#there's nothing there and i realize that after a few seconds when my brain finally catches up that it's awake

[winchesterwild78]

A Soft Goodbye

Master List

Characters: Jensen x reader

Warnings: Loss of a pet by euthanasia

A/N: This past week has sucked. I had to write this to help process my grief. We came home Monday and our sweet dog was in distress. We got her at 6 weeks old and she was almost 16. We took her to an emergency vet and they explained there was nothing they could do. She had undiagnosed cancer that had spread to her brain. I was angry because we took her to the vet regularly for checkups and yearly physicals. The emergency vet explained the cancer was very aggressive and that’s why it wasn’t detected. Needless to say we had to make a decision. I held my sweet girl in my arms even after her last breath. My heart is so broken, so writing helps. I did change her name, because every time I wrote my baby’s name I cried.

To anyone who has lost a fur baby I am so sorry for your loss and I’m here for you. I hope this story helps a little.

MDNI 18+

The hum of the set faded as I finally stepped into my quiet house. Flickering porch light, familiar creak of the door. "Willow?" I called, the sound swallowed by the stillness. Usually, she'd be a furry blur, tail wagging a welcome. Tonight, silence.

I found her curled in her bed, breathing ragged and shallow. Her eyes, usually bright and full of mischief, were clouded with pain. Panic seized me. Fifteen years – she'd been my constant, my shadow, my confidante.

"Jensen," I mumbled, my fingers flying across my phone screen. He answered on the second ring, his voice warm, a stark contrast to the icy dread gripping me.

"Hey, everything okay?"

"Willow… she's… I think she's really sick. Can you… can you help me get her to the emergency vet?" My voice trembled.

"I'm on my way."

He arrived in minutes, his presence a solid anchor in my swirling fear. He gently scooped Willow into his arms, her small body limp against his chest. The drive was a blur of red lights and choked sobs, Jensen's hand resting reassuringly on my knee.

At the vet, he carried her inside, his strength a stark contrast to her fragile form. They whisked her away, and a nurse led us to a small, sterile room. Jensen followed, his hand finding mine, his grip firm and comforting.

The vet's words were a hammer blow: "Inoperable cancer… spread to the brain… quality of life…"

The world tilted. I stared blankly, the words echoing in my ears. Jensen squeezed my hand, his eyes filled with a shared grief.

"We need to make a decision," the vet said softly.

Time dissolved. I crumpled, a broken doll, falling into Jensen's arms. He held me, his shirt becoming a damp canvas for my tears, his voice a low, soothing murmur, repeating words I couldn't quite grasp.

"It's okay," he whispered, "It's going to be okay."

But it wasn't. It couldn't be.

The vet returned. "Have you decided?"

"Yes," I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.

They brought Willow back, her eyes dull but still holding a flicker of recognition. I held her close, her fur soft against my cheek, whispering all the things I'd never said enough.

The needle pricked, and I talked, my voice a broken melody of love and goodbye. Her head rested on my chest, her breaths slowing, then stopping. The vet confirmed, and I sobbed, a raw, primal sound of loss. Jensen held me, his arms a safe haven in the storm of my grief.

Leaving was agony. I handed Willow to the nurse, her small body weightless in my arms. Jensen thanked them, his voice thick with emotion, and guided me to the car.

I collapsed, half in, half out, my body wracked with sobs. He was there, instantly, holding me, whispering words of comfort, his presence a balm to my shattered heart.

The next few days were a blur of tears and emptiness. Jensen was there, always. He brought food, sat in silence, listened to my rambling stories about Willow, and held me when the grief became unbearable. He was a constant, a steady presence in the chaos of my loss.

In the midst of the pain, a realization dawned. It wasn't just the on-set chemistry, the easy laughter, the shared jokes. It was him. His unwavering kindness, his quiet strength, his genuine empathy. In the face of my deepest sorrow, he'd shown me the true depth of his character. Jensen Ackles wasn't just a charming actor; he was an extraordinary human being, and I was beginning to see him in a whole new light.

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[soaps-mohawk]

Honestly I wake up extremely strange like every morning when my alarm turns on I literally just gasp and basically fly off the bed so if I was a little omega sleeping or maybe taking a nap with one of the boys I think they'd get a heart attack from seeing the reader literally jumping off the bed (sorry about the weird way I described it but I think you get the picture lol)

When it happens the first time? Yeah. They're flying out of bed too asking what's happening, where's the fire, is it a bug, a nightmare?

Cue that panic that something’s wrong, perhaps even some yelling (Johnny) which wakes everyone else up. Definitely scares them, until they realize it's just how the reader wakes up.

After that it's a game to try and keep the reader from doing that in the morning. Sleeping in a cocoon of blankets and limbs, always being held onto tightly. It becomes an unconscious reflex to just lock the reader in place when an alarm goes off or she starts to flail. Still happens though, and now they just laugh about it.

[shinig6mis]

it had been a few seconds since bakugou had knocked on your door, but it felt like a lifetime. his mind raced in circles, not knowing whether his thoughts were rooted in paranoia or if there was some truth to them. why hadn't you texted him? it wasn’t like you two had a strict routine or anything, but after everything that had happened last night—how you two had stayed together, cuddling and falling asleep—he couldn't shake the feeling that something was different.

every other night, you've been in and out of his apartment, always leaving within ten minutes. but last night, it ended differently. he couldn’t explain it, but it felt right to be lying there with you, sharing your warmth, hearing the steady rhythm of your breathing as you fell asleep without you leaving right away after getting your quick fix. it didn’t matter if it was because you were too exhausted and sore, he loved the weight of you in his arms, the way you fit against him perfectly like you were meant to be there.

then, when he woke up, you were gone. no text. no call. no nothing. his heart squeezed painfully at the thought of it and he found himself racking his brain with the worst possible scenarios. maybe it had been too much. maybe crossing that boundary had been the mistake. maybe you’d seen the intimacy between you both as a sign that this arrangement had to end. maybe you regretted it, and that terrified him.

so here he was, standing at your door, hands tense by his sides, hoping he wasn’t about to hear something he wasn’t ready to face.

when you finally opened the door, the bags under your eyes looked slightly darker, your hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and you looked far too tired for someone who just woke up. the faint glow of a desk lamp illuminated your room. his eyes went to glance at the textbooks scattered on your desk and the laptop still open with whatever assignments you had yet to finish.

“bakugou?” you blinked in confusion. “what are you doing here?”

“i—uh…” bakugou started, caught off guard by the sight of you. you were wearing those loose pajamas that he secretly found adorable. “can i come in?”

you didn’t hesitate, stepping aside to let him into your room. the moment he entered, he made a beeline for your bed, sitting down, while you stood across from him, arms crossed in that way you always did.

his eyes stayed on you as he tried to gather his words. “you didn’t text after last night,” he finally blurted, his voice rough as always, but the worry in his tone was clear. he couldn’t stand it anymore.

you let out a soft sigh and explained, “i’ve been buried in assignments, bakugou. aizawa’s been on my ass, and i just haven’t had the time to check my phone.”

he exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing as you spoke. he’d convinced himself he’d lost you, but hearing that explanation made everything feel weirdly better. “so, no… nothing’s wrong?” he hated how nervous he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. this arrangement you both have meant more to him than he was willing to admit, and the thought of losing it scared the hell out of him.

you raised an eyebrow, taking a moment before saying, “we can talk about last night tomorrow if you want. for now… just stay. sleep over if you want. you can be annoying and overbearing in the morning.”

the relief that washed over him was almost overwhelming. he hadn’t realized how much the silence had been eating at him until now. you weren’t breaking things off. you were just distracted, which was probably what he should’ve assumed in the first place. but he couldn’t stop thinking that maybe he had crossed a line he wasn’t supposed to.

for the rest of the night, you sat at your desk, buried in your work, while he watched you, propped up on your bed with his arm supporting the back of his head.

it was quiet. only the sound of your focused typing and the occasional shuffle of papers filling the space between you two. he couldn't help but appreciate the view, watching you get lost in your assignments. despite how complicated this arrangement felt sometimes, he loved the fact that he was the only one who ever got to see you like this. no one else.

he stayed there, his mind quiet for the first time in hours, just taking in the sight of you. you were everything to him in that moment, even if you didn’t know it.

time passed, and eventually, you closed your laptop and crawled into bed. without saying anything, you curled up under the blanket, pulling it tightly around you. bakugou hesitated for a second before sliding in behind you, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. he buried his face into the back of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, cherishing the softness of your skin.

he felt the tension leave his body as he held you, but his mind still wouldn’t let go. there was a an annoying part of him that wondered what you really thought of him. if you felt the same or if you didn’t. if this was all just temporary to you. but the other part of him that refused to let go of his pride was content just being here. being with you. even if nothing between you was official.

you shifted slightly in his arms, making him tighten his hold on you. it wasn’t perfect. it wasn’t what he had expected when he first got into this arrangement with you. but right now, with you in his arms, it was enough. and maybe, he could keep pretending that it always would be.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[worldlxvlys]

study sesh w bff! matt, but he can’t stay focused bc you’re so innocently distracting. he ends up giving into his deepest darkest fantasies and fucks your brains out

study session

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, p in v, oral (male + fem receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it), rough sex, squirting, spanking, fingering, overstimulation, cursing

a/n: i combined these two cause i thought they’d go well tg, hope ya like it

MATT’S POV

“matt? what the hell are you doing here?”

at the sound of her voice, i whipped my head around to look at her.

my eyes widened, cheeks growing red as i took in her clothing choice, or lack thereof.

she wore nothing but one of my shirts, most likely opting to just wear underwear under it.

the scent of her fruity body wash wafted into her room through the open bathroom door.

“matt?” she asked again, pulling me from my daze.

“your mom let me in for our study session” i answered after clearing my throat awkwardly.

“shit, i completely forgot about that” she spoke, eyes darting to the open backpack that sat beside me.

she quickly walked over to her desk, grabbing her own backpack before joining me on the bed.

“ok, so where should we start?” she asked, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable across from me.

—

she was driving me crazy.

every time she shifted slightly her shirt rode up her thigh, exposing more and more skin.

“matt ? are you paying attention?” she asked, placing her hand on my thigh. it took everything in me not to move it further up.

“um, honestly? maybe we should just look in the textbook” i answered, knowing that no matter what question she just asked, i was too far gone to give her an intelligible answer.

“ok well let me go grab it then, i’m pretty sure i stuck it at the top of my closet in the beginning of the year” she answered, getting up from the bed and moving towards her closet.

i watched as she stood on the tips of her toes, struggling to reach the book.

i should’ve gotten up to help her, but i was too focused on the view i had of her ass when her t-shirt rose up.

not only was her ass on full display, but i also had a perfect view of her red thong.

there was simply no way she didn’t realize that she was fully flashing me in the moment.

was she teasing me on purpose?

or, maybe she just trusted that i’d look away instead of staring at her like a creep.

i felt all of the blood rush to my dick, making a very noticeable tent form in my pants.

deciding to help her before it got worse, i quickly got up and rushed towards the closet just as she finally maintained a firm grip on the textbook.

“got it!” she spoke.

unfortunately for her, when she pulled the thick book down, she also managed to pull down every book underneath it.

the books fell onto her floor, all of them remaining closed except for one.

“shit” she sighed heavily, realizing she would have to put them all back. i knelt down, beginning to help her pick up the books.

“here, just hand them to me. i’ll put them on my desk until we put the textbook back” she spoke as she picked up her own pile, placing them down onto the desk.

i followed her instructions, picking the books up and handing them to her, before stopping when the words of the open one caught my eye.

“i want matt”

i picked the book up, moving it closer to my face to read the rest of the words.

“you want me?” i asked out loud, clarifying the words to make sure there wasn’t some double-meaning i was missing.

she scrunched her eyebrows in confusion for a few seconds, face instantly dropping when she realized what i was reading.

“matt, no!” she spoke worriedly, moving to grab the book from me.

i moved it out of her reach before she had the chance to take it.

“let me read it” i spoke, watching as her eyes widened at my words.

“no, matt-” i placed my hand on her arm, rubbing it softly to let her know i wasn’t weirded out or mad.

“let me read it” i spoke, my eyes bouncing back and forth between hers.

she gave up after that, letting out a small sigh before backing away.

“i want him to…” my voice trailed off, eyes widening as my brain processed the raunchy things my best friend fantasized about me.

i glanced up at her, taking in her embarrassed state, before walking closer to her.

she reacted by walking backwards as i began to read again, “i want him to fuck me so hard that i can’t walk for a week”

i backed her into the desk, a small gasp falling from her mouth as my boner pressed into her thigh.

“i want his head between my thighs”

“i want to know what his pretty face looks like covered in my cum”

“wanna find out?” i asked as i turned her around, bending her over the desk.

“matt!” she squeaked out in surprise as i held her hands behind her back.

“yes or no?” i asked as i pressed my chest to her back, leaning into her as i whispered into her ear.

“yes, yes, please” she moaned out.

i let go of the book, letting it fall back onto the ground while i began to press kisses to her neck.

i lightly nipped at her skin, leaving little marks while she moaned softly under me.

suddenly, there were loud knocks at her door, my hold on her wrists tightening instinctively.

instead of stopping, however, i moved lower to begin leaving kisses on her thighs.

it was like any ounce of self-control i had left my body as soon as i read her words.

“are you guys ok? i thought i heard something fall” her mom spoke through the door.

her breathing grew heavy as my lips got closer and closer to her wetness.

“yeah, just my textbook!” she spoke as quickly as possible in hopes that a moan wouldn’t slip out.

“ok, just making sure” was all her mom said before she retreated from the door.

as soon as she knew her mom was gone, a long moan fell from her mouth.

“quiet, princess. don’t want her coming back, do we?” i asked her, lips brushing the skin of her ass.

“no, just- god, please do something” she whispered frustratedly.

i ran my hand across her ass before giving it a firm slap, making her moan out.

“lose the attitude” i spoke to her.

i pulled her thong down her legs, tapping her ankles lightly. she took the hint, quickly stepping out of them.

“i don’t have an attitude, i just- fuck” she cut herself off with a moan as i shoved my face into her cunt.

i let go of her hands, hooking them around her thighs as i licked a long stripe up her pussy.

her hand automatically flew to her desk, gripping onto it while she cried out.

“god, you taste so fucking good” i moaned against her as i licked up every drop of her wetness, savoring the taste of her on my tongue.

i lapped at her heat, her constant whining fueling me to keep going.

my eyes rolled back as all of my attention went into her pussy.

i was so consumed in it, i could stay there for hours. she was so perfect.

i moved my tongue up towards her clit, sucking and licking it, enjoying the moans that the pleasure pulled out of her.

realizing i was a little too excited, i slowed down a little bit. i needed to take my time and enjoy it.

i began to leave slow, tantalizing licks to her pussy. she squirmed at my teasing, pushing her hips back into my face.

she began to rock her hips back and forth against my mouth, letting out loud moans.

i pulled back, giving her ass another slap, “didn’t i tell you to be quiet?” i asked.

“yes, yeah, i’m sorry. i’ll be quiet, please matt”

i brought my hand to her pussy, spreading around her wetness with the palm of my hand.

i pushed a finger into her, taking her by surprise as her legs began to shake.

i moved the finger inside of her quickly, stretching out her tight hole.

i pushed another finger in, producing a squelching noise as they plunged in and out of her.

“matt, i’m gonna cum!” she cried out mere seconds before her juices shot out of her, splashing onto my face.

“f-fuck” she shivered as her release dripped down my face.

i got onto my feet and turned her to face me, placing my lips to hers in a heated kiss.

she reached down between us, unbuckling my belt without breaking the kiss.

she pulled my pants down, quickly moving her hand to palm me through my boxers.

i groaned softly at that, my head flying back as she applied pressure.

“want you so bad, matt” she whispered while her nose brushed my neck.

“need you inside of me” she spoke as her hand crept into the waistband of my boxers.

i pulled my boxers down, letting them fall to my ankles as she began to stroke me slowly.

after a few pumps, i pulled her hand away and brought it to my lips. i placed a light kiss to her knuckles before hoisting her onto the desk.

“ready?” i asked, searching her eyes for any hesitation.

she nodded her head slightly, looking up at me through her lashes.

“words, baby” i spoke.

“yes, matt. please, please just fuck me”

with that, i placed my hands on her hips and pushed myself into her entrance.

despite how stretched out she was, her walls still hugged my dick tightly, causing me to let out a strained groan as i pushed into her further.

we both let out loud moans as i bottomed out, my dick resting deep inside of her.

her hands flew to her sides, bracing herself on the desk as i began to move inside of her.

i thrusted into her slowly, but deep enough to make her body jolt with each slap of my hips against hers.

my hips collided with the desk under her with each thrust, causing it to thud against the wall harshly.

“m-matt, she’s gonna hear” she cried out between moans.

“you want me to stop?” i asked, raising my brows at her as i continued my movements.

“no!” she spoke loudly, “no, please don’t stop. it feels so fucking good, oh my god” she whined, her head flying back.

“yeah? is this what you think about when we study together?” i asked, only receiving long moans in response.

“you think about me fucking you on this desk? my dick so far into you, you can’t even speak?”

she looked so fucked-out, her eyes hooded and mouth hung open in pleasure. i wasn’t even sure she could hear me until she nodded her head in response.

“or maybe you think about me bending you over it, huh?” she began to moan louder at that, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“do you know the amount of times i’ve thought about seeing you like this?” i asked as i pushed her legs closer to her chest.

“yes, yes, yes, holy shit” she heaved as she held her legs close to her.

“so good for me” i mumbled, reaching between us to rub her clit.

“matt, i’m so close, so close” she whined as her body began to shake.

“yeah? you got it, let go for me, baby. ”

her eyes squeezed shut as she clenched around me, eliciting a deep groan from me as i felt the coil in my stomach tighten.

the feeling of her pleasure coating my length pushed me closer to finishing, causing me to quickly pull out of her.

“fuck, where do you want it?” i asked as i began to pump myself, chasing my orgasm.

she pushed me back slightly, hopping off of the desk and sinking to her knees in front of me.

before i could even process what she was doing, her mouth was on my tip.

“o-oh” i moaned in surprise.

all it took was her sucking on the tip once and i was gone.

my hips bucked forward into her mouth, accidentally pushing myself to the back of her throat.

my hands flew to the desk in front of me, gripping it firmly while i shot my seed down her throat.

she took her mouth off of me, sticking her tongue out to show me that she swallowed everything.

“you’re gonna be the death of me” i spoke as she got to her feet.

before she could respond, there was a loud knocking at the door.

shit.

🤍🤍🤍🤍

masterlist

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[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Nerd gojo x nerd reader headcanons pt 3

_Part 2_

Nerdjo! X nerdreader! Lmao guys I don't know it takes time to think for a scenario for nerd gojo!

♡ Gojo, the hopeless overthinker-After catching you reading a book on quantum mechanics, he stares at you for an entire class.

His mind is in overdrive.

“What does she know that I don’t?”

You glance up from your book and notice him staring.

Your expression doesn’t change, just a slight raise of the brow.

He starts questioning reality. He wonders if maybe you’re an alien who landed to study humans.

He’s not sure if he’s scared or in awe.

♡ Gojo, the performance artist-He’s in class, casually tossing out random knowledge to impress everyone.

You’re sitting right next to him, completely unfazed.

He throws out an elaborate theory about space-time continuums.

You glance at him, and in that cool, calculated tone of yours, you say, “Actually, there’s a counter-theory that suggests…”

He’s frozen stunned.

You just corrected him.

He’s in shock. He didn’t even realize there was a counter-theory.

♡ Gojo, the never-satisfied challenger-It’s become a ritual now. He challenges you to random things just to get a reaction.

One day, he walks into the library where you’re reading again and says, “I bet you can’t solve this one faster than me.”

You just stare at him like he's a child.

He watches you effortlessly solve the puzzle in seconds.

His brain breaks.

“Okay… you win. Again.”

He mumbles it like he’s been defeated, even though you both know he never stood a chance.

You just blink, your face a mask of indifference.

♡ Gojo, the insufferable over-achiever-He throws a math challenge your way in class, but it’s no longer about the challenge.

It’s about getting you to look up at him.

When you solve it in seconds, he pretends to be devastated.

“How… How do you do it?!”

You don’t even flinch. You just mutter, “It’s all about applying basic principles, Gojo.”

He finds it so frustrating but can’t help but admire you for it.

This feeling of being outmatched starts to gnaw at him, but it excites him too.

♡ Gojo, the dumbstruck fool-One day, he just can’t take it anymore. He watches you at lunch, reading your book with so much focus.

He interrupts your concentration with a dramatic gesture, throwing his arms out.

“You can’t possibly be that focused!”

You look up, raise an eyebrow, and say, “Well, Gojo, focusing is a part of my natural process of learning. You should try it sometime.”

His jaw drops.

The fact that you just casually insulted him makes him both irritated and in love at the same time.

♡ Gojo, the unintentional simp-He’s in class, trying to act all cool and aloof, but his eyes are constantly shifting to where you’re sitting.

You never seem to notice.

He can’t stop thinking about how you’re always so calm, always so collected.

One day, he catches himself staring at you for way too long.

His heart skips a beat when you finally look up and catch his gaze.

You don’t say anything. You don’t even smile.

But the look in your eyes… it makes his heart race.

He looks away like a fool, muttering under his breath. “What the hell is happening to me?”

♡ Gojo, the clingy puppy-He shows up to the library one day to find you reading, of course.

He’s spent the last few hours thinking of ways to get your attention.

He plops down next to you.

“Hey, Y/N, what are you reading?”

You glance at him for a second and say, “A book on theoretical physics.”

He stares at you, unblinking. “Sounds boring.”

You stare back, saying nothing, then go back to reading.

He can’t help himself anymore he leans over and practically whispers in your ear,

“I think you’re kinda cool, you know?”

Your response is the most distracting part of his life.

You don’t even look up. “And I think you should stop distracting me.”

♡ Gojo, the underestimator-He once convinced himself that he could outwit you in everything.

So when the next mission is announced, he’s all cocky about it.

“I’ve got this in the bag. No one’s a better strategist than me.”

But when the team assembles to discuss the mission, you outshine him with every point you bring up.

“You didn’t consider the potential outcomes of that tactic, Gojo.”

His face turns bright red. He tries to play it cool, but you’ve already won this round.

He’s still muttering about it later, trying to convince himself that it was just a fluke.

But deep down, he’s starting to see you as more than just his rival.

♡ Gojo, the frustrated genius-He’s notorious for his smug attitude, his self-proclaimed genius status.

But you, Y/N, have officially cracked the code.

He’s secretly obsessed with trying to figure you out.

There’s no logic in his mind to explain why he can’t stop thinking about you.

He finds himself watching you from afar, wondering if he could ever measure up to your calm intellect.

“Why does she have to be so perfect?” he thinks, but only when he’s alone.

The thought torments him and keeps him up at night.

♡ Gojo, the declaration of affection-One evening, after yet another failed attempt at getting your attention, he stands in front of you.

The usual smirk is gone.

“I think… I think I like you.”

You blink.

He’s waiting for you to say something clever, to shut him down.

But you don’t.

You just stare at him with that unreadable expression.

“Yeah, I know,” you finally say, casually flipping through your book.

He’s left speechless, heart racing in a way he’s never felt before.

The realization hits him hard. You’re so far above him, and yet, he’s already in too deep.

♡ Gojo, the love-struck fool-He can’t help it. No matter how much he tries to deny it, he’s falling for you.

Every interaction, every glance, every indifferent comment you make only makes him more obsessed with you.

But he’s Gojo Satoru, and he’s never been the type to give up so easily.

He’s decided.

He’s going to make you notice him.

No matter how hard it gets, no matter how impossible it feels,

He’s going to win this challenge.

And it’s going to be the best battle of his life.

@syrooo @11v1ngzomble @dekusdante @inoluvrr @hel1nn

[johnbrand]

True Test

My nephew Brandon grew up in a deeply conservative household, where masturbation was strictly forbidden. He had been raised just like his father and I had been by our own parents, and their parents before them. We were built by traditions, maintaining them as they had maintained us throughout our childhood and adolescence. Certain words were never said in the house, certain ideologies never acknowledged. 

It had been my brother’s hope for Brandon to never see a naked woman before marriage. Everything had appeared to have been going to plan, for by the time Brandon reached his 22nd birthday, he was still exceptionally shy around the whole topic. My brother and I had been so proud; his little boy had made it through all of college without being tainted by “progressive” ideas or gone astray from our values. Unfortunately, that image was shattered when I arrived at  Brandon’s room to fetch him for cake, finding him jerking out a quickie to hardcore gay porn on his laptop.

Both of us stood in shock for a moment, unable to move as the realizations hit us. I had discovered his secret, he believed his perfect facade was about to collapse. Brandon opened his mouth to explain but I had already left the doorway. By the time we got downstairs, everybody had been waiting for us. They had no idea what I was about to tell them.

“Before Brandon blows out the candles, I have one last birthday gift to give him.” Brandon rushed in behind me, his face red with embarrassment. My brother eyed me, caught off guard by this sudden announcement. “After college, he will stay with me out in the country for a few months to learn some more physical skills. All expenses covered by me, just one last hurrah before Brandon’s adulthood begins!”

Brandon’s eyes grew wide as the room cheered. My brother gave me a solid pat on the back, laughing and thanking me for such a great opportunity, insisting it was too much. I argued the contrary, watching as my nephew hesitantly paced over to his cake.

———

What none of my family knew, not even my brother, was that my property out in the country also doubled as a conversion camp. My institution had stayed afloat for three primary reasons. First, my property was an exclusive institution. I worked one-on-one with my clients, meaning my property was truly intimate. This tied in my second aspect, privacy. It was not special that no one in my family knew of my alternate career, as I kept my side gig well under the wraps of a decent, average country farm. Finally, I had never had a complaint. All my clients converted perfectly to my standards.

When Brandon had arrived at my farm for the summer, he had assumed there would be a combination of heavy farm work and awkward conversations. To be fair, at the surface level this was true. I had my nephew working from dawn to dusk every day, filling him with hearty, animal protein-heavy meals that along with the exhaustion would knock him out immediately after dinner was served. 

There was no time for anything but labor and my conversations with Brandon. I also allowed no devices beside my work computer, which was off limits anyway, meaning not only did my nephew have no time to jerk off, but nothing to jerk off to. Eventually, Brandon’s brain became too overworked from the constant tug of war between exertion and exhaustion, forcing his will to fall back in line. It became easier to just listen and absorb, to sponge up my opinions rather than react to them.

Over the summer months, I watched as my nephew’s slim, faggy form bloated into that of a man. He grew taller, broader, muscles slowly piling on thanks to the proper diet and obnoxious amount of exercise and training. One by one I replaced his articles of clothing with more appropriate attire: cheap tees that could get dirty, thrifted jeans, my old boxers already stretched to fit his thickening size. Brandon had not made any comment when his razors had disappeared, nor when his shoes were replaced with much larger, well-worn boots. His growing feet had needed them anyway.

The mental changes were harder. Our conversations, which eventually became nothing more than lectures, where discussions focused around the family's values. I spent the majority of our time peeling back Brandon’s progressive ideology, stripping down to the traditional conservative roots. In between it all, I would constantly scatter in mentions of girls, vulgarly tossing tits and pussy language so that it became all my nephew heard. At first it pissed him off, but once Brandon began to simply ingest it all, I knew the conversion had already begun. 

By our last week together, Brandon had become an entirely different man. The 22-year-old now physically resembled our family pride, his masculinity now at par with the textbook definition. As a final test of my work, I brought my nephew into my office and sat him next to the sole computer on the property. I instructed Brandon to open the screen, stepping away as the old monitor booted up a lesbian porno I had already booted up.

“Like what you see?” 

I chuckled as Brandon’s cock hardened, completely mesmerized. Thanks to the lack of exposure, my nephew’s brain was flooded with waves of sexual pleasure forgotten to him, now redirected with my instruction. With his instincts realigned, Brandon’s former life would be no more. I reached over and quickly turned off the monitor, knowing his aching cock threatened immediate release.

“You’ve passed the test,” I announced. “You’re a real man now, Brandon.”

I motioned towards the open bathroom, Brandon's massive cock still throbbing for the opposite gender. I offered my permission without saying a word, grabbing for the door. To my surprise, and delight, my nephew cockily questioned my expertise.

“I disagree, uncle,” his voice was deep and authoritative. “The true test will come after I lose my gold star.”

[rainynightmoonlight]

GXHDJSJSJS I JUST READ YOUR FIC ABOUT THE MERMAN CUTIE AND OMG I LOVE LOVE LOVE RANEE (I THINK THAT"S HOW YOU SPELL THAT) HE'S JUST PERFECT😭😭😭

ANYWAYSSS, so i was thinking... what he do if reader suddenly stopped coming to kayak, because they got sick? How would he react when they finally started coming back again?

Love your works btw😉💋💖💖

Where's my Human? || Yandere Merman x Gn Kayaker Reader

Characters: Ranee

Summary: He gets so worried when you're not there to kayak

Warnings: Yandere themes, possessiveness, violence, stalking

A/n: Yeah that's how you spell it, I'm so happy you love him nonnie! He's my special merboy! And thank you! Also, mention of Malakai

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Let's be real, Ranee has no concept of sickness or injuries. Fin rot is the closest thing he knows, and it's only common within pet fish. There are parasites and other ocean germs, but nothing like human sickness. So if you stop showing up for a while brings up so much concern. He straight up thinks you're dead. Though it takes a bit of build up for him to actually think of that conclusion.

The first day you don't show up to the beach, he just thinks you got busy. You usually don't come to kayak every day. That's something you told him when he freaked out the first time you didn't show up. Something about sore muscles. He was too focused on you when you told him so he didn't listen.

The second day is when he becomes a bit panicked. This is the stage where he starts swimming the coastline and asking other sea creatures that swim the coast about you. When they say they haven't seen you that's when his brain starts to spiral. Ranee just swims up and down the coastline for the next couple of days, watching the beaches for any sign of you in case you moved and forgot to tell him.

Then a thought comes to his mind, much to his distaste. Ranee thought and contemplated on visiting your human friend. One reason he was against it was because your human friend was trying to take you away from him. Didn't this human know that you were his mate? Beside the point, he didn't have you to guide him out once he swims in, and he's so easily lost.

After grumbling and pacing around in his sea cave to the nearest fish who have no clue what is going on, he decides to visit your human friend. He managed to remember the way there, you better praise him if you ever come back.

He groans as he sees your human friend on his dock of his very shiny home. Malakai prepares himself for any mischief Ranee has brought today but is caught of guard by the merman talking using the limited language he has. Malakai eventually catches your name in the merman's garbled up human speak and barely catches on.

“Oh, you mean Y/n? Yeah, they're sick right now. Texted me they won't be by the docks for a few days.”

Thus leads into Malakai trying to explain what sickness is to the very confused Ranee. After a few hours of body anatomy lessons Ranee comes to the conclusion that you are in fact dying. So the merman is trying to find any way to your home only to realize you don't live near any body of water.

A few more days of your absence leaves Ranee all mopy. Just invite him to your funeral okay? He couldn't live with himself if he didn't at least part with you properly. He's slumped over on a rock, holding the things he had taken from you. He peppered each in tiny kisses. Oh, gods please hear him and give your soul back to him. That's the leas they could do for torturing you like this!

All the fish that came past his cave would swim in and nibble on his skin. Sea lions and seals alike would come in to push him out of the cave. Ranee didn't want to come out to play like he usually does. Not without you!

His life is so meaningless without you. The seals were barking at him to come out of his cave until a ray had swam over. His mopy attitude switches when he gets news from the ray that it saw you back on your kayak and was paddling out in the open. Ranee is completely overjoyed that you were back.

Swimming as fast as his fins could take him, Ranee jumps out like a dolphin and tackles you into the water. You're startled and thrashing but Ranee's cold, scaly face calms you down. You can only chuckle at the merman's clingyness.

“You don't have to almost drown me if you want my attention every time, Ranee.”

He shakes his head as his tail coils around your legs. You shiver as you're pulled closer to his cold body. No way is he letting go. You worried the hell out of him! Making him think you were dead. Bad mate! He only hits the top of your head, scolding you in grumbles.

“Never allowed, fish sticks and fries.”

You were practically an expert in Ranee talk at this point. You came to understand that he was demanding you to stay and never leave him again for that long. As much as you wanted to comply with such a request, you were going to get sick again if you didn't get out of this cold water.

Begrudgingly did Ranee help you back onto your kayak and pushes you back to shore. When you're drying off on the dock, you tell him what happen and give him a better explanation of what happened.

You're now stuck on that dock, listening to Ranee talk about what he had done while you were gone. He gurgles at your praises when he told you he swam through the harbor all by himself.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[mrsriddlenott]

I put a lot of my own anxiety and insecurities into this and just portrayed it kinda how my mind feels in stressful situations where I doubt everything. This is basically my way of coping with the stress of….well everything rn.

Warnings: Anxiety, Insecure reader, Mention of cheating but no cheating ever occurred, Brain working against reader, Small panic attack, Suggestive at the end. Not proofread.

{masterlist}

~ Anxious ~

Your heart beat pounded heavily in your ears over the music surrounding you, your eyes unable to pull away from the scene in front of you. You didn’t want to think JJ would cheat on you. You hadn’t considered it, but as you watched him and Kie talk like nothing and no one was around them, doubt began to settle in your chest.

“It was insane, the biggest wave that I had ever surfed,” JJ explained with excitement, his eyes on Kie from beside you, his arm that had draped across your shoulders now lays nonchalantly against the back of the couch. You’re brain keeps trying to convince you it means something. It can’t mean anything.

Does it though?

You had already heard this story many times before, so had Kie even though she was there. Of course. But somehow with him it felt like it was new. “Do you remember that time when we-“ You start softly making JJ briefly turn to you with those bright excitement filled eyes he wore so often around his group.

Or was it around Kie? You couldn’t tell anymore.

Before you could even get past your first sentence his eyes were shooting away from yours immediately at the sound of her voice cutting over yours.

Maybe he’ll tell her I was talking?

Maybe she didn’t notice?

“Oh wait, Jj” Not you, just JJ, you thought trying to ignore the pang of emotions that hit your chest at being interrupted. “Even better, that time when we all almost got caught at the party in that creepy abandoned house and when we got to the Twinkie-“ JJ was laughing before she could even finish the story and soon they both were, leaving you confused and left out when the warmth of JJ’s arm finally slipped out from behind you to clutch himself as he laughed. “Well you know what happened.” Kie said between laughs after attempting to continue.

“I don’t,” Your chest constricts, clutching your words in your throat, forcing your voice to come out soft and scratchy while attempting to get their attention. When your small, anxious voice is drowned out by their combined laughter the feeling of jealousy and anxiety fuled anger fills your chest, your eyes bouncing back and forth uncontrollably between them while they start to calm down. Will he put his arm around me again? You ask yourself, your thoughts beginning to spiral down a road they never had with JJ.

Does he even remember I am here?

“Need a drink.” You rush to speak, your voice harsh abd upset while shoving yourself aggressively off the couch and away from the man that is supposed to bring you comfort. It wasn’t your intention to be rude, or aggressive but you just couldn’t find it in you to care.

It’s not like he will notice my tone anyway. You tell yourself, slipping silently around the crowded room to reach the drinks. You can’t stop yourself as your brain starts falling into a pit of overthinking, forcing yourself to take deep breaths in the hopes that you could calm down, take a few shots and be able to ignore these feelings until you were alone.

I bet he won’t even follow me, will he? The voice in the back of your head blurts out again, pushing tears past your eyelashes as you desperately try and hold them in. The thought has your head filling with heavy fog, your eyes searching for a life line, beginning to realize that you don’t even know anyone here besides his friends. Their friends.

Not like I have any of my own anyway.

Your scattered brain wastes no time in reminding you of that fact, your eyes nervously scanning the room, the music seemingly booming louder than it was a second ago as your ears begin to ring and your breath speeds up. You notice the room staring to feel smaller, your chest constricting with anxiety like the walls around you are closing in. You can’t understand why you aren’t able to just calm yourself down like a normal person.

I bet he wouldn’t even care if I left. Wouldn’t notice for hours. Your brain screams at you as you try and hide in the bathroom, locking the door behind you and letting your body relax against the door, falling down slowly, cradling your head in your arms and allowing yourself to cry quietly. You wanted your brain to just shut up already.

God you’re so toxic. What’s wrong with you. No wonder he prefers her, she can hold a conversation without stuttering through her anxiety. She is exciting, she likes everything he likes and knows the lingo-

“Hey, y/n are you okay?” JJ’s voice breaks through your thoughts, the knock of his two fingers against the hollow wood of the door making you jump slightly.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just crowded out there. Don’t worry you can go back to the party.” You try to control the sadness in your voice, wiping your eyes despite the tears still profusely wetting your cheeks, but you could almost hear the look of confusion on his face as he spoke through the door.

“But I don’t want to, not without you.” He sates, jiggling at the door knob before realizing it was locked, “Can I come in? You sound upset.” The fist trapping your heart tightens at the soft nervous chuckle he releases when you don’t respond at first. You can tell he has no idea what to do, or what upset you.

It’s not his fault you’re like this. He deserves better. He wants to have fun, not run around after me.

After taking a glance in the mirror to ensure your face was as tear free as it was going to get, you click the lock on the door, letting it creak open as you walk to rest against the sink, avoiding his gaze that you can feel burning into the back of your head.

“Are you okay Princess?” He asks, shutting the door behind him to give you privacy, the sigh in his voice as he sees you leant forward only eggs your anxiety on further. He’s annoyed with me now, you think as tears flood down your cheeks uncontrollably, forcing you to gasp for a breath you know won’t come.

“I-i was just overwhelmed at all the people I didn’t know,” the sentence gets caught in your throat, your eyes closing so you can imagine the lie in your head, “I’m okay, you can go have fun with your friends,” you try, wiping your eyes of tears to turn to face him with a straight face but he sees right through it. Like he aways does.

“You’re crying Gorgeous what happened? Did someone say something to you?” He asks, his voice sounded angry but his hands were soft as they reached up to grab your face, examining you like a piece of delicate china, “Did someone do something to you?” His voice was more urgent this time, startling you as you pull yourself out of his grasp and turn away again.

“No, no I’m fine I just need a second okay.” JJ can hear the squeak in your voice, can see the way your shoulders rock slightly with silent sobs. His heart starts to beat rapidly at the thought of everything that could have gone wrong, he didn’t want to lose you, he needed you. You grounded him and kept him from going absolutely crazy at every small inconvenience.

“Why won’t you look at me Princess? Did I do something?” His voice comes out as beg, wanting you to just tell him what happened, “Are you mad at me, whatever I did I didn’t mean to I promise I’m just a fucking idiot please tell me and I’ll explain.”

Your bloodshot eyes lock on his when you turn to meet his gaze and he knows this was him. He caused this somehow. His brain started going through each and every interaction he had with you in order to pin point what he did before finally remembering you didn’t even want to come to this party in the first place. “I can take you home and we can just hang out alone if you’re not having fun.”

“I don’t want to ruin the night for you, I just wanted to calm down because I have no right to be upset.” You sigh, finally meeting his eyes as he steps closer to you wearing a small smile, wanting nothing more than for you to open up to him, “I’m just overthinking….things.”

“What things?” He asks, his voice soft and full of reassurance

“Um well,” You stutter, “It’s just that it made me feel really anxious when Kie interrupted me, it made me….my brain….think you preferred talking to her.”

“Oh….Baby I’m so sorry,” JJ sighs, finally stepping close enough to tug you into a hug by your waste, “I thought you were just too anxious about the party to finish, you should have said something I would have listened to you Princess.”

“It’s fine, I was just too drained to say anything. I shouldn’t have made a big deal out of it.” Your head falls to rest on his chest, the warmth of his arms around you slowing your racing heart.

“You call this a big deal? Nah Princess next time you wanna say something to me you say it, I don’t care who I’m talking to I want to hear you.” His lips brush softly against your head, his large ringed hands rubbing up your back in a comforting gesture.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself, I didn’t want to ruin everything so I was just gonna calm down on my own.” Your voice cracks as you link your hands together against his back, allowing yourself to slightly cry at the thought.

“I don’t wanna find you crying in the bathroom because of me, I want you to have fun and when you’re not I want to know so I can fix it.” JJ’s voice is stern and confident as he moves you forward by your shoulders, forcing eye contact when he grips your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, “You are the most important person to me. I want to hear every single thing in that pretty head of yours, anything you worry about, anything you stress over, even if you think it will upset me. I would rather we’re upset together and working it out than distancing ourselves so one of us can have fun at the expense of the other.”

JJ’s gentle lips meet yours, your lips and cheeks still salty from tears, your hands shaking as they find their perch in JJ’s sandy hair. He steals your breath as he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming your sides and across your back as you tug him away by his hair. He groans his protest, his eyes still closed as he inhales your scent with his forehead against yours, “I love you, you know that right?” He whispers as his eyes blink open to meet yours again, stepping back to see you completely, his eyes dancing across you as if you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

“I love you too, so much it hurts,” Your sad chuckle mingles with your words and JJ knows you’ll be okay, he’ll make sure of it. His head swims with your scent while it surrounds him, the look of adoration in your wet eyes as you smile up at him sends him reeling, his hands subconsciously tightening on your waste and his lip tugging between his teeth.

“I think we should get outta here,” his breathless, begging tone brings out a giggle as your head falls against him again, “You were so right earlier, we should stay in and watch a movie yeah?” The teasing tone of his voice sparks a fire in your abdomen as you nod your head, his hands already encircling yours and tugging you out of the bathroom towards the door.

The music is still entirely too loud as you search the room with your eyes, taking notice of the empty couches you had just been sitting at. A pang of regret hit you, imagining Kie being mad at you for….for what? JJ wanted to hear me, you remind yourself as you take a deep breath before speaking, “Where’s Kie? Did I upset her?”

“I have no idea. I followed you when I heard how upset you were, she’ll understand though she knows how I feel about you.” He states matter of factly, “Now, if we don’t get out of here soon we are not making it home before I just find somewhere nice and private to take you on my bike Princess.”

“What have I said that implies I wouldn’t enjoy that Jay?” You tease, letting your lips tickle the shell of his ear, giggling at the groan he releases from deep in his chest while his grip on your hand tightens.

~~~~

[ponderingmoonlight]

Realizing your true feelings for Gojo after he stands up for you

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: You told yourself countless times that you aren't able to like Gojo Satoru, that he is nothing but a jerk. Until he stands up for you, until he shows you what he really thinks of you...

Warnings: literally wrote this in my break at work so don't come for me lol, fluff fluff fluff, reader getting insulted

Oh, how much you hate the way basically everyone looks at you. Well, not technically you, to be exact. It’s rather the person walking next to you who drowns in attention every time you are forced to go out together.

Not that you’d understand the hype. Gojo Satoru, the blessed one, the honored one, the strongest fucking jujutsu sorcerer of your lifetime.

“What’s wrong? Feeling left out, (y/n)?”

And probably the biggest pain in your ass.

“You’re such a whore for attention it hurts”, you bite back while rolling your shaded eyes the way you always do the second he opens his mouth.

His laughter vibrates through your body, annoys you to the core. When will this madness finally come to an end? When will they finally begin to send you onto missions with Geto, Yu or fuck, even Nanami? Why on earth does it always have to be him?

“Caught me there I guess. But it’s not my fault that I’m easy to look at. Not like you.”

You force yourself to take a deep breath in and out, to calm your tingling nerves and stop your fist from twitching. That fucker has some really good nerves. Only the sound of his name next to you simply drives you insane, let alone his stupid comments and oh too annoying voice. Is there really anything good on Gojo Satoru, something you might like?

“I hate you”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Aww, don’t be like that, (y/n). We both know that isn’t true”, he purrs, ready to grab your shoulder when you yank away.

“I’ll break your fucking nose if you touch me, jerk.”

“I’d love to see you try, princess.”

“I’ve never seen you around here.”

The sudden soft female voice that interrupts your rambling catches you off guard.

There she stands, an undeniable beauty with curves in just the right places and blonde hair that looks like strands of gold. The bluest eyes, the most breathtaking smile. And of course, her gaze is fixated on Satoru.

“That’s because it’s my first time here. After all, my eyes definitely wouldn’t have miss someone like you”, he replies with that cheeky grin you know oh too well, the cheeky grin that makes your blood boil in an instant.

Really? This is probably the worst time to start a flirty conversation. You were sent here to detect a special grade curse, to save this damned city from getting scorched. But he? He has nothing but her blonde hair and delicate smile in his pea brain

“Don’t you think that this isn’t the right time for a conversation like that?”, you mumble irritably.

“We’re just having a little talk. Who are you, his girlfriend? I highly doubt that. A girl like you would never have a chance with a guy like him.”

You have to blink a few times when her sugary voice spits at you with pure venom.

It shouldn’t bother you. Why would it? Gojo is the last person walking on earth you’d be in a relationship with, the last person who would ever want you. You, with your average looks. You, being a grade 2 sorcerer who has nothing special to offer. You, who never actually allowed herself to like Gojo. You, who is nothing compared to the woman standing in front of you.

Then why do her words feel like a knife in your heart? Why are you standing there like an idiot, sunglasses barely covering your pain? Why does his presence next to you suddenly sting so badly?

“Pretty disgusting words for someone with that face. Do you really think the world belongs to you because you look good? Let me tell you something: Apart from being hot, (y/n) is also unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic. Someone as simple-minded as you should better avoid me. Now get lost, will you?”

What.

On.

Earth.

Did Gojo Satoru really stand up for you? No, did Gojo Satoru just call you “hot, unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic”? Your heart almost beats out of your chest, pounding so roughly against your ribcage that you feel like fainting any given minute. A cruel storm of butterflies almost causes your guts to turn, makes you see stars. Are you dreaming, maybe? This can’t be reality. It’s impossible that-

“Hey, are you okay? I hope you don’t trust that stinky girl”, Gojo speaks out softly.

You can sense the way he eyes you up and down through his sunglasses, the little pout on his face revealing that he’s truly worried. Is that really the boy who teases you until you lose your mind completely? God, how much you hate him, how much you want to punch him into his stupid perfect face.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. But what is that little part of your brain that almost dies in excitement, then? What are those strange butterflies that never invaded you since you joined Jujutsu High?

“Hey, look at me.”

Your eyes dart upwards, get greeted by his bright blue orbs that look down at you in a seriousness you’ve never seen before.

“Tell me you don’t believe her.”

“She said nothing I don’t already know”, you reply dryly.

He shakes his head, still staring down at you with furrowed eyebrows. Who is this guy? What are those feelings? Why aren’t you able to look away like you always do? Gojo is only playing with you the way he does constantly. His bright blue orbs aren’t to be trust and you know it.

“I would choose you a hundred times before someone like her, (y/n).”

It’s like all life drained from your body, blank eyes staring at him in shock. This really has to be a dream. When was the last time Gojo has been nice to you? Probably never. He constantly teases you, drives you inane, makes you mad, makes you regret your decision to come to Jujutsu High and also…

Makes you feel save, makes you feel good about yourself, makes you feel affection.

Affection? For Gojo?

“I…I have to go”, you blurt out so abruptly that you almost trip over your own feet while trying to haste away.

He’s only picking on you like he always does. Gojo Satoru, considering a romantic relationship with you? You huff out loud, cheeks redden by the sheer thought of the dumb look you gave him. You aren’t better than the girls you despise so much, after all. He truly managed to wrap you around his finger like everyone else, even though you told yourself over and over to hate him.

What a pathetic jerk you are.

You spin around so fast you almost fall over, only to get caught in a pair of strong arms.

“You don’t believe me”, Gojo notes while keeping you in place.

“Why would I?”, you press out, not daring to look at him once again.

You need to get away from this cursed place, away from the honored one. It’s time to go back to normal, back to hating him with all your heart. Because this is all he is, right? Gojo Satoru is nothing but your rival…right?

“Maybe I can convince you with something else.”

Just when you’re about to protest and freeing yourself, he pulls you even closer and presses his lips against yours.

Time stands still, the lenses of your sunglasses pressing so violently against Gojo’s skin that they crack.

This.

This is the stuff your wildest dreams are made of, a dream you didn’t even allow yourself to think about. If there’s one thing that always seemed impossible to you, it was this. Why would you ever be more than Gojo’s rival, what is the purpose of seeing anything apart from a pain in the ass in him?

This right here.

Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around him as well, pull him closer and closer, take in his delicious scent. The sheer feeling of his lips collapsing into yours leaves you breathless, makes your lungs ache in the urge for air.

Until he lets go of you while panting hard, now glowing eyes fixated on you so intimidating that you feel yourself blushing.

“Believing me know?”

“You stained my sunglasses”, you breathe out mindlessly.

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[whackk-kermitt]

Oh I got a good one, How the God of War characters would react to reader kissing them for the first time eather on the cheek or the lips or both. Please definitely add Atreus. Please

Smooches

Warnings: Cuties being cute.

Genre: Headcanons

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

Kratos

It was a total shock to Kratos when he felt your lips against his temple.

You would never guess he was dumbfounded and awestruck by the sudden affection.

He didn't respond with words or even look at you, just kept on with his task.

He wracked his brain trying to think of what the kiss had been for.

What made you think to do it?

All he had done before was take the flint and start the fire you were having trouble starting.

After all, he needed that fire going so he could cook the fresh game.

He didn't quite understand until Mimir, the smartest man alive, told him after you'd excused yourself from the room.

“You've been married before, brother! How do you not realize that women relish being taken care of?”

So you kissed him because he helped you?

That's it?!

That's ridiculous.

He totally started helping you out more often though.

Not because he yearned for you to kiss I'm more often.

No.

Definitely not.

He only wanted to show you how to do the things you should know how to do already.

Smooches were just a bonus.

Atreus

He'd liked you for so long that by the time you'd kissed him it was like a damn breaking open and river water finally resuming the course it was meant to flow.

Even if it was just a sweet peck on the cheek while sitting beside each other at the campfire.

A peck that lasted a second.

But to him, it felt like everything was finally the way things should be.

He smiled and shuddered and tried to find words or the courage you had to reciprocate.

He stumbled under himself for a few long moments hating how stupid he must have looked.

He was afraid his awkward response ruined the mood.

He almost had the heart to blame you, you did this to him after all.

But that embarrassment only lasted a little bit before he was reassured this a longer kiss on the other cheek.

He settled for comfortable silence enjoying the moment.

Not before kissing your hands of course.

Such a gentleman.

Mimir

He really enjoyed the moments you stole him away and walked with him, sat with him, talked for hours about nothing and everything.

You'd find a log, or field and lay him in you lap, laugh and talk sweet to him.

It was one of these moments, were you stopped him mid story, lifted him up close and kissed him sweetly on the lips.

He was saddened at first, insecurities about being just a head filled him.

He cares for you, absolutely, there was no doubt he'd be happy to spend the rest of his days with you.

But he felt you deserved better than an old man with not body to hold you with.

You didn't seaem to mind, and since he didn't really have the guts (metaphorically and literally) to voice these concerns you just kept coming back for more smooches.

“You deserve better, love.” He finally spoke. “A man who could hold you.”

He didn't believe you when you said none of that matters to you.

He argued his point for a few minutes.

“Well, you have no legs to run away from me. So your fate is sealed, my love.”

He almost laughed until you kissed him again.

Indeed it was.

Sindri

The first kiss between you wasn't necessarily a real kiss.

But it made his heart swell up more than anything he'd felt, ever.

It was a long-fought battle, some nearly died.

He'd not been there with you Kratos and the rest.

But when they all returned without you, and told him of the struggle he was a second from demanding where you were.

He was scared.

Only for you to walk in, wound wrapped up, armor rinsed of blood and grub.

You'd taken time outside to clean yourself before entering his home.

The relief of seeing you alive and well was enough to make him smile so purely.

Then, as you approached, scars of near death in your eyes, you smiles back and blew him a kiss.

It made him stubble over his feet as he met you halfway, a gesture he'd never thought of anyone doing for him.

He considered for a moment kissing you for real, but his stomach twisted and he settled for returning the hand gesture.

He revealed it the way it wiped the pain in your eyes and made them glow with beautiful life again.

It wasn't anything extravagant or overly romantic, but it was something sweet and simple.

Perfect for both of you.

Heimdal

All he'd done was throw an insult in the direction of some hag who was too invasive of yours and his business for his liking.

You were for the few people he tolerated and it irritated him that someone would sully your name out of petty spite.

The next thing he knew, you were on him. 

He was more surprised he didn't see it coming.

He had no time to even process what you were thinking before you laid one him.

Then he realized you didn't even think about what you were doing until you were doing it.

Kissing the life out of him.

He enjoyed the fact your instinctual reaction to him “defending your honor” was to rob the air from his lungs.

It was such a little thing that got suck a big reaction.

He didn't mind at all, even after you pulled away and apologized.

He just smirked and pulled you back in.

Baldur

He’d been angry, throwing things, breaking furniture, seething, and cursing his mother’s name.

Another dead end, false lead, trying to find someway to break his curse.

You just stood there watching sorrowfully until he called enough to know he would hurt you if you approached.

You’d been by his side since the start, trying to help.

Watching him go mad.

When he did calm, and sat, panting and gritting his teeth, you took a seat beside him.

He could not feel the way you hand gently touched his shoulder.

He could not feel, the hand you placed over his chest and stroked to try and smooth him.

That made him angry all over again.

He wanted to feel your touch more than anything.

He never had the chance of being close to you like this before his curse.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched you lean in and place a soft kiss on his jawline.

His anger slipped into despair, as he wished more than anything to feel the warmth of your embrace.

The softness of your skin.

The taste of your lips.

At least he could still feel you in his heart, but it wasn't enough.

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

•Kermitts Masterlist•

[pullupinarari]

I hear the secrets that you keep [LH]

author’s note: like that tiktok audio says: “I WORK LIKE A DOG, DAY AND NIGHT” for this blog 😭 three fics in three days and I hate every single one of them - oh how delightful it is to live inside of my mind 😃 I wanna say sorry to the people who requested this if this turns out to be really shitty, I am honestly very tired and this is my last fic of the week. Anyway, hope you can enjoy this 😭🩷 mwah

• masterlist

wc: 2179 - english is not my first language! feedback is always appreciated

Light beams erupt through the cracks of your eyes, while you slowly try to open them. Your vision is blurry, making it hard for you to understand where you are. You feel sleepy, like you had just woken up from the longest slumber of your life, sensing your body still immersed in a feeling of rest and calmness - it’s like you are floating in the middle of the ocean and a long wave is dragging your body along the motions of the water.

You feel too tired, too drowsy to fight your heavy eyes for them to stay open. It’s like you keep falling asleep and waking up after mere seconds, the white lights matching the white walls that you see once you open your eyes for a bit, feeling like all of this is nothing more than just some flashes crossing your mind.

Your mind feels like time is passing by - each second marking itself on your skin, as a sharp pain on your lower belly starts shooting up, making you groan even in the few minutes that you feel yourself falling asleep.

A patient, yet worried Lewis is sitting on the chair beside your bed, watching your every movement and reaction, his leg bouncing nervously as he waits for you to finally wake up. His hand holds yours softly, gently caressing your knuckles as he records every second of your features in his brain attentively.

The pain growing on your torso makes it impossible for you to rest, so you finally shoot your eyes open, immediately regretting your decision as the bright lights blind you momentarily.

A hiss leaves your lips as your arm goes to cover your eyes from the clarity surrounding the space around you. When you are finally ready to face the reality, you look around, realizing that you are in the hospital.

After some confusion wrapping your brain in a knot, some memories of what happened appear at the forefront of your mind. You remember having a sharp pain surrounding your navel, some nausea, ending up curled over the toilet, throwing up while the agonizing ache wouldn't leave your body.

Your husband drove you to the hospital, where you went into an emergency surgery - appendicitis was the cause of all your symptoms. You giggle to yourself, not knowing why, but finding your own thoughts so funny right now.

“Hey love, you’re finally awake” - a voice startles you from your thoughts. When you look to your side, you see the figure of man, not really recognizing him. You feel his soft fingers wrapping around yours, and you make sure to immediately distance your hand from his touch.

“Don’t touch me! And don’t call me ‘love’! I am a married woman, you hear me? Back off! Back, I said!” - you point your finger at the figure in front of you, your voice sounding slurry as you threaten the man with your bare hands.

Maybe it’s because you’re still very high - under the aftereffects of the anesthesia, maybe it’s because your vision is still blurry, but you can’t control the giggles that escape your lips as soon as you notice the way his eyebrows furrowed in confusion while he looks at you.

Lewis chuckles lightly as he realizes your altered state, waking up with your brain in a whole different dimension. Seeing you laughing and in a good mood lightens up his worried side a bit, relief washing over him as soon as you open your eyes. So now, he decides to play along, and see how far he can take you until you come back to yourself.

“You’re a married woman, huh?” - he questions, an eyebrow raising while he puts up a flirty tone in his voice, messing with you.

The serious look you gave him was enough to make him hold a laugh inside of him. “Yes!” - you state. “I have a husband. A very handsome, very loving one” - your cheeks flush when you mention it, your brain reminding you of Lewis - but still, somehow, not helping you recognize him when he is right in front of you.

“Oh, is that right?” - he chuckles lightly, feeling his own face grow red at your words.

“Yeeeees” - you giggle at the way you drag your words, finding yourself to be the most comic person alive right now. “We’ve been married for three years now, see? He gave me the prettiest ring” - you show him your hand, only to notice that the jewel isn’t on your finger, making you panic.

Your eyes widen while looking at your hand, realizing that the ring is missing, your mouth agape while your heart races at the thought of losing your wedding ring.

“Oh my God! My ring is gone! Someone stole my ring!” - you raise your tone, looking everywhere around you in search of the gold band.

Lewis shakes his head at your words, searching for your ring in his pocket - you handed it to him before the doctors took you inside the operating room.

“You mean this ring?” - his arm stretches so he can show it to you. You immediately take the jewel from him, putting it back on your finger.

“You stole my wedding ring! You’re a thief! I’m gonna call the polhee-heeice” - you imitate Michael Jackson’s sound, making Lewis laugh out loud in the middle of your hospital room now.

The way you can’t stop giggling is making your face turn red, and you need to take deep breaths to calm down. Lewis gets closer to you, waving his hands in front of your features so he can create some sort of wind to cool you down.

“Waving at me like the goddess that I am, I like it” - you wiggle your eyebrows, your comical state never leaving you.

The man hums in agreement. “Hopefully your husband won’t get jealous” - he teases.

“He has no reason to get jealous, even though he can be a little possessive sometimes” - your tone sounds calm and grounded now. “But I only have eyes for him. I even want to give him three babies. Two, at least” - your blurt out, watching how Lewis’ eyes widen a bit, showing how surprised he is at your revelation.

You cover your mouth like a little girl, giggling uncontrollably when you realize the words that just left your mouth.

“He doesn’t know about any of this yet! Please, you need to promise me that you won’t tell him. He’s very famous so you probably know who he is, so if you see him on the street or something, don’t tell him that I want to give him babies!” - you plead, rushing your words while you stretch your hands to him, holding both your pinkies up for him to give you his word for it.

With a giggle, Lewis double pinky-promises you that his mouth is a tomb. After wrapping his fingers in yours, his hand gestures that he sealed his lips with a zipper, throwing the key away, making you smile at his movements.

“We haven’t talked about it yet, but I just know that he is going to be the best father in the world. He is sooo good with kids, my heart melts every time I see him with his nephews” - you confess, your hands touching your cheeks as your face grows warm, matching the heat of your heart irradiating through your chest now.

“But yeah, I really want to have his babies. I would love to have a girl and a boy, and maybe another girl after so we can team up to annoy Lewis and our son ehehe” - you add, a small giggle escaping your lips as you daydream about your future next to your husband.

You forgot about his presence a while ago, your eyes shining as you look at your hands, playing with your own fingers while talking about your plans out loud.

There’s a moment of silence, that Lewis needed to take everything in. And the brightness in his eyes matches yours, realizing how lucky he is to be married to the sweetest woman in the world, his heart craving to touch you now, to hold you, to kiss you - to let you know that he can’t wait to have all the babies you wish for. But instead, he decides to wait until you’re completely back to yourself to have this conversation.

For now, he just sits down, looking at you with a beaming smile plastered on his face, admiring his beautiful wife - the sight of you looking so cute, cheeks blushing with a cute smile on your features was enough to make him melt.

“Lucky him” - that’s all he says, truthfully feeling it in himself while your eyes meet for a long while.

You end up falling asleep again, the post-operative state still taking a toll on your body. After some hours, you wake up, your eyes adjusting to the lights again, but feeling more aware of your surroundings now.

Lewis notices it when your hand reaches for him, entangling your fingers together as soon as you see him sitting next to your bed. “How are you feeling, love?” - he asks, his voice sounding soft and sweet as he kisses your knuckles.

“In a bit of pain, but I’m okay” - you confirm, your voice still laced with sleep and tiredness.

A moment later, a nurse comes in with some food - letting you know that you need to get something in your stomach, even if you don’t feel like eating now.

When the lady leaves, Lewis notices the way your nose contorts at the tray of food in front of you, knowing you so well that he already knows that he needs to intervene, or you will end up not eating a thing.

Sighing, your husband takes the soup bowl in his hands, stirring it and blowing some cold air on the food - not wanting you to burn your tongue while eating.

“I have never met such a big picky eater as you” - he shakes his head while speaking, noticing how you remain silent, knowing that you can’t argue with him on this.

Collecting some soup with the spoon, he holds it close to your lips, wanting for you to open your mouth. “Are you really going to feed me the soup like I am some kind of baby?” - you question, your face closed and unimpressed by his actions.

He doesn’t flinch, patiently waiting for you to give in. “You’re acting like a baby, so come on. Open up” - he insists, feeding you the soup when you finally decide to open your mouth to welcome the food.

After a while of complaining about having to eat, you finally finish the soup. Lewis puts the tray away, giving you a proud smile for finishing your food.

“That didn’t hurt, didn’t it?” - he teases you, landing a kiss on your forehead while you just give him a serious look.

“The soup was fine, but there’s no need for you to baby me. It was just appendicitis, you know. I’ll be fine by tomorrow” - you huff, seeing how Lewis suppresses a laugh at your attitude.

“You’re so cute when you try to pretend you’re mad. You’ll always be my baby, love. Stop being stubborn and let me take care of you” - he kisses your knuckles once again, scooting over so he can get closer to you.

Noticing the small smile that plays in your lips at his words, he decides to finally touch the topic. “Speaking of babies… three, huh?” - he questions, an eyebrow raising as he sees the shocked look showing on your face, as soon as those words leave his mouth.

You stay silent, your eyes widening the more your heart beats faster on your chest.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about. Three babies?! That’s crazy, I don’t even want to have kids! I don’t know where you got this from, but-” - you start rambling, speaking fast as you try to make him believe your excuses.

His lips connect with yours in a loving, passionate kiss - shushing you and all the fears clouding your mind. “I want them all” - he assures you, looking you dead in the eyes so you can read the sincerity pouring from his body into yours, now.

“Three babies, one boy and two girls so you can team up and annoy me and our son” - he chuckles while he repeats your exact words. “I want it all, my love” - another kiss confirms his confession, the way his hands carefully grab your features helps wash away all the anxiety running through you.

“Really?” - you ask him, your voice small, contrasting with how big your eyes look, the light reflecting on the tears showing on the corners of them.

Your husband nods, a smile appearing on both of your faces now, looking at each other like two silly adults that just got the best news of their lives.

“Really, my love. I want it all with you” - he admits, the beating in his chest letting him know that he wouldn’t have it with anyone else.

[justiceiscalling]

i’m gonna try to keep this one short but, genuinely, why is damian going to hell never mentioned? like jason’s death is mentioned 24/7 and damian’s death is basically never even referenced (to my knowledge). did his death get retconned?

and even then—why don’t fics mention it? damian went to hell! literal hell! that’s prime angst material right there. i don’t understand people sometimes. everyone ignores the important aspects of jason and damian’s deaths, they only take note that they died. like the fic ideas i have for this is limitless.

catholic jason todd dies and sees nothing. no heaven, no hell. no jesus, no devil. he comes back brain damaged, then fucked up in the head, and when he finally gets his feet underneath him, he has a crisis of faith. then damian wayne fucking dies, comes back a year later (double it and give it to the next ts). bonding ensues.

“You trashed it.” Tim notes, looking down at the shirt that’s covered with paint, grime, and the distinct scent of the sewer.

Duke looks over at the shirt and scrunches his nose, glancing between it and Damian. “Just throw it in his closet. Maybe he won’t notice.”

Tim gives Duke a look. “It reeks of the sewer. Dicks not that messy.”

Damian frowns at the shirt. His trip through Gothams sewers hadn’t been intentional, it was a detour he had to make when an assassin cornered him. Unfortunately, at the time he was wearing Dicks blue ‘Nightwing’ shirt (yes he has his own merch. Yes it is because he is full of himself).

A low whistle draws Damian’s attention away from the shirt. He looks up and meets Jason’s eyes. His hair has grown out since Damian last saw him two weeks ago. If he refused to go to the barber then he should at least let Alfred cut it, do the entire world a favor. “Oh, Dicks going to kill you.”

“I hope not,” Damian says absentmindedly, putting the shirt down. Lest he start smelling like the sewer again. It took four hours to get the scent out of his hair, an additional two to get it off his body. “I’m not dressed properly.”

It’s meant to be a joke. Him and Jon aren’t exactly ‘working on them’ but he has been a test dummy for a few. Damian came to realize Jon laughed at everything, no matter if it was funny or not. The trio in front of him laugh as if it’s funny—Damian is about to dedicate an entire thirty seconds to basking in glory at the victory of making three out of four of his brothers laugh—but it’s when Tim speaks that Damian realizes it was interpreted wrong.

"What, you too cool to die in a hoodie and sweats?" He gestures to Damians outfit, a Gotham Academy hoodie paired with its matching Gotham Academy sweats. Underneath the black hoodie, is a black long sleeve shirt that had the Gotham Academy symbol on the sleeve.

Duke straightens up to get his own joke out. "Obviously.” He says with complete seriousness. “He has to die wearing Prada. Keep up, Tim.” He looks over at Jason, “Get a load of this guy.”

Jason snorts in response. “Gotta die in style. Dying in uniform is so outdated.” That earns a loud laugh from Duke, the only person who has yet to tire of Jason’s ‘I died’ jokes.

“Imbeciles.” Damian rolls his eyes, his tanned cheeks were probably coated in pink dye to embarrassment. He would never imply he had to die in a certain outfit if it wasn’t half-true. “That is not what I meant.”

“Please do explain, O-Wise one.”

Damian clicks his tongue at Dukes nickname but does as asked. “When I died before,” He doesn’t miss the way Tim and Jason stiffen at the mention. Duke just kind of pauses. “It was hot. You cannot exactly ditch clothes in hell.”

He’s met with silence. Well, he didn’t expect to be met with laughs.

Jokes aren’t funny after you explain the joke. Damian busies himself with folding the shirt he had previously let go of, the one that smelled of the sewer. “You…” Tim pauses, tilts his head, then continues. “What?”

“You broke Tim.” Duke comments, though he doesn’t seem fully there either.

“I don’t understand.” Damian furrows his brows look from Duke to Tim. Finally, he decides to look over at Jason.

Jason doesn’t seem tense, the only sign he was was the hand he had clenched together in a fist, which he quickly got rid of. In reality, it’s his face that gives him away. Jason’s always been emotional, you could read his emotions far too easy off his face if you were trained to do so. It’s a good thing he wears a helmet. “Hell. You went to hell.”

“Yes.” Damian says, because, was it ever a secret? Did he forget to mention that? He didn’t exactly have to write a mission report on his death. “I assume you did not.” His voice is stiff. Hell isn’t his favorite topic.

“No. I didn’t.” Jason confirms.

“How was Heaven?” His tone is slightly bitter, he can’t help it. Even though he knows Jason was good pre-death. Didnt lay a finger on a soul, and when he did, they were deserving of it and walked away breathing just fine.

“Wouldn’t know.” Jason shrugs. “Wasn’t important enough to get either.” He explains.

and yk bonding brother stuff. the potential is just sitting there untouched. like if someone doesn’t use it ill tweak out. feel free to rec fics, im clearly in need. only crossover fics id enjoy are marvel/mcu and criminal minds.

use this for an idea if you want, give credit obv.

edit: i've been informed that jason, in some iterations, did go to heaven but just doesn't remember it. so...even better ngl.

crisis of faith, thinking there's no heaven and hell, then boom bro finds out he actually did go to heaven. also the little writing bit i did was made in like twenty minutes at like 3 am, so sorry for it being shit. if i do ever get a great incredible idea for a fic on that, ill let yall know.

[stvrnioloslvt]

❛❛ ⛸️ + 🏒 ❞

hockey game

✎ in collab with @sturnslutz > read me!

a few days had passed from your last - and definitely awkward - meeting with matt, and there wasn’t one moment in which your mind didn’t replay the event of the showers on loop, leaving you to overthink what had happened: what was all that? was it the heat of the moment that had you both acting out, or was it genuine attraction? he was attractive, sure, but were you actually that attracted to him?

lost in your thoughts you started to zone out, momentarily forgetting that next to you sat the devil’s advocate, also known as chris. “hellooo,” he called out, waving a hand in front of your eyes, “earth calls baby, do you copy?”

you scoffed, swatting his hand away while muttering a soft “get your filthy hand out of my face” under your breath. “dude, you were fucking gone,” he commented in an exaggerated tone, before a weird glint began sparkling in his eyes. you leaned back a little, perplexity written all over your face as your friend’s face leaned closer to yours. “did you fuck him?”

“what?” you almost screamed, pushing him off of you. “what on earth are you talking about, chris?”

you watched as a smirk took place on chris’ lips slowly. he tried to hide it by biting his lip, before words spilled uncontrolled by his mouth. “your little rendez-vous in the shower. so, did you have sex?”

your cheeks broke out in a crimson red blush furiously burning you whole, panic almost settling in before a little light switched on in your brain. you two were alone in the locker, so how did he…

“did you push me there on purpose?” you finally screamed incredulous, attracting a few puzzled looks from college kids moving around on campus. you didn’t care though, not when you came to the realization that chris had purposefully told you that the water wasn’t running knowing that you would have checked it for yourself, effectively bumping into his brother half naked fresh out of the shower. 

chris’ smirk widened as he saw the gears in your mind turning, putting the missing pieces of the story together. “bingo,” he whispered, leaning back against the tree trunk you were sitting under. “don’t thank me, by the way. oh, and i told him you’re coming to our home for those little study sessions of yours. don’t worry though, me and nick won’t be there.”

you watched wide-eyed as your friend brought both arms behind his head, closing his eyes and resting there as if he was sunbathing on the beach. you tried to talk numerous times, your mouth opening and closing like a fish in a miserable attempt to scold him, to tell him that he couldn’t just toy with you however he pleased and act like he was doing you a favour. in the end, you finally snapped back to your senses and smacked him across his face, earning a pained grunt from the boy who was now holding his cheek, the soft, pale skin slowly turning redder by the second.

“are you actually crazy?” you exclaimed, sitting up on your knees to look at him better. chris groaned once again, glancing at his hand that was once on his cheek almost as if he was scared there would be blood on there. how dramatic. 

“oh c’mon,” he whined, sitting up straight, “you could really use this time. and also…” he began, eyeing you up and down, fixing his gaze on your tensed features. “...you really need to get laid. you’re too stressed.” once again, you were at a loss of words from his bluntness. it wasn’t something new, but usually you were the blunt one, so to see the tables reverse it was a weird and unexpected experience.  

“chris- i fucking hate you,” you groaned, burying your head in your hands as despair came clawing at your insides. you could not let the meeting happen, not after what had happened just a few days prior. “why, what happened?” asked the boy curiously. you glanced at him between your fingers, realizing too late that you had spoken out loud. you sighed, shaking your head while you gathered your belongings and threw them in your bag. “nothing,” you said while getting up, shaking the grass from your pants, keen on running from your friend as soon as possible. “listen, i’ll see you later, yeah?”

“i’ll send you the location! and i want you as near as possible to the rink at the game!” 

“yeah, yeah, sure,” you whispered, heading towards your room. yeah, you were fucked. 

some hours later…

“what do you think?” you asked, holding a baby blue shirt to your torso. honey turned around, nodding in approval as she slipped her own shirt on. she looked around the room, sitting down on cherry’s bed as she tied her shoelaces. “by the way, where’s your roommate?”

“already at the rink,” you replied, grabbing the phone from the desk. you quickly skimmed over the countless messages cherry sent you, announcing mindlessly to honey that apparently they were holding two spots for you two and that the arena was filling more and more by the second.

quickly, you made your way to the rink, meeting nate and his crew right at the front. you observed as he immediately pulled honey into a hug, your nose scrunching from the obnoxious smell of alcohol reeking from his breath. your eyebrows shot up in surprise as his eyes lingered on your friend more than necessary, basically stripping her with his eyes. fucking disgusting. honey shot you a quick glance, to which you could only reply with a shrug and a confused laugh. as a look of unease made its way on honey’s face, you decided to step in and save her from the drunken state of your friend. “c’mon, we’ll see you later guys,” you said, interlocking arms with honey and nodding to nate and his friends, before pulling her out of that rather awkward interaction. 

you made way to cherry and other girls from your figure skating lessons, sitting down next to them. “can you not-” you began, showing to cherry your phone overflowing with messages, “fucking bombard me with messages? everytime i think something urgent has happened and it’s always something stupid.”

“what do you mean stupid? the choice of a new leotard is pretty much fundamental, what if i choose a color that makes me look like shit?” you look back at the girl who’s 100% serious about the matter before bursting out in laughter, absolutely incredulous. soon after, cherry’s scold turned into a soft smile, then she, too, bursted into a fit of laughter. 

too caught up into your conversation with your roommate, you failed to notice nate plopping down next to honey until you feel her knee nudge against yours, your head turning immediately and landing on the drunk man sitting too close to you for your own liking. you nodded in her way, asking a silent question: are you okay? honey shook her head, not really wanting to talk about it as her eyes fixed on a spot on the rink. you turned your gaze back to nate, scoffing and rolling your eyes as he continued to blabber drunkenly.  

the loud horn blew through the speakers, lights dancing around the arena as the players entered the rink, the speaker screaming something in the microphone that got muffled by the loud cheering of college students all around you. you got up, pulling honey so she could see the team of our college entering. your eyes quickly inspected the rink, landing immediately on matt’s back. and, as if between you two were pieces of a magnet, he turned to face your way, his icy eyes immediately finding yours. you couldn’t help the flashback from days before replaying in your mind, but you decided to distract yourself. tearing your gaze away from matt’s, you spotted chris. “look,” you leaned over honey’s shoulder, yelling over the noise, “there’s matt and there’s chris.” 

honey didn’t respond, but by the way she was looking at the boy you knew she had heard you loud and clear. deciding that teasing her might ease some of her nervousness, you laugh, “you’re drooling,” watching then how the girl tried to defend herself. 

you watched as the brothers talked to each other seemingly focused on the game that was going to begin soon, but you couldn’t help but notice the sneaky glances matt threw your way more than once. fuck, this wasn’t good. 

from your right side, cherry nudged you lightly. “have you talked to him?” she asked, nodding in his way. you shook your head, slumping against your seat. cherry knew what had happened in the showers since that day you had blasted through your dorm door with a rather shocked face, immediately rambling about the little encounter you had with the triplet. to cite her words, you had been “stupid for having let this opportunity slip from your hands”, so since then each time you two met she would always ask you the same question in hope things had changed. they had not. in fact, it seemed like you and matt had reached a common pact of avoiding each other as much as possible, not wanting to deal with the consequences of your slip up. 

finally, the game started, pulling you away from your own thoughts. minutes flew by and the crowd got more and more agitated by the second. you glanced to the clock, gnawing nervously at your lip: 40 seconds to intermission and neither team managed to throw the pluck in. suddenly, a collective gasp rose from the crowd: at first you almost missed the way a member of your team stole the puck from the other team, which then ended in chris’ grasp as he glided skillfully towards the net of the enemy, fast yet controlled. 10 seconds left. two members of the opposite team blocked chris’ path, almost managing to retrieve back the puck if it weren’t for chris’ leap of faith towards matt, the little black disk sliding between one of the boys’ legs and ending right in front of the other sturniolo who was waiting exactly for this moment to almost throw himself towards the net, hitting the puck with his stick and making it land inside just as the intermission bell rang, the crowd exploding in screams and yells as the +1 point appeared on the score screen.  

matt threw a victory fist up in the air, shoving the helmet off his head as the team flew his way, crushing him in a joyous hug. you jumped up with the rest of the audience, clapping your hands and cheering while on the other side of the arena the students from the other college booed at you. you didn’t care though, not when the air was sizzling with electricity.

“look!” yelled cherry, pointing to the boys hugging in the rink. there, right at the center of the hug stood matt, his eyes fixed on you. even when chris elbowed him playfully he didn’t tear his gaze from you. he smiled at you softly and you reciprocated, nodding in approval as you kept clapping for him.

eventually, the boys headed towards the benches to recharge, dragging matt with them.

you turned towards honey, chuckling as you noticed that her eyes hadn’t ripped once from the rink. “having fun?” you asked her, to which she nodded. “i can tell, you haven’t taken your eyes off the rink the whole time, let’s make sure your eyes don’t get stuck now.” you laughed as you saw her annoyed expression, leaving her to be while you toyed with your phone. suddenly, a message from chris came through:

❛❛ chris🏒 ❞

⤷ we have a problem

you furrowed your brows at the single message, quickly glancing back to the rink as the bell rang again, the boys gliding in again. you analyzed chris, trying to understand if he was sick or hurt, but he looked neither. with a last glance at your phone you put it back in your pocket, trying to enjoy the second part of the game.

that was, until a player shoved chris on the ground, and said boy got back up and charged towards him like a fury, ripping the helmet from the guy’s head and punching him multiple times. you couldn’t help but scoot to the edge of the seat, your back straight and tense as you waited for the ref to separate them. he didn’t, though, and you watched with horror as matt tried to intervene before things got out of hand, effectively ending with chris pushing him out of the way. finally, the refs managed to separate the two boys, sending chris to the penalty box where his coach started yelling at him. 

what none of you expected, though, was for a girl to run to the box, pounding on it until chris opened it and welcomed her in a hug. suddenly, the mysterious message made sense. trouble wasn’t a sickness, or an ache, or even this little stunt he had just pulled, trouble was this girl he had just kissed in front of two colleges. “no fucking way,” you muttered, your heart beating incredibly fast in your ribcage as adrenaline came back running through your veins. 

you turned towards honey who seemed to be in a trance, calling her name over and over before she bolted out of there, heading towards the penalty box. “shit,” you exclaimed, running after your friend who had never moved faster before. as you reached the box, you couldn’t help but notice matt moving towards you, resting his free hand on the glass that separated the players from the crowd right where yours was, in a <hidden> attempt to be closer to you. you would have lied if you said that the gesture didn’t make your stomach erupt in butterflies, but you had to snap back to reality when <chris’ girlfriend> spoke to you in a rather bitchy tone. 

“nu-uh girl, you’re not talking to your reflection, i’m not the bitch here.” you spat back, watching delighted as her features morphed into horror, your little remark hitting a nail in her ego. how pathetic. you heard matt stifling back a chuckle, his fingers tapping mindlessly on the glass. Fuck, you wanted to touch him so bad. but as tempted as you were in the moment, you knew you had bigger problems to take care of, and that’s how you ran to honey again who was leaving the stadium, after flipping that addison girl off. you slipped your hand in honey’s, dragging her out of there while muttering angrily under your breath. 

“she’s ugly as fuck, too. he downgraded,” you muttered more loudly as honey sobbed into your shoulder, stroking her hair and back comfortingly. you looked around, noticing people giving you weird looks on the street as if they’ve never seen a person cry. you rolled your eyes, clearly annoyed before pulling honey with you, heading towards her apartment building.

“baby, look” murmured honey softly, handing you his phone. you read chris’ messages, your expression laced with disgust as a new wave of anger washed over you. you scoffed angrily, switching then to nate’s messages and cringing from the clearly altered state he was in. “chris is a fucking weirdo, the switch up was crazy,” you said, shaking your head. “at least nate was nice,” you commented. but was he? or was he only drunk speaking? “i guess,” you added lastly.

finally back to honey’s apartment, you follow her to her bedroom, throwing her some pjs and looking for a spare to wear. “i’m staying here tonight, okay? i’m not letting you be alone.”

and as you and your friend spent the rest of the night watching movies and giggling to little dumb remarks you made about your life, you didn’t notice your phone vibrating with new messages.

❛❛ unknown ❞

⤷ hey, it's matt

⤷ i asked chris for your number, i just wanted to check up on you

© stvrnioloslvt

ও a.n: AAAA IT'S FINALLY HERE EVERYBODY, FUCKIN FINALLY.

ও go read @sturnslutz part, too, she's the fucking queen of angst and honey's pov is absolutely amazing!

ও as always, let me know if you liked this little thingy, and remember that you're always welcome to pop by in my inbox🩷

[nouvxllev]

"When I saw you

I fell in love, and

you smiled

because you knew

-William Shakespeare"

LOVE.LOVE.LOVE.

I wanted to make a request! I had a similar interaction like this, and when I had read this, I fell inloveeeeee with this qoute sm. Can you do a Wednesday x Reader? In which it's Wednesday who actually falls inlove 😭

amore, amore, amore.

Pairing: Author!Wednesday Addams x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 6.0k (oh what the fuck)

Warnings: told in WEDNESDAYS POV AND ALTERNATE TIMELINES!, the gomezification of wednesday addams prevails, yes they meet at a museum, also kinda 7 husbands of evelyn hugo coded, slight plottwist at the end!

a/n: aaaa ofc ofc!! also i absolutely love the idea where wednesday fell first and harder

masterlist

I believe they cursed me the moment their lips became something worth fighting for.

"If they intend to halt my publishing, then so be it. I have no interest in entertaining that brain-dead company over countless of reasons as to why I shouldn't spare a few weeks for myself who believe I will fall under their will."

"Wednesday, they're the ones who publish your books, you just can't ignore their calls."

"Barclay, has your brain deteriorated to a degree in such a way that you are forgetting it's my presence that upholds that fucking company? Without me, they are nothing. Have you forgotten with how much power I withhold over them, or have your scales reached that hollow of a brain?"

"You can't ignore the leverage they have over you, sure you have the amount of money, if not more, to sue them, but they could literally tip you off and brand you as some selfish author."

"Please do comprehensively explain to me as to why I would be a selfish author?"

"Wednesday Friday fucking Addams, it's because you're half-way across the fucking world at some fucking museum in Italy while you have a manuscript due a fucking week ago!"

"I fail to see my fault."

"Addams, if you don't get your shit together, I swear—"

I had solved countless of murders in my time of Nevermore. I had one thing to do when I finally left, and I was going to succeed.

If you had told me after I willingly left that horrid place you call an educating institution that I would experience the same fate as an author, I would've traced the outer skin of your face with a pocket knife and display it on your family's doorstep.

Barclay, amongst others, remained someone I held close. She could be infuriating, but no one would ever be much deserving of a terrible, terrible position than be under my control as my manager when I pursued writing.

But no one tells you how people could easily forget you in a matter of seconds if you don't make a name for yourself when you've put yourself out there, even if it's something far, far from your own.

I was only fortunate enough people enjoyed what I publish.

I couldn't care less if they didn't, that's why I found it hard to give two shits about what that damned company thought of my revised schedule. But I needed to make a living. To make something out of myself.

If I had continued my actions— in which I have full control over with—I could lose everything.

I could've build it up from scratch if it happened, but Lucifer knows how long would a simple idea for a plot that could get into the lack of attention span of the population could take.

I could lose the name I print on paper.

I could lose my name.

And then I realized I haven't.

There was something that I was destined to fall under. It was there with my eyes taped to a painting, not knowing I became one for another.

I hung up. The mere thought of having a multistep plan to eventually murder my manager was between God and me. That woman had me teetering on the edge of becoming a one-hit serial killer overnight.

My head tilted over a large painting towering amidst the others down the line. My hands remained tucked deep within the pockets of a trench coat far too oversized for me.

I couldn't take much time of squinting, staring as if it had garnered my interest not after a dreaded phone call that I convinced myself truly took my energy and managed to inject anesthesia inside my veins.

A light sway became evident in my steps, as if I was sulking in my own woe of what I should and could've done to prevent myself fucking it up on a company that I could soon own if not me being under the age of what is required to own a firm without having to ring up my own godforsaken of a family.

I could almost take another step if I wasn't met with another person.

Countless of papers flew across the hard-tiled floor. It was over before I knew what had happened. I found myself standing there, eyes glued to the person I collided with, my eyebrows crossed and my mouth hung open like a fool.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, fuck." They grit under their breath, like they were berating themselves while they picked up the rest of what had fell.

I stood there, not knowing what to do or what not to do but stare at them and wait for them to pull themselves up.

And so that's what I did.

I wish I hadn't.

Because now it was the time I was unable to speak. Unable to use the words I've been writing my novels with, the words that I should've spoken in the seconds they had landed in front of me. For the first time, my words had failed me.

A question rang in my head, Why do I now feel as if I do not belong inside of my own body? Why does my life feel complete now that they were here?

When Y/n fixed herself, she looked at me and smiled. I knew I looked like an idiot staring at them, yet I never went out of my way to barely fix myself.

Why were they smiling?

"Why are you smiling?" I asked under my breath, like I was taken breathless. I hadn't mean to say it out loud, but my cold and otherwise damned heart seemed to be alive, like I was suffocating in my own rate. A fool in front of them I must've been.

They looked at their paper, then they looked at me.

They smiled yet again. Another question flicked across my head, what had happened to me to act as if I would go through hell and back for this person?

They smiled at me as if my presence gave them a reason to. And they loved me in every one of it.  

"Sorry—" they apologized, noticing how their thumb kept grazing the surface of their sketch, almost as if they were nervous. "You look prettier than... whatever I drew."

They stole one more look of me.

"Terrifyingly bewitching."

It's horrifying knowing I couldn't explain what I felt that day. What I know is—I felt everything.

I've endured endless remarks on my appearance ranging from a number of ratings from those nonsensical people on the internet to every synonym people have thrown my way only to fail to evoke even a flicker of emotion.

Though it seems egotistical, I knew they held one intention: they wanted to impress me. They wanted me to know they were different amongst others who have approached me. They wanted to entice me, as if I could be owned.

Were it not for the arsenal and threats I carried, there would be much more.

Y/n was different. They never had any intentions of being with me, no desire to impress or claim me as theirs. They simply wanted me to know I was. That it was true. I just had never heard it from someone who could mutter two words that felt perfect.

And it's much more terrifying knowing I unexpectedly fell first, even if I deny myself.

I could tell you about the way y/n smiled, how it seemed to threaten the sun, warning it not to shine lest it risk embarrassment in contrast of hers. I could tell you the way their eyes followed their smile, how their life was encapsulated in their drawings, mirroring what they felt.

Yet, when it comes to explaining how I fell for them, words escape me. Even I, a tortured author, struggle to describe.

How must I convey the sensation of my heart pounding in my ears as if it was trying to break me? The ache in my stomach, churning every chance it got, every fiber of my being dreadfully surrendering to them.

But one is for certain: meeting them was like coming home.

My home.

But I couldn't bring myself to realize that—It was antagonizing for me. Humiliating and mortifying knowing one person could make me become a total fool, become someone I've never thought I'd be.

I've spent my whole life after hiding what I felt for them, lest I risk experiencing what I truly loathe: love.

I despised them ever since I met them, loathed them, hated them. But for what for? I ask myself countless of times, I have never gotten an answer.

When they left, I left. Thinking it would be fate that had accidentally brought two people together who held no meaning for eachothers life, that it was a mistake, and I could've been wrong with how I'm feeling.

And when I came back, they were there.

And when I approached them, it felt right.

It was a week after the incident, but no matter how I tried, I still remember how their smile felt around me. Suffering, irritating, lovely. Like I wanted to relieve it, no matter how much time had passed.

Never once did I get their name in the span of meeting them, it was useless to know anyway.

Yet, I find myself returning to the museum every chance I get for God knows what, acting as if I had unfinished business staring at paintings while the staff rambled beside me. They were better off tattooing their explanation in my skull.

I had other places to attend to, other tasks I should've been doing rather than constantly visiting museum in the afternoon as if I have duties and low-paid labor for employment.

I should've been at my apartment days ago, exhausting myself on a half-assed manuscript I would have recurring thoughts of annihilating along with severing Bianca's hands through the phone.

What terrified me is why I was back.

Standing in front of them. My hands tucked deep inside the pockets of another trench coat, looking down on them sitting on one of the blocks of granite surrounding a oddly placed tree in the middle of the hall, drawing whatever there is to draw.

"Hello." I greeted them. They almost looked startled, surprised that I was even talking to them, like I was some vengeful ghost who returned to seek revenge. Though they weren't far off.

They looked up, immediately flipping over their clipboard as they locked eyes with me.

"Oh—" They cleared their throat, "Hi. Hey, hello." They smiled, albeit awkward. But that feeling of dread, or whatever, came back. Stronger than ever, I feared. I almost had half the mind of punching them in the gut and questioning them why they had this effect on me.

"Didn't know you come here often." A chuckle followed their question, or maybe it was a statement, placing their elbows on their lap while they gazed right at me.

I scoffed, murmuring against gritted teeth why did I even approach them in the first place. "And I didn't know you draw me that often."

I look down on the piece of paper, their deliberate and aggressive brush strokes having an effect on the paper, leaving marks upon marks. It was clear that I've been their subject for days on end. Even if I were to absent, I'd still be able to be the pinnacle of their sketches.

It was funny back then, humorous in my mind on how quick they snatched the piece of paper and tried to explain with little to no comprehension that went across their mind.

"Oh, God, no, no! I just—Okay, well, maybe I've been drawing you ever since I saw you, it's creepy now that I mention it... but it's just—it's dumb of me to not draw you, you know?" They were flustered, their mouth opening and closing only for me to receive words that were out of the dictionary.

They sighed, my lips twitched.

"I'd like to ask," My voice trailed off, grimacing even at the thought of having to initiate a conversation with more or less than five words, "What's... your name?"

"Y/N," They nodded, "L/N. Y/N/L/N." They reached out for a handshake only to immediately retract after a brief awkward seconds of staring. Their name sounded familiar.

"Why are you here?"

"Do I need to reason to?"

"I suppose so, no. But I am curious." Even I don't know why I'm still back here.

Y/n sighed, like I was the one getting on their nerves while it was me who battling against whatever fucked-up demon spawned in my stomach that caused me to feel, things.

"Nothing."

I frowned. "You came here because of.... Nothing?"

"Mhm."

"You are drawing strangers you know nothing about because of nothing?"

"Thought I made myself clear on that first word."

"You've made yourself look foolish than any average person."

"Well, you never told me your name. I think that's foolish enough over my case."

It was my turn to sigh.

"Addams." I reluctantly said to them, "Wednesday, Addams."

Then Y/n looked up at me as if I was some sort of otherworldly deity going back down to earth to finish whatever I started. "Wednesday Addams. I think I've heard that name before."

"No. No, you haven't."

If it wasn't horribly obvious, the sole purpose of my visit to Italy was to neglect everything I left behind in New York—especially deadlines— and hoped my eyes would finally work some sense that would let me start anew.

It was shameful of me, passion that dwindled into something less. If I had the chance, I would've tortured myself for even considering abandoning all of my life's work.

Though, I had my reasons. Even if I had threatened my target population and my audience, it still wouldn't be enough.

In short, I had lost motivation to pursue another book.

I felt as if there was something missing, that I couldn't even dare to even blow the collecting dust in the rims of my typewriter.

I begged for my brain to work, to even produce the slightest idea or word that could have some meaning to it. I was ready to write anything that came to mind, even if it was mediocre.

But, instead, my heart responded.

When I met Y/n, I started writing, and we started talking.

Words flowed through, and my time was wasted on Y/n.

My time was wasted, and they were wasted with their significant other.

I always thought I would suffer the thought of having to live an eternal life with none other than myself, that it was inevitable I was going to perish alone in my own woe.

It remained the same. Now, it's just having to live with the fact that my only greatest love had another.

I felt as if I ate a forbidden fruit once I heard they had someone that loved them as much as I denied myself of the same kind, like I plagued myself with hundreds of years of worry and attachment to someone who had eyes on another, a special muse they had.

Only that I would crumble immediately, tempted to take the fruit in my hands, forever stain my lips of something immoral so that I could forever crawl and weep over them.

In my time in Italy, I thought i'd be avoiding acquaintances that would be much more of a burden to me rather than someone useful. Yet there I was, watching Y/n saunter into my life like the revelation they were.

It's safe to say that Y/n turned out to be anything but a burden. They became someone I looked forward to seeing every day, though I hadn't realized they were motivation until then.

"Wends!"

Their awfully cheerful voice pierced through the air of the restaurant, almost granting the attention from other people as if they shared the same horrendous and dreadful nickname as me.

As much as I fantasized about walking out of the restaurant with y/n's half-broken jaw, I couldn't deny whatever was swirling in my head.

Ever since they knew of that wretched nickname unfortunately given to me by none other by that infectious and the ever infuriating ball of sunshine, Enid Sinclair, they've been calling me it as if I don't have a birth name.

It was a month ever since I've known Y/n, and it was a month of them being a constant presence in my life. They shared breakfast with me, lunches, and sometimes dinners that I somehow always and reluctantly accepted.

They became my routine, and it was a fact I'd sooner die with than confess to anyone.

Y/n slowly approached my table that was filled to the brim with countless of books and my oddly placed typewriter, putting their own stuff down on the seat beside them. "You're here early. You ordered something yet?"

It was 12PM. We agreed on 1, and I came at 10.

I scoffed, keeping my eyes on the typewriter. "You, of all people, should know by now that I would much rather sooner paint myself neon than touch anything on this menu."

I hear y/n setting their elbows on the table, resting their face between their hands. "Aw, c'mon Wends, it wouldn't kill you.

"Cyanide won't, but this will." I stopped writing to take one look at them, obviously and oddly, my gaze never and will never work on them. "Take my advice if you're eager to leave this restaurant with a mouth able to eat and speak."

"Ever the happiest person, Wends." They chuckled, sliding a somehow too bright and colorful menu towards them, "I'll order for you."

I stopped writing all together, "Y/n."

"Wednesday." They raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. It was over before I was even playing the game. Resistance over their lips felt futile anyway.

"Fine." I sighed, shutting my eyes closed just so that for once I can't have my stomach doing fucking acrobatics at the sight of them. "I will... allow it."

The ever-growing smile that crept up to their face was priceless, I couldn't bring myself to pry my eyes away. Murmuring something along the lines that I was too easy to lure in.

Once a waiter passed our table, Y/n ordered something along the lines of whatever the fuck 'Due Cream Soda Alla Vaniglia e Lampone con Glitter Commestibili' was. I was certain I was going to leave the restaurant with a non-working heart and a stomach turning inside and out.

It took no longer than a minute for Y/n to get a hold one of the numerous books piled infront of me. "Are you studying for something?" They asked, opening it only to close it once they noticed how outdated some of the languages are.

I let a small chuckle pass my lips. "What drives you to such a hypothesis."

They gestured to the books and my typewriter, "By how you're literally surrounded by books and you're on a fucking typewriter instead of a laptop." They pointed out, murmuring another, "Also, who the hell says hypothesis."

"People with functioning frontal lobes." I quipped, letting my fingers write on instinct across the typewriter keys as I listened to Y/n's ramblings. "I'm... writing."

"You're an author?"

"No."

"Then why—"

"Are you a painter? An artist?"

"Well... I—no?"

"Then we both don't know what we're doing."

Y/n fell silent moments after, I couldn't help but miss the sound of their voice. Admitting the mere thought aloud seemed absurd, let alone thinking it in the first place. I would've bashed my head on top of my typewriter if not for my resistance.

"How long will you be staying in Italy?" they eventually asked.

"Two more weeks," I replied. "My flight is already scheduled, I'll be leaving then on."

"Oh."

I wasn't expecting an answer anything other than a hint of happiness that I was eventually leaving their life.

"You are?" They repeated, as if they couldn't believe such a statement even escaped my lips, clear disappointment flickering across their face. "That's not... long."

"I am certainly not saying here indefinitely now that I have something to continue when I've arrived at my destination." I cleared out, doing my very best to escape the impending guilt washing over me.

"I'll miss you, Wednesday."

Their words were sincere. Lovely. It had stopped me from writing all together.

Guilt wasn't a feeling I was familiar with at the time. I rarely come across such a feeble emotion. Now it felt like I've committed something immoral. There were times that I lie for my own convenience, and nothing more than my own reason.

Now it felt like I should've lied for them.

I will forever miss you.

I wrote. I never showed them.

One week had passed and I rarely ever got to see Y/n after. Our encounters became increasingly scarce, and their voice plagued me from days on end.

I clung to the faithless hope I had that they would text me, to reach out, to even show me they're alive and well.

I returned to the museum for every day they were absent in my life, searching for any sign of their presence, but each day ended in disappointment.

Of course, fate is indifferent to my yearning, refusing to grant someone I so desperately sought.

Regret gnawed at me as the days turned into a week, and the week turned into the day before my flight.

"Addams. I've heard from others that you've been writing."

"Who others?"

"I'll spare a name to spare New York a corpse found in their sewage pipes by the time you've, hopefully I assume, returned and not jump off the plane."

"Even if I went off the grid, your nagging would've been in spirit."

"Don't flatter me."

"Don't kill yourself without showing me a video tape in full resolution for me to get through rough weeks. Or maybe take a shotgun and shoot yourself in your garage and let me have the keys to your house."

"Addams."

I sigh. "Yes, the rumors—though I would want that vampires head on a stake—are true. I've been writing."

"What happened to you there? You met someone?"

"How'd you know—No. No, I—I haven't. What makes you come to such a foolish conclusion?"

"Oh my God, someone actually managed Wednesday—I'd rather kill myself before loving anyone—Addams to fall terribly in love with them. Who's the unfortunate soul?"

"I would not be naming them because they do not exist."

"You just stuttered, Wednesday. The only thing making you stumble your words is when you're overdosing on whatever poison you're having for breakfast."

"They're no one."

"How are you such a bad liar when you have countless of bodies hidden across the globe?"

I sigh again, this time, it was out of annoyance. "I'll be hanging up. Goodbye, Barclay. If ever you are considering to kill yourself, call me. I'll be at my most happiest to watch."

"Wait, no, Wednesday! I need progress on your—"

I hung up. It was pointless to answer her calls when I was a mere few step away from boarding a plane. She always had a way of getting under my skin, even from across the damn globe.

But there was one name that would always surface in my thoughts: Y/n.

The mere thought of their name will forever remind me of how my heart wasn't programmed to love.

I reached for my phone, fingers tracing over the cold screen. My mind was tired, blank. The only thing I could ever do is stare at their contact and wish I could've done something better.

I typed out a hesitant message, my thumb hovering over the send button as if it was something that could end my world. Only two thoughts ran to my mind: Would they reply, or would my message be nothing to them?

I almost hit send before I heard footsteps approaching me.

"Y/n?"

I whispered their name, the love I carried for them being surrendered like I'd crawl for them once I reached purgatory.

"What are you doing here?" My eyebrows furrowed. How could they leave me, only to return as I was about to depart? "Why are you here, you disappeared, avoided me, why—"

"He proposed to me."

Oh.

I always thought a near-death experience with a loved one would be the deepest I could feel.

I realized I was wrong.

Now my eyes ached to the sting. Like I was weeping for someone that perished in my heart, I grieve for a living soul that was me. It was pathetic.

I expected them to be overjoyed, over the moon as they would express themselves from time to time.

But when I met their eyes, all I saw were tears streaming down their face.

Oh, how I wished to wipe their worries away.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I don't know if I love him."

"Nonsense... You told me you loved him—"

"Well, maybe I haven't been saying anything true to you!"

"Look, I don't know what I'm doing—I don't know what the hell are we doing. I'm living in some apartment with some guy I don't even know I even love, I'm currently standing here like an idiot to a girl who's just about to leave my life, and you're—"

"You're everything."

It was that moment I realized I was lost in a haze of admiration and love for Y/n.

That I was far too deep in their life that they became mine. I never knew I needed them as much when I told them to leave with me and break up with their significant other.

I never knew I needed their lips onto mine until the moment I pulled them close to me.

Now I ache of them.

"Do you regret it, mother? Being such a fool for someone, you became what you hated most. But you endured it all for them."

Wednesday Addams, seating across the bed from her daughter, Blair Addams. She looked just like you, she'd always wonder.

Wednesday sighed, her hand reaching out to gently touch Blair's. "Do you know the phrase, 'Come ti vidi M’innamorai, E tu sorridi Perchè lo sai?'" she asked softly.

"You know I've never indulged myself in whatever you're reading." She shook her head with a smile. She looked even more like you.

She let her fingers trace patterns on her hand, her gaze wandering else where. "Well, it translates to 'When I first met you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew," she explained.

"And do you believe in that, mother?"

Wednesday could almost smile. Her daughter was always the curious one, yet she always managed to be privy of her life from them. "I always believed Y/N knew the moment we first laid eyes on each other, I fell in love with them."

"So, yes, my raven." She nodded, "I do."

"I never knew Y/n would make me their title, their theme, their muse," Wednesday pondered, "I always wondered why i fell for them."

"Falling is an accident, gullible, like with people who fail to do basic things. But I am one of those people if not more if I fell for their on accident and continued to do so."

She sat beside Blair, her legs crossed beside her. "I've never told you at the time, but Y/n was a painter. And they wanted nothing more but than to forget about their past. They have never told me as to why, but I believe them.""

"I worried that my love was violence. It was pain, it was suffering. But y/n took care of themselves, they took care of me. There is no one in the world who had loved me more than them, I fear that it would break them, that I am deemed no longer someone who is a part of their story."

"Yet here we are."

Wednesday couldn't see the smile creeping from her daughters lips. But she knew it was there, just like how you looked like before. She will always and forever take pride in it.

She always thought her greatest love could be something of a passion, a talent, a hobby perhaps.

But no one told her it could be a person.

Blair stretched and turned on a light beside her bed, opening a drawer and taking out two of Wednesday's books. "Must they be the reason your books has been off to your prior ones, mother? You've written all your life of gore and mystery. Now it's romance."

"Well, I—"

"Oh, I'm definitely the reason why your mother has been subtly—not-so-subtly, switching to the romance genre."

You peered through the door, your body wrapped up in a cozy boritto style and everything with a train draping it's way to your back like some met-gala dress.

"Oh, mon chéri," Wednesday's face lit up at the sight of you, immediately standing up and pulled you close, her arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

Her lips met yours in soft kisses, leaving the taste of faint vanilla chapstick lingering on your lips. "Why are you up so late?"

"Well," You grinned against her lips, "I felt our bed getting cold and to my surprise my wife isn't nowhere near me. You know how I can't sleep without you." She pulled away, you whined at the lost of contact, but you couldn't smile more brightly as she led you towards your daughter. "G'evening, Blair."

"Evening, Y/n." She greeted you before you kissed her on the forehead.

You leaned against Wednesday's shoulder, whispering softly, "You're telling her our story again?"

Wednesday would've thought her small chuckle went unnoticed, but you definitely heard it. The stupid smile on your face told everything.

Her hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "She loves it."

"You love it, mother. Probably more than me." Blair retorted back, evident that she was holding back a laugh.

"I do not! When did I ever—"

"Oh, honey, you know love turns your mother into a girl version of your abuelo.

"Do not ever refer to me as my love drunk father or I will subject you to sleeping on the couch." Wednesday rolled her eyes, pinching the back of your palm. "And please do not shame my work of referring to it as such. I've worked hard day and night yet you proceed call it by such an exasperate—"

You turned your head and pressed a kiss on her cheek, the same spot where her freckles resided, causing her to pause mid-sentence. After atleast ten years of being with her, it always made you so giddy.

"Not even in marriage am I spared by your passive aggressive comments," you teased, your lips curling into a smile as you leaned in closer to her.

You hear your daughter sigh after a brief second, "Addams."

Wednesday almost looked shocked, "My Raven, do not call us by our last—"

"Please exit my room. I'll be going to sleep."

And then, the both of them were shoved off before they could even hug their daughter and kiss her goodnight like they always did.

"I... We were rejected, Y/n." Wednesday exclaimed, like she just got struck with the most heartbreaking news. "She used to love our stories together when she was an infant."

You'd think Wednesday was the non-chalant mom who's strict on her child. But, to your surprise, she was the opposite.

She loved Blair just as much she loved you. Hell, you even considered just maybe, maybe not, disowning your daughter because she gets Wednesday's attention more than you do.

You shrugged, taking her hand and leading her to your upstairs bedroom. "It gets stale once in a whileeeOW!" You winced as Wednesday pinched the back of your palm, again. It was starting to become her love language at this point.

"I'm just kidding!" You reassured her, intertwining your fingers with hers as you walked up the stairs together, pulling the door open for your wife. "She's just in her rebellious teen phase, let it go."

Wednesday rolled her eyes, "Too cliche."

"You used to have one too," you scoffed, settling onto your side of the bed and watching as she laid down on hers.

It was a routine you found yourself often doing, taking in the sight of your beloved as if your life with Wednesday was all a dream. You pinch yourself like almost thrice a day just to really make sure.

"Since when?" Wednesday asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement, quietly shuffling towards you.

You sat up for a moment to undo her braids. You always liked playing with her hair, and that one time she asked of you to undo hers, it became a routine. "Since the beginning of time. And somehow, you never grew out of it."

"You didn't even meet me in my teenage years. I am far from rebellious."

"Yes, baby, but not too far from a death penalty." You chuckled, reaching out to gentle stroke her hair, leaning in to press a soft kiss against her forehead.

"Oh, you flatter me," she replied, a smirk across her lips, but the room was too dim to even notice it.

By now, if you were any ordinary person, Wednesday would've made you disappear entirely. But, the thing is, Wednesday always seemed to look at you as if her life never really started until she found you.

Silence managed to take over the atmosphere, you laid back on the comfortable mattress, feeling Wednesday's head nestled on your arms that were tucked under her hair.

You could almost fall asleep in pure bliss knowing that you've met and loved the girl of your dreams if not for her calling out for you.

"Amore." She whispered.

"Amore?" She whispered again, her voice softer than ever before.

You blinked, momentarily. You swore you just heard an angel. "Yes, amore?"

"Can I... Can you—"

You smiled, almost too knowingly. You knew Wednesday, for someone who's such a romantic soul, she's not too expressive on simple terms like these. "Do you want to be the little spoon?"

She grimaced, you could even hear her grunts of disapproval. "I would highly refrain from calling it that before I jump out of bed and skin you from limb to limb. But... yes, I would like to."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips at her response, suppressing a grin to avoid from literally being murdered as you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close.

Ten years before, if someone had told you that you're going to be doing this to girl you've met at a museum while trying to escape your past, let alone be happily married to her, you would've told them "How the fuck do you know that and please stay away, I have... a boyfriend. I guess."

But now, it seemed so believable. Wednesday was always so relaxed in your arms, your warmth and hers bringing a sort of comfort for the both of you.

You nuzzled your head against the back of her neck, gently moving strands of her hair aside as you pressed soft kisses against her skin, hoping to kick away her tension from the day.

"Stop pouting, Wends," you murmured softly into her skin as you closed your eyes in pure relief.

You hear her scoff, "I am not doing such a humiliating act."

"Oh but you so are." Your grin widening as you pressed another gentle kiss against her nape, "I can hear it from here."

Wednesday let out a sigh, of annoyance? Maybe. But was it tinged with pure adoration and love? Much so. "You don't hear pouts, Y/n."

"When it comes to you, I do and I can."

Silence washed over. This time, you're worried you've teased her that much, she actually got annoyed with you.

"You're awfully quiet. By this time, you're probably threatening to kill me."

"I'm... Sorry." Wednesday whispered, it has an undying tone of tenderness that you don't often see it being expressed through words from her. Slowly, she shifted her body to face yours.

One thing is for certain: She was still so terrifyingly bewitching if not more. She looked pretty in every way possible, it's hard to even believe, it left you in awe.

You feel her gaze darting on your eyes and then drifting down to your lips, hesitating even. It was ridiculous, in the most adorable way possible there is for an Addams like her.

"May I kiss you?"

"You know you're always welcome. It's pointless to ask."

She was the first to reach out, her hand finding it's way to the curve of your cheek, her touch gentle than ever as she traced the line of your jaw as if she was memorizing every feature of yours.

You cupped her face in reciprocation, leaning in closer to where your lips were just hovering inches away from hers. Then, you closed the space between the both of you.

You pulled away, your eyes meeting hers with a soft smile. It was impossible to think that this woman held your heart in her hands like it was nothing.

"Have I ever told you that you're pretty?" you whispered, letting your hands fall to her waist and pulled her close.

"Ever since you've met me."

“You know, I’m surprised you even remember our first meeting.”

“Oh, how could I ever forget my lover?”

You laughed, a symphony that always gets Wednesday to have a slight tug in her lips. “Stop being so romantic. You are a grown woman with a daughter.”

You continued to stare into her eyes as you drape the rest of the blanket for the both for you. "It's hard to think you're the first one to fall in love and not me."

"It's hard to think of anything when you're here with me, te amo." Wednesday replied, her gaze softening almost immediately.

You sighed. "You know I love you, right?"

Wednesday blinked. "I always will."

You smiled.

And Wednesday smiled back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: this was longer than i thought. i yap too much in stories i fear

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OH BIG BRAIN IDEA-

Reverse Puss In Boots panic attack scene with Reader calming Dogday down from a panic attack, 'cause this case it's the dog that needs comforting-

"[Y/n]! Come quickly! Something's wrong with Dogday!"

Pausing in your repairs of Kissy's arm, you made sure to cut the thread before giving her an apologetic look. Fortunately, she seemed to understand that you needed to heed Poppy's call right away, and so you followed the little doll into the next room over.

There, Dogday was resting...although at this moment he was very much doing the opposite.

He was slumped against the wall, out of the makeshift dogbed you and Kissy put together for him, a hand clutching his chest--but it kept heaving, rapidly rising and falling with each labored breath.

His white pupils were completely gone, not a shred of light to be found within his sockets, and that was very alarming.

Did he see something?

Did an intruder try to get in?

While Poppy couldn't guarantee any place in the factory was safe, she did mention this area was a good place to hunker down, rest, and plan your next move against the Prototype.

But if that's the case...then what was going on with him?

You needed to find out fast.

"Dogday...what's wrong..??!"

Even though he could hear you and see you kneeling in front of him, concern written all over your face, he simply couldn't answer. He couldn't even keep his focus on you, as a whirlwind of terror and panic clouded his mind.

The only thing he could do was paw at his chest, unable to make sense of why his heart refused to stop pounding, as though it was trying to break free.

Or maybe..

It was a little Smiling Critter who stowed away inside him, trying to get out....

The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.

"I don't know what happened.." Poppy murmured to you, shaking her head. "I swear he was fine a second ago! Y-You think his organs might be shutting down? Or his hunger is-?"

"No, I know exactly what's wrong." You calmly answered, much to her bewilderment.

But before she could question you further, you moved over to Dogday's side before hugging him around the torso, squishing your cheek against his chest the moment he took his paws off of it.

And you simply waited.

The little doll had no idea how this was helping him, although she soon realized his breaths were finally starting to slow. His white pupils flickered back to life, looking down and seeing you embrace him without any regard to your own safety.

Somehow..you provided him with such a comforting weight that drowned out his panicked thoughts.

One of his trembling paws eventually came to rest atop your head, and he slowly began to pet you much like a human would pet a dog: gentle, ensuring he wasn't too rough.

After a few more moments passed, you felt his breaths even out to the point where his chest wasn't heaving like before, and he placed his paw on your back.

Finally, he spoke.

"A-Angel...thank you..I..don't know what happened.."

"It's okay." You sat up to look at him, seeing the tears threatening to spill from his sockets. "You were just having a panic attack. But it's over..you did great."

"Is..that what it was?" He murmured, confused.

"That's all it was. Do you remember what led to it?"

"...'m not sure. I was..just thinking about Catnap, and the Prototype, and suddenly I felt this strange tightness in my chest. Thought somethin' was wrong with my lungs...a-and then the room just started spinning. Next thing I knew, I...I-I couldn't breathe. I couldn't talk to Poppy or you, angel. Thought one of those wretched things was trying to eat me from the inside out. B-But..that was just all in my head, right? I'm not...nothing was-?"

"I made sure none snuck inside when I was fixing you up. You're safe from them." Taking one of his paws into your hands, you smiled, seeing Kissy walk into the room. "Catnap and the Prototype have been on all of our minds lately, and it's been...a stressful few hours."

"...I didn't mean to scare you all..usually it's me who calms people down, ya know?" He sighed quietly, still feeling guilty. "You sure I'm not going to slow you down? Because if I have another attack...i-it could be at the worst time, and then-"

"Then I'll help you through it. I made a promise to get you all out of here, and I'm sticking by that." You reassured.

Dogday looked surprised, but he relaxed his shoulders in relief, tail wagging along the floor. "Thank you, angel.."

He had his doubts before, about whether saving him from the Playhouse was more trouble than it's worth.

But now he knows you're in this for the long run, ready to help guide him out of the darkness.

[hanckocks-dagger]

(In other words)

masterlist

John Hancock x gn!Reader

Description: While high on Hancock's couch, you get ready to tell him you're leaving Goodneighbor tomorrow. Trouble is, the thought of kissing him just keeps distracting you.

Tags: First kiss, getting together, Hancock is a simp. Reader could be viewed as SoSu or not. No pronouns used for reader, no use off y/n

Warnings: Recreational drug use (jet), smoking, canon typical swearing.

Cross posted on my ao3!

You were leaving Goodneighbor tomorrow. Sitting idle made you antsy, and it had already been several days since the urge to wander had struck. You'd only stuck around because... well.

"You want another hit?" Hancock asked from the other end of the couch, head lolling on the back of it, dark eyes turned to yours, canister of jet held out to you.

After a long moment of consideration, your jet-addled brain working overtime to comprehend, you shook your head mutely. Hancock shrugged his shoulder and stuck the canister into his mouth.

"Fhoot-eulf," He said incomprehensibly around the spout, then pressed down on the mechanism. His whole body sagged further into the couch, somehow managing to look even calmer than he had after the last three hits of Jet. Even if ghouls really did have higher chem resistance than lowly humans like yourself, you were sure Hancock topped them all. You'd had one Jet to his four, and he'd also spent the morning working his way through a Brandy bottle, which you'd always found made your heavy-limbed high feel a little more like paralysis than a comforting buzz.

Probably a good ten seconds after Hancock had spoken, you let out a muffled, "hmm?", cheek smushed into the couch so you could keep staring at him.

Those black eyes, momentarily distracted by the Jet in his hands, turned to find yours again, crinkled at the corners. His smile, ever charming, lingered on the verge of turning mean. He did like to tease you about being a lightweight.

Instead, he leant to the edge of the couch and hooked you by your socked feet, tugging them into his lap, dragging you a few inches closer to him.

"Nothing, sweetheart."

He patted one of your knees placatingly, the way one pet a startled a horse. Or (you thought, a few painfully slow seconds later), that was to say, the way one used to pet a startled horse. Seeing as they were extinct now, or possibly mutated into something hideously unrecognizable.

Hancock's hand, warm on your knee, disappeared after a minute. Or after a few seconds, seeing as trying to keep a grasp on time on Jet was a losing game. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Ever generous, he offered you one. You nodded, but could seem to make your hand rise up to take it from him.

He grinned, placing it between his lips. You wanted to disagree with this, but your vocal chords didn't want to respond either, and no words were coming to mind anyway. Sober, you would realize these were the classic signs of the Jet comedown, that momentary disconnect between body and mind, which unnerved you enough to take a few days off before finally succumbing to Hancock's next offer.

High, though, you were left to watch as Hancock raised the lighter to the cigarette, lighting it with a deep inhale, before plucking it from his mouth and passing it over. He blew the smoke teasingly into your face, laughing when you scrunched your nose in distaste.

"All the drugs a person could need. A warm bed, semi-clean streets." He said, a new cigarette between his teeth, "Honestly, I don't know why outsiders are always badmouthing Goodneighbor. Best fucking place in the Commonwealth."

Slowly, like an overloaded computer rebooting, your body came back online. You picked the cigarette from your lips, flicked ash from the end of it, ignored the thought of how it had been in his mouth before yours.

"You might be a bit biased, Hancock."

He laughed back at you, gravelly, that mix of ghoul and smoker and just pure... him.

He had been dropping these comments increasingly over the last few days, probably picking up at your unease. It was probably why he had suggested the two of you stay up in his office getting high for the night instead of going down to the Third Rail. Crowds made you antsy, the heat from bodies and the din of echoing small talk reminding you all the more of the open, fresh air you were missing.

Hancock was clever, he knew what was coming even without you spelling it out for him. Over the months since you'd discovered Goodneighbor, you'd been crashing in the Statehouse whenever you found your way to this area of Boston, preferring it to the stifling atmosphere of Diamond City. (Or so you told yourself, the truth might be you preferred the company).

He also clearly knew some of the affinity you held for him, the way you'd let him charm you into sticking around almost a week after you'd planned to leave.

"Still," He said, "One of the better places to be, hmm? Well, as long as you stay on the Mayor's good side." He winked at you.

Yet, he was too proud to come right out and beg for you to stay.

You could always ask him what he wanted. But you worried that his answer might be enough to sway you.

"Oh yeah," You deflected instead, ignoring the spark his wink shot down your spine, ordering your traitorous heart not to beat faster. "Heard the guy's a bit of a dick."

"Oh, he's a lot worse than that," His hand snuck back onto your leg, making a slow path up your calf, "But not to pretty things like you."

It was your turn to laugh, ignoring the heating in your cheeks, ignoring the goosebumps his touch left in it's wake. "John," You said, mock scandalized, "I thought you were an intellectual. Is a pretty face really all it takes?"

He had been slowly easing closer to you, or maybe he had been pulling you closer to him. When he leant over to stub his cigarette, his shoulder brushed yours.

"'M not easy. But I'm smart enough to know that when you find something this pretty in an ugly world, you hold on tight." He'd moved in close, hand reaching your upper thigh. With the other, he plucked the cigarette from your lips, down nearly to the filter, and flicked it to the side, not breaking eye contact. You could feel his breath tickling your nose, smelling like cigarettes and the slightly metallic taste jet left in your mouth. It made you lightheaded, entire mind screaming that he was about to kiss you, finally, after months of flirting and opportunities neither one of you had taken.

Instead, though, he squeezed your thigh and pulled back, eyes trained on you, a curious glint in them, like he was watching your reaction.

For just a moment, like you were a magnet following his pull, you followed after him, hand sliding downwards as if to bring his hand back to where it had been, keep it there, keep him there.

Then, the rational part of your brain, offline since before you'd accepted that hit of Jet, kicked in, screaming at you about everything that could go wrong. Taking this from a friendship to... something more would complicate everything. You didn't have the time or the energy to spend on a relationship, you didn't want to be chained to a settlement. If word got out about your... whatever it would be, you might lose out on deals with some of the seedier members of the community, you might lose trust with others. In other places, a relationship with a Ghoul might even be enough to have you barred from entry.

But, a traitorous voice from the back of your mind whispered, none of those really mattered. The truth of it was, after everything that had happened to you, if you were to let this go any further and something were to happen to him, it would break you.

So, you pulled back, shutting your eyes and taking a steadying breath. Your hand, halfway to grabbing his, stopped and balled into a fist, dropping back to your side.

You wracked your brain for something to say, something joking to diffuse the tension and return things to the way they were.

You heard Hancock shift besides you and allowed yourself a little breath of relief, assuming he'd gotten the hint and backed off, tired of waiting for someone who chickened out at every opportunity.

Instead, though, you were surprised to find his warm hand on your cheek, felt the corner of his hat press softly against your forehead. You opened your eyes, found him looking at you, almost desperate.

"Maybe I'm wrong," he started, voice pitched low and quiet, less sure of himself than you were used to, "In which case you just tell me. But I get the feeling it ain't that. I see the way you looked at me. I know you know how I've been looking at you."

You swallowed, traitorous body responding before your mind can butt in. You nodded, hand coming to grasp onto his bicep, wanting more than anything for him to move closer, to remove the patch of air the two of you were both breathing.

"So tell me," His voice had dropped to a whisper, like he was speaking with a startled animal. "Why won't you kiss me?"

You exhaled, a shaky thing. For some reason your eyes stung, and suddenly you were fighting off the urge to cry. Your grip on Hancock's arm tightened, not wanting him to let go.

Words escaped you, but you worried he'd take your silence the wrong way. You used your free hand to move the front of his hat high enough that it wouldn't poke you and leant your forehead to his. You shut your eyes again, partly to hide the tears that you couldn't seem to stop from forming, partly to embrace the moment better.

Hancock's thumb stroked slowly across your cheekbone. He whispered your name. Worried your voice would break, you nodded against him, eyes still squeezed shut, afraid of moving from this moment, of going forward or pulling back.

Quiet, he said, "Please kiss me."

You dug down, finding the person who sleeps under the open sky of the wasteland, who fights off hordes of ferals, sneaks through Gunner camps, takes on Deathclaws and survives.

You pressed your lips to his.

Warm, softer than you had envisioned, just like the man himself. Hancock's other hand rose to your cheek, so he was cupping your face in his hands, pulling you even closer. You let him take the lead, tilting your head gently, licking against your lips. You opened your lips for him easily, your hands wrapping around the back of his neck, leaving the two of you chest to chest, you halfway in his lap as he licked into your mouth, ravenous as if he had been starving for you.

You never wanted it to end, wanted to spend every moment of the rest of your life pressed to him, feeling his hands on you, his lips on yours, his tongue exploring your mouth.

When the tears slipped out, you almost thought it wouldn't matter, thinking you could keep the kiss going, sure you would survive without breathing, so long as he didn't stop kissing you.

But then a hitching sob rose from your chest and you were pulling away despite yourself, tucking your wet face into the crook of his neck. His hands wrapped around your waist, settling you properly against him.

You swallowed any other rogue sounds, blinked rapidly to try to rid yourself of the tears, trying to pull yourself together so you could face Hancock again. One of his hands was rubbing soothingly along your back, the other having worked it's way up to your hair, gentle fingers smoothing out tangles, rubbing along your scalp.

It took longer than you would have liked to pull yourself together, and a bit longer than that to gather the courage to look at Hancock, sniffling lightly.

His smile was tight, self conscious, as if he genuinely believed you could have been crying because of his kiss.

You didn't even let him get through his dejected, "That bad, huh?" before you were spitting it out, desperate for him to understand that it wasn't his fault, "I'm leaving Goodneighbor tomorrow." You got it out fast, as if it left a bad taste on your tongue.

He blinked, insecurity fading from his expression, replaced by genuine confusion.

You continued, desperate to repair your faux-pas, to make him understand your thought process, why it would lead you to tears; "This just... makes it that much harder to go."

You ran your hand down his chest, anxiously fiddling with the stitching on his lapels, "Hanc- John, please believe me, I've been wanting to do that for fucking ages, I just-"

The gentle press of his lips against yours cut you off, a quick press of heat and then gone again. This time you did chase after him, managing to get in a peck against upturned lips before he was pulling away.

It was your turn to be confused, pulling back to look at his smiling face, wondering if all that drug use had finally fried his brain.

"That's what's got you so worried?" He asked, voice soft.

You blinked at him before giving a small nod, expecting him to tell you to just stay with him, pressure already building behind your eyes as you imagined explaining to him that you just weren't made for sitting idle.

"So, then, when do we leave?"

"We?" You whispered, not trusting your voice.

"If you're alright with delaying the departure a bit, I should probably wait for the ne'er do wells to sleep off the hangover to give a little speech, pretty sure it's bad form for the Mayor to up and vanish. Then again, it's me we're talkin' about, they should know better than to–"

You pressed your lips to his, partly from exhilaration, partly for him to shut up long enough for you to process the information he'd presented you with. You'd never considered asking Hancock to leave his town. In your mind, he was Goodneighbor, the very best of it.

You pull away, running a finger across Hancock's cheek, feeling the muscles jump under you as he gives you a soft smile.

"Are you sure?" You ask.

"Love, I'd like to see anyone try to stop me."

Notes:

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