as she leaned down, her mouth brushing against your ear as she murmured, "Relax."

The way she spoke, commanding yet tender, was enough to send you over the edge. You felt yourself shudder beneath her, your release leaving a mess between you both, soaking the sheets and intensifying the slick sounds with each movement. Sevika slowed only slightly, savoring the way you trembled beneath her, her gaze filled with a rare softness as she held you close, letting the softness of the moment sink in.

As the aftermath of the moment settled over you both, Sevika shifted back just enough to look down, a smirk slowly curling at the corners of her mouth. She took in the scene beneath her the sheets soaked and rumpled, your flushed face, and the way your body still trembled slightly from the intensity of it all.

"What a mess," she murmured, a teasing glint in her eyes as she caressed her thumb along your thigh, feeling the warmth that lingered there. "Didn't know you had it in you." Her tone was low, playful, and laced with that familiar, effortless confidence. "You really couldn't hold back, could you?"

"Maybe... maybe I wouldn't have made such a mess if you hadn't been so relentless," you shot back, meeting her gaze with a playful glint of your own, though the flush on your cheeks betrayed just how affected you still were. "Besides... I think you enjoyed it just as much."

Sevika let out a low, approving chuckle, her fingers still lazily tracing over your thigh. "Oh, I enjoyed every second," she replied, leaning down until her lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

"And don't think I didn't notice how you were clinging to me, begging for more." You bit your lip, her words making your heart race again. "You're the one who kept pushing me. I... I could barely keep up," you admitted, voice soft yet tinged with playful defiance. "You make it impossible to resist."

Sevika's smirk deepened, her thumb stroking along your jawline as she took in every detail of your expression. “Good," she teased. "I want you like this-completely undone, messy, all because of me."

You shivered under her gaze, but you found yourself smiling, a bit of daring creeping into your voice. "Then maybe... next time, you should try to keep up with me."

Her brows lifted, clearly intrigued by the challenge, and her smirk softened into something warmer, more intimate. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it."

to be continued…

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[inupibaldspot]

Back off,kid.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : (Teen)Gojo is jealous over (kid) Fushiguro having a crush on you.

Fushiguro Megumi always wonders if he made the right choice every time a white-haired sunglass wearing teenager walks into the house.

The tall older boy would grin as his hands form a salute. “You doing good Megumi and Tsumiki?”

He was as useful as the indoor plants. Fushiguro thought.

Gojo wasn’t much good at cooking and neither helped with cleaning, probably because of his rich background—but he did spoil them with lots of food and pocket money but he wouldn’t ever admit that.

As much as Fushiguro would love to throw insults at Gojo, he holds back his tongue each time; Tsumiki would send sharp glare and nag him if he did.

The first friend he brought to visit them was a girl; it was after Gojo went missing for a while and when Tsumiki inquired about it ,he simply said one of his dear friend went cray-cray as his finger twirls at the temple of his head.

The girl had short, brown hair with a distinct smell of cigarette; her name was Shoko Ieiri. She wore an impressed look when she entered the house as she looked over to Gojo. “Heh— The place is pretty neat,Gojo.”

Fushiguro looked to Gojo who placed some groceries on the counter top with a proud smile on his face. “I know right!” Gojo replies.

The young boy frowns. “It’s Tsumiki who keeps the place clean.” Shoko gives Gojo a stare before she cackles.

A week later when Tsumiki was still in school with club activities, another person makes an appearance ,you. He could faintly hear conversations between you and Gojo through the front door on how you’d actually wanted to visit them sooner but was bombarded with mission before it swings open.

The first thing Fushiguro noticed was how Gojo seemed to make you enter first— other times he barges in without a care for Shoko— his hands near your back with a slight space, without touching it. Why was Gojo being nice?

You blink at the dark haired boy. “Fushiguro Megumi, right?” Gojo peers from behind as you smile. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet. Waiting for Tsumiki to get home.” Fushiguro thinks you’re the first person who is kind of decent.

You nod take plastic bag from Gojo’s hands and lift up it, your smile widen. “I’ll make you some good stuff then.”

“I want to eat your cooking too,y/n.” Gojo chirps in only to be ignored. And to your credit, it was actually good. He didn’t remember the last time he had something this good home made.

After that, your visits seemed to increase which Fushiguro Megumi did not mind, in fact he was getting fond of your presence. You helped with food, cleaning which lessened the load on Tsumiki plus you also helped him with his studies.

“You seemed to get it now, Megumi.” Poor kid, blushes a bit hearing your compliment. “Practice this set of questions and I think you’ll do pretty well on your tests.” You smile.

Fushiguro nods as he does as you say, face still heated up. He looks up at you, who was reading a book. Your hair slightly in your face, lips slightly parted with eyes focused. You were extremely beautiful and as much as he wouldn’t admit it , he had a big fat kid crush on you.

“Megumi-chan.” Suddenly he is shoved to the side as a body makes way in between you and him. It was Gojo who sat in between. “Move over~ This seat is mine.”

The boy frowns and so did you, not liking Gojo’s action. “Don’t interrupt the kid, who is studying.” Kid? Ouch…You huff as your move over, despite you complaining you make space for him, focus back on your book.

Fushiguro watched as Gojo leans closer to you, almost resting his head on your neck as he looked over to your book; after a while eyes slowly moved over to you, his expression softens.

Gojo smiles as he tugs a piece of hair behind your hair, to which you don’t react as if it was normal. Thee older man then turns his head to Fushiguro—oops,he got caught staring.

The white haired boy then grins, a condescending one in fact as he mouths out the following words.

‘y/n-is-mine.” Fushiguro huffs. ‘back-off.”

·:*¨༺ Part 2༻¨*:·

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here

[euno11a]

One of the most embarrassing moments for a woman, is when she unexpectedly gets her period. No pads or tampons to help save her. So sitting in the bathroom of the pub you and the task force were celebrating at was anything but ideal. You were at the bar ordering a drink when the slippery feeling began to grow between your legs. You knew it wasn’t arousal (even though Simon sat beside you the whole time) but it was also too early to get your period.

the way your eyes widened as you felt it drip down your leg and spread across your thighs brought nothing but embarrassment to your face, seeing a small drop of blood drip onto the floor beneath your skirt. Quickly running off to the bathroom, you locked yourself in a stall and let out small choked sobs. Many would say it’s natural, and you know it. But that doesn’t stop anyone from feeling embarrassed about what happened. You pulled out your phone and sent some quick texts to the first person in your contacts - ”Si Pie🫶🥧 ”

-“Ask a waitress for a pad” 16:09

-“please quickly” 16:10

sitting and waiting might have been worse than seeing the bloody mess on your thighs and down your legs. But when you heard the bathroom door open and then close, you expected a woman to slip you a pad that Simon gave her under the door, but instead there were Salomon hiking boots and a deep voice.

“open up, love.” The low voice brought comfort, stuffing your panties with tissue quickly and the pulling your skirt down to open the door.

the moment you saw his eyes soften at you under the balaclava, you broke out into tears once again. He gently pulled you into his arms and rubbed your sides to soothe you. “No need to feel embarrassed, a’righ? Just clean yerself up ‘nd we’ll go back out together.”

listening to him, you went back into the stall, cleaned yourself up to the best of your abilities and then walked out to see Simon leaning against a wall. He motioned for you to walk ahead, gently placing a hand on your lower back to massage away some cramps. Once back at the booth, there was a glass of water in your spot. Everyone continued to chatter, as did you, feeing yourself ease up as Simon linked his arm around you and rubbed your lower tummy.

what a good soldier he was.