#the way she runs her hand through her hair

[littleprinces]

Day 6: Cheating Sex

Danielle x Male Reader

Day 6 Kinkvember

OC Reader

Tonight, I was meeting my best friend, Danielle, or Dani as we called her, at our favorite wine bar. As I stepped into the cozy atmosphere of the bar, I spotted Dani sitting at our usual table, her long chestnut hair cascading over her shoulders.

She looked up as I approached, her emerald eyes sparkling with warmth. "Hey, Jake" she said, her voice a soft melody. "You're right on time."

I smiled and sat down across from her. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," I replied, signaling the waiter for a bottle of our favorite Pinot Noir. As we clinked glasses, Dani's eyes never left mine. "To us," she said, her voice laced with a hint of mischief.

The wine flowed smoothly, and so did our conversation. Dani talked about her latest art project, her hands gesturing passionately as she described her vision. I listened intently, her enthusiasm infectious. However, as the night wore on, the conversation took a more intimate turn.

"You know, Jake," Dani said, her voice dropping to a low purr, "sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we were more than just friends."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh, really? And what makes you think about that?"

She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. "Because sometimes, when you look at me, I see something more in your eyes. A hunger."

I chuckled, taking a sip of my wine. "You're playing with fire, Dani. We both know you have a boyfriend."

She shrugged, a playful smile on her lips. "So? A girl can have a little fun, can't she?"

The air between us was charged with tension. Dani's hand reached out, lightly tracing the back of my hand. "I think we should explore this, Jake. Just once. What do you say?"

I looked at her, her eyes pleading, her lips parted slightly. I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards her. "Alright, Dani. Let's explore this."

Later that night, we found ourselves in my apartment. The mood was electric, the anticipation palpable. Dani stood in the middle of my living room, her eyes locked onto mine. "What do you want to do, Jake?" she whispered.

I stepped closer, my voice low and commanding. "I want to see you, Dani. All of you."

She bit her lip, a shiver running down her spine. "And what if I say no?"

I smirked, my hands reaching for the hem of her dress. "You won't."

Slowly, I lifted her dress, revealing her smooth, toned legs. My hands explored her thighs, her body responding to my touch. "You're so beautiful, Dani," I murmured, my hands moving up to her hips.

She moaned softly, her eyes never leaving mine. "Jake... I've never done anything like this before."

I smiled, my fingers moving to the zipper of her dress. "Don't worry, I'll make it worth your while."

The dress slid off her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Dani stood before me in a black lace bra and thong, her body a symphony of curves. I reached out, cupping her breasts, my thumbs brushing against her nipples. She gasped, her body arching into my touch.

"You like that, don't you?" I growled, my voice laced with desire.

She nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Yes... yes, I do."

I guided her to the bedroom, my mouth finding hers in a passionate kiss. Our tongues danced, exploring each other's mouths. I could taste the wine on her lips, sweet and intoxicating.

Dani's hands fumbled with my shirt, pulling it off. I kicked off my shoes and pants, standing before her in just my boxers. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of me, her cheeks flushing with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

I led her to the bed, pushing her gently onto her back. I began to kiss her, starting at her neck, working my way down to her collarbone, her shoulders, her chest. My mouth found her nipple, sucking and nibbling through the lace of her bra.

Dani moaned, her fingers tangling in my hair. "Jake... that feels so good."

I smiled against her skin, my hand moving to her other breast, pinching and rolling her nipple between my fingers. Her body writhed beneath me, her breath coming in short gasps.

I moved lower, my mouth finding the delicate skin of her stomach. My fingers hooked into the waistband of her thong, pulling it down slowly. Dani lifted her hips, helping me remove the last piece of clothing between us.

I settled between her legs, my mouth finding her pussy. She was already wet, her arousal coating my lips as I licked and sucked her clit. Dani's hips bucked, her hands gripping the sheets.

"Oh, God, Jake..." she moaned, her voice laced with pleasure. "That feels so good."

I continued to lavish attention on her clit, my fingers exploring her wetness. She was tight, her muscles clenching around my fingers as I slipped them inside her. I curled them, searching for that spot that would drive her wild.

Dani's moans grew louder, her body tensing as I brought her closer to the edge. "Jake... I'm going to come," she panted, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm.

I slowed my movements, letting her ride out the waves of pleasure. When she finally came down, she looked at me with dazed eyes. "That was... incredible."

I smiled, my cock throbbing with need. "And we're just getting started."

I positioned myself between her legs, my cock poised at her entrance. I looked into her eyes, a wicked grin on my face. "You ready for this, Dani?"

She nodded, her body trembling with anticipation. "Yes... yes, I'm ready."

I pushed inside her, her tightness enveloping me. We both moaned, our bodies adjusting to the new sensation. I started to move, slow and steady, letting her get used to the feel of me.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, my voice laced with concern.

Dani shook her head, her fingers digging into my back. "No... it feels full. So full."

I laughed, a low rumble in my chest. "Good. Because I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before."

I picked up the pace, my cock sliding in and out of her with ease. Dani's moans filled the room, her body moving in sync with mine. "Faster, Jake... harder," she begged.

I obliged, my hips slamming into hers. The sound of our bodies coming together filled the room, a symphony of flesh on flesh. Dani's nails raked down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

"Yes... yes, like that... right there," she panted, her body tensing as another orgasm approached.

I could feel my own release building, my balls drawing up tight. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer. I reached between us, my fingers finding her clit. I rubbed it in tight circles, pushing her over the edge.

Dani screamed, her body convulsing as her orgasm washed over her. The sight of her coming undone was too much, and I followed her over the edge, my cock pulsing as I filled her with my cum.

We lay there, our bodies entwined, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. Dani looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and surprise. "Wow, Jake... that was... amazing."

I smiled, my fingers tracing the curve of her cheek. "I told you I'd make it worth your while."

We spent the rest of the night exploring each other's bodies, our desires, and our limits. It was a night neither of us would ever forget.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- The Proposal

A+ in Pretend Love (Lando Norris x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- The sponsor's say they'll pull out if Lando doesn't fix his ways. So, Zak stages an intervention. Y/N can't get approved for visa, no matter how hard she tries. Zak offers to help. An honest and mutually beneficial relationship is formed.

The scene is set. The MTC is almost empty to the wandering eye, but in reality, every one was sat in the huge conference hall Zak had constructed for other reason not pertaining to the one they had gathered for. "So, we're gathered here today" Zak began only to be interrupted by Oscar, "I still don't get why I'm here when this is about Lando." Zak sighed, "This is about me?" Lando asked surprised. Oscar looks at him with a raised eyebrow and then the other people at the table like in the Office. "Oscar, this is a team problem and we must deal with it as a team." Zak spoke while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now where was I? Before I was rudely interrupted" Zak paused; "The sponsors aren't happy and want to pull away because of Lando's antics" Zak finished. "What? Why me? What about Oscar?" Lando pointed out like a child caught in trouble. "As far as I know, Oscar is extremely sponsor friendly with his long term girlfriend and polite demeanour" Zak said looking pointedly at Lando.

The table erupted in whispers, "What have I do?" Lando piped in. "The partying, the girls, the drinking. Might I continue?" Zak asked. Lando sighed, "So, what do you want me to do? Live like a monk" he asked. "No, we just need to polish up your image, make it more sponsor friendly." Zak said. "I have an idea" someone on the table suggested. "Go on" Zak prompted. "What if we say that Lando's been in a long term healthy relationship and is about to get married?" they suggested. Everyone seemed to hum in agreement. "What no? Ask me first, I'm the one involved. This is nonsense. Ask the sponsors to leave" Lando almost shouted. "Lando, you do know those sponsors are the reason you can drive in Formula One, so that we can make cars for you to race" Zak asked pointedly. Lando's shoulder's slumped, he looked at Oscar for support but he just shrugged at Lando; "Fine" Lando sighed. "So, which model is it?" he asked. "No, we need someone low- key. Out of the public eye to make this believable" someone else piped in. "But which girl will want to agree to that" someone else argued. Lando was currently a by-stander in his own life.

Finally after much deliberation, it was decided that to help Lando clear up his image; he would fake date someone who lived a normal life. And Zak would pay them to keep their mouth shut.

Y/N Y/L/N was in her last semester at University of Monaco of her Master's programme. She been living there since the start of the programme while working as a teaching assistant to gain experience towards her final goal of becoming a Professor. The university was great; culturally diverse and the job paid decently well; in her opinion. Right now, the biggest dilemma she faced was the stupid visa that for some reason wouldn't get renewed no matter how much she tried. She was sat in an almost empty cafe in the street's of Monaco, tucked away from the public. "You must understand. I'll have the job as soon as I graduate. Please extend my visa" she almost begged. "We can't Miss Y/L/N. Those are the rules. You will have to leave the country at the end of your visa" the voice replied sternly. Y/N sighed exasperated while running her hand through her hair for the hundredth time today as the call cut.

Some one else had entered the cafe during this whole ordeal, he walked up to Y/N, "Is this seat taken?" Zak asked. Y/N just nodded without looking up. "I'm sorry for eves dropping but it seems like you're having visa issues?" Zak asked. Y/N looked up, he pushed his business card forward. "I'm Zak Brown, CEO of McLaren" he introduced himself. "Y/N Y/L/N" she shook his hand. "I could help you if you'd like" he suggested. "What do you get in return?" she asked skeptically. "Well, I will have to discuss this with the person who might help you and let you know" he said. "Maybe you can forward me your CV. I can see what I can do" he spoke slowly. Y/N bit her lip before thinking, fuck it. What's the worst that could happen? and forwarded her CV to Zak. "I'll contact you as soon as possible" Zak said smiling while he walked away. "Arrange a meeting in the MTC, I have the woman for the job" Zak called his assistant.

Back at the MTC, when everyone had gathered; "So, I met this girl, around Lando's age. She is in need of help with her visa renewal" Zak said. "If she needs a visa for Monaco, wouldn't she be better off marrying Charles" Oscar interrupted. Zak sighed loudly, "Can you stop interrupting me?" he asked. "Can you stop having me attend meeting that have nothing to do with me?" Oscar retorted. "Touche" Zak relented. "So, we help her with her visa and she helps us with Lando" Zak suggested. Everyone seemed to agree unanimously. Lando was quite the whole time, he felt like he had lost any credibility since they were in trouble with the sponsors because of him. He quietly agreed to the arrangement. "Let's meet up with her. I'll arrange for a meeting. Just the three of us" he told Lando already on the phone with Y/N before Lando could even say anything.

They had decided to meet at a cafe in Monaco. The cafe was quite, with barely any customers in site. When Zak and Lando entered, they found a woman sat at one of the tables placed at the back, nursing a cup of coffee. As soon as she saw Zak, she greeted him with a smile. Lando was looking at her the whole time. Zak cleared his throat, "This is Lando Norris" he introduced Lando to her. She smiled at him, introducing herself and the three sat down when Zak began talking. "So, here's the thing, I need help" She nodded along, "If it's not money related I think I can help" she suggested. "It isn't. I need someone to help with damage control." Zak drawled. "Lando here is a Formula One driver, he drives for my team" Zak explained, watching the confusion on Y/N's face. She nodded along. "The sponsors are creating an issue, all baseless I might add. But I do want to please them and I believe, you would be of great help" Zak said. "How can I help?" she asked. "I would like it if you two would date. Maybe like a fake relationship, just for like a year or so." Zak said quickly. "I don't...this is crazy." she expressed. "I understand this is crazy, but please help me. Being with a millionaire helps" he pleaded. "He's a millionaire" Y/N asked looking at Lando now. "I might not look the part but they pay well" Lando laughed gesturing towards Zak. "This will help, they wouldn't want to cause issues for a public figure." Zak further elaborated. "Like a mutually beneficial relationship" Zak finished. "I need to think about this. All of this is too much for me" she said quickly grabbing her things to leave. Before the two men could stop her she was out of the cafe. "Told you this was a bad idea" Lando said shaking his heading, getting up to leave.

Back home, Y/N was in turmoil. She ended up googling Lando and whatever they said was true. This wasn't some MLM or cult they were trying to indoctrinate her into. And from all the news article, it seemed that Lando had bit of a reputation of partying and sleeping around. She could see why having a girlfriend would help him. She couldn't see why she could help him though. Wouldn't he do better with a model or someone famous?

A few days of her mind being plagued with thoughts of that weird meeting with Lando and Zak; the visa officer called. "Please ma'am you have to understand, I can't do anything. I can't renew your visa" he stressed. Y/N was annoyed, "Please, you can't do this" she cried. "It's out of my control" he expressed. "Please stop calling us" he warned and cut the call. Maybe, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Y/N called up Zak, "Hi, This is Y/N" she spoke slowly. "Hi, Y/N. How are you?" Zak chirped. "I'm good. I'm up for the offer. I'll date...I mean fake date Lando" she stated. "Wonderful. That's what I would've liked to hear" he gloated. "Let's meet at the same place this weekend. And please answer a few questions my assistant will email you before we meet" Zak said before cutting the call. Zak had to make a few more calls like to Lando and his assistant.

Y/N and Lando both received emails asking them questions most couples would know about each other. Y/N wasn't sure if she should fake a personality but decided against it and answered it as truly as possible.

The weekend rolled around rather quickly and the both of them were getting dressed to meet. The cafe seemed empty yet again, a strange occurrence in their eyes. The three of them greeted each other before receiving files from Zak. "These contain information about each other learn it. And this contains how you two met, fell in love and are now happily engaged" Zak said, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. He placed the box in front of Y/N which housed a beautiful ring, "It's fake, so don't worry about losing it" Zak said looking at the pair. "I think this will turn out great. Now, Y/N, Lando's home race is soon. So, two of you will make your debut then." he explained. Y/N looked at Lando, the two of their eyes locked together as Zak explained everything.

"Here's the contract and an NDA" Zak said pulling out more papers. "How long will the contract be valid for?" she asked beginning to read it. "For a year" Zak stated. "Don't you have any questions?" Y/N asked Lando. "No" he said shaking his head and proceeded to sign the contract while Y/N took her time to read through it, not wanting to be tied by anything she couldn't be able to repay. Y/N finally signed the paper after a few more minutes of going through the contract. "Welcome to the McLaren family. Don't worry about the expenses, they will be covered by us" Zak said quickly putting the contracts away. "Pleasure doing business with you" Zak remarked. "I hope we get along well" Y/N told Lando, directing her attention to him. "Hope so. My number is in my details. I'll contact you before the weekend. See you on the Thursday after this" Lando stated. "The weekend is on the Saturday or Sunday" Y/N quizzed. "Not in Formula One" Lando said, "I'll text you the details soon" he said leaving before anyone. Y/N watched both Lando and Zak leave, confused at what she had just gotten herself into.

She reached home, kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the sofa before calling her best friend. "Guess what I just did" she said as her best friend answered the call.

Tag list- @gamesetmatch-me @seonghwaexile @yootvi @hadesnumber1daughter @khaylin27 @abq654

[theonottsbxtch]

FORGOTTEN BIRTHDAY | OP81

an: happy birthday @iimplicitt everyone go and wish her a happy birthday! this is a little piece for you that will make you sadder that you're not in a relationship with oscar but it's a gift from me to you, ily <3

wc: 3.5k

The morning sunlight seeped through the thin, linen curtains, casting soft patterns on the wall, and she stirred, blinking her eyes open as she felt the familiar warmth against her back. Oscar’s arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, his steady breathing a gentle rhythm against her neck. She could feel his lips brushing soft, lazy kisses along her shoulder, the way he always did when he thought she was still asleep.

For a moment, she simply lay there, soaking in the quiet closeness of it all. The fresh scent of Oscar’s cologne and the warmth of his body made her feel safe, cherished. She allowed herself to close her eyes again, smile lingering on her lips as he tightened his hold just slightly, burying his face into her hair, his fingers gently tracing patterns along her arm.

It was her birthday.

She’d woken up with a flutter of excitement, the way she always had since she was a little girl. There was something magical, something undeniably special about the feeling of a day that was just yours. And now, waking up like this, wrapped up in the warmth and the love of someone who’d stolen her heart—that feeling should’ve been even stronger.

But as the minutes ticked by and he continued to kiss her in that quiet, thoughtful way he did each morning, not a single word was said.

Maybe he’s just distracted, she thought, feeling the slight tug of disappointment. After all, the season was coming to an end, and she knew how focused he got, especially in the days before a race. Formula 1 demanded so much of him, and she respected that. He’d been there for her in ways she hadn’t even dared to hope for, bringing more joy and care into her life than she could have ever asked for.

But... not even a whisper of "happy birthday"? Not a hint, not a knowing look in his eyes?

She felt him shift behind her, his hand slipping up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline with that same tender familiarity. His lips pressed gently against her neck, a sleepy hum in his throat. He felt so close, so utterly devoted, and yet...

He’s just busy, she told herself, letting out a soft sigh. It’s probably the last thing on his mind.

She sighed softly, stretching in his arms, and he pulled her a little closer, his lips brushing her forehead in that sleepy, casual way of his. His eyes were still half-closed, hair tousled, but there was a lazy smile on his face as he woke up with her.

“Morning,” Oscar murmured, voice rough with sleep, his thumb tracing slow circles along her hip.

“Morning,” she whispered back, trying to keep her tone as normal as possible. She didn’t want him to sense that she’d been holding her breath, waiting for him to say… well, something. A small “Happy Birthday, love,” maybe, or even just a knowing smile, some hint that he remembered. But he hadn’t. And it was clear now that he wouldn’t.

“So,” he yawned, shifting his legs under the blankets, “today’s kinda busy. Lando and I have this thing at the sponsor’s studio. Some shoot for a promo video, I think. They’re calling it an ‘inside look’ at race prep or something, but really it’s just us standing around talking, I’m pretty sure.” He chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “They’ve got us doing all this media stuff lately.”

“Oh, yeah?” she replied, forcing herself to smile. “You’ll be a natural.” She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, hoping he’d look at her, maybe even catch her eye and give her a hint that he hadn’t forgotten after all.

But Oscar only nodded, giving her a sleepy grin as he leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. “And you? Got a day at the office, right?” he asked casually, as though it was any other day of the year. “What’s on your agenda?”

She took a breath, trying to keep her voice light. “Yep, just the usual. A couple meetings, and I’ll probably have to cover for someone at the desk. I’ll be out by five.”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Sounds like a good day. We’ll both be back around the same time, then.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling faintly. “Guess so.”

She got out of bed, pulling her robe around herself and heading to the bathroom, where she stared at her reflection, trying to shove away the hollow feeling that was starting to settle in her chest. She should’ve been used to this by now, she told herself. Oscar’s schedule was demanding; he barely had time to stop and breathe some days, let alone keep track of something like a birthday. Besides, she knew he cared for her deeply—his warmth in the mornings, his texts at odd hours when he thought of her, all the small ways he showed her mattered so much more than one day of the year.

But as she brushed her teeth, tied her hair back, and headed into the wardrobe to pick out her work clothes, she couldn’t quite shake the disappointment. She wanted to laugh at herself for caring so much. It was just a birthday.

Yet the more she tried to pretend she was fine, the more her heart kept slipping. She threw on her blouse and slacks, fixing her makeup with hands that were just a little less steady than usual, and made her way back into the bedroom, where he was now scrolling through his phone, probably checking the texts from his manager.

“Have a good day, okay?” Oscar said as she slipped on her shoes. He gave her a small, warm smile as he leaned over, pressing one last kiss to her cheek, his hand resting on her shoulder as if to linger with her a moment longer.

“Yeah. You too,” she murmured, giving him a faint smile as she grabbed her bag, willing herself not to linger, not to let herself feel anything other than grateful for the morning they’d shared. She gave him one last glance, catching his gaze as he looked at her, that usual warmth in his eyes. And then she turned, heading out the door, whispering to herself that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t important.

The office was buzzing when she walked in. As soon as she stepped through the door, her coworkers greeted her with bright smiles, some even standing up from their desks to call out, "Happy birthday!" There was a small pile of gifts on her desk, wrapped in cheerful paper and bows, and a few balloons taped to her chair. She felt herself smiling genuinely for the first time that morning, warmth flooding her chest as she set her bag down.

“Oh my gosh, you guys,” she laughed, cheeks flushing as she picked up a card signed by everyone. “This is too much.”

“Nonsense!” her friend and desk-mate chimed in, appearing at her side with a cupcake topped with a single, brightly coloured candle. “You deserve all of this and more. We all know you make this place actually run.”

She chuckled, feeling the warmth and kindness radiating from the team. As she took in their gifts—a handmade scarf from the coworker who crocheted on her lunch breaks, a small box of her favourite teas, a lovely journal for her ever-growing stack of notes—she felt touched, genuinely happy. Her coworkers hadn’t forgotten; in fact, they’d gone out of their way to make her feel special.

But there was still that empty space in her chest. A quiet, lingering ache as she glanced at her phone, hoping to see a message pop up on her screen. Maybe Oscar would text her between shoots, or send her a voice message—just a quick “Happy birthday” or even a simple smiley face. Something that would tell her he’d thought of her.

Yet as the hours passed, her phone stayed stubbornly silent, aside from the usual work notifications and a few birthday messages from friends. She knew that he didn’t text much during the day, that his shoots and meetings usually stretched longer than he liked to admit. But part of her had hoped that, just today, he might make an exception.

At lunch, her friends surprised her with a small cake in the break room. They sang to her, a little off-key but with a lot of heart, and she found herself laughing along, feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such warmth and care. She tried to push aside her thoughts of him, to keep her mind off the absence of his message. He’s busy, she told herself, taking a bite of cake as her friends chatted around her. It’s not a big deal.

Still, every time she felt her phone buzz in her bag, her heart leapt, just for a moment, and each time, she couldn’t help but feel the sting of disappointment as she realised it wasn’t Oscar. It was as if her heart was doing a balancing act, teetering between gratitude for the people around her and that quiet ache that her mind kept insisting wasn’t fair to feel.

As she stepped out of the office and into the cool evening air, she felt the weight of the day pressing down on her. She’d kept a brave face, laughed at all the right moments, and soaked up every bit of love her friends and coworkers had poured into her. But now, alone with her thoughts, she felt the ache returning, stronger than before. She wanted nothing more than to go home, slip into a hot bath, and just let herself feel it all—the disappointment, the loneliness, the hurt she’d been pretending wasn’t there.

As she walked up to her building, she noticed his car wasn’t parked out front. Somehow, that felt like a small blessing. She was grateful for a few quiet moments to herself, to feel everything she’d been holding back all day.

The apartment was dark and quiet when she stepped inside, the air still. She kicked off her shoes, leaving them haphazardly by the door, and shrugged her bag off her shoulder, not bothering to turn on any lights as she made her way down the hallway. She was so drained, and all she wanted was the familiar comfort of their room, a place where she could let her guard down completely.

When she pushed open the door to the bedroom, though, she stopped short.

There, spread across the bed, was a beautiful assortment of gifts wrapped in elegant, colourful paper, with a cluster of balloons tied to the foot of the bed. She blinked, her eyes taking in the soft glow of fairy lights that had been draped over the headboard. Each balloon had a photograph attached—moments from their time together, candid shots from races, vacations, cosy evenings at home. Her heart clenched at the sight, an overwhelming mix of disbelief and relief filling her chest.

And then, as if on cue, Oscar stepped out from the closet, a tiny cupcake in his hand, a single candle flickering on top. His face was lit by the candle’s glow, a quiet, tender smile on his lips as he looked at her, his eyes warm and full of a love that nearly undid her.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, voice soft but full of so much feeling that it made her knees weak.

She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears as she let out a shaky laugh, feeling a rush of emotions she could barely contain. “I thought… I thought you forgot,” she managed, her voice breaking as she took a step toward him, her hands trembling. “I thought you were too busy, that… that you didn’t remember.”

Oscar’s face softened, and he closed the distance between them, setting the cupcake on the nightstand as he reached out to pull her into his arms. “Forget?” he murmured, holding her close, one hand coming up to stroke her hair as she let out a small, choked sob into his shoulder. “How could I ever forget your birthday? I’ve been planning this for weeks.”

She clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as she finally let the tears fall, letting herself feel everything she’d been holding back. He held her tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, letting her release every ounce of doubt and hurt she’d felt throughout the day.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered between soft sobs. “I just… I thought maybe with everything going on, it slipped your mind. I didn’t want to feel that way, but I… I couldn’t help it.”

Oscar pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing away a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his gaze filled with understanding. “I get it,” he said gently. “I wanted it to be a surprise, to make it perfect. But if I’d known it would make you feel like this…” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as he held her close. “I would’ve done it differently.”

She shook her head, a tearful laugh escaping her. “No, this is perfect. It’s… it’s everything. I just didn’t expect it, and I guess I didn’t realise how much I wanted it.”

He smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You deserve to feel special today. Every day, really. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

She smiled up at him, feeling the weight on her chest finally lifting as she took in the warmth in his eyes, the quiet thoughtfulness of every detail around them. Oscar reached over, picked up the cupcake, and held it between them, nodding toward the candle.

“Make a wish,” he murmured.

She looked at him, her heart swelling as she realised that her wish had already come true. But still, she closed her eyes, letting herself make a small, quiet wish before blowing out the candle.

When she opened her eyes, he was still looking at her, his own gaze soft and full of a promise she could feel without words.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing over the colourful wrapping paper, feeling almost shy with him watching her so intently. It was like every small, careful detail had been planned with her in mind, each gift waiting patiently for her to unwrap it.

The first package she reached for was a familiar shape—a shoebox. She unwrapped it slowly, her heart catching in her throat as she lifted the lid to reveal a pristine pair of black Dr. Martens. She laughed, a soft, delighted sound, running her fingers over the leather. “You remembered,” she murmured, looking up at him with a grateful smile. “I was saying just last week that mine were about ready to fall apart.”

“I know,” Oscar grinned, hands in his pockets as he watched her. “I was pretty sure you’d been trying to ignore the hole in the sole. Figured it was about time for an upgrade.”

She smiled, warmth spreading through her chest as she slipped the boots aside, reaching for the next gift. It was a neatly wrapped package, smaller and heavier, with an unmistakable shape. She tore away the paper, her breath catching when she saw the cover—the first book in her favourite series, one she’d read so many times that the copy on her shelf was practically falling apart. But as she opened the book, her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her fingers tracing over the author’s signature scrawled inside the cover, a small message addressed just to her. She flipped through the rest of the books in the series, each one signed with a personal note. “How… how did you manage this?”

Oscar sat down beside her, looking a little smug but mostly just pleased with her reaction. “You’ve talked about those books more times than I can count,” he said with a small shrug. “I figured I’d reach out to the author’s team, see if I could make it happen. Took a little convincing, but… worth it, I think.”

She looked up at him, eyes shining with gratitude and awe, feeling like her heart might just burst. “It’s… it’s perfect,” she said softly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He smiled, brushing a thumb over her hand as she picked up the final box, smaller and elegantly wrapped in deep blue paper. She carefully peeled it open, lifting the lid to find a delicate necklace nestled inside. It was simple and beautiful—a silver pendant with both of their initials engraved on it, entwined together in a tiny, subtle script. Her heart swelled as she held it up, running her fingers over the cool metal.

As she admired it, he reached up and pulled something out from under his shirt—a matching necklace, with the same delicate initials. The pendant hung just over his heart, a quiet, constant reminder of her that he must have been wearing all day.

Her chest tightened, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek as she took it all in, the thoughtfulness, the care he’d put into every detail. She reached over, cupping his face with trembling hands as her voice broke.

“You wore it all day,” she whispered, her heart so full she could barely speak.

Oscar smiled, reaching up to cover her hand with his. “Of course I did. You’re with me everywhere I go,” he murmured, his voice soft. “No matter how crazy the schedule, or how many days I’m away… I wanted you to know that you’re always with me.”

She melted, letting herself fall into his embrace, her head tucked under his chin as he held her close. She felt like everything she’d worried about, every bit of doubt that had crept in throughout the day, had simply vanished, replaced by a love so real and constant she didn’t know how she could have ever doubted it.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek.

He kissed the top of her head, his fingers threading gently through her hair. “I love you, too,” he said, holding her tightly, as if he’d never let her go. “Happy birthday, love.”

She pulled back from his embrace just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with warmth and gratitude. Oscar met her gaze, his hand lifting to brush a stray tear from her cheek, his fingers lingering softly on her skin. And then, without a word, he leaned in, closing the distance between them as his lips met hers in a slow, tender kiss.

It was soft at first, a gentle, lingering touch filled with all the emotion of the night. But then his hand slid up to the back of her neck, pulling her just a little closer, and the kiss deepened, becoming something more—a quiet, passionate promise that said everything words couldn’t. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as she poured every bit of her love and gratitude into that moment, feeling his warmth surround her, grounding her in a way that only he could.

When they finally pulled back, breathless but smiling, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, pressing one last soft kiss to her forehead. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Let me run you a bath. You’ve had a long day, and you deserve to relax.”

But she shook her head, her hand slipping into his as she gave him a gentle smile. “No, not now,” she whispered, and he paused, a look of confusion crossing his face.

“Are you sure?” he asked, tilting his head, his thumb brushing the back of her hand.

She smiled softly, tugging him gently toward the bed. “I just want to cuddle,” she said, her voice a quiet, warm confession.

Understanding dawned in his eyes, and his expression softened as he nodded, his lips curving into a smile. Oscar climbed into bed with her, pulling the covers over them both as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She snuggled into his chest, her head resting just over his heart, listening to its steady, comforting rhythm as his hands traced soft patterns along her back.

They lay together in the quiet, wrapped up in each other, their legs tangled and their breaths in sync. He held her with a gentle strength, his fingers weaving through her hair as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was perfect, this quiet intimacy, as they sank deeper into each other’s warmth, finding solace in the simple, tender closeness.

“I don’t need anything else,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest. “Just this.”

Oscar tightened his hold on her, his lips brushing her temple. “Then this is exactly what we’ll do,” he whispered.

the end.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 1

Or: a secret Admirer AU

Less than a month into the school year, and Steve’s already making use of the library. If Mrs. Click could see him now, she’d be proud–until she caught sight of the blank notebook page in front of him and the lack of textbooks on the table. 

He feels stupid; he’s hunched over his notebook, trying to make his thoughts transfer onto the page in any coherent form. But, he’s not like Eddie with his impassioned speeches and clever English papers.

Words flow through Eddie in fully-formed, concrete ideas. For Steve, it’s more of a drip. Each word has to be scaffolded onto the previous one with blood, sweat, and tears. Even then, it’s never quite right. Too abrupt, never what he was actually trying to say.

He’s just never been good with words.

By the time he gives up, there’s more crossed out than left written, so he gets a clean page of paper and transcribes it as best he can. He’s left with:

       Your hair is pretty. Do you use conditioner?

Steve tears it from his notebook and lays it flat atop his table in the library, smoothing out any crinkles in the page. It feels like the start to something, sure, but there’s more blank space on the page than words. By a lot.

He leans back over his work, adds a little wonky heart in his blue pen and signs the whole thing—

       ❤ your secret admirer

—the way all the girls who leave notes in his locker do. Their notes are usually on pretty paper, written in sparkly gel pen that smells like strawberries. The i’s are sometimes dotted with little hearts he’ll never admit to finding cute. And there’s envelopes involved, and usually more than eleven measly words.

His looks like something Eddie’ll toss out before opening, mistaking it for trash.

Steve grimaces. How do girls do this? Do they all take some sort of class on how to write pretty letters on pretty enough paper that boys will fall in love with them? Is that what they teach in Home Ec? He should have never let Tommy mock him into switching to shop class.

Should he ask a girl?

Under no conditions will he ever ask Carol. She’d have far too many uncomfortable questions and tell the whole school all of his embarrassing answers. He’d be run out of town within days, Carol holding the sharpest pitchfork.

Steve leans back in his chair with a groan too loud for the library and fists his hands to rub tired eyes.

“Are you okay?” Steve jerks, sending his pen and paper careening to the ground in his attempt to cover the compromising words upon the page. “Oh, sorry!”

Steve watches, horrified, as Chrissy Cunningham bends down to pick his supplies up off the carpet before he’s had time to scramble out of his chair. She’s in her cheer uniform, white zip-up Hawkins hoodie covering her arms. She looks perfect and preppy and just like all the girls who’ve ever left a note in his locker.

She’d be able to write something that Eddie would want to read.

“Steve?” Chrissy’s hovering over him, lips pursed, eyes big and worried. “Are you okay?”

“Shit, sorry,” he replies. She’s got his note clutched to her chest. He curls his fingers against the urge to reach out for it—that’ll just draw her attention, and that’s the last thing Steve wants right now. “Just got lost in my head.”

“Anything I can help with?”

He knows what she’s going to do before it happens. Chrissy’s sweet—if there’s a way to help, she’ll want to. So, she holds out the paper and begins to read, probably expecting an assignment she can tutor him on, and there they are: Steve’s damning words written in still-wet blue ink.

Her brow furrows as she takes an obscene amount of time mouthing out the words before she looks back up to meet his eyes. “Did someone give this to you?”

Her eyes are still big, but they look sad now, like just the thought of someone receiving the note he’d slaved over is enough to distress her. Unable to help himself, Steve snatches it from her hands and crumples it into a ball, damning words hidden in his fist.

Chrissy gasps at his abrupt movement and takes a halting step away.

“I wrote it,” he mutters, no longer able to meet her eyes.

She’s silent for long enough that he’d think she left, except the library’s quiet, and he hasn’t heard her take a step. He stares at the grains of the wood in the table, empty hand rubbing against the smudged top as he waits for her to do something.

“Are you…” she starts, trailing off for a moment before picking her thought back up, “…picking on someone?”

Steve clenches his fist tighter, note crinkling beyond repair beneath his nails as he mutters, “no.”

Chrissy’s quiet again. Steve doesn’t dare to look up, even as he hears the chair across from him pull out, the sound of her weight settling into the wood. The table’s just so interesting. Nothing has ever been as intriguing as the little chip out of its edge, the ring on the wood where someone had let their drink condensate against all the library’s rules.

“Who’s this for?” Chrissy’s voice is soft now, like he’s some sort of horse, prone to bolting when spooked. “Steve?”

Steve looks up. Her eyes aren’t sad anymore; they’re piercing.

He’s always liked Chrissy. She’s the nicest girl in the school, until someone does something she doesn’t like. Then, it’s all disappointed eyes, and pouty lips. It’s like disappointing his Mom, but worse, because his Mom’s never around to stare balefully at him.

The point is, Chrissy’s nice. She’s not like Carol. If he told her, there would be no lynch mob, or fleeing Hawkins in the dead of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. Probably. Maybe.

Steve tries to smooth out the page, and scowls down at it when the wrinkles refuse to disappear. It’s even worse now, words made illegible by the deep creases his fingers have pressed into the paper. There’s no way Eddie’d ever want a note like this.

So, he says, “Munson,” looking up to try to watch his meaning land on her face.

It doesn’t. Her foreheads all scrunched up as she looks down at the note. Only then does Steve realize he’s caressing the wonky little heart. He pulls his hand back, curling his fingers in so she can’t see the smudge of blue on his pointer finger.

“And you aren’t making fun of him?”

Steve can feel his shoulders drooping. He wants to disappear into the floor, melt into the carpet and become one with all the other mysterious stains upon it. “No.”

“Oh,” Chrissy replies, drawn out and low as she peers down at the crinkled note with a confused frown. But something must click because she straightens, eyes wide beneath her bangs. “Oh!”

It’s loud enough that they both reflexively flinch. But, when no librarians come skulking around any corners, Chrissy turns back to him, gaze uncomfortably intent. Steve wonders, somewhat horrified by the turn his life has taken, if he’s about to get hate-crimed by a cheerleader half his size.

But Chrissy’s nice—always has been, always will be. So, she bites her lip and looks furtively around like she’s only just realized this is a conversation that shouldn’t have any witnesses. “But you like him?” she whispers.

Steve leans forward, matching her energy and pitch as he replies, “yeah,” quiet enough that it’s barely a breath. Chrissy smiles at him, warm and small, just like her hand as she reaches across the table to put it over his and squeeze comfortingly.

The note sits, damningly soiled beneath their linked hands, wrinkled, and smudged, and barely-legible handwriting. The weight that’d lifted with Chrissy’s smile sinks back into his gut.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Steve says, letting go of her hand so he can pull the note closer to himself. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

Steve crinkles the note back up. It’s unsalvageable—a stupid idea executed badly.

He’s in the middle of stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans to keep his keys company until he can toss it out in the comfort of his home when Chrissy says, “maybe I can help?” voice lilting up, like it’s a question.

Steve meets her eyes, hand still half-shoved in his pocket. She’s all earnest now, the way she usually is when there isn’t a sad boy infecting her with his own ineptitude. Eyes shining with conviction, bangs curling sweetly around her face. She’s no Carol, that’s for sure.

“How?” he asks, and when she smiles, it looks a bit like hope.

***

 “I can help you write a better letter,” Chrissy starts. He perks up like a dog the moment its owner gets home. “If you do something for me.”

She feels like scum when he curls back into himself, gaze forlorn.

When she’d caught sight of the note he’d spent what seemed like a full hour pouring over, this isn’t what she’d been expecting. And when she’d finally made out his chicken scratch scrawl, she’d been sure Steve was picking on someone, no matter how unlike him it would have been. But then his shoulders had curled in, and his ears had turned red, and his voice had gone all soft and squishy when he’d said Eddie Munson’s name.

And she’d just wanted to fix it.

So, even as he asks, “what?” all sad and droopy again, she knows she’s going to help him, no matter what he says.

“Date me,” she asserts. It’s only as Steve blinks stupidly at her that she realizes how that came out of her mouth. “No, wait, not really!”

Her hands are waving around wildly and she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. In contrast, Steve seems to come back into himself, shoulders shoring up as he smirks across at her with his signature raised brow. The one he’d used while leaning on Nancy Wheeler’s locker last year, or holding her books as they walked to class, and all the other assortment of stereotypical boyfriend activities.

He’d worn it all the time, like it was part of the uniform. 

“I just meant, we could fake it?” His right eyebrow raises to meet his left, forehead scrunching up with his incredulity. “It’s just, Jason and I broke up? And he won’t leave me alone.”

It takes all her strength to keep meeting his eyes as the seconds tick away. But then Steve nods, swings his letterman jacket off, and tosses it across at her. Unprepared for his sudden movement, it hits her in the face and drops into her lap.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he says with a cheesy wink that somehow manages to feel more genuine than any of his actual flirting techniques. “Gotta sell it somehow.”

“What a romantic,” she replies, deadpan, but she pulls his jacket on anyway, something that feels an awful lot like relief steadying her heart rate as she smooths down the too-long sleeves.

Jason’s going to freak out. But after that, maybe he’ll stop calling her house, and trying to put his arm around her at lunch, and trying to pick her up for school every morning. She’d do almost anything to get it into his thick skull that she’s not interested.

So, here she is, hashing out the details of a secret admirer letter from Steve Harrington to Eddie Munson, of all the unlikely pairings.

“What’s wrong with what I wrote?” Steve whines, running his fingers through his hair until it’s all mussed up and falling into his face.

Chrissy snorts. “It sounds like you’re telling him his hair is frizzy and dry.”

“I said it was pretty!” He throws his hands in the air before crossing them and pouting his lower lip out.

Chrissy can’t help but laugh. She’s always liked Steve. He’s nicer than most of his friends, and he’s easy to talk to. But this is a side she’s never seen of him. She’s not sure anyone has; can’t imagine Carol or Tommy seeing him put his whole heart into something and not tearing it to shreds.

“Do you use conditioner?” she asks, throwing finger quotations around it as she reads it off the crumpled page.

Steve’s blushing again, cheeks all blotchy and red, rather unbecoming for the shoo-in for this year’s prom king. “Well, I thought you said you’d help!” he says, a little too loud for the library.

So, that’s how she ends up spending the next hour painfully turning Steve’s earnest thoughts into words on the pretty baby blue paper she’d carefully removed from the back of her daily planner.

In the end, they’re left with this:

       Eddie –

       I wish I could say this to your face, but I’ve never been good with words, and you’d probably think it was a joke.

       I can’t even get myself to talk to you, you’re so distracting.

       I like how pretty your hair is. How do you get your curls so shiny? I want to run my fingers through them.

       I hope this note brightens up your day. You deserve all the smiles you can get.

       Yours,

       Your Secret Admirer

It’s not what she would write, but still, it’s leagues better than what he’d started with. She slides it across to Steve, and he smiles down at it. He reaches his hand out, fingers almost brushing the page before he pulls his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist.

“What if someone sees me?” he asks, voice so quiet she can barely hear him even in the resounding silence of the library.

They’d managed not to talk about it, the dangers of Steve liking a boy. But it’d been present in the hesitancy by which he shared each of his thoughts, looking up at her like each remark would be the last straw before she recoils in disgust.

If someone finds out that Steve has a crush on a boy, it won’t take long until he’s getting beat up between classes or heckled straight out of school. Heck, even with all the rumors floating around about him, Eddie might be the one to throw the first punch.

“Do you want me to deliver it for you?” she asks.

“You’d do that?” he asks back, because apparently no one ever taught him not to answer a question with a question. “For me?”

“What else are fake girlfriends for?” she asks because they’re all questions now, no answers to be had between the pair of them.

Steve laughs, all tension leaving his shoulders as he throws his head back with amusement, eyes downright twinkling as he beams across at her.

“You’re the best, Chrissy,” Steve says, smiling even brighter as she replies, “I know.”

She leaves school that night after pushing Steve Harrington’s love note through the slats of Eddie’s locker, Steve’s letterman jacket keeping her warm from the cold.

This might be the best relationship she’s ever had, fake or not. Eat your heart out, Jason Carver.

PART 2

Welcome to my new AU! This will be posted in 21 parts. It is complete, so there will be a new update each morning until it's all posted. I've elected not to do a tag list, but it will be added to my pinned post each day as well. If that's not your speed, it will be added to Ao3 once it's all been posted here.

Special shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for not only their usual fabulous beta work, but also both the original idea and the writing of some of the secret admirer letters. You not only make me a better writer, but this work literally would not exist without you. <3<3

Title of the fic from the song Eyes in the Sun by Florist

[vidals-harkness]

seekest thou the road

summary: a random thursday turned into a strange series of happenings which meant certain clarity for you and your mother. but that clarity also meant the start of a new journey, the revelation of true feelings, and a quest for one's desires.

fic type: angst

pairings: agatha harkness x teen!reader, rio vidal x teen!reader, teen x teen!reader

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | masterlist

It was a normal Thursday morning for Agnes and her daughter Y/n.

You trudged out of bed, blanket wrapped around you as you made your way downstairs to see your mom, Agnes O'Connor, making her morning coffee none too happily.

“Good morning,” you said, smiling a little as you sipped on the cup of coffee she had kept ready for you, in response to which you recieved a short grunt.

Agnes O'Connor really wasn't a morning person.

The sound of rain broke the silence that hung heavy between you both, and as the chill seemed to only increase, you pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, feeling your hands tingle with the warmth of the cup in them. The sharp ringtone of her phone made you jump a little, but her chatter faded into the background as your attention went to the kitchen window.

The fog lay thick, same as when you had woken. However, it seemed to strike a chill down your spine which stood out from the cold of the season. Through the pattering of rain on glass, you could hear loud T.V static, the sound of canned laughter. Normal but...foreboding.

Your gaze darted behind to where the T.V was, but the flat-screen was dark, inactive. The sound was from right where you had been looking before--outside. You squinted through the gaps the raindrops left on the glass, to see an old-timey T.V right there in the middle of the street, showing a black-and-white sitcom. The words were not clear, same as the faces of the characters, but you felt like you'd been there before. Not like reminiscence, not like déjà -vu. Just...familiar.

You blinked rapidly as everything came back into focus. Your mom looked happier than she had in maybe weeks, and you didn't want to ask about phantom T.Vs in the fear of maybe wrecking this strange sense of happiness she seemed to have.

"Get in the car, kid, you're coming to work with me today," she said, tossing her keys up and catching them with an audible jingle.

You groaned. You did not want to spend several hours just sitting in her office, watching her play Candy Crush.

"Great," you grumbled sarcastically, going upstairs to change your clothes. Pulling on plain, comfortable clothes, you discreetly stole her green flannel shirt and pulled it on, combing your hair carefully. You were a lazy teen, yes, but you weren’t an animal.

The car rolled down the empty road, the haze seeming to part like the Red Sea, while the view beyond the windows warped with the raindrops running down it. You rested your elbow against the glass, head resting on your palm as you scrolled through a website on your phone, the rumble of the car pairing with the pattering of rain to create the perfect ambiance for silence.

“So,” your mom said, breaking the somewhat comfortable quietness that had settled. “What’s the latest hyperfixation?”

“Still history,” you said in a bored monotone.

“What’cha reading about on that tiny screen anyway?”

“The Salem Witch Trials,”

Agnes rolled her eyes subtly, which you ignored, and shrugged, “You realise none of that matters anymore, right?”

“You mean the repression of women and the deprivation of knowledge they faced due to the fear of being burnt at the stake under the accusation of being a witch just cause she can count to ten? Yeah, pretty sure that matters,” you deadpanned.

“Jeez,” she scoffed.

You rolled your eyes. She’d been sour and irritable for months now, especially after her riding the desk period.

“I don’t get why I have to come,” you said. “I’m seventeen, the worst thing I’ll probably do is watch A-rated stuff on Netflix,”

“Yeah, well I needed your true-crime expertise,” she said curtly. “And you gotta spend your suspension productively somehow, don’t you?”

“Well if the police system in Westview wasn’t so shit, maybe you wouldn’t even need a seventeen year old to help you solve a murder. And for the last time, my suspension is actually invalid, unlike yours,” you rolled your eyes, earning a sharp flick on your temple from her.

“Don’t even start,” she scowled. “We’re shorthanded here,”

“Sounds like a you problem,”

“Sounds like a week of no phone if you keep up with this attitude, little miss,”

The silence settled again, broken by only the sound of her humming a strange, soft tune. You liked it, but you weren’t going to admit it, no way.

Your eyes caught sight of a car wreck just on the side of the road, which was concerning because they weren’t any skid marks from what you could see through the watery glass. You shook your head. You’d clearly been watching too much true crime lately.

The car halted, and she exited, holding the two coffees she’d bought, nodding at you to get out which you reciprocated with an eye roll.

The air was colder here, the chill of a murder hanging in it, standing out deliciously. You noticed a dark, smoky figure dancing in your peripheral vision, but you blinked and it was gone. Shaking the strange feeling, you shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans, standing beside Agnes.

“Another beautiful day,” said your mother.

“Hey Herb,” you nodded at the man, who stood behind the yellow tape.

“Hey, neighbour,” he nodded at you both, gaze shifting over to Agatha. “Surprised to see you out here, Detective,”

“Oh, and the sixteen year old isn’t surprising?” She scoffed, earning a shrug from him. She shook her head and continued, “There I was, sitting on my duff, playing Candy Crush, happy as a clam, enjoying the fruits of my undeserved disciplinary action—“

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, kicking at a stone on the ground. “Beg to differ,”

“You punched a suspect,” Herb deadpanned.

“Oh, now a convicted felon. I can’t be right and wrong at the same time,” she shrugged.

“Debatable,” you singsonged quietly, earning a kick to your shin.

“Yes, you can,” he confirmed.

“When the Chief calls and tells me, ‘Hibernation’s over. ‘Got a case only you can solve.’,” sensing his skepticism, she added, “Direct quote,”

He sighed with defeat and pulled up the tape, allowing you both in. You chuckled softly and patted his shoulder with sympathy, earning a soft laugh from his end.

“Playing hooky, Y/n?” He asked as you walked beside him.

“Suspension,” you grumbled. “Punched a kid in the face,”

“Moving on from the start of your delinquent career,” Agnes interrupted, prompting Herb to continue.

“Jane Doe. Found her down here by the water. Dispatch was tipped off by an anonymous call,” he explained.

“Basic,” you rolled your eyes. “Lasting evidence?”

“This is all she had on her,” Herb handed over an evidence bag with something in it—a library card.

“What’s this? From a library book?” She asked, snatching it away.

“No shit, mom,” you scoffed, looking around the area for clues. “And real mature for a 50 year old,”

“Watch your mouth,” she snapped.

“Westview branch,” Herb interjected.

“Cause?” She asked.

“Blunt force trauma,”

Blunt force trauma? Unless she’s been clocked over the head at the library with a dictionary, you didn’t see any cliffs she could’ve been thrown off of.

As if she’d read your mind, your mother said, “Not much of a drop around here. She fall?”

“She was crushed,” he sighed.

Crushed? Even better. Where could you find boulders in a creek where the biggest stone was probably the same size as your hand?

“By what?”

“Something big. And heavy,”

“So she didn’t die here,”

“She is dead, though, isn’t she, Herb?” She asked, brow raised.

“Oh, she’s really, most sincerely dead,” he confirmed.

“You never know,”

The body lay face down beside the creek, and you could’ve sworn you saw that same shadowy figure, this time with a flash of…green? It vanished before you could make sense of it.

The woman wore a hoodie and slacks—house clothes, suggesting a home murder? Maybe? This case was too complicated. Blunt force trauma with nothing in particular, a library card, and clothes which resembled a breakup uniform. It made as much sense as a toddler’s handwriting.

Your mother had vanished somewhere, looking for clues, leaving you alone with forensics and the body, surrounded by yellow tape.

The air grew another chill, separate from the one caused by the rain. You felt someone breathing down your neck, and turned sharply to check who it was.

Strangely, nobody.

Your head gave a sharp stab of pain, and you winced, the voices in your head growing loudest, but still giving way to one, familiar voice. And all it said was a single sentence. ‘Snap out of it,’

There was a snap of someone’s fingers near your ear, and the voices went back down to whispers in the back of your mind.

Agnes knelt beside the body, freshly rolled over.

“Who are you?” She asked quietly. “What happened to you?”

“You okay, Agnes?” Herb asked, concerned.

“How do you mean?” She snapped.

“You don’t seem like yourself.” He said nervously.

“For starters you’re asking a dead body for answers,” you smirked, poking her cheek.

She smacked your hand away. “Oh, yeah? And who is that exactly? I’ll try to be more cheerful for you next time,” her tone was bitter as she stood up. “But right now this unidentified woman lying dead in a creek has just got me down in the dumps,”

“Jeez, looks like someone’s hormonal,” you rolled your eyes, bumping her shoulder as you walked past her. “I can’t tell who’s the teenager here,”

“Shut up,” she snapped at you, turning to Herb. “Let me know when the dental records come in,”

You sat in the car with her again, on the way to the library. Yet again, there was that silence—that uncomfortable, thin-ice kind of silence which frankly drove you up the wall. There was a time where you would make jokes with her, a time where you both would sing to shitty music on the radio, but that was long gone. Now, all you both did was sit together, a cavernous distance between you two which, in reality, was just a few inches apart.

You loved your mother, of course you did, but it was at times like these where you felt she didn’t feel the same.

“What do you think, hm?” She asked at last—that same, irritated, clipped tone breaking through your thoughts.

“About what? If it’s your fashion sense, I think we could use some work—“ you began, judgement evident in your own tone.

“About the case,” she sighed. “Cut it out with the sarcasm,”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that the broke noir-chic is starting to look a little bit more divorce-chic except you’re not getting the benefits,” you shrugged. “But as for the case, there’s definitely more to it,”

“Okay, and?” She prompted.

You paused, gathering your thoughts. “Well, for starters, the method of killing is hazy. She died of blunt force trauma, but that was inflicted by crushing, but this is Westview. The biggest boulder in the creek is probably a skipping stone. And you can’t crush someone with that. Not their whole body, definitely,”

She hummed thoughtfully. You hated how the only time you talked was about cases. It was never about school, or football, or anything else. Always murder, crime, arrest.

“Whatever, anyway,” you rolled your eyes. “We’ve reached,”

The library had a stupendously long queue, and you were about stand in it, only to have Agnes grip your wrist and pull you forward.

“Ah. Official police business. Excuse me, excuse me,” she said, pushing past them all, earning disgruntled comments from them all.

“You use that line at the supermarket checkout, too?” Dottie, the library clerk asked.

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, avoiding eye contact with Agnes.

“Only suckers wait their turn,” your crazy mother replied haughtily.

“How can I help you, Agnes?” Dottie asked, sighing softly.

She produced the library card, the packet crinkling as it hit the desk. “Found this on a victim,”

“Ooh. Who’s the victim? Is she dead?” The lady asked.

“Now, why do you assume it’s a woman?” Your mother frowned.

“Exactly,” you frowned. “Statistically, males are more subject to be murder victims, given that on an average, only 30% of victims are women,”

The lady gave you a prompt side eye, saying, “I don’t know. Sounds more titillating,”

She took a look at the card, shaking her head, “There are no names on here,”

“But there are dates,” Agnes interjected.

“We don’t use cards anymore. Everything’s digital now. Sorry,” she grimaced.

“Well, thanks a bunch for your help, Dottie. You’ve been an absolute angel. Incidentally,” Agnes’s voice rose to a shout as she added, “Where were you last night between the hours of 1:00 and 3:00 a.m.?”

You put your head down, covering your ears and groaning. “You’re an embarrassment, mother,”

Just to shut her up, thus sympathising with you, Dottie calmed her down, “I guess I could run the book title,”

“Oh, can you?” She snapped sarcastically. “Come on, Y/n,”

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, evading her attempt to yank you in the library. “It’s time for you to be an adult and give me some money for ice cream after I just suffered second hand embarrassment at your hands,”

“Fine,” she conceded, after holding your gaze for a good ten seconds, handing you some money.

“Thank you,” you said firmly, marching out of the library.

You heaved a sigh of relief, as if you'd exhaled a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. The sun shone down on the pavement, casting sharp shadows as you walked down the street to your favourite place--the coffee shop where you and your brother would participate in open mic nights. You remembered how well he'd sing with you accompanying him on the guitar...

You shook yourself out of your thoughts. You hated thinking about Nicky. It always ruined your mood. More so than your mother.

You entered the shop, sighing in relief at the familiar scent of chocolate chip cookies and ground coffee beans. The owner of the shop was a sweet old lady and her husband, both of whom were perhaps the kindest people in Westview.

"Hi there," you smiled, handing her the money. "Can I have my usual, please?"

The lady, Mrs. Jackson, smiled before saying, "Oh, that nice young woman over there already asked for one, paid for it, too,"

You turned in the direction where she was pointing, seeing a shockingly familiar woman in police attire, her hair pulled back in a low, loose bun at the nape of her neck, the top two buttons of her white shirt opened, while the sun glinted off the badge she had hung around her neck.

She beckoned you over with the curl of her finger, and you went over, sitting down in front of her.

"Hi there, Detective Vidal," you smiled slightly.

Rio chuckled softly, pushing the cup of coffee towards you. "I see you're still stuck,"

You frowned a little at that. "Pardon?"

She shook her head. "Here, in Westview. I'd have thought your mom would've gotten sick of this place by now,"

You inhaled deeply, sipping the coffee happily. "Wishful thinking," you said. "That lady is fucking crazy. So...what brings you to town?"

"You know why I'm here," she nodded. You liked her for this reason. She was straightforward, just as enigmatic as a detective should be, yet she spoke with a kind of firm kindness which few could master.

"You're here to...get under mom's skin?" You tilted your head, curious.

She laughed, looking down as she shook her head. "I've been assigned to help with her...case,"

"Oh she's going to be pissed," you giggled, fingertips running along the edges of the saucer your cup was on. "But is this case really FBI worthy?"

"Well, it's worthy of federal intervention," she nodded. "But that's not entirely why I'm here,"

You nodded a little dejectedly. "Oh. You're not here for too long, then?"

"Just until this whole matter clears up," she shrugged. "Shouldn't be a while. But we can go for ice cream sometime. How're you holding up here?"

You paused, meeting her gaze fully for a good minute. An aura danced along her outline--black and hazy. Your fingertips tingled against the warm ceramic of the cup, and you felt that same stab of pain in your head like you had in the morning.

"Easy," Rio said softly, her fingertips tapping on your wrist. "Think through it, you're still stuck,"

The world bend out of shape for a good moment, the only thing remaining constant was her face. You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing the cup on the table tremble as the voices began to scream.

"Come on, nena," her voice was soft, quiet. "Snap out of it,"

You heard the snap next to your ear again, and when you opened your eyes, you saw through the veil for a moment. She was dressed in black, you could see the bones...

Down came the veil, and with it the voices quietened. Her face was normal again, soft jaw, sharp smile.

"You've got it in you, Y/n," she said softly, her hand still tracing your wrist. "Just snap out of it,"

You blinked, and she was gone.

The next morning, you woke up dazed. It was a similar morning like the previous day's--foggy, cloudy, confusing, gloomy. You avoided your mother completely, she seemed to be a little more off her rocker than usual.

"I'm assuming you're taking me to the office again?" You sighed softly as she grabbed the car keys.

"Yes ma'am, get your ass in the car in five," she said, heading out.

You squinted at said 'car'. It was...a broom on a desk in the living room? But you shook your head, going back to normal. It was just the same old Honda Civic she'd been driving the last few years you had been in Westview.

The station was radiating depression as per usual, and you groaned to yourself as you walked past the Chief with a brief good morning.

She settled in her chair while you sat on the couch, reading your book quietly.

“You hear what happened at the library?” Agnes asked the Chief.

“No, I—“ he began, but she cut him off.

“Somebody torched one of the stacks, like, took a flame thrower to it.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, distracted. “I’ll have one of the guys follow up. But listen, Agnes—“

“You got a spot on your shirt,” she pointed out.

“Oh—“

“And your tie,”

“Mom will you cut it out?” You asked, irritated with her constantly making the poor guy conscious.

“You makin’ breakfast smoothies again, Chief?” She asked, none too kindly. “You know you’re supposed to put the lid on before you blend it,”

He sighed, fully used to her antics. “Yes, I know. Um…listen, Agnes…”

She sighed deeply, irritated. “You’re about to tell me somethin’ I’m not gonna like,”

“Soil samples from under the fingernails and toenails of the Jane Doe came back,” he started, peaking your interest. “They don’t match the soil she was lyin’ in,”

“That’s no surprise. We assumed she’d been moved,” she said, nodding.

“Yeah, like perp probably carried her off,” you said.

“There were traces of a particular microbial sediment only found in Eastern Europe,” he sighed.

“That sounds like a hell lot of work for a perp,” you chuckled.

“Now get to the part I’m not gonna like,” she said, looking at him sharply.

He stepped aside from the door, and your expression brightened as a familiar woman entered the room.

“Here I am,” she said, her demeanour badass as per usual. “Hey, trouble,” she winked at you, earning a rare smile from you in return.

“You always find new ways to piss me off, don’t you, hon?” Agnes addressed you deadpan, her eyes fixed in Agent Vidal.

"Me? I'm an angel," you rolled your eyes.

“Okay,” Chief sighed.

“Fancy dirt always attracts the attention of the Feds,” Agnes scoffed disdainfully.

“Agent Vidal is an asset here, Agnes,” he reasoned. “More brain power and more resources mean you get to the finish line faster. Strength in numbers. Teamwork makes the dream—“

“Eat my ass, Chief,” she interrupted him.

“You’re just throwing a hissy fit because you’re not gonna be alone in the paper headlines,” you chuckled, earning an eraser chucked at your face.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Chief said simply, exiting the room.

“It’s been a long time,” Rio said, taking a seat in the sofa, playing with your hair gently.

"What are you doing here?" Agnes asked, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back in her chair.

"My job,"

"You wanna take control of my investigation,"

"No," after a brief pause where her tongue pushed against the inside of her cheek, she said, "If you wanna be in control, you can be,"

Your brow raised, but you went back to your book, as Agnes continued speaking. "She…The body was moved across state lines. Is that your play?"

Rio took a moment to look around, sighing softly. "Is this really how you see yourself?"

You looked at her, head tilted, and brows furrowed. She continued her movements, her hand gently stroking your hair. You noticed the voices had quietened down significantly...

"Sure. Let’s talk about the case," she said eventually, resignation clear in her tone. "What are your theories? How’d she end up in the ravine? Trouble?" Her gaze went to you.

"My guess is she was killed elsewhere, probably rolled down the hill," you shrugged.

"No drag marks. Thinking the perp carried her," Agnes said.

"Uh… Seems logical, but you don’t really believe that because…" She stood up, placing the file down with pictures on it, taking a perch on the corner of Agnes' desk. "Oops. No tracks for the perp. Not a leaf disturbed before Forensics showed up. It’s almost like she just magically appeared," her voice took an odd tone, somewhat...coaxing?

"Let’s stick to reality here, yeah?" Your mother scoffed.

"Who hurt you? Whatever happened to alternate possibilities?" You rolled your eyes. "Like, who shat on your creativity?"

Rio stifled a laugh, earning a sharp glare from Agnes. She cleared her throat, "Sure,"

"If there’s one thing we can agree on, it’s that these cases are always about the place," Agnes' tone was clear with the taste of theory within it, the backing of facts, the slight hint of senility. "The specific small town, the history of it, the people in it, the secrets buried beneath it. That’s where the answers lie,"

"Well, who better to solve the mystery than one of Westview’s very own?" Rio shrugged, moving off her perch. "Yeah, you’ve lived here your whole life. Isn’t that true… Agnes?"

The pause was jarring, carrying notes of coaxing again, the same tone she'd used at the coffee shop.

"I don’t want you here," Agnes scowled.

"Yeah, because anything even remotely comforting in my life you seem to hate," you scoffed, looking at Rio. "I'm sorry about her, she keeps waking up on the wrong side of the bed,"

"It's all good, nena," she nodded, before leaving the files on the table for Agnes. "I'll get you ice cream sometime before I leave town,"

You nodded, high-fiving her, before she nodded at Agnes. "Te veo," she said, leaving.

Your gaze snapped to her, angry. "What is wrong with you?"

"Me? What's wrong with you? Getting all mushy-mushy with the feds," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Maybe because she actually cares about me more than you, you wanted to say.

"I dunno, maybe because her helping with your investigation might mean I'll be free to do what I want," you scowled. "But obviously, you wouldn't care about my happiness, would you?"

You saw a flash of anger pass over her face, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction. Maybe she finally understood how you felt, maybe this was hint enough—

"We're going to the pawn shop, come on," she snapped, standing up and grabbing her jacket.

No such luck.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, shrugging, "Sure thing,"

The pawn shop was musty, dank, and none too welcoming. You hated it.

“Is it real?” Agnes asked him.

“Oh, it’s real, all right. And it’s a beaut,” he said. “Where’d you get it?”

“Mind your beeswax, Norm,” she snapped. “Where’s it from? How old is it?”

“A picture of politeness and ladylike behaviour,” you rolled your eyes, playing around with a vintage puzzle box.

Norm chuckles in agreement before nodding, “North American. New England, maybe. Late 17th century, I guess. It’s made from cowrie shell,”

“What’s a cowrie?” She frowned.

“Sea snail,” he turned the brooch around and showed it to her, pointing at the ivory figures. “And these hotties here. That’s Triple Goddess. Maiden, Mother, Crone,”

“Common figures in witchcraft, late 17th century lore,” you added.

“What, no Working Professional Goddess?” She scoffed.

He chuckled and the brooch opened with a click, revealing a strand of hair. “Oh, hello,” he said. “Looks like your brooch is a locket. You looking to sell it, Agnes?”

She raised a brow. “How much you offering, Norm?”

“For you? Two hundred,” he shrugged.

“I smell bullshit,” you singsonged, grinning at him cheekily.

"Great. Now I know where to start the bidding on eBay," she snatched it back. "Come on, Y/n,"

"No, save me, Norm..." you mock-wailed, saluting him with two fingers as you exited the shop.

The sun went down and the moon came up, rising slowly in the sky as the nightly autumn chill set in. You napped on the couch, thoughts racing and mind a jumble of scenes and words while she worked.

"Go home, Agnes," Said the chief. "Or atleast call a cab for her," he nodded at your napping form.

"I am home, Chief," she said dismissively. "And I'm sure she's fine,"

The Chief switched her office lights off, earning a disgruntled noise of, "Hey!"

"Go home," he said forcefully.

You blinked sleepily as she shook your shoulder, groggy and tired.

"Come on, kid, we're going home," she said gruffly, grabbing her keys and her jacket, waiting for you.

You drowsily sat in the car, elbow leaning on the windowsill as you rested your cheek on your fist, dozing off slowly. You felt Agnes ruffle your hair gently.

“You did good today, kid,” she said quietly, as a quiet song played on the radio.

You smiled a little, tilting your head to fix your gaze on her. “Careful, you might say you love me, next,” you half-joked, earning a gentle punch to your shoulder.

She parked the car and got out of the driver’s seat, humming to herself still as you followed, still sleepy. You rested your forehead on her shoulder, slipping your hand into hers slowly. She sighed softly at that, but allowed it.

The house was quiet, you could sense some kind of odd energy around it—just like you’d felt an odd energy around everything else after meeting Rio at the cafe.

Almost like nothing was real…

You felt Agnes pull her hand from yours, saying, “I’ll set dinner in sometime,” she kept the distance between you both again. She went in his room, her movements slow and slightly sluggish.

You hated that room.

You heard a knock on the door as you lounged on the couch peacefully.

“What?” Came Agnes’ irritated voice.

“Did you know that it is a universally acknowledged truth that a lady cop cannot be good at her job and have a healthy personal life at the same time?” Came Rio’s voice. You heard the sound of pizza in a box. “Hungry?”

You sat up instantly, making space for Agnes on the couch, grinning when Rio came in.

“Hey, trouble,” she winked, taking a seat in the armchair, her blazer set aside and sitting in a comfy position, one leg perched on her knee, elbows resting comfortably on the armrests.

“Hi,” you smiled at her.

Agnes came with two beers and a bottle of cranberry juice for you. You accepted it with a slight smile towards her, still annoyed by before.

Soon, she started telling Rio cop stories like she used to do for you and him.

“So she’s a rookie, granted, but I say to her, ‘Has the suspect been seen in the last 24 hours?’” Agnes narrates, a laugh in her tone. “And she says, ‘Only on TikTok.’ And then I say, ‘Well, did you learn anything?’ And she says, ‘That I was totally using the wrong foundation brush.’”

You had taken a seat on the carpet in front of Rio, your back resting against her leg as she used her free hand to toy with the soft strands of your hair. You heard her chuckle and glanced up right when she smiled. You liked that expression. And when you heard Agnes laughing you liked it even more.

“Anyway…I have a lead in the case,” Agnes said.

“Oh do you? A lead which who gave you?” You raised a brow.

“Take it easy, trouble,” the FBI agent smiled. “That’s not why I came over,” Rio said. But she paused, before nodding. “But go ahead,”

“There was a car wreck, about an hour before time of death,” she stated.

“Where?” Rio asked.

“Eastview.”

“Eastview? See, I thought you turned into a pumpkin that far afield,”

She smirked. “Hey, I travel. I’m worldly,”

Rio chuckled. “Where have you traveled?“

You felt the answer on the tip of your tongue, but strangely you couldn’t tell past last year when you’d gone for a summer camp past Eastview.

Sensing the sudden shift in focus, Rio brought you both back. “Okay, so what about the car wreck?”

“Bloodstain in the back seat,” she stated, an odd look in her eye.

“You think that’s how they moved her?”

“Front two airbags deployed,”

“Maybe two perps?”

“Maybe,”

Rio squinted. “But you don’t like it,”

“My gut tells me they’re related,” Agnes shook her head, “But I can’t shake this feeling I’m seeing it wrong,”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,”

“Do you remember why you hate me?”

A pause. An uncomfortable, odd pause.

“No,”

“Are you hiding evidence?” She raised a brow.

“No,” she sighed.

“Well, you’re only lying to yourself—“ before she could finish, there was a loud clatter from upstairs. You moved to go investigate with her, but she shook her head.

“Stay here,” she scowled. “I don’t want you getting hurt in case the guy’s armed, that more paperwork for me,”

“Oh how thoughtful,” you rolled your eyes.

As she went upstairs to investigate, you sat on the couch again, patting it for Rio. “Wanna sit?”

She chuckled. “Sure thing,”

You turned on F.R.I.E.N.D.S, letting it play on a low volume, resting your body against hers. You lay your head in her lap eventually, letting her hand gently rub your arm soothingly.

Her voice was soft as she spoke. “Nena,” she said. “How’re the voices?”

“Loud,” you mumbled, shifting your knees up to your chest a little, an arm wrapping around them.

They got steadily louder as she spoke, making you wince and squirm slightly.

“Easy,” she warned.

“They’re so fucking loud…” you hissed, irritated. The objects in the room began to rattle slightly.

“You’re still Y/n,” she said softly. “But not this version,”

“The fuck do you mean?” You asked, irritated.

“I mean that she kept you trapped,”

“Who? Mom? Yeah no shit,”

She chuckled but shook her head. “No, not her. You remember her name,”

Flashes of something went through your mind—you saw everything in black and white at first. You felt the world tilt and bend, felt nausea rise at the back of your throat.

“She’s kept you in this prison,” she said softly. “She’s just kept you like this—docile, dormant…”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “Mom said the voices are just some psychological thing—“

“Listen to the voices,” Rio urged. “Hear them closely,”

Another flash of something—an empty street, crying boys, a woman in red with hair the colour of…scarlet.

“Wanda—“ you choked out, gasping. The voices slowed from a cacophony to different voices, familiar voices from your past.

All screaming into your ears one thing: Snap out of it.

“That’s right, nena,” she whispered. “Keep trying,”

Your eyes went dark, black throughout the whites and irises, smoky black magic curling at your fingertips. You looked around you at the still-bending reality.

“What’s real?” You gasped out, feeling the magic pulse with your blood. You felt complete for the first time in three years.

“She’s kept you imprisoned for three years, locking away your ability,” Rio said. “You’re not just angry at Agatha for these centuries of hurt, you’re angry at Wanda for making you feel…”

“Powerless,” you completed. “I’ve been feeling powerless because of her,”

She nodded, a sly smile on her face. “You wanna try something with me?”

You nodded, grinning somewhat evilly. “Sure,”

“First, I’m gonna have to project on your mom’s mind, wanna help with that?”

You nodded, devious smile on your face. “I thought you’d never ask,”

Her smile matched yours instantly. “That’s my girl,”

You saw Agnes entering the room with a random boy, making you frown in utter confusion, before you used your power to help Rio get in her head. While you did so, you felt clearer on your own powers.

You were just like Mami.

Dark magic, soul magic. The kind where you could stop a person’s breathing and pluck the very thing that made them human right from their system. The kind where you could change your face to anyone who’d had a beating heart at will. The kind where you could shake the devil’s hand while playing with the angels.

Life and Death, you were the balance.

You felt time ticking by slowly but surely, you headed up to your room in a daze. You saw it clearly now—you understood just how senile you and your mother had been acting the past few days.

“Sleep,” you heard Rio’s voice in your head.

You did.

The next morning you woke up to sunlight streaming through your curtains, the day was warm. You squirmed out from under the covers, noticing yourself in the mirror. You smirked a little. You looked visibly warmer, as if lifting the spell had breathed some extra life into you. Ironic.

Just to check if last night was real, you moved your fingers like your mother had taught you, lifting a pencil and placing it down simply. You grinned with clear, childlike excitement.

“I’m back, baby,” you smirked.

However, your thoughts were interrupted by a loud, angry scream from downstairs.

You nearly fell as you ran down, knife in hand already. It lowered instantly as you saw Agatha in the room.

Naked.

Your own scream matched hers as you covered your eyes with your hands. “Mom get some fucking clothes on, you disgusting woman!”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “I assume she got you out, too?”

“Obviously,” you grumbled.

“What’s up your ass this morning?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that the first thing I see upon being fully conscious is my mother standing in the living room stark-staring NAKED?”

Before you could comprehend her fast reply, she had dashed out of the house, making you groan in annoyance. You ran out after her, but not before you pulled on a jacket to hide your face with.

“Mom, mama, mother, please—“ you pleaded, looking through her rather than at her, trying to fix how awkward this was.

“Oh! Whoa!” You heard Herb exclaim. “What? What is going on? Hey, Miss Agnes, you—you feeling okay today?”

“Stop talking,” she snapped. “How long have I been here?”

“Uh… What?” You saw him put his hand up to cover…things from his vision.

“How long have I been living in this cesspool of a town?” She asked none to politely.

“You don’t remember?” He asked, baffled.

“Yet you remember and retain the same attitude as ‘Agnes’,” you scoffed.

“Catch me up,” she scowled, ignoring you.

“About three years,” he nodded.

“Three years?” She exclaimed. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she realised. “Wanda,”

“We try not to say her name,” he mumbled.

“Ugh!” She exclaimed. “Because you’re cowards, because you’re sheep. What have I been doing all this time?”

“Being bitchy to really nice people, for starters,” you rolled your eyes.

Herb chuckled but continued just as nervously. "Well, you’ve mostly been a good neighbor. A bit too casual with your boundaries…"

Triggered, she snapped, "Call me “nosy,” I’ll cut out your tongue."

"How polite," you grumbled.

"Yeah...you haven’t been yourself the past few days," he admitted. "Almost like you got bit by the true crime bug. Now that's normal for Y/n, obviously, but you? Nah,"

"So…So what? I’ve just been spouting nonsense and you’ve just been humoring me?" She scowled.

"I mean, folks been trying to help out, you know, stopping by and bringing you groceries and checking up on you," he explained, his eyes not meeting hers.

"Oh, I get it," Agatha chuckled sarcastically, her eyes on Dottie and her husband, who were trying to get their daughter back inside frantically. "Librarian. Chief of police," Her eyes landed on Norm, who jogged backwards upon meeting her gaze. "Oh! Jeweler,"

As she spoke, Herb tried covering her up with his jacket--a futile thing, really, since she threw it off her body instantly.

"This is where hope goes to die," she sneered.

"You know, um...besides the fact that you’re, um…" he gestured at her with his head. "You seem pretty lucid for a change. Aggressive, even. Powerful."

"Oh god, please don't feed into her ego," you begged, irritated.

"What did you say?" She asked softly, eyes drifting to him.

"I said, “Powerful,” but look, Agnes, if…"

"It’s Agatha,"

"Agnes' more annoying, bitchy counterpart," you interjected, earning a smack upside your head.

"Okay. Agatha. Yeah," he nodded, awkwardly. "Can you put on some clothes?" She groaned angrily and stalked off into the house, with you following in embarrassment. "‘Cause you… ‘Cause you’re naked..."

You stormed after her in anger, slamming the door shut behind you. "Mom, we need to talk--"

"No. No!" You heard her exclaim as you noticed how her hands were devoid of one very, very familiar thing. Her purple.

You shook your head. Inside, you were a mess of emotions. You were shocked, scared, angry, confused, and exhausted all in one. You hated this. Hated how she still didn't give you the time of day, how she constantly went after the same thing over and over again. Like always. You grabbed her wrist sharply.

"Mom stop!" You exclaimed, holding her back.

"Did she take yours, too?" She cut you off, her hand yanking away from your grip.

"No, I can, unfortunately, still see the dead, feel the dead, and control...hm...oh yeah, the dead," you rolled your eyes. "But that's not the point! The point is--and she's gone."

Agatha had gone back down to her basement, which, in Wanda's hex, was a whole witchy lair. Now it was just the laundry room. The pentagram was gone, your special little 'quiet corner' with barricade runes was gone, the comforting scent of incense and magic was overpowered by the smell of washing machine grease and Tide Pods.

You saw a bunny hop out from under the washing machine, and Agatha was quick to lift him up and cuddle him close. "I got mugged, mister. She took every little bit of power I had and left me with household appliances,"

Her gaze landed on you. "We gotta get back on top,"

You rolled your eyes. "So much for a normal suspension,"

From upstairs, you both heard a loud thudding noise, and immediately, you ran up and yanked open the coat closet door to see...a boy? With duct tape on his mouth and legs?

"MOM!" You exclaimed, horrified. "Come ON! Have some basic human sense!"

Nonchalantly she shrugged, "So that arrest was maybe more of a kidnapping,"

"You think, lady?!"

"Keep it civil, little miss," she warned, before pointing at the boy. "But if you’re real and not a figment of my imprisoned mind, then that means…"

The door burst open, splintering and completely broken off its hinges, making you duck and cover your head, grabbing Señor Scratchy, and holding him tight to keep him safe. You placed him under the hallways table, keeping him away from the broken glass and wood. Agatha got blown back by the force of the impact, falling in a heap on the floor.

“Shit. Mom!” Your exclaimed, about to help, but she put a hand out to stop you.

“Don’t!” She snapped, making your features darken, as you stopped.

You saw a figure clad in black, a familiar woman, and your heart leapt at the sight of her. She flew at your mother before she stood with her knife poised at the base of Agatha’s collarbone, the woman pinned with the force of it, where her pulse beat steadily against the skin.

“I’ve missed you,” Rio giggled diabolically.

“I hate you,” Agatha snarled.

“Just like you do everyone you love,” you scoffed, shrugging. “Hi, Mami,”

“Hey nena,” she replied, eyes fixed on your mother. “How long has it been, Agatha?” Rio asked, pushing harsher against her grip.

“Not sure,” she groaned, you could sense her seething.

“Since you acquired the Darkhold, you hid behind all that dark magic, but then you lost it, and now…” she chuckled darkly, the tip of her knife kissing the skin of her collarbone, making Agatha wince. “Touch. You’re vulnerable,”

She eased, “Only physically,”

In moments, she grabbed Rio’s head, slammed it into a wall, making you wince as the knife clattered to the side. You winced as Agatha gripped the blade against Rio’s blow, the blood in the xarpet smelling metallic and nauseating.

“Do you remember pain?” Rio gasped. “It kind of tickles, doesn’t it?”

Chuckling dryly, Agatha panted, “Coochie coochie coo,”

After a good minute of them struggling like cats, with Agatha pinning Rio down by the throat, you made a slight attempt to help.

You grabbed your mother by the shoulders and held them apart, angry.

“Will you two hopeless lesbians just cut it out?!” You asked, your palms pressed against each of their chests. “This is fucking infuriating!”

“Stay out of this, Y/n,” Agatha snarled, her eyes on Rio.

“It’s best for you, nena,” added Rio.

“Well how about we be a normal family and perhaps go for dinner instead of you trying to kill each other!”

“You can’t kill me,” your mom hissed at Rio. “You can’t kill me. It’s not allowed,”

“Maybe I can’t kill you,” Rio said, angrily, blowing her back into the cabinet. “But I can make you wish you were dead,”

Agatha groaned, sitting up. “Wait, wait, wait,” she gasped. “This isn’t what you want. Me without power,”

You shrugged at Rio, mumbling, “Maybe it’s better if she didn’t have any power, selfish bitch,”

Agatha laughed, glaring at you just a little. “This is undignified,” she looked at Rio. “Don’t you want me at my best?” She stood, you noticed her her voice droppin to that horrible, infuriating, manipulative whisper. “Admit it. You prefer me—“

“Horizontal?” Rio interrupted. After a pause, she added “In a grave?”

“Formidable,” Agatha corrected.

“So take my power,” she shrugged.

Your mother chuckled humourlessly, nodding at her. “That’s cute. But you know that would kill me. Just…let me get my purple back. And then come find me,”

“I am not the only one that wants to see you dead,” Rio scoffed. “Wants to see you burn. Or hang or drown.”

Disconcerted, Agatha tried to lighten the statement, saying, “There are no new options?”

“I could just sit back and watch,” Rio shrugged.

Slowly, like a cat prowling to its prey, she approached her, voice but a whisper. “Come on. You love it. The anticipation…”

“Okay, Agatha,” Rio conceded, looking down and shaking her head with a chuckle. “But I’ll be sure to tell them where to find you.”

“Who, specifically?” She and you asked in unison.

“Mmm! The worst of them. The Salem Seven,” Rio said. Noticing your panicked expression, she added, “Not you, nena. Just your mother,”

Turning back to agatha she shrugged. “I expect you’ll see them at sundown. After all these centuries, Agatha Harkness will finally meet her end. Ugh! It really warms the heart,”

“You don’t have a heart,” Agatha snapped.

Pulling her close all of a sudden, Rio spoke in a low voice, full of conviction. “Yes, I do. It’s black. And it beats for you,”

She lifted the hand from which blood was dripping and in one long, clean swipe of her tongue, healed it.

You made a face with disgust. “Mami, ew,” you muttered. “You’re so gay, my god,”

Rio laughed, shooting Agatha a look, squeezing your cheeks with one hand gently and quickly before she whispered, “I’ll see you sometime soon, nena.”

As she went to the doorway, she glanced at Agatha, shrugging, “Te veo,” before leaving.

You both stood there in silence for a good moment, before you asked awkwardly, “So…what do we do about the door?”

She looked at you, baffled, her chin held delicately between her thumb and forefinger in thought. “The door?”

“Yeah, she blew it off its hinges,”

“Do you see the state of my sitting room?”

You glanced around at the catastrophic sight. She had a point.

“Yeah, I’m grabbing myself some breakfast, it is far too early for me to deal with…this,” you shrugged, going to the kitchen. “You want anything?”

Agatha didn’t respond, clearly thinking about Rio’s appearance. With a frustrated groan, she was about to stomp away, when she heard some indistinct mumbling from her closet.

Yanking it open, with you behind her, cereal bowl in hand and munching on Lucky Charms, she sighed at the sight of the boy with his mouth and limbs taped up.

“Oh, right, you,”

@eletricheart , @misty-melody , @mmemalwa , @skittlebum , @lexietargaryen , @natashasmuse , @angelbeingatitspurest , @skittledemon, @wandasreallover , @gaylorvader , @lovelyy-moonlight , @lizziescutiepie , @rosierogie , @lanadelreyaesthic, @circe143 , @babybeeelle

hello my bao buns! sorry for the delay, i hope you liked this one! let me know what you think <3

love, jaya

[azrielbrainrot]

Pull My Strings

Pairing: Rhysand x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Mind Control

Description: Rhysand has dealt with numerous assassins over the years, but none was quite as captivating as you.

Warnings: Smut, mind control, dubcon/noncon (reader consents but she's being mind controlled so), vaginal sex

Word Count: 1,9k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: Please pay attention to the warnings and only read if you're truly comfortable with it, I know this story won't be for everyone. This is my version of Rhys if he had lost his mind when his family died and he's quite honestly a villain. Hope you enjoy!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Rhysand's lips traced your jaw, humming against your skin, reveling in your taste, strong hands holding onto your waist as you sat on his lap, your own hands lost in his hair, pulling him closer as he traveled lower, marking up your chest with his teeth. It's not often you get distracted during a mission, but the High Lord was certainly making it hard to think.

You can't help the tremble that runs through your body when his warm tongue circles your nipple, expert fingers pulling the dark fabric of your dress to the side to give him access, a moan following it when he nibbles on it teasingly. Gods, you needed to focus, you hadn't even noticed him touching your dress.

As soon as you were presented with this target, you knew this wouldn't be like any other job you accepted before. The Night Court's High Lord was renowned for his cruelty as well as his bottomless power. No matter how confident you were in your abilities and how successful you've been thus far, this would be a particularly dangerous mission which is why you decided to use a different approach.

Seducing Rhysand hadn't been too difficult, his eyes seemed to follow you ever since you stepped foot into his banquet, dressed in a deep purple gown, and after some initial pleasantries and a few charming words you had been invited to dinner the following day, this time at a different estate instead of his own home in the Hewn City.

This seemed to be a vacation home of some sort, even though it looked well lived in. You had never heard of the city shining below either, as beautiful as it was, which led you to believe that this was the sort of place the High Lord used when a pretty female such as yourself caught his eye, keeping her away from his court and responsibilities. The Court of Nightmares wasn't an inviting place, too dark and gloomy even for an assassin, so you had been glad to be moved to a different city. It would also help with your escape, - the Hewn City had to be a lot more heavily guarded than Velaris.

Dinner had been more than pleasant, but you hadn't expected anything less of the charming and stupidly handsome High Lord. Even if you didn't need it for the success of your mission, you think you might have ended up in his bed anyway. It was truly a shame that you had been sent here to kill him, you would have probably gotten along quite well, especially if you could both drop the act.

“Distracted, darling?”

His deep voice cuts through your thoughts, grounding you back in the present and the feeling of his lips on your skin as he kisses up your throat once again. You hold the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss in lieu of an answer, tongue dipping into his mouth and stroking his as you unbutton his silky shirt, revealing more of his tanned skin and some strange marks covering his shoulders.

His hands caress your legs, slowly making his way up your bunched up dress until he's holding onto your thighs, fingers playing with the lacey panties you'd worn for the occasion, a shiver running down your spine. It almost pains you to reach for your dagger, making sure he's lost in your kiss before lifting it to his chest, intent on plunging the blade through his heart.

Rhysand pulls away before you can, holding onto your wrist right as you the blade makes contact with his skin, the sharp tip slashing across his chest, a minor, pathetic wound compared to what you had meant to do.

“I was hoping you wouldn't do that.”

“What-”

The High Lord watches you with a somewhat disappointed expression, a sigh escaping his lips as he tightens his grip on your wrist until you drop the knife, the sound of the metal hitting the expensive floor boards echoing throughout the empty house, signaling your defeat. He loosens his hold on your wrist immediately, running a thumb across the tender skin apologetically, even lifting it up to his lips, kissing away the pain.

For someone who had almost been murdered, he was entirely too calm, - it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. He was touching you too delicately, staring into your eyes with the same enamored look as before, as if he truly had no intention of hurting his assassin. You briefly wonder if you could get away at least, but he shuts down that train of thought quickly by letting go of the glamor he uses to keep his power at bay, night incarnate spreading around the room, suffocating you in its intensity.

If that wasn't enough, you also feel sharp claws easily breaking through your mental walls. When you whimper out at the pain you discover that he was now in control of your body, seeing as if you can't even raise your hand to hold your head when it felt like it was about to split open. Purple eyes watching you all the while, never straying from yours even as he searched through every corner of your brain.

“How long have you known?”

Although your body was immobilized due to his revolting daemati abilities, he seemed not to care to restrain you further, allowing you to speak or scream if you so wished. You knew it was futile to call for help, the house was likely soundproofed, and even if it weren't, no one would help you when you had just been about to murder their High Lord - you wonder if anyone was strong enough to pry you away from his grasp.

He also seemed content with keeping you perched on his lap like a living doll, watching you with a strange glint in his eyes, something that unsettled you far more than anything else he could have done. If it weren't for your pride, you might have started begging for a quick, painless death.

“You're sadly not the first assassin that thinks to seduce me before attempting to stab a knife in my back.” He had known since you stepped foot in this court then. He hums in response, unashamedly listening to your thoughts, smirking at the glare you send him before adding, “But I must say, you're by far the most tantalizing.”

“Chest,” you correct, doing your best to look down at the still open wound and the blood pouring out, “I was going to stab you through your chest.” The anger you felt was so pronounced that it almost made the fear non-existent, almost.

“I knew you'd be perfect,” he murmurs, cupping your cheek, softly caressing the skin with his thumb. You have no time to linger in those words or the wistfulness in his eyes before he speaks up again. “Close your eyes for me.” Your body follows his command immediately, those talons of his clawing deeper into you, his voice echoing inside your head and replacing everything else.

You've been sent to Prythian to kill the Night Court's High Lord. Upon meeting him you couldn't help but feel drawn to him, finding yourself captivated by his charm and good looks, your heart stirring like it had never before. You accepted his invitation to dinner in his home, and just as you were about to pierce his skin, you found yourself unable to, letting the knife fall to the floor as soon as you saw blood coating the blade, begging for his forgiveness and proclaiming your rising affection for him.

“You can open your eyes,” Rhysand says, both hands now cupping your cheeks as tears start falling desperately from your eyes. You find yourself blinking away some of the momentary confusion before looking down at the flesh wound on his chest, already closing due to his fast healing, remembering your current predicament.

“Oh Gods, I'm so sorry,” you cry out, guilt like you had never felt before crashing over your body. How could you hurt the only male that you had ever cared about? “I didn't know what else to do. If they found out I let you live they'd come after me so I tried but I couldn't bring myself to kill you. You're-”

“No need to apologize again, darling,” he cuts you off, kissing the corner of your mouth and wiping the tears off. “I know you won't hurt me.”

“I'll accept any punishment you see fit.”

Rhysand chuckles adoringly, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “You will not be punished for something you didn't do.” Both of you look down at the knife laying on the floor, the scent of his blood clinging to it. “Like you said, you had no other choice.”

“Then what happens now?”

“Tomorrow you will tell me and Azriel all about the people who sent you so I can make sure they will not hurt you,” he starts, standing up from his chair and taking you with him, your legs wrapping around his body for stability. With one step, Rhysand winnows you to a dark room, his own you presumed. “Right now, I wouldn't mind you showing me just how sorry you are.”

With his suggestion comes the memory of his lips on yours, how every touch strayed you farther from your initial objective and deeper into madness. You lean down to kiss him passionately, gladly swallowing the moan he lets out, intent on doing exactly what he said, and show him not only how sorry you were but how this foreign feeling he evoked in you threatened to make you lose your mind.

Rhysand wastes no time in walking you to his bed, frenzied hands roaming each other's bodies, never quite getting enough. He drops you on the mattress unceremoniously, pulling away to strip the rest of his clothes as your eyes trail over his body, lingering on the cut across his heart, a mix of guilt and pride rising within you.

“You should be proud,” he says, your eyes finding his in confusion. “No one has ever gotten this close.”

As soon as the words leave his abused lips, you feel your dress dematerializing, only a few particles floating in the air accompanied by a strange fabric smell, your body now completely naked as he studied it appreciatively, much like you had been doing to him. You hadn't been aware of this power of his, you didn't even know it was something that existed in this world.

“I never stood a chance, did I?”

“Maybe you did,” he purrs, a confident smirk falling over his lips as he leans over you, positioning himself between your legs, the weight of his cock as it pressed against your stomach sending goosebumps erupting all over your body. “I can feel the power bubbling under your skin, you were wasted on that guild.”

“Use me,” you breathe out, wrapping your legs around his waist as he guides his thick cock to your entrance, a moan escaping him at not only the feeling of your cunt swallowing him but also your words. “I will serve you better than I ever did them. I'll be your sword and your shield, and anything else you need from me. I'm at your mercy, my High Lord.”

“Don't worry, my love,” he says, mesmerized by the way his cock slips in and out of your soaked cunt, drunk on the feeling, eyes traveling across your body, not wanting to miss a single detail. “I have every intention to.”

[xiakato]

WENDY - Fatal Attraction (M)

“Would you still think of me the same?” 

“Give it a moment of silence and maybe I will,” Her eyes always had you in a trance leaving you breathless. Her eyes felt like they knew everything about you at a glance. 

“You want me then you don’t Y/n what kind of love is that?” She asks you as she stands up walking towards you, her heels click against the floor. 

“It’s my kind of love,” You tell her as she straddles you, her slender fingers running through your hair.

“Everytime we touch, it feels like you can take everything from me,” Her voice low and sultry, “I get lost in your eyes and then your touch,” Your hands subconsciously run up her thighs. Her breath tickles your neck, feeling her lips graze against your neck. She crackles a small smile as she feels your hands travel higher, “I know you will miss the love I give,” Her tongue licking up your neck, “You won’t forget my name.” 

Your hands grab what that can grab of her, leaving her to laugh at your desperation. She spins around pressing her ass against your hardening bulge. Your hands gravitate to her waist, moving one to her neck, pushing her back against you. Your lips find their target, kissing her navel, “You can’t blame me Wendy,” her hands grip onto yours. 

“You know that I can't be yours,” She moans as your hand tightens ever so slightly more around her neck, “But you don’t care do you?” 

“I’ll make you mine, and mine alone,” You tell her as she starts to move her hips, “You know better than I do that nobody can compare to me,” 

“I’m addicted to the way you move across that line,” She bites her lip, she always loved the feeling of being in your arms, “To your danger,” She can’t help but to laugh, “ You’re like a fucking drug to me.”

“I’m only playing with you Wendy,” Your voice softer than you thought it would be as the music plays in the background. She slowly grinds on you, ignoring your words. 

“I like the games that you play, I’m in too deep Daddy,” She smiles, “I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to,” her nails digging into your forearms, something that she always loved to do on body, the scars on your back is evidence of that. Pushing her down to her knees, a smile still etched across her face. She kisses your bulge through your pants, “So big,” She bites her lip as her small delicate fingers dance across your shaft. Making short work of your pants, your cock springs out hitting her face, as she smiles more taking in a deep breath as your cock rests on her face, “So thick,” Her lips wrapping around your shaft, Her eyes are fixated with your cock. Her kisses are the best no matter where they are placed. Your hand gravitates to the back of her head, your fingers intertwining with her hair.  The silky strands falling perfectly between your fingers, her mouth does what it does best just behind singing. She works up and down on your shaft with her mouth, her tongue gliding underneath. Getting impatient, you push yourself down her throat sliding down with ease. Her gag reflex is long gone through the practice she has had with you. Her eyes close as you fuck her throat, her nails digging into your thighs.  Pulling out of her mouth watching the spit fall onto the floor, you throw her back to the couch pulling up her skirt.  

“Please daddy,” She looks back at her, a slight wiggle of her ass, “Hurry and fuck me, make me yours,” Spreading her ass for you, she’s dripping making a mess of your couch. Who are you to make her wait? Your cock slides into her without any resistance. Her walls tighten around you, “F-f-fuck,” Her breathy moans fill the room, “Fuck me hard please Daddy,” She begs and begs pushing her hips back against you. Your hands grip on to her hips giving her what she wants.

“Is this what you wanted?” She takes your cock so well, just like you trained her to. She nods desperately, “Take this cock little slut.”

“Give it to me daddy,” Her moans fill the room, skin against skin. Her eyes rolling to the back of her head, her hands loosen their grip on the couch. You love the way she's putty under you. Her juices squirt covering the couch and the floor. Her body shakes as you keep up your pace. She takes it, doesn’t tell you to stop. She knows that you wouldn’t listen anyways. You pull her hair, making her look into the mirror above the couch, “P-please,” She begs again but for what? You don't know, “Ruin me daddy.” 

You take her words to heart and set out to do just that, her body reacts to you in its trained way. You own her and you are going to show her that you do. Her hair pulled, red hand prints on her ass. “Such a slut,” You mutter as she squirts again with your hand around her pretty little neck. Pulling out, you watch her collapse sliding off the couch to the floor, laying in the puddle of her own creation. “Come on and crawl to the bedroom,” You watch as she struggles to her knees and slowly crawls, you leave heavy slaps on her ass as she does. Her whimpers are music to your ears, finally she makes it to the room. You pull her to the bed by her hair, tying her hands to the headboard. Her abs are what drew you to her in the first place then and now you still love them.  Pulling out an ice cube you gently place onto her midriff causing her hips to buckle. The ice cube starts to melt onto her hot skin, your fingers make their way between her folds. Her eyes locked onto your hands as your fingers found their way inside.

“R-ruin me,” She begs again, “Not with your fingers Daddy, b-but with that big fat cock,” She begs more and more, making you chuckle. You watch her as becomes more undone as your fingers make short work of her orgasm, The ice cube fully melted, the remaining water sits in the curves of her midriff. Her body reacts to the littlest of any touch by you. Untying her hands from the ropes, her arms go limp. The rope dug into her skin leaving marks, you pulled her towards you, pushing her legs to her head. Slamming your cock into her without much warning. You take her for everything she’s worth. Her stomach bulges as you pound away. Her moans are hoarse and nearly inaudible. Her arms wrap around your neck, max she could muster. You fill her up, not even bothering to tell her about the incoming orgasm from you. You keep going, she wanted you to ruin her and that’s what you were going to do. She takes load after load, no complainants, this is what she wanted. You pull out for the last time, your cum dripping out of her, her legs go limp and fall to the bed. You catch your breath, “Why don’t you quit idol work and come be my everyday cumdump?” 

“I-is that your way of proposing?” She asks between her breaths, you chuckle nodding, “I thought you’d never ask Daddy.”

[lucyblue101]

All of me, loves all of you

Satoru x reader

Authors note: angst, comfort, happy ending. Satoru needs reassurance

The night had been particularly long for both of them. The familiar weight of exhaustion hung over their shared space, but it wasn’t just the day’s physical toll on their bodies. Something in the air felt different—charged with an emotion that neither of them had put into words. The dim light of the moon filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. The gentle hum of the city below was the only sound besides the quiet breathing of two people who had been through more than anyone should.

Satoru Gojo, however, was far from resting. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind far away from the warm embrace of sleep. He could hear the rhythmic breathing of Y/N beside him, the gentle rise and fall of her chest a soothing contrast to the turmoil inside him. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her—he did, more than anything. But tonight, something was gnawing at him. It wasn’t new; it had been lingering for some time, but it was heavier now, pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn’t shake.

He turned his head, his eyes shifting to her as she slept soundly. The moonlight caught the soft curve of her face, the way her hair fanned out across the pillow, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she dreamed. She was so peaceful, so perfect, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but stare.

His fingers twitched as he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. His heart swelled at the sight of her, but also twisted in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He was her protector, her partner, but sometimes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t enough for her. That maybe, despite everything, he couldn’t give her the life she deserved.

“Gojo?” Y/N’s soft voice broke through the stillness, and he froze, his gaze shifting to her as she stirred, blinking sleepily at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just admiring you. You look so peaceful.”

Y/N frowned, her senses kicking in as she noticed the sadness in his eyes. She didn’t speak right away, letting the moment linger as she studied his face. Something wasn’t right. She could feel it.

“Satoru,” she whispered, sitting up and turning to face him. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed deeply, the weight of his emotions seeping into his tone. He wasn’t good at this. Not at all. He had his walls, his own ways of coping with everything the world threw at him. But in that moment, with her soft eyes on him, he couldn’t pretend anymore. “I just... I just feel like I’m not enough for you sometimes. I want to be everything for you, Y/N, but it doesn’t feel like I am. You deserve so much more than what I can give you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. The words he said were so quietly desperate, so vulnerable, that it sent a shockwave through her. He was the mighty Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer—how could he doubt himself, doubt what they had?

“Don’t say that, baby,” she whispered, reaching out to gently cup his face in her hands. “You’re more than enough for me.”

But he shook his head, pulling away slightly. “I don’t want you to just settle for me, Y/N. I want to be the person you need. But sometimes I think I fail you.”

“Stop,” she said, her voice a little more firm, her heart breaking at the sight of him—this man who carried so much on his shoulders. “You don’t fail me. Never. Please don’t think that way.”

He looked at her for a long moment before standing up, running a hand through his messy hair. “I need some air. I think it’ll help clear my mind.”

Y/N sat there for a moment, watching him with concern, her heart pulling in her chest. She couldn’t let him go like this. She couldn’t let him suffer alone. Without saying a word, she stood up and followed him.

“I can come with you, right?” she asked, her voice tentative.

He turned to look at her, his expression unreadable, before nodding slowly. “Yeah. You can.”

They walked to the balcony in silence, the cool night air greeting them as they stepped outside. The city stretched out below them, lights twinkling like a distant galaxy, but everything felt so quiet. So lonely.

Satoru leaned against the railing, his hands gripping it tightly. He looked out at the horizon, the flickering lights, but his mind was still far away. Y/N approached him slowly, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her forehead gently against his back. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the weight of his thoughts, the heaviness that he carried.

“I love you, you know?” she whispered, her voice full of certainty. “I love you so much.”

Satoru let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into the railing as if to hold himself together. “Do you?” His voice was barely a whisper, tinged with doubt. “Are you sure? Because I... I love you more than anything. More than anything in the world.”

Her heart shattered at the question, at the raw vulnerability in his voice. It was as though he was asking for reassurance, something he’d never really done before.

She stepped around to face him, lifting her hands to gently cup his face, guiding him to look at her. His eyes were red-rimmed, the corners wet with unshed tears, and it took everything in her not to fall apart.

“I love you so, so much, Satoru,” she said, her voice steady, though her heart ached. “I love you with everything I have.”

He shook his head, his voice cracking. “But what if I’m not enough? What if you’re just—what if you’re just staying with me out of pity?”

“No!” she gasped, pulling him closer, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly. “No, baby, no. You are everything to me. You’re not just enough. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more. Don’t you see that?”

Satoru’s hands trembled as they slid around her, holding her close. The tears that had been building up finally spilled over, his shoulders shaking with emotion. He buried his face in her hair, his voice muffled as he spoke. “I’m afraid you’ll realize one day that you deserve someone better than me.”

Y/N held him tighter, her heart aching as she whispered into his ear. “Satoru... I love the fact that you’re kind. I love that you’re so sweet, even when the world doesn’t deserve it. I love the way you try to protect everyone, even when it tears you apart. I love that what people don’t know about you is that you’re so gentle. I love your heart, the way it cares so deeply. I love the way your eyes look when you’re completely vulnerable... the way you look right now. I love your body, your eyes, your hair, your smile. I love every part of you... even the parts you think are dirty and ugly. Every single part of you. You are enough, Satoru. You are everything.”

As soon as the words left her lips, Satoru’s whole body shook. He gasped as if he had been holding his breath the entire time, his heart racing wildly. His hands clutched at her even tighter, as though afraid she would slip away. His head dropped to her shoulder, tears soaking through her shirt as he let himself break in her arms.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t deserve any of this, but I want you... I want to be the man you deserve. Please don’t leave me.”

Y/N cupped his face, pulling him back to look at her. “I’m not going anywhere, Satoru. I’m here. I’m not going to leave you.”

He stared into her eyes for a long moment before, in an almost instinctive motion, he pressed her hand against his chest, right over his heart. “This is yours, Y/N. My heart... it’s yours. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re everything to me. Please never doubt that.”

She felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm, and she smiled through her tears. It was like the weight of the world had lifted off of him, and somehow, it had lifted from her as well.

“I love you so much, Satoru,” she whispered again, her voice full of certainty.

He kissed her forehead softly, then her cheeks, tasting the salt of her tears, before finally pressing his lips to hers, slow and deep. She melted into him, her heart still racing, but this time it was from joy. From the overwhelming sense that they were finally, truly together—no walls, no doubts, no barriers.

They stood there for a long time, kissing, holding each other as if the world had faded away. And when they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The night was quiet again, but this time, it was filled with the unspoken promise of love—of a love that was theirs, unbreakable and infinite.

Satoru pressed another kiss to the top of her head, tightening his arms around her

Tag list (let me know if you wanna go on it 🥹)

@canigotosleep--plz

@haruhatake

@hargun-s

@tibibibi123

@itsafairytalekay

@mistymuii

@moonchhu

[bookwormjust]

Contagious Laughter (established relationship with Azriel, a night with the IC)

The stars twinkled overhead, casting a soft glow over the terrace of the River House as the Inner Circle gathered for one of their rare, relaxed evenings together. The gentle hum of the Sidra in the background, combined with the warm summer air, made the night feel almost magical. It had been a long time since all of you had shared such a carefree moment—no looming missions, no urgent matters, just a night of food, wine, and laughter.

You sat nestled against Azriel, his wing draped casually around your shoulders, providing that comforting warmth and protection only he could offer. The evening had been filled with stories, teasing, and the kind of camaraderie that could only come from years of friendship and shared battles.

Feyre was in the middle of telling a story about Cassian, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Cassian, as usual, had done something utterly ridiculous during training—something that had resulted in an awkward tumble into a mud pit, much to everyone’s amusement.

“And then,” Feyre continued with a grin, “he tried to make it seem like he did it on purpose, claiming he was showing the recruits how to 'improvise in an unexpected situation.'” She raised her eyebrows in mock seriousness, perfectly mimicking Cassian's exaggerated tone.

Cassian groaned, running a hand through his hair, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “It was a demonstration. They needed to learn how to adapt,” he defended himself, though his smirk betrayed him.

Rhys snorted, shaking his head. “Sure, brother. Tripping over a rock and faceplanting into mud was a tactical move.”

Nesta raised a brow, sipping her wine. “If I remember correctly, you got stuck in the mud for a good five minutes before the recruits had to help you out.”

That did it. Feyre burst into laughter, and you couldn’t hold back your own as her words hit Cassian right where it hurt his pride. Your laugh bubbled up, loud and infectious, a sound that you couldn’t contain even if you tried. You weren’t sure why it struck you so funny—the image of Cassian stuck in the mud, or maybe the way he was now pretending to sulk in his seat. Either way, once you started laughing, it became impossible to stop.

And it wasn’t just you. The moment your laughter filled the air, it seemed to catch on like wildfire. Feyre joined in fully, her own giggles contagious. Then Rhys started chuckling, and even Nesta, who was usually so composed, let out a soft laugh, shaking her head at her mate’s misfortune.

Cassian threw his hands up in mock exasperation. “Oh, come on, now everyone’s laughing? It wasn’t that bad!”

But his indignant words only made you laugh harder, clutching your stomach as the sound of your joy echoed across the terrace. Azriel, who had been quietly amused from the start, now had a smile tugging at his lips, his eyes soft as he looked down at you. And though he wasn’t one to laugh loudly, you could feel the rumble of his chest as your laugh pulled him deeper into the moment.

“I swear,” Cassian muttered, though there was no hiding the grin on his face, “one day, you’ll all be stuck in a mud pit, and I won’t help you out. We’ll see who’s laughing then.”

“That’s assuming you don’t get stuck again first,” Rhys teased, and that was it—any control left dissolved as the laughter continued to ripple through the group.

You gasped for breath, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “Cass… stuck in the mud… trying to demonstrate tactics!” you managed between bursts of laughter, your voice uneven as you leaned into Azriel, who was watching you with open affection.

Cassian crossed his arms, pretending to be offended, but you could see the way his eyes sparkled. “You know,” he said with mock seriousness, “I liked you better before you joined this lot.”

You shook your head, still catching your breath. “No, you didn’t. You love that I’m here, and you know it.”

He grumbled something unintelligible, but the smile on his face gave him away.

Azriel, finally speaking for the first time since the teasing began, leaned in close and whispered, “You’re contagious, you know that?”

You glanced up at him, your cheeks flushed from laughing. “Contagious?”

“Your laugh.” He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I think it’s impossible not to laugh when you do.”

Warmth spread through you at his words, and as you looked around at your friends, all of them still riding the wave of humor you’d sparked, you couldn’t help but feel the deep sense of belonging. These were your people—your family. And no matter what dangers you might face tomorrow, no matter how hard things could get, moments like these were what made everything worth it.

With a sigh of contentment, you snuggled closer into Azriel’s side, his wings wrapping more securely around you. The night stretched on, filled with more teasing, more stories, and more laughter. But it was that one moment—the shared joy, the warmth of Azriel beside you, and the sound of everyone laughing together—that you would hold onto the most.

[stevesgother]

The 4th - S.H

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI NSFW, cursing, drinking, characters are all of age, takes place after the events of ST3, slight exhibitionism only bc they’re technically outside, it’s that slightly awkward but endearing sex you have when you fuck someone you like for the first time. It's realistic. Sue me.

AN: first time writing smut, i'm so nervous. fast times au?? If you squint?? the last half isn't proofread bc i simply cannot bring myself to read my own smut

‘American Woman’ by The Guess Who blares loudly from a twin pair of Hitachi speakers stationed on Steve Harrington’s back deck. On the hottest day of the year, The Party had decided to congregate at the only non-public pool they had unlimited access to.

To his relief, Steve had been assigned to grill duty again. The cherry red bikini you had sauntered through his sliding glass door wearing was starting to seriously inconvenience him. He had his Ray Bans on, albeit low on the bridge of his nose, to disguise where his gaze had been lingering all afternoon; the large propane grill hiding his lower half.

Lounging poolside on your towel, you hear before you feel a large ‘SPLASH’, and suddenly you’re soaked head to toe in overly chlorinated pool water.

“Ugh! Henderson!” you scold as you stand to replace your now drenched towel. The cheeky boy looks up at you from where he floats in the pool and mouths a half-hearted ‘Sorry’. 

“Steve! Would you happen to have an extra towel?” you shout to him as you hold up your ruined one, shooting him a deadpan expression. “Yeah, ‘course,” he sets down the grill tongs and awkwardly shuffles his way inside, keeping his back to you. Weird, you think.

Steve caught one look at you, hair wet and dripping, water beading down your neck and disappearing among the curve of your breasts; nipples taught from the sudden shock of cold water and visible through the fabric of your swimsuit, and he was grateful for the reprieve inside would offer him.

After close to 15 minutes of no Steve and more importantly, no towel, you decide to venture into the spacious house yourself. “Steve! – Oh!-” you startle as you run chest to chest into him, both turning a corner. “You scared me,” you chuckle awkwardly with a hand to your racing heart, “I was just wondering where you went,” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Yeah no, sorry, I just uh- got distracted,” he says, avoiding contact and handing you the fresh linen. You glance down, and notice the slight tent in his maybe too-tight swim trunks. You feel the heat of a rosy blush crawl up your cheeks, and a sudden flip of your stomach. Were you really the reason why he was acting so strange? That felt incredibly presumptuous of you.

“Well um…” you trail off, trying to keep your cool, “thanks. For the towel, I mean.” Steve had never made you feel so awkward and uncertain before. Something about the newly exposed skin and the salty smell of sweat mixed musk that radiates off of him from this proximity making your mind short circuit.

 –

When the cookout had dwindled down to just the adults and the sun dipped just below the trees, a joint had started to be passed around your small circle. “Well, we should probably head home,” Nancy announces in her usual demure tone, grabbing Jonathan’s hand helping him to stand. A chorus of goodbyes echo throughout the group, eventually leaving just you, Steve, Robin and Eddie.

An exaggerated yawn escapes Robin as she declares she’s exhausted and needs Eddie to drive her home in his rinky dink van.

“C’mon man! I just rolled this joi-”

Robin cuts him off with a harsh clear of her throat and an even harsher jab to his ribs.

“I. Really think. We. Should. Go.” She punctuates each word with a forced smile. Why was everyone acting so fucking odd today? You try to send her a panicked glance, fearing the potential awkwardness of being left here alone with Steve.

Being best friends with both of you, she was well aware of the searing crushes the two of you had on each other. This barbeque was her opportunity to light a fire under your asses to do something about it.

“That’s okay, Rob. Go home if you’re tired.” Always the gentleman. Right now you could kick him for it. If Robin notices your glaring, she doesn’t acknowledge it as she rises to her feet and heads toward the gate leading to the driveway.

“Bye losers!” She waggles her fingers at you as they make their exit, sending you a subtle wink that sets your cheeks ablaze. You now know without a doubt that this was intentional.

A hand on your knee as he says, “I can walk you home if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. We can finish the joint at least,” you smile timidly at him. Free weed wasn’t easy to come by these days, what was the harm in staying just a little longer?

–

2 hours later, you’re lying shoulder to shoulder on the rough concrete surrounding the Harrington’s pool. The joint had been snuffed out on the ground between you an hour ago, but with your thoughts dulled like this it was becoming increasingly easy to bask in the space you two had created for each other. The desire to turn heel and run with your other friends had long fizzled out.

“Hey, what was up with you today?” you ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence, “You just seemed really off,”

He looks suddenly nervous, “Oh I uh– I don’t know. Julys’ always a weird month for me, I guess,” he lies, carding a hand through his hair.

Taking the hand that’s not in his hair in your own, you ask, “Are you doing okay?” When he turns his head to meet you, your sincerity makes him blush - neck to ears. Your faces are closer than he thought they would be. He can count every eyelash from this proximity.

“Yeah– you know what,” He clears his throat, “I’m actually really warm,” he sits up clumsily as he pulls his shirt over his head by the collar, ruffling his hair and exposing the constellation of freckles and moles he has spattering the skin on his toned back.

“Okay–” You go to stand with him but he’s already dove into the pool. When he breaches the surface, he shakes his hair out like a dog and grins at you. You can’t help your eyes wandering to the dark patch of hair covering his chest. You’re starting to feel that warmth he had been complaining of.

“You gonna come in? Or just stand there and gawk?” He laughs as he floats over to you.

So you peel your shirt off and watch him stare intently as you unbutton your shorts, letting them drop to your feet. A less than elegant swan dive and you’re disappearing under the artificially blue water. The sudden coolness of it shocks you, sobering you up a bit.

You’re much more graceful than the boy when it’s your turn to come up for air, gently pushing back the hair that sticks to your face. He swims over to you unsuspectingly, then in the next breath and with a mischievous grin he lifts your body over his shoulder and essentially bodyslams you back under the surface.

More than the gesture itself, what shocks you the most is the warm expanse of his broad shoulders caressing you. You both emerge laughing, “Asshole!” you swat at his chest playfully.

When the laughter dies and fizzles out into an anxious energy, the air is filled with a sort of anticipation. The two of you are bobbing in the pool, faces no more than an inch apart.

“You have got to stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, breathlessly.

Just then he surges forward and presses his lips firmly to yours. The kiss is close-mouthed and chaste at first, giving you a chance to pull away. When you don’t take the opportunity, he deepens it. Your wet hands move to hold his face, breaching the water with a small splashing sound and his strong arms hug you at the waist, bringing you impossible closer. Pressed up against him like this you can feel all of him. The scratch of curls on his chest, the bulge of his biceps around your middle, the hard length of him pressed against your thigh.

Gasping into the kiss, you give him the opening he needs to lick hotly into your mouth, eliciting a breathy moan from your chest that sends Steve reeling. He starts to slowly kick his legs, swimming to push your back up against a vinyl clad wall.

Your lips move to lick the vein that runs down his neck, then up to a spot just below his ear. He groans when you take his earlobe gently into your mouth. Grasping your cheek in his hand, he forces your face out of the refuge his neck had provided from his intense gaze.

“Can I touch you?” He shudders when he speaks, having dreamt about this exact moment for years. Your response is an enthusiastic nod and another searing kiss to his lips - plush and pink and made for your own.

Steve’s knee moves to rest bookended between your thighs, keeping you open for him. In the water, he can’t feel how pathetically wet you are beneath your bright red bikini bottoms. You’re thankful for that, but even so, the whine that you release when his swift fingers push aside the fabric and start slowly massaging your clit is enough to give you away.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens, leaving small crescent shapes in his perfect skin. “Oh!-- God, keep doing that,” you pant.

“You like that, baby?” Steve tries to sound suave. Mr. Confident. King Steve. Honestly, he’s terrified. He has half a mind to stop and ask you to pinch him, not entirely convinced this is even real. But the sweet, sweet sounds you’re making are enough to persuade him otherwise.

“Yes! Ah– please, don’t stop,” you beg, even though you don’t have to. Steve’s positive he would do just about anything you asked of him right now. You have the sudden urge to return the favor, reaching down between your two bodies and palming him through his swim trunks.

“Oh -- my God, don’t,” he warns, the sheepish smile on his face signals to you that he’s not actually uncomfortable, “I’ll come in my pants like a damn teenager,” he gives an embarrassed chuckle.

Growing desperate for more, you say, “I want you to fuck me.” with an impossible finality. It makes Steve’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Wh-what?” He needs to make sure he heard you correctly.

“Steve. I need you to fuck me. Now.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you begin to press open-mouth kisses to his neck again.

“Oh my God,” The boy sounds absolutely wrecked already, barely able to contain himself. His hands fumble blindly for the ties on your bikini bottoms and he pulls when he finds them. Unwrapping you like his very own Christmas present.

You pull his trunks down and over his hips, just enough to fish his red and swollen cock out, careful to not let them fall to the bottom of the pool lest someone have to dive and retrieve them. You line him up hurriedly with your entrance, but he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Are you sure about this?” His brows furrow in that way they always do, when he's unsure. He has a crinkle above his nose.

“Yes” you half moan before getting a look at his face, “Wait, are you?”

“Yes! Yes– of course. I just– want you to be sure,” He kisses you softly after he asks

It’s so tender, you feel so safe with him like this. You fear you might be falling in love.

“I promise, I’m su–Oh!” he slides into you without warning, nearly knocking the breath out of you. He lets out a guttural groan into the space where your shoulder meets your neck as he starts to keep a steady rhythm.

“God, you feel so good,” he pants into your open mouth, “i’ve wanted this for so long,”

His words have you keening. He wraps his broad arms fully around you now, hugging you close as he pistons his hips into you. Repeatedly hitting that spot inside your walls where you need him the most.

“Oh, Steve!” you moan loudly, no longer concerned about the neighbors hearing you. The pool water begins to form waves from Steve’s thrusting and splash up onto the concrete beside your head.

“Fuck, say my name like that again,” you can feel his hips stuttering slightly.

“Steve!” He whines directly into your ear when you say it, you never would’ve thought he’d be so vocal.

“Touch yourself baby, I’m close,”

You do as you’re asked and start to keep a frenzied pace on your sensitive bud. Having both kinds of stimulation, mixed with Steve’s sweet praise, is sending you closer and closer to your edge.

As you reach your high, Steve can feel your warm pussy clench around him, making him hurtle towards his orgasm with you.

With a strangled cry, “fuck- I'm cumming,” You finish together as hips slow and he rides out his orgasm with you. His body curls in on itself and he trembles slightly. You run a warm, soft hand through his hair and down his back, soothing him through the intensity of it.

“Shit- my parents are going to kill me,” he laughs and kisses you again.

Maybe you did like swimming. Just a little bit.

tags: @daisy-munson, @megxplryxb

[a1ecmcdowell]

coincidence — rafe cameron x pogue!reader!

part of the short n' sweet x obx collection, found here!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, pogue!reader. cheating. sad!rafe :(. i promise i love sofia.

❛ what a surprise - your phone died, and your car drove itself from l.a. to between her thighs! ❜

you and rafe were a bit tumultuous. he loved you in private, and he loved you so much that it sometimes ached, like the sweetest form of violence. 

but in public, he could never manage to switch off the part of his brain that rejected every pogue he came across like he did when you two were alone. it was like he was more concerned about what his friends thought of him and his relationship than he did about your feelings. 

he was pulling back. you could see the signs of it in the ways he started having excuses to keep you from coming over, how his hand would subtly slip from yours when you were out together. 

and you couldn’t just pick apart his brain and fix whatever the problem was, because he didn’t talk to you enough anymore to let you in. 

you didn’t know if you were even still together, but he wouldn’t just ghost you a year into your relationship. he couldn’t. 

you’d decided the night before that you were just going to show up and demand an answer from him. it would probably be a fight, you knew; but what could hurt more than being with someone that didn’t want you any longer? 

that next morning was cloudy gray and speckled with misty raindrops. it didn’t feel like a very good omen about what was coming, but it didn’t slow your footsteps up his porch.

your hand raises to knock on the door at the same moment that it pulls open, and out stumbles — a girl. short brown hair, pretty glossed lips, wearing nothing but a pink bikini top and denim shorts. 

and behind the open door, strong hand wrapped around the edge of it, is rafe. smiling at her like he hadn’t smiled at you in weeks. 

the smile falls the moment his eyes lift to you, and the girl apologizes as she dodges running into you, and it all feels like a big fucking slap in the face. 

he’d been the best part of your life for so long. this hope that you could be more than the cut. and all of this time, he was waiting for the moment that he could dump you back off on your side of outer banks.

“why didn’t you call?” he asks, like that’s the first thing anyone should say when they’re caught cheating. 

you can’t tell if you’re more angry or hurt. both emotions feel like a hot, heavy weight sat right on your sternum. “you don’t answer anymore.” 

“because i’m busy.” 

there’s no remorse in his eyes. actually, you can’t even tell if there is, because he’s looking away from you like he’s already cut you from the picture of his life. 

“what, screwing other girls?” you snap, your voice biting and raw. 

his jaw flexes, tongue pressing into his cheek. “it’s complicated.” 

“i don’t think it is, rafe.” you shake your head, your lips pressed into a tight line. “you were cheating, and you’re mad you’re caught.” 

“oh, you think it’s that simple, huh?” he takes a step closer, his frame taking up the entirety of the doorway. “y’think overnight i just started thinking about wanting to fuck someone else?” 

you falter. no, he’s not going to get away with flipping this on its head and blaming you. making you apologize. 

“you can’t just blame me because you don’t want to take responsibility—” 

his fist slams against the wooden doorframe, and you flinch, because this really was going to be as volatile as you thought. you’d hoped that you were wrong, but you were right, and he was angry that you weren’t just some stupid little pogue he could manipulate. 

“i am taking responsibility. yeah, i fucked sofia,” he seethes through his clenched teeth, “yeah, i’ve been sneakin’ around, what the fuck else do you want to hear?” 

your arms wrap around your chest, and you have to resist the urge to stumble backwards. sofia, sofia, sofia. it plays in your head on a loop, the girl he deemed worth ruining what you had for. 

“why?” is all that you can manage to say. 

his eyes finally drop down to look at you. they’re so blue in the dawning sunrise that you wish, wish, things were different right now, so you could smooth the creases in the corners of his eyes. “m’not good for you.” 

“bullshit.” you spit it out before he’d even finished speaking. “if i thought that, i wouldn’t have stuck around as long as i have. i wouldn’t be sticking around now.” 

“you shouldn’t,” he says just as violently serious as the last, “i’m— i’m trying to push you away, sweetheart—” 

sweetheart. 

it shouldn’t affect you like it does, after how he’d just hurt you like this. but it does, of course it does, because you loved him like the sun loved the moon, and even when he was trying to break this, you’d always be in his orbit. 

“you can’t,” your voice is small as it leaves your lips, but your words aren’t, “i’m not goin’ anywhere. this is one good thing you can’t ruin. not on my watch.” 

he stares at you with that intense blue gaze of his for a long minute. the seconds tick by like hours while you wait for him to say anything. 

and he doesn’t — not with his words, anyway. his arms move from the doorway and encircle your waist, tugging you into a tight embrace. 

you’d known about how much he struggled with wanting acceptance, craving validation that he never got. you’d never expected him to be so used to rejection that he tried to cause it himself, just to be in that familiar place again. 

“m’sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the crown of your head and leaving them there. “don’t deserve you. i don’t.” 

“you will, and you do,” you push, your fingers curling tightly against his spine. “when you go wash her perfume off of you.” 

his laugh cracks, but it’s a laugh, so you feel better about this. about him. about where he’s at in his head. “of course.” 

“and delete her number.” 

his hands raise to your face, framing it between his large palms. “already did it, baby. but you’re real cute when you’re jealous.”

[astars-things]

One where jack argues with his sweet girl and gets superrrrr mad at her, and Luke’s like mad at him and y/n doesn’t speak to her dad for like a day

I watched as Y/N stood in front of the freezer, tiny fists on her hips, her lower lip jutted out in that way that always got to me.

"dada," she said, her voice small but determined. “I want ice cream for dinner. You said we could.”

“No, Y/N,” I replied, crossing my arms. “I said maybe we could have ice cream if you ate your dinner first. We talked about this.” I pointed to the untouched plate of chicken nuggets on the table, still waiting for her.

She stamped her foot, crossing her own tiny arms to match me, and pouted. “But I’m not hungry for chicken! I’m only hungry for ice cream!” Her little voice was defiant, and I could feel my patience thinning.

“Y/N, I’m not going to argue about this,” I said, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “You’re not having ice cream for dinner. That’s final.”

"Dada you’re mean! I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” She stormed off, running into the living room, and I heard her tiny, stomping feet echo down the hallway.

Just as I was about to follow her, Luke came around the corner, his expression disapproving as he took in the scene. “Jack, seriously?”

I huffed, running a hand through my hair. “Luke, she has to learn she can’t get whatever she wants just by throwing a tantrum.”

“She’s four, Jack. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing, really. Yelling at her isn’t gonna teach her anything except that you’re mad,” Luke said, his tone sharper than usual. “You could’ve let it go. She’d probably have eaten after calming down.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to her,” I muttered, but Luke just walked off in the direction she’d gone, his footsteps quiet.

The rest of the night felt strange. Y/N wouldn’t even look at me, clinging to Luke like he was her only friend in the world. Every time I tried to come near her, she’d turn her head away and pretend not to hear me. The house felt tense, and by bedtime, I realized that it wasn’t just Luke who was mad at me. My little girl was upset, and it stung more than I’d expected.

[nakylvr]

sleepy car sex with dani after she's done dealing YEAH I NEED DAT

well yes! also dark haired dani...come back pls...

— BACKSEAT 🛡️

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, f!reader, dealer!dani, dom!dani, sub!reader, car sex, oral

minors do not interact

it's one in the morning, pitch black outside excluding the headlights of the other car shining through the windshield as you sit in the passenger seat of your girlfriend's car. why? because you went along with her to deal for someone. you usually went when she did, but rarely was it ever so late into the night. you understood, though, dani was quite notable and had high demand, which resulted in having to meet people in the middle of the night. you yawn as you scroll through twitter on your phone, your head leaning against the window. you don't even realize she's finished with it until the drivers door opens and she gets in.

"sorry. he was bitching about how much it was, not like i told him already," dani says as soon as she closes the door. she looks over at you, catching onto your tired eyes and sighing softly. "you don't have to come when it's this late, y'know."

you look at her when she gets in the car, turning off your phone and shaking your head. "i don't mind," you reply. "really."

a smile grows on her face as you respond, admiring the way you still look beautiful even in the middle of the night, no makeup, your hair tied up into a messy bun. she doesn't even realize how much she's staring until she hears your giggle.

"why are you looking at me like that?"

"nothing," daniela shakes her head. "you just look beautiful right now."

your cheeks heat up at her words, glancing away from her eyes on you. "shut up, i literally look a mess right now," you reply.

"not to me," dani says, smiling still. "you'll always be beautiful to me." her voice gets quieter as she leans over the center console, inching closer to you. "i really appreciate you coming with, y'know," she murmurs.

a shy smile grows on your face as she leans closer to you, your gaze meeting hers with your cheeks getting hotter at the way she's looking at you. "of course," you respond quietly.

"i love you," dani mumbles before closing the gap and kissing you softly.

a giggle escapes your mouth as she presses her lips against yours, smiling into the kiss. what you thought was merely an innocent little kiss, dani bites down on your bottom lip, resulting in a quiet whine coming from you as she tugs on it. you can already tell what she wants, judging by the way she slides her tongue into your mouth when you part your lips and her hands grabbing your waist. your hands grasp her jacket, eyes fluttering closed as you hear her moan into your mouth at the way you easily give yourself up for her.

the other car has left by now, leaving you two in the middle of the parking lot with just the light post illuminating to give just the right amount of light to see each other. when dani pulls out of the kiss, there's a darkness in her eyes that you instantly recognize, and you already have a feeling what she's going to do.

"you're so pretty," she says quietly, her lips trailing from your jaw to your neck, leaving light kisses along your skin. she bites down out of nowhere, licking over the mark to soothe the reddened skin causing a little moan to fall past your lips.

"d-dani," you whimper, gripping her jacket tighter.

"shh," she mutters into your neck. "just relax, baby..." her hand moves from your waist to push your seat backwards and down so you were laying down. a little gasp comes from you at the sudden movement, but there's a tired smile on your lips as you watch her climb over between your legs. her fingers hook around the waistband of your sweatpants, pulling them down along with your panties. she stares up at you as she spreads your legs and slowly licks up your slit, moaning when she tastes your slick on her tongue.

"fuck," you gasp at the feeling of her tongue running along your folds, your hand immediately grabbing her hair as you lean your head back against the seat. "dani," you whine softly.

slowly, dani pushes her tongue inside of you, her eyes not looking away from you as she watches your eyes close and lean your head back against the headrest of the seat. she sets a slow rhythm of thrusting her tongue inside and out of you, hearing the tiredness in your whining and not wanting to overdo anything in your tired state. she just couldn't help it, you looked so good for one in the morning and waking up a mere ten minutes before leaving with her. plus, she really did appreciate you coming with her each time, and she wanted to show that to you.

your moans echo in the car as you tug on her hair, feeling her eyes on you while you whine at the feeling of her warm tongue intruding your walls. the only thing on your mind in your half-awake, dazed-like state is how good your girlfriend making you feel as she sits on her knees in between your legs, moaning her name every other thrust she makes. "mngh, dani," your noises are still quiet, but are a little louder the more you feel the pleasure build in you. you can barely form any thoughts, let alone say any words, the only thing falling from your lips being dani's name alongside the moans and whines. you push her head closer to you, your hips rolling against her face as your noises get more desperate and whiny.

daniela moans against you as you push her head further into you, her nose bumping against your clit eliciting a whine from you. her hands trail up your body, resting on your waist under your sweatshirt and drawing little circles into your skin to keep you grounded with something. she knows your close by how your legs are shaking around her head and your noises become more needy at the overwhelming amount of pleasure you were feeling. she speeds up her thrusting of her tongue ever so slightly, a still relatively slow pace though compared to other times with her. she mumbles something, and you can't hear it over your moaning, but you figure it's her giving you permission to cum by the way you feel her movements speed up.

"oh-oh m-my god, dani," you gasp, your breathing getting heavier as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. your legs squeeze around dani's head, and she doesn't even care or notice as she stares up at you, watching you come undone. "f-fuck, 'm gonna-" your unable to finish your words, a loud whine leaving your lips as your body shakes, cumming all over her face.

dani's eyes bore into you at the sight of you climaxing, letting your legs tighten around her head before they relax, trembling a bit. she licks up every last drop of your cum that leaks from your pussy, only pulling away when you tug on her hair. pulling her face away, she looks at you, still rubbing small circles onto your skin. "you did so good for me, baby," she says quietly, kissing your thigh softly. she sees your eyes closed, your breathing slowing down back to a calm rhythm, and she knows you're on the verge of falling asleep. she pulls your pants back up and leaves the seat leaned back, crawling up to your face and pushing a strand of hair from your face. "you can sleep, i'll drive us back home," she whispers, pecking your lips quickly.

all you do is nod, her quiet voice calming you down as you feel yourself drifting off into sleep. you can hear shuffling as dani gets back into the drivers seat and turns the car on, hearing her murmur a quiet "shut up" as she turns the radio off when it starts playing a random song. she glances over at you for a second, smiling softly and resting her hand on your leg, starting to drive back home.

[sasheemo]

When we collide

Chapter 7

Read on AO3

Fic masterlist

Chapter Summary: Drawn by the memory of a fleeting figure in the forest, you find yourself seeking answers amid the trees. In a powerful exchange, you instinctively reach out, offering a quiet comfort that might change everything.

Word Count: 3k

TW: abusive parent, magic used as a mean of violence

A/N: see end of chapter

You sprint through the dense forest, heart pounding as branches brush against your shoulders and leaves scrape across your skin. The whole forest feels alive, pulsing, as if it’s leading you somewhere, drawing you closer. You’re not even sure where you’re headed, but your instincts seem to know better, pulling you toward that one spot. A wry smile tugs at your lips as the realization settles, a strange, almost absurd irony.

You can’t help but scoff at yourself. “Of course.”, you think “Back here, again.”. And yet, even as the thought echoes, you can’t bring yourself to turn back or change direction. Something deeper urges you on, bracing you for what lies ahead.

When you reach the clearing a pang of unwanted disappointment settles in your chest. It’s empty. Only ashes remain from the pile, the last remnants of Agatha’s rage and her attempt at repair. Your eyes linger there, thoughts drifting back to the way she’d sat across from you, her face guarded, her words clipped. 

The memory of the figure you’d seen running from the gathering hall suddenly surges. She must be here, somewhere.

An abrupt, strange noise interrupts your thoughts, a sound you don’t immediately recognize. It’s almost like… water? It’s very faint at first, you frown, instincts sharpening as you start moving toward it. Your movements are quiet, cautious but resolute, as the noise grows gradually clearer.

And then you hear it. A scream. A raw, guttural, sound you feel all the way to your bones, filled with a pain that cuts through the quiet, making every muscle in your body seize. You freeze, heart hammering, listening. But silence falls again, broken only by the same splashing sounds you’d heard just a few moments before. 

Driven by a mix of curiosity and apprehension, you move closer. Footsteps light as you follow the noise, each step quieter than the last as you approach its source. The sound grows louder, filling the air with a rhythm that carries weight, anger, hurt. 

Then, the forest opens to reveal a small, hidden, lake. It’s shrouded in thick, tangled vegetation, the water dark and undisturbed except where stones hit the surface, sending ripples outward.

And there, standing at the water’s edge, you see Agatha. 

She doesn’t see you, her back turned, her entire presence charged with fury. Her cloak lies discarded on the ground, as if it had been flung aside in fury. Her hair is wild, a dark, tangled mess, and her dress is torn, jagged edges where branches must have ripped at it, as if she’d run recklessly through the trees. 

She picks up stone after stone from the shore, hurling each one into the lake with all her strength. Each throw, each movement, is a violent release, a silent scream, as if she’s trying to cast away everything inside her. Her shoulders shake with every swing of her arm, and her voice, strained, cracks in sounds that barely resemble words, more like cries that carry her emotions into the water, as if she could drown them there.

Agatha picks up a larger stone, and her hand trembles as a deep, pulsing, violet glow blooms from her palm. The stone levitates, her magic holding it suspended, her fingers twitching with the weight of her rage.  And then, with a single, heart-wrenching movement, she clenches her fist. The stone shatters, fragments scattering in every direction, casting streaks of purple light through the air. Some of the pieces rain down into the water, and for a moment, the lake itself seems to ripple with the force of her magic. 

But, when every remnant of her purples fades, so does she.

Agatha’s stance breaks, her hands fly to her face, and her shoulders collapse inward as she breaks down completely. Her fingers press hard against her eyes, her breath hitching, each sob rough and desperate, as if they’re tearing her apart. Her shoulders shake as her cries echo off the water. But she remains standing.

Something in you aches at the sight. You shift your weight unconsciously, and a twig snaps underfoot.

Her head jerks up instantly, her tear-streaked face twisting into a mask of fury when she sees you. Her eyes, bloodshot and glistening with tears, narrow with a hatred so fierce it almost feels like another wave of magic.

“Leave.” Her voice is cold, dead, yet fractured, her throat raw from the remnants of her sobs. Her hands tremble as she curls them into fists at her sides, her whole body tense as if holding herself back.

You do the last thing she expects you to do. You take a slow, hesitant, step forward. 

“Agatha I-“ but the words die on your lips. You simply don’t know what to say. 

In that deafening silence, Agatha’s expression shifts, anger sharpening further, her frustration flaring like a storm. “I said LEAVE!”.

Her voice cracks with the force of her command, and before you can react, she grabs a stone from the ground and hurls it straight at you. You sidestep just in time, but instead of backing away, as if pushed by some invisible force, you take another step forward.

That’s when she snaps. 

Her arms lift wide, slowly, and an aura of purple magic crackles to life around her. Her fingers curl, each hand a pulsing center of power, and her eyes burn with violet fire as they lock into yours. A glare blazing with rage and magic. All around her stones lift from the ground and emerge from beneath the lake, hovering in the air. 

She stands there, the very image of destruction, her magic coiling, vibrating, ready to strike, ready to hurt. 

And yet, something in you doesn’t flinch. You look at her as the words slip from your lips. Unexpected. Unplanned. 

“Agatha… you don’t have to fight. Not me. Not this time.”

They hang in the air, bridging the distance between you, carving through all of her defenses.

The magic in her eyes flickers, something fragile lingering there. Her hands tremble, her fingers loosening, and in that single moment, the walls she’s so carefully built around herself crumble. Her power fades, purple light dissolving around her. The stones fall, dropping onto the earth and water with a finality that echoes through the air. Her knees give out, and she sinks to the ground, hands pressed to her face as sobs wrack her body anew, even more broken and desperate than before.

You don’t hesitate, not even taking the time to think about what you’re doing, your body moving of its own will as you rush over. You’re there beside her, kneeling on the cold, damp earth, reaching out instinctively but hesitantly, until your arms find their way around her shoulders.

You pull her close, it’s a cautious embrace, but it’s real, solid, grounding.

And, to your surprise, Agatha lets herself lean into it.

She surrenders to the touch, her whole weight pressing into your side. Her hands grip your cloak like it’s her lifeline, holding on with trembling fingers, as if you’re the only thing keeping her anchored. And you can feel every tremor that runs through her, every shuddering breath.

Her head falls against your shoulder, and the weight of her trust, her pain, settles heavily against you. She cries, her sobs muffled against you, her breaths catching in a way that makes your chest tighten painfully. You don’t speak. Instead, you hold her a little tighter, letting your hand trace slow, soothing circles on her back, grounding her, comforting her in the only way you can.

You are completely immersed in the moment, the weight of Agatha’s pain pressing down on you like a force of nature, every sense heightened. You feel the soft, chaotic brush of Agatha’s hair against your face, tickling the edge of your cheek. Her grip on you is fierce as her nails press through your cloak, through the fabric of your dress, and into your skin, in desperate need of something solid to hold to. You breathe in, focusing on the feeling of her body against yours, each tremor a silent cry that you feel in the tightness of her muscles. Her back rises and falls with every breath, and each beat of her pulse, each shallow breath, brings you closer to her pain. 

It’s in this state, fully absorbed, that something catches your eye. Your gaze drifts to where Agatha’s right hand is clawing at your cloak, and there, beneath the frayed cuff of her sleeve, you see it. Her wrist is red, vivid burn marks against her pale skin. The sight is like a knife to the chest and an ache forms in your throat, a wordless sorrow.

Without thinking, your hand moves. Your fingers wrap gently around the back of her hand, your touch careful, steady. Slowly, you move her arm, bringing it closer to examine the burns. The contrast is startling. Raw, red welts against the porcelain smoothness of her skin. Your thumb hovers over the angry, red marks, lightly grazing the edges of the burns. You feel your insides twisting. 

And then, her name comes out in a whisper. “Agatha…”.

She stiffens, pulling her wrist slightly as if trying to hide it, her face tense. For a moment it seems as though she won’t say anything at all. But a few seconds is all it takes for the words to spill out.

“It was after the meeting…” her voice nothing but an ephemeral murmur, frayed and hollow, as if each word takes something from her she’s not sure she can give. There’s a bitterness in it, a resentment that carries like an undercurrent. “My mo- Evanora… she… she held me back, made me stay after everyone else was gone. She…” Her breath hitches, and she clenches her hands, trying to steady herself.

“She told me… she told me I am weak, a disappointment…”. Her voice wavers, and she clenches her fists tighter. “And then she grabbed my wrist…” she whispers, almost as if she’s reliving it. “She… she used fire magic. I… I could feel the heat, the pain.”

The words spill out of her, each one pulling her deeper, further into the memory until it consumes her entirely. Her voice drifts, quieter, almost detached, as if she’s no longer in the present. She’s back there, in that room, and the scene unfolds vividly.

“Explain yourself!” Evanora’s voice is like a whip, each word a crack against the stone walls, echoing with a sharp, venomous edge. Agatha stands tense, bracing herself, knowing she’s about to face her mother’s wrath, though she doesn’t understand why. Her mind is racing, searching for what she could have possibly done to provoke such reaction.

But nothing could truly prepare her for the anger burning in Evanora’s eyes, the kind of fury that comes from betrayal. Because that’s what Evanora sees in Agatha’s silence, a betrayal of the image, the expectations, she’d molded her daughter to fulfill.

“Do you have any idea what this looks like?” Evanora spits, her words laced with contempt. “My own daughter, the heir to everything I’ve built, standing there silent when we speak of facing the hunters. You didn’t step forward, you didn’t volunteer—”. She practically snarls the words, her hands curling into fists. “You should have been the first to offer! To prove that you are strong, that you are ready to lead!”

Agatha swallows, her face blank, hiding the quiet resentment that grows sharper with each accusation. “The hunters aren’t a real threat, and if you wanted me to join the reconnaissance group, you could have spoken to me beforehand” she replies, her voice as steady as she can manage. But even as she says it, she knows this answer will only fuel her mother’s rage.

Evanora’s eyes flash with fury. “You think this is about fear? About what you want?”. She steps forward, her voice a menacing hiss. “This is about respect, about showing our people who you are and what you stand for. My daughter, my heir, is supposed to show strength, to prove herself every chance she gets, especially in front of the coven! But you—” Her gaze narrows, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. “You made me look weak.”

The words land like blows, but Agatha stands her ground, every instinct urging her not to show a single crack. She knows her mother’s expectations too well, knows how Evanora has always held her to standards that feel suffocating, unyielding. A leader, a force of power and control, loyal to whatever is demander of her. That’s who Evanora wants her to be. But to Agatha, it’s a role that feels more like a cage, every demand pushing her further from herself, from any chance of her own identity.

“Perhaps I’ve been wasting my time on you.” Evanora sneers, her voice dripping with scorn. And before Agatha can react, Evanora’s hand clamps onto her right wrist with an iron grip, crimson tendrils of magic coiling around them. 

And then Agatha feels it. A fierce, burning heat blooming against her skin, a flame that bites, scorches, that she can feel sinking into her flesh.

The pain is blistering, relentless, but Agatha won’t let herself react. She won’t give her mother the satisfaction of seeing her wince. She forces herself to stay silent, to let the agony wash over her as she holds her expression steady, unyielding. It’s a look she’s worn countless times, a mask of defiance that she knows will drive her mother even further into fury. And still, she clings to it.

“Weak.” Evanora hisses, her voice a deadly whisper. “And unworthy.” The words burn as much as the magic itself, tearing deeper, lacerating her already wounded pride.

Finally, with a cold indifference, Evanora releases her grip, her hand falling away from Agatha’s wrist as if she was nothing more than an annoyance. “You may go now.” she says, her voice dismissive, empty. The finality of those words cuts through Agatha as sharply as any blade.

Agatha turns without a word, each step away from her mother a struggle as her wrist throbs, pulsing in pain, her hand trembling. She walks as steadily as she can, but the moment she’s out of sight, the mask cracks. 

And then she is running. 

Fleeing from her mother’s cruelty, her mother’s fire, until the world around her is nothing but trees and silence. She doesn’t even know where she is going, but she has to get away, as far as her legs will take her, to some place where the weight of her mother’s voice can’t reach her. Her feet moving on their own, driven by a desperate, instinctive need to escape. 

All she can do is run, her body carrying her forward, searching blindly for safety amidst the thick, sheltering trees. She can feel her magic rising, pulsing at the edges of her control, a storm desperate to break free. It claws at her insides, wild and unrestrained, begging to burst forth, to be unleashed. But she fights it, clenching her fists, gritting her teeth, holding it back with every ounce of strength she has left, afraid of what might happen if she lets it go.

You don’t have to reach far to picture it. The image is almost too clear: Agatha, face held in a stoic mask, enduring the agony with a hardened gaze, determined not to flinch. Even as her skin sears under the heat, you can see her standing rigid, jaw set, refusing to give Evanora the satisfaction of her pain. It’s a look you know well, one that chills you every time you see it. But here, in this moment, you feel the weight of what that look costs her. That ability to hide, to bury her pain beneath a cold mask, it’s a kind of strength, but it’s also a cage, one she’s been trapped in too long. And you realize, with a pang, that this is her default, her instinct. To endure in silence, to bury her own suffering where no one can see it.

Suddenly, her words pull you back into the present. 

“She looked at me like I was… nothing.” her voice choked, strained.

You lean forward slightly, willing her to meet your eyes, searching for her gaze to no avail. Your hand is still cradling her wounded wrist, grounding her. 

“I’m here, Agatha. You don’t have to face this alone.” you say softly, your voice steady. “And you’re not ‘nothing’. No matter what she made you believe.” a quiet resolve underlying your words.

For a moment, she stays frozen, as if weighing the depth of your words, and you think she might pull away.  

Then, her wrist turns in your grasp, her palm coming to rest softly against yours. Her fingertips graze your palm, feather-light, and a shiver runs through you. They slide across your skin, tracing a slow, tentative path. Her touch is subtle, careful, as though she’s testing this fragile connection, as if she’s not yet sure it will hold. Slowly, her fingers drift further, sliding along the lengths of yours until they reach the tips. She pauses there, a touch so delicate it almost feels like a shadow. Smoothly, her fingers curl around your hand, creating a quiet, steady hold that feels both new and somehow familiar.

For a few suspended seconds, you simply exist together in the stillness. Until her grip tightens, and in that gentle pressure, you feel a silent plea. A wordless need for something solid, something true. You respond with a soft squeeze, gently stroking the back of her hand with your thumb, warmth seeping through you, spreading like a quiet spark.

It’s a simple kind of touch, and yet, it feels like a spell.

“I got you. I promise.” you whisper, the words faint yet unwavering.

At last, Agatha slowly lifts her gaze. Her eyes meet yours, raw and unguarded, emotions laid bare in a way that takes your breath away.

A single tear slips down her cheek, but she doesn’t wipe it away. Instead, her gaze stays locked with yours as she lets out a shuddering breath, as if finally allowing herself to believe in the words you just spoke.

-------

A/N: Writing this chapter was a real emotional journey for me. Honestly, I never thought I'd cry writing a fic ... WRONG lol. I really tried my best to capture the vulnerability and rawness between the characters in a way that felt authentic and true to their evolving relationship, but also to Agatha as a character. I wanted each line and moment in this chapter to be charged, a challenge for me to dig into the quiet intensity of their bond. I hope you feel the same connection and tension that I felt while crafting it. Thank you for coming along on this journey, it truly means the world! 💜💙

[hazbinshusk]

29 with husk🥰

prompt #29: a kiss to the back of the hand.

The sounds of the casino are muffled by the doors to the VIP room, fading away under the sound of soft jazz and quiet conversation. You nurse your drink in a loose grip as you make your way from the bar, the soft, acrid scent of cigar smoke teasing at your senses. You’re on the arm of a minor-league Overlord – he’s only just begun making a name for himself in the southern quadrant of Pentagram city – and while you have minimal interest in the demon, he enjoys your company and you’re more than happy to make the most of the benefits while you can. And as long as he isn’t asking you to sign any contracts, you’re free to come and go as you please.

It's not a bad arrangement, really.

Taking a sip of your drink, you offer your date a small, bland smile as he leans over to whisper in your ear some benign comment you don’t really pay attention to. You can’t help it; you’ve felt his eyes on you since you’d walked in.

The Gambling Overlord was seated at a private table at the back of the room, half-hidden in shadows and surrounded in smoke. A few sinners hang around him – one was curled up against his side, her lips against the corner of his jaw – but when you glance his way, you meet his eyes. His gaze is golden and heavy, watching you over the rim of his whiskey glass. His claws catch the dull light and gleam.

You touch your hair self-consciously, trailing your hand down over your collar and along the neckline of your dress under his attention, worried you’re embarrassing yourself somehow. The corner of the Overlord’s lips twitch in what could be a smirk, and the glow of his eyes makes a shiver run down your spine.

“You hearing me?”

You start slightly, dragging your attention back to the man beside you. “Sorry, I was… distracted.” Turning to face them, you touch a hand to their bicep and fix them with a winning smile. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying that—”

He stops short as you feel a presence behind you, and you turn, heat flooding through you to pool in your stomach. The Gambling Overlord is standing in front of you, his wings tucked gracefully behind his back and the tip of his tail twitching rhythmically behind him. He waves away the woman still clinging to his side, and she pouts petulantly but goes without complaint. You had the feeling that people didn’t argue with the cat demon often.

He meets your eye before he spares the other Overlord a glance; his gaze travels down over your figure in a way that makes you feel naked. It thrills you more than you thought it would, your breath catching slightly. The scent of cigar smoke and expensive cologne teases you, and his eyes return to your face. He gives you an almost knowing smirk as his gaze lingers, then he finally turns to address your date.

“You made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to play,” he simpers, and you force yourself not to roll your eyes. He was barely an Overlord, and everything you knew about him told you he’d never really had a taste of the high life before. No, he was the type to cling to those more successful and wave their power and influence at others as though it was his own. He’d managed to make enough deals to stake claim to a few blocks, but it wasn’t anywhere near as impressive as the man standing in front of the two of you. You’d agreed to come along in the hopes of finding something more interesting and finally getting out of the shithole you were stuck in, and standing beside him now as he preened in front of someone with actual power… you shied away from his wandering hand slightly as it wrapped around your hip possessively. He didn’t seem to notice, but you swear that the cat demon’s smirk widens. “You know how it is, closing so many deals leaves little time for fun.”

“Mm-hm,” the Overlord hums snidely, his attention returning to you. “And you? You got a name, doll?”

“Depends,” you smile. “What’re you going to do with it?”

The cat grins, and it makes something inside you flutter with pride at amusing him. Your date, on the other hand…

“Don’t disrespect our host,” he admonishes sharply, tugging you further into his side. “I brought you here, and—”

“And I think its about time you enjoy some time at the tables,” The winged demon says in a clipped, arched tone. “Why don’t you let the girls show you where the luck is?”

He raises a clawed hand and two scantily-dressed women appear at his side, immediately wrapping their arms around him. He turns his head, still holding your gaze as he murmurs something in one of the girls’ ear. She nods and giggles, and you find yourself pushed gently away from his side as the girls transfer themselves to your Overlord with lascivious smiles.

“I’ll keep your date here entertained,” the Overlord tells him, waving them away. “Go try your luck.”

He turns to you as soon as your date is gone. “Now, where were we?”

“You were asking my name,” you tell him, finding your breathing unsteady as he takes a step closer to you.

“Mmm…” he hums, the sound all whiskey and velvet. He takes hold of your hand, his eyes still holding yours as he leans down to brush his lips against the back of your hand. His lips are warm, the touch of his nose against your knuckles a cold contrast. “’m Husk. You feel like havin' some fun?”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Regrets & Apologies -Oneshot

Word count: 2338

“For fuck’s sake Bucky,” Y/N huffed, running her hands through her hair.  “I understand that you feel protective over me, and I love and appreciate that about you, but my god if you follow me to the grocery store again–”

“So sue me if I’m worried about you,” Bucky retorted angrily.  “If the wrong people were to find out you’re with me–”

“Don’t,” Y/N said.  “Stop it.  I don’t want to have this conversation again.  You are a free man, in both mind and body.  And in case you forgot, I can take care of myself,” she said, holding her hand up as a ball of fire emitted from her palm briefly before closing her fingers around it, making it disappear.

“I know you can,” Bucky groaned.  

“Then you obviously don’t trust me enough to do it,” Y/N said sadly.  “And I don’t know what’s worse: being tailed at all times because you don’t trust other people, or knowing you don’t trust me to be able to handle danger by myself.  You know what?  Never mind, the second one is worse,” she sniffled, her emotions getting the best of her.  “You’ve seen me in the field, and you still don’t believe in me?”

Bucky’s eyes widened.  “No, no that’s not it at all.”

Y/N shook her head and shut her eyes tight.  “I can’t do this.  I’m taking a walk.”  She turned and started heading for the elevator.

Bucky was angry, and now hurt, and reacted badly.  “Fine, go run away from handling our problems!”

“I don’t have a problem, Barnes,” Y/N shot back at him, punching the elevator button then walking inside, turning to look at him with near-literal fire in her eyes.  “It’s just you.”

Her glare haunted him as the elevator doors closed, leaving him alone on their shared floor.  Bucky tried to breathe evenly, the panic setting in at not being near her.  He knew he had a problem, he just wasn’t willing to admit it.  Ever since they had first started dating each other his protectiveness had kicked into overdrive, making him follow her while she was out running errands to make sure she was okay, constantly checking in, and even worse, getting in the way on missions because he wouldn’t leave her side.  She was well trained and had her powers to protect her, yet he for some reason was constantly on edge and afraid of losing her to something in his past.  God I need more therapy, he thought.  He paced back and forth in their apartment, trying to let her go on that walk alone.  They both needed space to cool off and think.  He had to let her be.  He had to show her he could trust her.  Bucky let out a loud yell in frustration and holed himself away in their room.

***

2 hours later

“Doll, I’m sorry, please come back home.  Let’s talk about this.”

***

4 hours later

“Okay, I’m trying not to freak out, but you need to text or call and let me know you’re okay.  Where are you?”

***

7 hours later

Bucky was rocking back and forth on their bed, holding himself as he held his phone tight in his flesh hand, waiting for it to ring or buzz.  It was almost 11:00 at night, and he hadn’t heard from her.  Something wasn’t right.  This wasn’t normal, even during a fight.  She would at least let him know where she was and that she was safe, even if she didn’t plan to come back that night.  He felt like he was in withdrawal, the unknown eating away at his heart by the second.

The phone rang and he nearly threw it from how bad it scared him, but he quickly answered it.  “Doll?  Where are you?  Are you okay?”

“Is this James Barnes?” A voice said.

Bucky froze.  “Yes.”

“This is Dr. Harris at Mount Sinai Hospital.  Miss Y/N Y/L/N is here.  She just went into surgery after being struck by a car in downtown Manhattan.”  Bucky gasped, a chill running down his spine.  “You’re listed as her emergency contact.  I would suggest coming down as soon as possible.”

“I’m coming now.  Doc, how bad is it?” he asked hesitantly.

“She was stable going into surgery.”

That wasn’t a good enough answer for him, but he choked back a sob in relief that she was at least still alive and fighting.  “I’ll be there soon,” he said quickly, then hung up.  Bucky ran through their floor, gathering things for himself and for Y/N, then had Friday inform the other Avengers about what was going on.  When he reached the parking garage he flung the duffle onto his back and hopped on his motorcycle, revving out like a bat out of hell.  He reached the hospital in record time, parking then running inside inhumanly fast.

Bucky dashed to the receptionist desk.  “Y/N Y/L/N, just got into surgery, what floor is that on?” he barked at the receptionist.

“Visiting hours are over, sir,” the receptionist said, barely glancing at him.

Bucky smacked his metal arm onto the counter, making it crack and she jumped and stared at him.  She seemed to recognize him and shrunk back when she saw the metal hand.  “Floor number.  Now,” he demanded.

“Four,” she whispered.

Bucky gave her a curt nod then ran over to the elevator.  He pushed the button and took the elevator up to the fourth floor, his entire body feeling jittery with anxiety.  When the doors opened he ran down the hall to the second reception area.  “Y/N Y/L/N, in surgery.  Dr. Harris called me?” he huffed at the nurse.

The nurse’s eyebrows raised in recognition then turned and picked up a phone, dialing a number.  “Dr. Harris?  Y/N Y/L/N’s emergency contact is here.”  He hung up the phone and turned to Bucky.  “He’ll be right out.”

Bucky nodded and stepped back towards the chairs in the waiting area in front of the reception desk.  A couple of minutes later a man came walking down the hall.  “Sergeant Barnes?” he asked Bucky.

“Dr. Harris?” Bucky replied.

Dr. Harris shook his hand.  “She’s still in surgery.  They’re fixing a major fracture in her tibia, along her shin.  Otherwise she was really lucky with a minorly fractured collarbone.  No other injuries.”

Bucky sighed, his jaw tightening.  “That’s…that’s good.  What happened?”

Dr. Harris minutely shrugged.  “From what the paramedics said, she was in a crosswalk and some idiot came barreling around the corner through the red light.”

“Were they caught?” Bucky nearly growled.

“Yes.  They had the good sense to not hit and run,” Dr. Harris said.

Bucky nodded.  “Okay, good.  So…what now?”

“She’ll be in a boot for six months, and she’ll need a wheelchair then crutches during that time until she heals enough to walk.  Her collarbone will be set with her arm in a sling, and that’ll take about 10-12 weeks.  It’ll be a lot of physical therapy and patience, and she’ll need a lot of help.”

“No problem.  She has plenty of help,” Bucky said quickly.  “When will she be out of surgery?”

“Should only be about another hour,” Dr. Harris said, glancing at his watch.  “The surgeon will come out when it’s over and give you an update, then when she’s put in a room for recovery you can see her.”

Bucky nodded again and thanked him before Dr. Harris walked back down the hall.  Bucky paced the waiting room for another few minutes, his phone pinging over and over again with texts and calls coming in.  He finally sat down then started answering the messages, giving the Avengers reaching out to him an update.  When he was done he leaned back in the chair, his head thudding against the wall.  He fought back tears, but a few fell through his tightly shut eyes.  He was feeling a million things at once, unsure of what emotion was going to win out in the end.  Was she distracted from their fight that she didn’t see or hear the car coming?  Or was the driver just an idiot, like Dr. Harris said?  He’d never forgive himself if he was to blame for this, even partially.  

***

An hour later Y/N was out of surgery.  Bucky was now surrounded by the rest of the Avengers, waiting to hear anything.  A different doctor came walking out of the double doors down the hallway and Bucky immediately stood and walked over to her.  “How is she?” he asked quietly.

“Y/N is doing great,” the surgeon said with a smile.  “Her leg was set beautifully, and the collarbone was a lot more minor than we thought.  She’s in recovery right now.  We’ll monitor her there for about half an hour then we’ll be moving her to a room.  The reception nurse will tell you which one soon.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said and shook her hand.  

Forty five minutes later the nurse directed him to her room.  Bucky jogged to the room number and walked in as another nurse was getting Y/N set up.  The nurse gave him a short, polite smile.  “The anesthesia will take a little longer to wear off.  She should wake up soon.”

Bucky thanked the nurse as they walked out, and he walked over to Y/N.  She was hooked up to multiple machines, tubes sticking out from her hands and one hooked into her nose.  She was sleeping soundly, and his heart broke as he looked over the bruising peeking out from her hospital gown near her collarbone, her left arm in a sling.  He slowly lifted the blanket covering her legs and saw the boot on her left leg, the skin looking badly bruised and scraped up by her knee.  He set the blanket down and pulled up a chair by the wall to her right side, sitting down and reaching for her hand, holding it firmly.  All the emotions came flooding back and he started crying as he looked up at her face.

“Babydoll,” Bucky sniffled.  “My babydoll.”  He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, holding her palm up to his face.  “Please wake up.  We need to talk about all this, and get over it, just like we always do.  Please?  Please…”

“Buck.”

His head snapped up at the sound of his name, and he saw her eyes fluttering open.  “Y/N?” he whispered, standing up and looking at her.

Y/N’s head turned to look at him, making her wince.  “What happened?” she asked.

Bucky sighed heavily.  “Do you remember anything?” he asked.

Y/N frowned, blinking slowly.  “I was walking.  Then I heard tires screeching.  Then…pain,” she said.

Bucky nodded.  “You were hit by a car,” he said, his hand reaching up and tucking her hair back.  “Some idiot turned the corner too fast and was not paying attention.”  Y/N frowned deeper, then tried to sit up, gasping at the pain.  “Woah, babydoll, no no no.  You’ve got a minor fracture in your collarbone, and a broken leg.  You need to stay still.”

Y/N’s head leaned back as she hissed through her teeth.  “Well that sucks,” she groaned.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.  “I know.  But I’m gonna be here to help you every step of the way.”

Y/N relaxed against the bed and looked up at him sadly.  “I’m sorry.  About the fight earlier.  And that I didn’t answer your texts.”

Bucky shook his head quickly.  “I’m sorry.  You were right, I’ve been way too overprotective, and it made me not trust you to take care of yourself.  Though, in my defense, you did just get hit by a car while I wasn’t around to help you.”

Y/N grinned, biting back a laugh.  “True.  But you can’t always be my hero.  Life happens.  Shit like this happens, no matter what we do to try and stay safe.  You have to trust me enough to know that I’m going to do my best to come home to you.”

Bucky’s lips tightened as he fought back more tears.  “I know, I’ll work on it.  I promise.” They stared at each other for another moment before Bucky leaned forward and nuzzled her nose with his.  “For now, just kiss me once, then I’ll kiss you twice, then kiss me once again.”

Y/N hummed at his song reference.  “It’s been a long, long time,” she whispered before angling her head up and kissing him softly.

***

“This is so humiliating.  Every single time,” Y/N griped, holding onto Bucky’s arms as he helped lift her carefully into the bathtub, keeping her left leg that was wrapped in saran wrap above the water.

“You don’t need to feel embarrassed, Y/N,” Bucky said as he eased her down, making sure to prop the broken leg over the edge of the tub before grabbing the soap and lathering his hands.  He reached out and started at her legs first, making sure to get all the little nooks and crannies up her body as he washed her.

“Well, I’m embarrassed,” Y/N said with an annoyed tone.

“You’re healing really well, but it’s only been three months.  Tibia fractures take up to–” “Six months to heal, yes, thank you Dr. Barnes,” Y/N huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.  “Possibly longer.  I get it.”  Bucky sighed and gave her an arched eyebrow.  Y/N’s face softened.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I know you’re frustrated, doll,” Bucky said, pulling her arms apart so he could wash her stomach and up her chest.  “But you know I don’t mind helping you.  None of us do.  And this, especially, is my favorite helpful thing to do,” he smirked as his hands washed over her breasts.

“You’re shameless,” Y/N laughed, swatting at his hands.

“But you love me,” Bucky said, leaning forward and kissing her.

Y/N kissed him back.  “Yes, I do.”