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unsoju · 2 days ago

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★ trust. trust who? 𓂃 k. kozume x f. reader

cw. MINORS DNI. word count ; 3.5k. smut. third year! kenma. p in v sex. use of condoms (wrap before you tap it folks). loss of virginity. fingering. constant reassurance. turned into light angst at the end (sorry). first time writing smut (i do take constructive criticism, so pls point out what i could be doing better. thank you!).

syn. you’ve been here before, standing in this doorway asking kenma for something. last time was childs play. this time, though? this time it’s monumental.

The TV light flickers off, leaving you in complete darkness save for the light coming from your phone, and you realize you’ve stayed up too late.

You point your phone down towards your chest, sneaking a peak at Keiko. It dawns on you that she’s probably been asleep for a while now. You hadn’t heard the random laughter and comments about the movie that had been playing for some time.

The hum of the AC and very faint sounds of gunshots are all you hear. A normal person would be confused and maybe even scared, but you’ve stayed at the Kozume residence enough to know that it’s just Kenma playing video games. Again.

You let out a sigh and glance around the dark room. There’s not much to do out here except play on your phone— your dying phone. Leave it up to you to forget a charger and forget to ask for one before Keiko falls asleep.

Eventually, you flip your blanket off your legs and stand. The hardwood floor is freezing cold even through your socks. A shiver runs down your spine as you tiptoe towards Kenma’s room. You stop just before it, leaning forward to put your ear against it.

You can hear Kenma cursing quietly, the repetitive clicking of his keyboard, the hum of his PC. Through the crack at the bottom of the door, you can see blue light and white flashes every so often.

You and Kenma have always gotten along. When Keiko brought you over for the first time, when you were in your last year of middle school and Kenma was a first year in high school, you two had an immediate understanding of each other. Kenma didn’t like to talk, and you did. You two left each other alone for the most part.

But, the older you get, the more things change. Kenma grew taller, he grew leaner from volleyball, he somehow got more handsome than before. He got friendlier with you, too. You’re not around him enough to know if he got like that with other people, but it’s nice.

You bring your balled fist up to the door, and only hesitate for a moment before knocking twice. “Kenma?” You whisper, trying to get his attention. When nothing changes in the sounds coming from inside the room, you knock again. “Open the door, gamerboy.”

There’s a pause in the noise now. No more curses from Kenma, no more faint gunshots. Instead, the sound of creaking floorboards replaces it. There’s a shadow in front of the door and then it opens. The blue LED lights almost blind you with how bright they are.

Kenma has his hair back. Unbidden, but strong, the feeling of pure attraction shoots through your body, making you shiver involuntarily. He has his headset on, but one of the sides is farther back on his head, leaving one ear open for him to hear the outside world. His hoodie is too big for him— like all of his hoodies— and he probably wore those sweatpants to bed last night.

How can one look like a slob, yet so hot at the same time?

“What?” He almost sounds annoyed, but by the way he keeps glancing back at his monitor, you can tell he’s probably in a match right now.

“Um, sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

One more time, he glances back, then sighs and looks back at you. “Not anymore. What’s up?”

Suddenly, you get nervous. You’ve done this once before— your first year, when all your friends were bragging about their first kiss and you still hadn’t had yours. You showed up to Kenma’s door in the middle of the night and asked him to kiss you. And, for some strange reason, he did. Right there in the doorway. You two didn’t speak about it the next morning when he joined you and Keiko for breakfast, and you certainly didn’t tell Keiko about it when you finally revealed to her that you’d had your first kiss.

This question, this ask, is different, though. A much more intimate act to do in the doorway.

“Um, I have, uh, a question for you,” you mumble out, looking down at your socked feet. There’s a part of you that is already regretting coming to his door. And there’s another part of you that’s aching. For this? For Kenma? You’re not sure.

“Okay.” Out of your peripheral vision, you can see his own socked feet shuffling around. Probably antsy to get back to his game, you think.

The palms of your hands start to sweat as you twist your fingers around. If you look up at him while you ask this question, you’ll never recover. The thought of rejection makes you want to throw up in embarrassment.

You take a deep breath, letting your eyes fall shut, and ask on the exhale. “Will you take my virginity?”

The silence that hangs in the air is deafening. A silent killer. Your stomach starts to turn and you can almost feel the bile rising in your throat. This was a horrible idea. He’s your best friend's older brother— if he says no, you’ll still have to deal with him for the rest of your life. He’s probably going to tell his friends about you. His little sister's desperate friend. God, you think you’re going to pass out.

You turn your body away from him, preparing to do the walk of shame back to the living room couch, but he stops you by grabbing your arm. You freeze in his grasp. You’re going to turn around and he’s going to call a crazy lunatic for asking. him such a question.

“Why?” Is all he says. You blink at the ground a couple times. You ask him to take your virginity and his question is why? Out of pure disbelief, you look up and meet his eyes. They’re so genuine, you could sob. “You want me to take your virginity,” he states plainly. “Why?”

His fingers feel warm wrapped around your arm. Your skin is tingling. Your heart is racing. You swallow hard. “I trust you,” you mumble out, voice shaky. “You’re… I just trust you.”

You notice the furrow in his brow. You can tell his brain is working harder than it probably ever has before. You don’t want to, but you remove your arm from his grip. “It’s stupid. I’m sorry I asked. Just forget it, okay?”

You turn to leave again, but he sighs frustratedly and grabs you again. “Okay,” he says. You look at him, eyes wide. He glances down the hall in both directions, then pulls you into his room and shuts the door behind you. When he finally notices your surprised expression, he shrugs. “If you want to lose your virginity, I’d rather you do it with me than some random guy from school.”

It warms your heart a little bit and the thought of Kenma being jealous makes you discreetly squeeze your thighs together. He looks around his room awkwardly, finally landing on his PC.

“I should probably turn this off.” He gestures at it.

It dawns on you that he’s probably nervous too. Not as nervous as you, you’re sure, but nervous nonetheless. By the way he’s acting, though, you’re assuming he’s done this before. Just not with his little sister’s best friend.

He walks over to his PC and turns it off, leaving the room illuminated in pure blue light. When he turns to look at you once again, your legs almost give out. You’re so nervous, you’re pretty sure you're shaking.

“You can sit down,” he says, taking a few steps towards you. He reaches up and scratches his neck. “We can’t really… do it standing. I mean, we can, it would just be, uh, awkward for your first time.”

You sit down on the very edge of his bed and stare at the ground. What are you doing? Asking Kenma, of all people, to take your virginity? Are you insane? You bite your bottom lip into your mouth, letting your teeth dig into the skin harshly. This is ridiculous.

You feel the bed dip, and your head starts to spin. Do you really need to lose your virginity? You have your whole life ahead of you! What if Kenma doesn’t enjoy it? What if it’s bad sex? What if—

“Are you sure you want to do this? Uh, with me, I mean.”

You look up to meet his eyes, and every negative thought reaching through your mind vanishes. You surge forward, placing your lips on his in a gentle kiss.

“Sorry,” you mutter, leaning back. “I’m sure, Kenma.”

His eyes dart down to your lips, then back to your eyes. With a small nod, he leans forward, putting his weight on one hand and cupping your face with the other.

It’s soft at first. Light kisses to the corner of your mouth, then to your lips, then down your neck. Your chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate. Your hands sit awkwardly at your side— what are you supposed to do with them?

Kenma lifts his head from your neck, eyes scanning your face. He glances at the top of his bed and nods his head. “Can you lay back? I have to…” he sighs, running a hand down his face. “We can’t just go straight into it. You know that much, right?” When you nod, so does he. “I have to prepare you.”

“Okay.” You scoot back until your back hits his pillow. His bed is comfortable, you think. You would probably get a really good night's sleep in it. You’re shaken out of your thoughts when Kenma comes into your vision, hovering over you.

“Can I take off your shorts?”

You swallow hard, but nod. Shit is getting Real now. He hooks his fingers under the band of sleep shorts and pulls them down, huffing out a breath of hot air.

“You’re not wearing underwear,” he says breathily. He looks up and you can feel your face heat up. You open your mouth to talk, but he runs his finger down your slit and you gasp, trying to squeeze your legs together. “You’re soaking. You—“ he cuts himself off, hesitating. “Just from a few kisses?”

He’s not looking at you, seemingly entranced by you and your wetness. After a few beats, he looks up, licking his lips. “Have you done this to yourself before?” He clears his throat. “I mean, is one finger going to hurt?”

You give him a meek, dumb nod. When your brain catches up, you shake your head. “I’ve, um, it’s not going to hurt. You can— Ah!” You let out a surprised gasp as he pushes a finger into you. It’s loud and you know it. “Sorry, I’m— sorry. That surprised me.”

“Keiko is sleeping in the living room. You have to be quiet or she’s going to wake up.”

“I know, I know.” You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip again. You bite down so hard, you can taste a little blood. Keiko finding out is probably your worst fear at the moment. You went to great lengths to hide a kiss from her, you’re not sure what she’s going to do when she finds out he took your virginity.

Tentatively, he pumps his finger in and out a couple times, watching your face for any sort of reaction. You almost can’t look him in the face. He shifts on the bed, pushing his fingers deeper and your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

His fingers continue moving, but his eyes are glued to your face. His eyes are lidded as he stares at you. “Can I put another one in?” Again, you nod silently. Slowly but surely, he adds another finger. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” you gasp out. “No, it— shit, Kenma.” Your back arches off the bed just a bit and your eyes fall shut. If his fingers feel this good, how will you survive when he actually fucks you?

“There?”

His fingers speed up slightly and your hand shoots to your mouth, muffling the moans bubbling up in your throat. One of your legs, caged in between his own, twitches and brushes up against something. Something hard. The thought that you made Kenma hard makes you groan. “K- enma,” your speech is broken, interrupted by the arousal shooting through your body. “I’m ready. I—”

His fingers stop and the whine you let out is involuntary. You open your eyes and look down at him to find him staring intently. “I’ve only been fingering you for like, two minutes.”

“Kenma,” you whisper, brows furrowing. “Please.”

The way his face changes is instant. It looks like someone has flipped a switch in his brain. A brief memory flashes through your mind. Summer after first year, when you were staying over at Keiko’s for seemingly the umpteenth time, you needed something from the top shelf and neither of you could reach it. You had been in a boot because of a minor car crash, and Keiko had chosen just then to reveal her fear of heights. You had run to Kenma’s room, once again interrupting his video games, and asked him for help. He, of course, refused. But then you said his name and he looked at you. And you said, “Kenma, please.” And he stood up like a robot who had only one task in life; reaching the thing that you needed.

His sweatpants are off in an instant, laying in a haphazard pile on the ground, leaving him in his boxers. You think there’s flowers on them, but they might be cartoon characters instead. You’re not sure that matters right now. You meet his eyes again and they’re dark. A haze seems to have fallen over them. You swallow hard as he pulls down his boxers.

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. He’s huge. Keiko had once told you that gamer boys have the biggest cocks— are the freakiest— and, of course, you hadn’t believed her. Maybe you should have.

“Is that going to fit?” The question slips out of you, dumb and full of disbelief. “I— sorry, was that weird?”

And Kenma laughs. He laughs. “It’s fine. Not the first time I’ve gotten that reaction.” He pauses, squinting his eyes. “That was the douchiest thing I’ve ever said in my life. I sounded like Kuroo.”

You giggle at that. You’ve only met Kuroo a handful of times, but you can picture him saying that.

“I should get a condom.” He crawls over you, reaching into the drawer beside his bed. His cock brushes against your inner thigh and you shiver.

This is it. You’re about to lose your virginity to your best friend's brother. There’s a feeling of guilt festering in your stomach, but the second Kenma is hovering over you again, ripping the condom open, it fades away.

You watch him slip the condom on curiously. He’s really hard, it’s almost surprising. For the millionth time tonight, he looks back up at you, seeking permission. You give him a nod, but your head seems to stutter, so you give him multiple. He smiles and lines himself up with your entrance.

“This is going to be a little uncomfortable since you were so eager.”

You swallow hard and finally, finally he pushes in. It’s just the tip, but it’s stretching your hole more than you’ve ever gone before. Your face scrunches up in discomfort and he stops moving. “N- no,” you stammer out. He furrows his brows and you shake your head. “Keep going. I- I can take it.”

He hesitates, but pushes in more. He pulls his lip into his mouth, sucking in a breath. His head drops down, now watching himself disappear inside you.

Your head drops down to the pillow, mouth open, eyes closed. You’ve never felt anything like this. It doesn’t hurt, you don’t think. It’s just different.

And then Kenma lets out a huff of air, mouth falling open to match yours. He looks up and gives you a smile. “I’m all the way in. Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t hurt. It—” you shift, cutting yourself off when he hits what you can only assume is your g-spot. “Shit. Kenma, I—”

He pulls his hips back, then thrusts into you again. “C- can I move?” His voice is quiet, tight. “Fuck, you’re so warm inside.”

“Move.” You nod, reaching your hand out to grab his arm. Your grip is too tight, probably, but you can’t even begin to think about that right now. “You can— fuck, please move.”

This time, when he pulls his hips back, effectively leaving your weeping hole empty, he pulls back until only the tip is left inside of you. You clench around the cock remaining, biting your lip in a sad attempt to hide the whine that comes out of you.

And then he snaps his hips, sheathing himself inside of you in one thrust. You let out a noise, half-gasp, half-moan. Kenma’s hand slides up the side of your body, over your neck, then over your mouth. “You have to be quiet.” He punctuates the word with a thrust of his hips, pushing deeper inside of you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed.

“Mhm.” You nod frantically, though it’s sort of difficult with the way he’s holding your face, fingers gripping tightly and squishing your cheeks together.

He starts at a steady pace. In and out, in and out, in and out. You’re bewildered by how full you feel, by how good he feels inside of you. It’s perfect, almost. He fits inside of you like he was made for you, perfectly sculpted to your insides.

Your hand, formerly grabbing his arm tightly, moved to his hand, pulling it off your mouth. “F- faster, Ken- ah- Kenma. Faster.” You press your lips together and exhale through your nose, another attempt to quiet yourself. You didn’t even know you could be this loud.

His hands slip down to your thighs, gripping them tightly, fingers digging into the plush skin, and pistons into you at an unforgiving pace. Your back arches off the bed completely, mouth once again falling open in a mostly silent moan. Your chest is heaving, overwhelmed by the pleasure. There’s a familiar feeling building in your stomach— a knot, one might call it.

“Shit, shit,” Kenma curses breathily. You look up at him only to find him staring down at where he’s fucking into you. He looks so focused, you don’t even think he realizes that his grip on your thighs tightens and his pace gets faster.

As he hits that spot inside you, the one that sends a spark up of your spine, makes you want to close your legs and curl up into a ball, you think you’re going to cry. He hits it over and over and over again. That knot that was forming gets tighter, gets bigger, gets hotter.

You claw at his arms, a warning of your approaching climax. He jerks his head up to look at you and, for a brief moment, you get insecure. He’s seen all of you now, but you can’t help but think about how your face looks right now. The insecurity is washed away as Kenma lets out a quiet, yet genuine, moan. It’s hot and it’s nothing you’ve ever heard before.

“Kenma—”

“Fuck, Y/n. You’re so warm, so tight, so— ah—”

Your vision flashes white. Your back arches off the bed. The knot unravels and hot, hot pleasure shoots through your body. Your hand is over your mouth, muffling the slew of moans rolling off your tongue.

For a final time, his cock brushes your g-spot and your orgasm almost violently rakes through your body, back arching impossibly, drawn out moan leaving your mouth, legs shaking faintly.

Kenma follows your lead after a few more thrusts, and the feeling of his seed shooting into the condom makes you shiver. It’s a weird sensation. You both sit there for a moment, staring at each other, breathing heavily.

“Thank you,” you whisper, barely audible. Your eyes fall shut and you exhale heavily. “God, thank you.”

When you wake up the next morning, you’re still in Kenma’s bed. Panic shoots through you and you immediately sit up. The clock on Kenma’s wall says 6:30 AM. You look over at the sleeping boy and give him a soft smile.

And then the embarrassment of last night hits you, and you immediately get out of his bed and go back to the living room couch. If your legs hurt as you walk, you don’t say anything. When Keiko wakes you up, asking how you slept, you’ll tell her you slept fine.

And when Kenma finally wakes up, walks into the kitchen to have some breakfast, you’ll smile at him and pass the cereal as if nothing ever happened.

Maybe that’s your fate with Kenma.

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darlingdaisyfarm · 2 days ago

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one night, two Pines ⋆˚࿔

tags: nsfw, Stan x fem!reader x Ford, threesome, praise kink, dirty talk, reader deserves a medal for this, rough sex, oral sex, p in v, fingering, pet names

tagging: @cailleachcola <33

a/n: i cant help it i love making Ford jealous even tho he wouldn’t show it so obvious like Stan for example ?? it’s my headcanon idk

for those who wanted second part and love jealous!Ford - click here

The Mystery Shack groans under the weight of another snowfall.

You glance toward the window, its edges crusted with frost, the outside world disappearing into an eerie haze of blue-gray dusk. Shadows stretch long and lazy across the wooden floor, falling on cluttered bookshelves lined with things Ford insists are cursed, but Stan swears they’re just old junk.

The coldness settles into your bones, making your fingertips ache and even the thickest socks don’t seem to help. The mystery Shack is equipped for this kind of weather. . . well, supposedly, but Stan always mutters about “old buildings” and “better insulation next year”. You’d laugh if your teeth weren’t busy chattering.

It got all got worse when the lights blinked once, then died completely. And now you're sitting in the darkness.

“Goddammit!” Stan’s voice barks through the room and it makes you jump from how loud it is. You barely make out his silhouette in the darkness.

Ford is pacing, muttering about fuses and the electrical grid. Stan, meanwhile, is busy cursing up a storm, flashlight gripped tight as he rifles through an ancient toolkit he probably hasn’t touched since 80s.

“Perfect fucking timing,” Stan growls, tossing a wrench over his shoulder. It clatters against the floor. “lights go out the one time we actually need ‘em. Figures.”

Ford, ever the optimist or maybe just too stubborn to agree with his brother, snaps back, “Well, if someone hadn’t overloaded the system with those ridiculous inflatable decorations outside—”

“You wanna run that by me again, sixer?” Stan turns, pointing flashlight to land directly on Ford’s chest. “i’ll have you know those ‘ridiculous decorations’ are what keep this place lookin’ festive, unlike your dusty ass journals stacked all over the damn place.”

You sit back, pulling old, oversized sweater tighter around yourself as you smile. They’re always like this. You can’t help it, the giggle slips out before you can stop yourself. Both of them turn to you.

“What’s so funny, kid?” Stan asks you.

“You two,” you reply, wiping the mirth from your lips with the back of your hand. “you argue like you’re in some bad sitcom.”

But it’s still dark, so dark you can barely make out their faces anymore, just shadows moving around the room and your fingers are already numb because it’s freezing, the temperature drops fast without the heater running. You exhale through your nose and hug yourself tighter, but it’s not helping much, honestly. The cold feels sharper, biting through your sweater and you decide you’ve had enough of waiting for them to figure it out.

“Okay,” you say, pushing up from the couch and ignoring the way their heads both snap toward you again, twin pairs of eyes watching your movements. “i’m getting candles.”

“Candles?” Stan repeats, sounding so bewildered.

“Yep, candles. You know, those things that make light and heat?”

Ford hums softly and smiles at your suggestion. “That’s actually a good idea,” he says and you think you hear Stan mumbling something like “of course he’d say that”, but you’re already moving toward the kitchen.

The candles are old, probably from some forgotten stash Mabel left behind last Christmas, but they’re pretty, short and fat with uneven edges, dusted with glitter and wrapped in little bows. And you carry them back to the living room with an armful of mismatched holders. You light them one by one and they glow softly, beautifully, their tiny flames flickering against the walls and filling the room with the faint scent of cinnamon, as room turns warm and so, so comforting. However, while you’re busy lighting the candles, you again hear two men arguing.

“I'm just saying,” Stanley huffs. “if you’re so damn smart, you could’ve fixed it yourself.”

Stanford pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing “And if you’d actually listen—”

“So, if you two are done arguing. . .” your voice interrupts their squabble. “maybe we should focus on keeping warm instead of trying to win whatever petty contest this is?”

Ford looks sheepish, running a hand through his hair, giving you an awkward smile while Stan grumbles “not petty, just proving a point”.

“But yeah, okay,” Stan waves a hand, brushing off your concern. “got plenty of blankets upstairs, i’ll grab a few.”

“And what, huddle together like we’re on some survival show?” Ford quirks a brow sceptically.

Stan’s reply is immediate. “Unless you’ve got a better idea, genius.”

Ford pauses, he doesn’t seem to have an answer. His gaze falls on you instead as he takes in your curled-up figure in the candlelight.

“Blankets it is, then,” he murmurs finally and Stan smirks a victorious “damn right.”

A few moments later, you’re all sitting closer than you probably should with the scratchy warmth of mismatched blankets draped across the three of you. Stan takes up the space of two people, leaning back with a wide grin, absolutely proud of himself and the way things goes now. Ford is stiff beside you, trying his best not to make contact to not make you uncomfortable, but the limited space forces his arm against yours.

It’s awkward, kind of, the silence. The proximity because you’re hyper-aware of every breath, every move, every accidental brush of skin. The candlelight dances across their faces, painting them in shades of gold and orange and you catch Stan watching you out of the corner of his eye, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Cozy enough for ya, sweetheart?”

Ford clears his throat, visibly bristling at the nickname. “I think she’d be cosier if someone didn’t take up half the blanket, Stanley.”

“Oh, cry me a river. Besides, she looks plenty warm to me. Ain’t that right, doll?”

And damn it, you do feel warm now, but not because of the blankets or the candles.

You sigh and swallow nervously, nodding and preparing for any outcome of the situation, but still, you move slightly, leaning into Ford just to see what happens, just to fucking see. At that, his breath hitches as his eyes widen, Stan catches it immediately.

“Huh,” Stan drawls, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “looks like sixer’s finally found his voice.”

Damn, it’s insane how quickly the room heats, despite the little useless candles you brought. Ford, for all his intelligence, looks at you, frozen in place, every muscle taut as though he’s weighing a hundred different outcomes. Meanwhile you feel the other twin already leaning in, closer and closer because damn, he’s been waiting for this moment for far too long.

“You cold, sweetheart?” Stan’s eyes dart briefly to where Ford’s arm presses against yours. “or maybe you just need a little. . . extra heat?”

Ford tenses beside you. “Stanley,” he fights the urge not to roll his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, poindexter, you’re tellin’ me you haven’t thought about it? Not once? She’s sittin’ right here, for fuck’s sake.”

You bite your lip nervously, caught between them, their weight, their heat, the very presence of them pressing into you from both sides. Your body betrays you, leaning into Ford’s shoulder again, just to test the waters or maybe because you’re tired of pretending that you don’t notice the way his eyes darken when they meet yours.

Ford’s hand brushes yours, hesitant. Too careful. His fingers curl slightly, catching yours in a loose hold and you already think he’s going to pull away again, but no. His grip tightens and little smile appears on your cold lips.

“It’s, uh, it’s—” Ford begins, stuttering, but the words die on his tongue when your free hand reaches up to touch his face, grazing the edge of his jaw with your thumb. Oh, he’s warmer than you expected, softer, too and then he leans into your touch, what tells you everything you need to know about how much he’s been holding back.

“Don’t be a coward, sixer.”

Ford’s head immediately snaps toward his brother, shouting him a glare, but then your fingers trail lower, brushing along the collar of his sweater and he stops, softens. You don’t miss the way his chest rises and falls too.

You tilt your head, asking quietly in soft voice. “What are you so afraid of, Ford?”

It’s Stan who answers, leaning in close enough that you feel his breath on your neck. “He’s afraid you’ll like me better,” his hand finds your thigh beneath the blanket, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp softly right into Ford’s face. “ain’t that right, genius?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then prove it,” Stanley’s hand slides higher as he touches the bare skin beneath your clothes and you shiver, definitely not from the cold this time. Meanwhile Ford’s grip on your hand tightens as he watches Stan’s movements.

“She’s yours too, isn’t she? Or are you just gonna let me—”

Whatever Stan’s about to say dies in his throat because Ford moves faster than you’ve ever seen, his free hand grabbing Stan’s wrist and pulling it away from your thigh.

“Enough,” Ford commands, his hand slides to your cheek, tilting your face toward his and surprisingly for three of you, his lips are on yours. But you don’t even get time to enjoy the kiss.

“So she tastes as good as you imagined, Ford?”

Ford pulls back to glare at his brother, but his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, dragging it down slightly and when good answer appears in his smart head, he smiles.

“Better,” his eyes stay locked on yours, searching, needing.

Stan watches this for a moment, his grin softening, turning less cocky, since when his brother got so romantic? “Well, great,” he leans back in, his hand returning to your thigh, caressing your skin. Ford finally pulls away, unable to take his eyes off your pretty lips now. Before you can say something, you feel Stan's mouth on your neck, so warm as he nibbles on your skin while Ford’s hands slide lower, pulling you closer.

And you’re not cold anymore. Not even a little.

Your breath tangles in your throat when Stan squeezes your thigh while Ford kisses you again. It’s everything you thought it’d be and nothing you could’ve prepared for, a tension that’s been threading through the air for weeks, months and now it’s finally snapping. You think you might drown in the intensity of it, feeling Stan’s hand dragging higher, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties as his teeth graze the shell of your ear.

“You’ve been playin’ coy for weeks, sweetheart,” you hear Stan muttering behind you, his other arm loops around your middle, pulling you back against the solid weight of him and your head falls against his chest. “makin’ us work for it, huh? You got no idea what that’s been doin’ to us.” his mouth is rough on your neck, trying to mark every inch of you and when he nips at your pulse, you can’t stop the sound that escapes you, it’s half a gasp, half a moan and you feel Ford’s hand twitching against your hip.

“You sound so fuckin’ pretty like that,” Stan’s hands are big and rough like the rest of him, so when he slides them under the blanket, slipping between your legs, you gasp louder.

The heat in the room doesn’t come from the candles or blanket anymore, it’s from their bodies pressing closer, crowding you against the sofa’s cushions. Ford is still in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours as if he’s trying to solve the most complicated equation of his life, but his trembling hands betray him, desperate to touch you. Stan’s behind you, his chest solid against your back, arms bracketing you in like a warm cage, and when his lips find the shell of your ear, you feel his grin.

“Tell him, sweetheart, tell sixer what you want.”

You don’t answer right away, you look at Ford, noticing his pupils blown wide and his breath uneven. He’s waiting, waiting for permission, waiting for you to say the words he clearly doesn’t have the courage to ask for himself.

Stan’s hand is skimming along your stomach, fingers curling over the hem of your sweater. “Or maybe you don’t want him to touch you,” he adds, teasing. “is that it? you’d rather just let me have all the fun?”

You shake your head, making the most needy face ever, giving Ford puppy eyes. “no. . . no, I want him to.”

“Hear that, Ford? our pretty little thing is giving you the green light.” Ford is still silent, his eyes are glued to where Stan’s fingers have disappeared beneath the hem of your sweater.

You shift slightly, arching your back as Stan’s hand slides higher, dragging the fabric of your sweater with it, inch by slow excruciating inch. The air feels cooler against your skin now. Ford’s hand freezing just short of touching your bare waist.

“Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Stan purrs, his hand finally stopping just beneath your chest. He pauses, though, his thumb stroking a line along your chest as he waits.

You realise what Stan hints at, your eyes meet Ford’s gaze again and you give him a little coquettish smile. “Do you want to see?”

Not waiting for his brother’s slow and awkward response, Stan’s fingers curl under the fabric of your sweater, lifting it higher, exposing your skin painfully slow until the candlelight catches the soft curve of your beautiful breasts. The room is dim, the fire casting flickering shadows across the walls and you swear you can feel Ford’s gaze burning into you, hotter than the flames.

“Fuck, would you look at her. . .”

You should feel exposed, vulnerable, but hungry gaze of two men make your head spin.

“Touch her, dumbass,” Stan prompts as he tilts your chin back against his shoulder. “don’t just sit there looking, she’s right here, beggin’ for it.”

Stanford hesitates, the effort of restraint is physically painful for him. But then you breath out needy “yes, please” and his hand finally moves, he trails his fingers to cup your breast, brushing his thumb over your nipple in a touch that’s far too gentle for how much you’ve been aching for this.

His breathing quickens, blood rushing to his lower body and you watch his throat bob as he swallows nervously, his gaze fixed on the soft peaks of your breasts, bare now in the cold air. Your pretty nipples pebble, whether from the chill or their eyes drinking you in. His touch feels so warm and when his fingers catch on the sensitive peaks, you sigh, your hips jerking slightly against Stan’s thighs.

Stan chuckles, letting his hand go lower your stomach now. “there you go, see? not so hard, is it?”

Ford doesn’t answer, too focused on studying your beautiful face every time he tweaks or rolls the delicate skin beneath his six fingers. You whimper softly and the sound seems to spur him on, his movements becoming firmer, more confident, and oh god, you’re melting between them.

“You’re just so beautiful,” Ford glances at you, his eyes searching yours to make sure you believe him. “do you know that?”

You don’t get the chance to answer because Stan chooses that moment to push his hand lower, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric of your panties and brushing between your wet folds. You let out a gasp, reaching to grip his arms, but Stan just laughs.

“Looks at that, she’s dripping, all for us. ain’t that right, sweetheart?” his fingers circle slowly, teasingly and you let out a choked moan, your hips bucking against his hand.

Ford’s gaze drops as he takes in the way Stan’s hand moves, your body responds to every touch as you move your hips to chase the pleasure. “Stan, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” his twin interrupts, grinning. “don’t touch her? don’t make her feel good? or is it that you don’t wanna watch?” he presses his fingers on your needy clit. “because if that’s the case, you might wanna look away now, sixer.”

Oh, you’re trembling, your whole body is shaking apart under the weight of their hands and their voices. Stan’s thick fingers already teasing your little hole, penetrating just a little, but enough to make you moan, the obscene wet sounds filling the room now, slickness coating his fingertips. It’s shameless, loud and you should feel embarrassed for being this fucking wet, mortified even, but all you can focus on is Ford watching.

He’s staring at where Stan’s hand disappears between your legs, his own six fingers twitching, can’t decide where to go next.

“Go ahead.” Stan slides his fingers deeper into your pussy, earning another helpless moan from your lips. “she’s fucking soaked for you.” he turns his head, brushing his lips against your ear, and murmurs, “tell him, baby, tell him you want it.”

Your lips part, but no words come out at first, your brain too fogged up with heat and touch while Stan scissors his fingers inside you, spreading your wet folds, exposing your needy pussy to Ford. When Stan’s thick finger brushes against that tender sweet spot your vision goes white and you finally manage to whine. “Ford, Ford! please,” you reach your hand out blindly to grab his wrist, guiding him to you. “please, touch me.”

Ford settles his hands on your thighs and you immediately notice how his touch is so different from Stan’s, soft, tentative, awkward, trembling, scared to move too fast, but then you make this soft, pleading noise and it flips a switch in him. His hands slide up and he finally pushes Stan’s hand away, sliding his fingers into your dripping cunt with an eagerness that makes your head spin.

“Holy moses,” Ford groans as he presses his fingers deeper. “You’re— you’re so warm, so wet.” he moves slowly, exploring, testing and it’s clumsy, because you can feel how hard he’s trying to do it right.

“Woah, didn’t know you had it in you.” Stan’s hands move up your stomach until they find your breasts again, cupping them with a roughness that makes you arch into him. “don’t forget about these, though. They’re just as perfect as everything else.”

You moan when Stan’s thumbs circle your sensitive hard nipples, squeezing a little bit, meanwhile Ford’s fingers find a rhythm inside you that has your hips rolling forward, chasing the friction. “Oh, Stan, Ford,” you breathe, your head falling back against Stan’s shoulder, “pleasee. . .”

“Please, what? please touch you more? please fuck you right here in front of sixer? or is it sixer you want to—”

“Stanley, don’t, ugh, don’t talk like that!” Ford glares at his brother, but his long fingers never stop thrusting and moving, curling and twisting inside you, making you cry out while he scolds Stan for being “too dirty”.

Your thighs tighten around Ford’s wrist and you can’t stop the sound you make, you couldn’t even if you tried. You sound so high and broken, so loud, a trembling little wail that falls into the air and hangs there, suspended between the flickering candlelight and sound of Stan’s chuckle.

“That’s it, doll. Go on, let him see it, let that nerd see how pretty you are when you cum. Isn’t that right, Ford? Isn’t she the prettiest damn thing you’ve ever seen?”

And damn it, Stan can talk so well that his voice and words alone are enough to get you close. You whine again, taking everything they both give you like the goddamn obedient thing you are. Fuck, you're so ready to let Stan or Ford finally fuck you, feel that cock stretch you open, but you are so horny that even being stuffed full, you'll still be begging for more. And all you can do for now is cumming on Ford's fingers before you'll get the real thing.

Ford doesn’t answer, not in words, at least. He drops his gaze back to where his fingers disappear into you, his movements growing faster, more confident as he rubs your sensitive bundle of nerves that has you keening.

“Yes, fuck, yes, just like that,” you whine, close. “please, i’m— gonna cum!”

“Good girl.” you’re so lost in pleasure you can’t recognise who even says that. Ford’s fingers press deeper, until he finds that spot again, that perfect, maddening spot as his thumb circles your little clit. “just let go, sweetheart, i’ve got you. We’ve got you.”

Just like that, your hips jerk as the coil inside you tightens to the point of snapping. You bury your face in the crook of Stan’s neck, your soft cries muffled against his hot skin as you cum, shuddering in release while Ford’s fingers still working you through every last wave of it.

“Fucking hell,” Stan mutters behind you. “all fucked out and dripping down your hand, bet you’ve never seen anything so damn beautiful, huh?”

Ford just stares at your pretty face and the mess your pussy made, his fingers still buried deep inside you as he glances down at his own hand, glistening in the low candlelight. “Yes, shes just incredible. I don’t think i’ve ever—” but his response is too slow.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Stan shuts his brother up, his tone edging on impatient as his hands move down, grabbing your thighs and pulling you back against him. “but i’m fucking done waiting.”

You whimper softly when Stan pulls you away from Ford, manhandling you like you’re nothing more than a toy in his grip. “Stan—” you start, but your words are cut off when he spins you around and lays you back against the couch, towering over you.

“It’s okay, baby.” his hands are already at his belt, yanking it loose. “you’re mine now.”

Ford looks up, finally waking up from his fantasies, still kneeling by the couch, his hand hovering like he doesn’t know what to do with it anymore. “Wait, what? But we—”

“Tsk, you’ve had your turn, sixer.” Stan glances at him with a smirk, pushing your legs apart with his hand. “but this pussy is mine.”

Then he tears open the foil packet with his teeth and you swear you never saw anything this sexy. Stan’s hands working fast and you can’t help the soft, needy sound that escapes you as you watch him rolling the condom on. You just wish to be filled now. “Been waiting too long for this,” Stan positions himself at your wet entrance, the head of his cock rubbing through your sensitive folds, coating his length in your wetness.

Fuck, the stretch burns, but it’s good, so good and that guttural groan Stan lets out as he sinks into your pussy deeper fills your stomach with butterflies.

“Fuuuuck,” he hisses as he bottoms out, feeling your soft walls around his cock. “tight little cunt’s squeezin’ me like a fuckin’ vice. How the hell are you this perfect?”

“Stanley!” your voice sounds so breathy, your hands reaching for him, clutching at his shoulders as your thighs tremble on either side of him.

Ford’s breath catches he watches the way you arch beneath his brother, the way your gorgeous body trembles with every thrust, every touch. His hand moves unconsciously toward the bulge straining against his trousers.

“Shh, sweetie,” Stan coos and presses forward, sinking into your cunt slowly, until he’s buried to the hilt. “fuck, you’re perfect.”

Stanford watches, wrapping his hand around his own cock, stroking himself in slow pulls as he takes in the sight of you, so flushed, trembling, undone as you let his brother fuck you. He can't really believe that this is happening right in front of his eyes, he didn't even have time to protest, his eyes flicker between your face and where Stan’s hips meet yours, his jaw clenching as he watches the way your little pussy stretch around him, taking him in so easily, so beautifully.

“You’re missing out, Ford,” Stan pulls his hips back before thrusting forward again slowly, his cock penetrates you deeper. “she’s so fucking tight, so warm, guess you’re wishing you’d been a little greedier, huh?”

Your lashes flutter, damp with tears you didn’t realise had spilled, your lips parted, all swollen, trembling and your voice is slurred now, pouring out in little whimpers that are hardly words at all, just fragments of syllables that tumble over each other.

“S-Stan, oh! oh god, it’s s-so big,” your nails digging into the couch as your hips stutter against his, helpless to the rhythm he sets.

“Just like that, honey.” Stan growls, gripping you hard to hold you still. “you’re taking it, sweetheart, all of it. Fuck, being such a good girl for me.”

“Good girl,” you echo back in the sweetest, dreamiest tone, your words spilling out soft as silk, trembling with every breath you take. Your head falls back against the cushions, strands of hair clinging to your hot flushed cheeks and you can barely manage another gasp before Stan presses his cock into your pussy again, harder this time. “m’good, right? f-fuck, fuck!” the question slips out, a broken little thing, barely there as your fingers claw helplessly at the cushions. You’re drowning, drunk on the way his dick drags against every sweet sensitive spot inside you, pushing you further and further into some heavenly haze.

Ford’s hand moves in slow strokes over his hard cock, every now and then stopping to squeeze at the base, his knuckles pale with the effort of holding himself back. He watches you, only you, his sacred vision meant to be cherished, wishing it was him filling you up instead.

His gaze devours every delicate part of you: how your lips tremble as you moan Stan’s name, the soft arch of your spine when his brother thrusts deeper, the way your body, so soft, so sweet, melts against every rough movement. Ford’s chest rises and falls as he breathes shallowly and uneven, his jaw tight.

“She’s stunning, isn’t she?” you hear Stan’s proud voice, every thrust making you cry out, your body jolting forward only to be pulled back by the iron grip he has on your waist. “look at her, sixer. Look at this perfect little pussy takin’ me so fuckin’ well. But eh, what a shame you’re not brave enough to handle her like this, are you?”

Ford’s lips press into a thin line, he tries to ignore his brother’s mockery, tries to avoid conflict, narrowing his eyes, but his cock twitches in his hand at the sound of your soft begging voice. “Foord,” you whimper, reaching for him with trembling fingers.

“Go on. Let him see how much you love it. Let him hear how good this thick fuckin’ cock feels inside you.”

“You’re insufferable,” Ford finally snaps in serious voice. His hand tightens on his cock as he uses his thumb to smear the slick of precum over the swollen tip while he kneels beside you. “you think brute force is all it takes to please her? Amateur.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Stan spits back, though there’s a slight falter in his thrusts, more sensual and slow, bringing you more pleasure, making you whine. Your pussy clenches around him and the sound of your soft cries only makes him groan.

“Stan, oh fuck!”

“There you go, doll.” his grin widens as he watches you come undone beneath him. “You don’t even know how pretty you look right now, do you? All spread out for me, crying on my cock.”

“Yes, yes! it’s, oh god, it’s too good—”

“Oh, you’re just drunk on it, aren’t you?” he teases, his hips snapping forward again, drawing another broken cry from your lips. “Go on, sweetie, tell me how good it feels, tell me how much you love it.”

Your words are a jumbled mess, tumbling out in a rush of breathless babble: “so good, so big, can’t! oh, can’t think, Stan, i— i love it, i love you so much!”

“Take it, baby. Keep talking, let me hear that pretty voice.”

“S’too much, too deep,” your head is shaking, your cheeks flushed, your eyes glassy as you stare up at him, your lips trembling with every word. “c-can feel deep, so deep, feels so good. . . oh, please, please don’t stop—”

“Damn it, damn it,” Ford mutters from where he’s still kneeling by the couch, his eyes are locked on the spot where Stan’s hips meet yours, watching the way you take him, the way you stretch around him, the wet, messy sounds filling the room. “you’re going to fucking kill her.”

“Nah, she’s tougher than she looks, aren’t you, pretty?” Stan glances down at you, brushing his thumb over your swollen lower lip, then wiping your sweet tears off your cute face. “c’mon, sweetheart, show sixer how strong you are. Tell him you can take it.”

“C-Can take it,” you echo again as your lashes flutter. “wan’ more, need more, please, don’t stop, don’t ever stop—”

Stan laughs at how desperate you sound, so dumb and drunk on his cock sliding in and out of you, his hand moves down between your thighs, finding your swollen clit as he starts toying with it, and the sound you make is pure music, a beautiful cry that makes his cock twitch inside you.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking, hhnngh, perfect, could fuck you forever. Might just do it. . . keep you here, all pretty and fucked out and crying for me.” his thrusts grow harsher, dragging against your cervix in a way that has your toes curling. It’s too much, too good and the only sound you can make is a sweet, broken hum, your lips parted as drool threatens to escape.

And through it all, Ford is still there, his gaze devouring you. His six-fingered hand, so deft and steady in every other setting, now trembles as it pumps his leaking cock, betraying the tension rippling through him. His flushed dick twitches in his hand, as he tries to match the pace of Stan’s thrusts.

“Hah, you really wanna join in that bad? Go ahead, help yourself. I’m sure our doll here wouldn’t mind, right?”

Your head turns weakly, tears slipping down your cheeks as you nod, your lips quivering with your next plea. “Ford, please, please, wan’ you too. . . need you, need both of you. Can take it, promise, promise i can.” your brain turn to mush.

He exhales sharply through his nose, his broad shoulders heaving as he tries to control himself, tries to fight the pull of your voice, soft and begging and oh so sweet. But that bastard thrusts harder into you, making you forget about everything at once, especially about that worried look on Ford’s face. Stan fucks you even faster and your lips part. “Stan, Ford, wanna be good, wanna be so good for you, im. . . i’m your good girl, yes? wanna be good, please, let me—”

Stan uses his thumb to touch your flushed, tear-streaked cheek. “Oh, you’re more than good, sweetheart. You’re fucking perfect, our perfect little doll, huh?”

Ford’s brows furrow as he leans closer. “she’s. . . she’s really out of it. Stan, are you sure—”

“Cmon, sixer, you’re tellin’ me you wouldn’t do the same if you were in my shoes? she’s so fuckin wet, bet you’re wishin’ you’d been the one to break her in, or am I wrong?”

You can’t even think anymore, not a coherent thought left in that pretty, spinning head of yours. You sob out his name again, your hips bucking up against his, your head tilting back as the pleasure builds, until it’s too much while you moan “faster” and “please” as you fall apart all over again, babbling incoherent nonsense. But what comes out of your mouth next is definitely something Ford didn't expect.

“Ford, you’re s’good, so handsome. . . not fair, hnngh, you’re both so pretty. . . you, with all your. . . your smartness an’-an’—” your brows knit as you lose the thread of your sentence, but the pout that takes over your mouth is enough to make Ford combust on the spot.

Stan chuckles at your words, moving his fingers in slow, unrelenting circles that have you squirming. “Don’t try to flatter him too much, pretty. His ego’s big enough as it is.”

“She’s completely gone, Stan, is she even coherent anymore?”

Stan snorts, leaning back to admire the way you look beneath him, your tear-streaked cheeks, your glossy eyes and parted lips with drops of saliva running down your chin. “Oh, coherent enough,” he uses his hand to cup your jaw and tilt your pretty face to his brother. “tell that nerd how good you’re doing.”

“S-So good,” you sob. “so good, m’your good girl, promise, jus’ need you both so bad, so bad it hurts—”

“She’s. . . she’s not making any sense. She’s—”

“She’s good,” Stan cuts him off, sliding his hand down to rest against your lower belly, pressing lightly to feel the way his cock moves inside you.

“M’fine, m’really good, s’good. . . love you, Stan, love Ford, too! wanna—” your words break off into breathy giggle as you reach for Ford with trembling hands. “wanna kiss you, Ford, please, please, lemme—”

And just like that, Ford’s resolve shatters like glass. “Damn it,” he kisses you. It’s hesitant at first, his lips brushing yours so lightly it feels like a dream, but the soft, desperate moan that spills from your mouth pulls him in deeper.

“S’pretty,” you murmur against his mouth dreamily, your fingers curling around the collar of his sweater. “Ford, you’re so pretty, so smart, so perfect. . . wanna make you feel good, please, can i? please?”

“She’s gonna eat you alive, sixer,” Stan grins, slipping his large hand beneath your sweater to cup one of your breasts, brushing his thumb over the stiffened peak. “better give her what she wants before she drives herself crazy.”

“Y-You can take me too, can’t you?” Ford’s voice sounds like he’s barely keeping himself together.

“She’s made for it,” his twin answers for you, slowing his rough thrusts to a roll of his hips that grinds into just the right spot. “aren’t you, sweetheart? made to take every fuckin’ thing we give you. Tell him. Tell sixer how bad you want your pretty mouth full.”

“Please, wanna make you both feel so good, please, Ford, wan’ your cock, just wanna taste you— ah!” your moans are interrupted when Stan pushes roughly into your warmth again.

So Ford’s restraint doesn’t last. He lets out a broken groan, cradling your jaw with one hand while the other ghosts over your lips. “Open for me, darling,” you obey without hesitation, your tongue peeking out as he slips two long fingers into your mouth. The warmth of you makes his cock twitch again, his face flushed and torn with guilt. “Good girl,” he breathes, brushing his thumb against your cheek as you suck, your pretty lips glistening with spit.

“Fuckin’ adorable,” Stan slams his cock into you hard enough to make the couch creak. “think she loves you talkin’ to her like that, sixer. Makes her even wetter, fuck.”

“Can you take me here, darling? You're already so full, but i know you can take more. You’re extraordinary, after all.” you babble nonsense in response around Ford’s fingers, tears and spit mingling on your face as your gaze locks onto his. When his fingers leave your mouth, a string of saliva connects them to your lips, and Ford swallows thickly before leaning forward.

“Hear that, baby? you’re so goddamn perfect, even sixer here can’t help himself. Go on, open that pretty mouth for him.”

You don’t know if it’s that crazy desperation you have for both twins or Stan’s tone or that needy look on Ford’s face, but your lips part without hesitation again, and Ford exhales, his cock presses against your tongue, the weight of him dizzying as you wrap your lips around him, taking him as deep as you can. He whimpers and that noise makes your pussy throb once again around Stan’s length.

Six-fingered hand moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, not forcing, just guiding, as he starts to move, slow thrusts that press against the back of your throat. “Perfect, love, you’re. . . a-ah, perfect. Look at you, taking both of us like this. . . such a good little thing for us. . .”

You’re too far gone to answer, too consumed by the overwhelming fullness, Stanley is relentless, thrusting into your pussy, dragging against your cervix, making you sob around Ford’s length. It’s filthy, the wet sounds of your mouth and cunt harmonizing in this dirty symphony, echoing off the walls.

“Look at her,” Stan growls, gripping your hips to keep you in place as he grinds deeper. “bet you’re jealous as hell, huh? wishing it was you stretching her out like this?”

Ford’s response is a fractured groan as your throat tightens around him. “Don’t— don’t say shit like that, Stan.” even though Ford seems to be more gentle than his brother, his hold on you is firm as he guides your pretty swollen lips down and you let him. You let them, because that’s all you’ve ever wanted, to be theirs, to be good for them, to be their fleshlight they can use whenever they want.

Your body trembling from the overwhelming fullness, Stan splitting you open below while Ford’s cock steals the breath from your lungs. Tears streak your cheeks, glittering like gemstones in the candlelight, and Stan leans forward, his rough thumb smearing them away. “cryin’ so pretty for us, baby.”

Your warm mouth stretches as you take Ford in and he moans, moans and moans again, low-key turning into same mess as you when your tongue curls and presses against him. He accidentally thrusts too deep, making you gag lightly, tears spilling anew, but you keep going, keep sucking him off like the good girl you are. Because you’re their good girl, their sweet, obedient little thing who gives and gives until there’s nothing left. You hum around his length and the vibration making his knees buckle.

“Mmmph,” you manage, pulling back briefly to gasp for air before diving back down on Ford’s cock, hollowing your cheeks, your throat tightening as you try to take him deeper. “s’good, so full, love you both, love being yours. . . love being your good girl. . .”

Ford’s brows knit, his stormy eyes softening as he cups your cheek with one hand. “Careful, darling,” he caresses your spit-slicked lips with his thumb. “don’t push yourself too hard.” but his body betrays him, his cock twitching against your tongue, desperate for more of your warmth, your wetness, your everything.

“Careful? Sixer, you really think she’s not begging for more?”

You are. God, you are. Your body arches as Stan’s thick cock drags against that devastating spot inside you, your mind blanking with every sharp snap of his hips. “Please,” you gasp, pulling off Ford with a wet pop. “More, need more, please, Ford, want you both.”

Stan chuckles darkly, gripping your waist as he ruts into you, watching your beautiful nipples in the candlelight while he ruins your little pussy with every deep thrust, making you cry out around Ford’s cock. “Ugh, bet she’d beg to have us both at once if she could talk right now.”

“D-Dont—” Ford’s response falter as his head tilts back. “she’s, oh fuck, she’s doing enough.”

Your eyes flutter shut, your mind blank and when you pull back to breathe your voice is swallowed immediately when Ford presses his cock back into your mouth, your hands clinging to his thighs as your body shudders between them. Too rough.

Ford regrets his action immediately, his gaze softening as he watches you. “S-sorry, love, i didn’t m—“ he cant even finish his sentence as you take him deeper again. “Ahh, there. . . there's my good girl,” he strokes your cheek gently.

Stan’s growl sounds through the room as his grip tightens on your hips, burying himself deeper, his balls tighten as he pulses inside you. “fuck, angel, you take me so good, tight lil’ thing, this perfect pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? hell, im gonna cum. . .”

You’re trembling under him, eyes heavy-lidded and watery, your nails scraping helplessly against Ford’s thighs as your mouth hangs open, while he nudges his cock on your cheek now, rubbing it against your skin, giving his beautiful girl time to breathe and rest. But god, Stan’s cock makes you cry out so pretty it could’ve brought a man to his knees.

Ford’s gaze flicks to his brother, the irritation obvious in his eyes. “Stanley, she’s already so overstimulated. Can’t you slow down?”

“Slow down? Ford, look at her, she’s fuckin’ drunk on it.”

“Can’t you— damn, at least touch her properly?”

“What the fuck do you think i’m doing?” Stan drops his hand low, and when those thick fingers starts teasing that tender little pearl of yours, you cant stop the pitiful, muffled sob that leave your throat. “Happy now, professor? she’s got my cock buried in her and my fuckin’ fingers making her melt. Nothin’ to complain about.”

Ford falters, his brows furrowing as his eyes dart to yours, searching for any sign of discomfort on his beloved girl's face. Instead, he found you gazing up at him, adoring, your lips parting around his tip with a soft, wet sound. “I. . . still, Stanley, you could—”

“Don’t you ‘Stanley’ me. You’re not exactly mr. gentle here yourself, sixer. You practically fucked her throat.”

Ford flushes, holding your hair as his composure slips another notch. “I’m not, she’s just so—” he groans as you use opportunity and take his cock in your mouth again. “I just—! I don’t mean to—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Stan’s rhythm falters when the tension in his body finally reaches its peak as his head drops back with a deep moan of your name. Fuck, the condom is the only thing stopping him from flooding you completely, but its hardly enough to dull the intense, claiming press of him inside you.

“Fuck— fuck, angel,” he pants. “gonna fill you up so bad if this wasn’t in the way— goddammit! wanna see it dripping out of you, doll.”

“S-Stan,” you whimper, trying to form a coherent thought. “so good, so good, i—”

Ford feels a mix of frustration and worry, watching the way his twin manhandles you. “Ugh, you’re going to break her at this rate. Do you even care that she’s—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, sixer. Tell the man yourself, baby, you’re loving this, right?”

You manage a soft, breathless “yes, wan’ more, wan’ all of you—” before your words dissolve into a string of muffled moans and nonsensical sounds, your thoughts too hazy to form anything coherent because the way Stan fucks you feels unyielding.

Stan’s fingers flex against your clit one last time and then he’s gripping your hips like a man possessed, his teeth bared as his cock twitches one last time inside you, it pulses against the grip of your velvet walls. He holds you in place as he empties himself into the condom, muttering a string of incoherent curses. Your breath hitches, your body still oversensitive, needing and when his thumb circles your clit lazily, but deliberate, you shiver hard enough that you nearly collapse.

“Take it, baby,” Stanley tortures your sensitive pearl over and over, feeling your pussy flattering around him and he grins when you whimper. “such a mess, doll. S’pose we’ll have to fix that, huh? Fill you up proper next time. No damn rubber in the way.

Ford, meanwhile, is so ruined. His face is flushed and he’s pulling out of your mouth with a wet, sticky sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His cock twitches, shiny with your spit, he chokes out something that sounds suspiciously like a protest to his brother's words, but his voice falters when your hand wraps around the base of his cock, your tongue darting out to catch a bead of precum dripping from the flushed tip.

“I'm close, I'm so cl-close. . . Wait, wait, love, need tissues, dont want. . . don't want to make a mess.”

But you disagree. “Ford,” your gaze hazy but full of affection as you press your lips against his palm. “you don’t have to worry. I want to taste you. Please?”

Ford’s eyes going wide as his cock twitches in your grip. He looks at you like you’ve just said the most scandalous, sinful thing imaginable and you have.

“Go on, sixer, you heard the lady.”

Ford still has doubts, but he's not in a position to think and analyze for a long time. That's why when you taste the head of his cock, his resolve crumbles. You give his tip another gentle kiss, humming softly at the salty taste of him. Your hands cradle his hips as you move slowly, your tongue swirling around him, savoring every drop like it’s the sweetest treat.

He guides you back to him, his cock throbbing against your lips as you take him in, inch by inch. “Yeah, feels so good. . . ” his voice breaks, his fingers threading through your hair again.

You moan softly in response, your eyes closing as you focus on Ford, taking him deeper, letting him feel the full warmth of your mouth as your tongue presses against him. His hips jerk, setting the rhythm that lets him fuck your throat slowly, he mutters something that sounds like an apology, though it’s swallowed by a desperate groan.

“Darling, please, so good. . . You're so good for us.”

You can't help but get turned on by his voice again, even though you're not sure you can handle the second round right now, you still need to catch your breath.

Ford's gaze locks with yours and he nods as a warning that he’s close, watching your shiny lips, swollen around his length. The sound he makes sends a spark of heat straight to your core. Its messy, and noisy, and when Ford finally spills into your mouth with a sharp cry of your name, you swallow it down to the last drop, wishing he'd fill your pussy too, but it can wait. For now.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re somethin’ else, doll.”

Ford pulls you into his arms the moment you release him, his hands cradling your face, checking if his precious girl he’s terrified to lose is okay. “Thank you, love, you were such a good girl for me.”

“For us, Sixer, for us.”

The room falls silent after the last of your trembling fades, and the three of you, sweaty and exhausted, lie on the couch.

Somewhere in the background, the storm outside rumbles one last time before finally giving way to quiet.

Then. . . click.

The lights flicker on, suddenly, obnoxiously bright, washing the room in unforgiving fluorescence. You squint, blinking against the glare as you lift your head from Stan’s chest, a groggy, borderline-irritated groan slipping from your lips.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” your voice sounds so weak from all the. . . well, everything.

Stan grunts, throwing an arm over his eyes as if to block out the light. “As i said, goddamn timing.”

Ford sits up a little, rubbing at his neck with a wince. His glasses are crooked on his face, and his hair is a mess, though not nearly as bad as Stan’s.

You can’t help it, you snort, slapping your hand against Stan’s big chest playfully. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Yeah? Well, you don’t look much better, sweetheart,” Stan retorts with a tired smirk. “besides, i’m too old for this shit. Don’t expect me to move for at least an hour.”

“Make it two,” his twin adds, leaning back with a tired sigh. “i think i’ve pulled something.”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up on wobbly legs. “Oh, you two are pathetic.”

“Says the girl who can't even walk straight now.”

You stick your tongue out at Stan, though you know he can’t see it because poor man already closed his eyes.

“Whatever, i’m taking a shower, try not to die of old age while i’m gone.”

Ford smiles softly at your behaviour, but Stan just groans, waving a hand at you dismissively. “Have fun. Don’t expect me to move a fuckin’ inch.”

You roll your eyes again, muttering something about men as you disappear into the bathroom.

But what you don’t see and what Stan doesn’t see too is how Ford’s gaze lingers on you as you go.

The door clicks shut, and Stan sighs heavily, already half-asleep. “Wake me up in a week.”

Ford glances at him, smirking faintly. “Sure, Stanley. A week.”

The bathroom.

You’re standing under the spray of hot water, letting it wash away the stickiness and sweat, when the door creaks open behind you.

“Stan, i swear to god, if you’ve suddenly decided you can—” you start, turning to glance over your shoulder only to freeze when you see Ford stepping inside.

“Not Stan,” he answers as he locks the door behind him.

Your brows shoot up. “Ford? what are you—?”

“He’s out cold,” Ford says simply as he steps closer. “and besides,” his fingers brush over your hip, and you shiver from wild contrast of his cool touch against your heated skin. “i didn’t get nearly enough of you earlier.” he presses you back against the cool tile, cupping your face, tilting it to capture your lips in a kiss which now feels more possessive than gentle.

“Ford,” you whisper, half-scolding but mostly breathless. “he’ll—”

“He won’t,” he interrupts. “and even if he does. . . well, perhaps it’s time Stanley learned to share properly.”

Before you can respond, his hand is slipping between your thighs, using his fingers to part you.

“Now, let’s see if you can stay quiet, darling. Don’t want to wake him, do we?”

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls x you #gravity falls smut #ford pines x reader #stan pines x reader #ford pines smut #stanford pines #stan pines smut #x reader #stanford pines x you #stanford pines x reader #stanley pines smut #stanley pines x you #stanley pines x reader #ford pines x you #ford pines #gravity falls fanfiction

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 16 hours ago

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Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part 8

Summary: Jungkook's feelings for you have grown immensely and he can't hold himself back from being honest anymore. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 2.6K~ (I know it's short but it was at a good stopping point and I couldn't figure out how to continue it without a big time skip/harsh break so yeah enjoy this mini chapter 😅) Warnings: No warnings just fluff a/n: Another almost four months and I only have a little bit for you 😔 I'm still trying to figure out how I want to go about finishing this story (yes it's close to the end) so please bear with me 😪 but either way I hope you enjoy!

Ever since I told him last month that I didn't want to be friends anymore and by default telling him that I wanted to be with him things have been different.

We've settled into a new routine with the tension between us no longer burning to the point I shy away but something that feel natural, domestic even.

I guess you could say that's pretty obvious from the fact that we're living together but his subtle touches are welcomed and expected.

Things as simple as his hand on my lower back as he passes by or his arms wrapped around me from behind with his chin propped up on my shoulder or even a kiss on the forehead are all things that we've settled into and it makes me feel loved.

Love is still a scary word for me to think about or even say aloud but it's something I feel towards him, deeply, hopelessly, painfully.

At times I remember that things could suddenly change without warning. That he could toss me out as soon as he gets fed up with waiting like Jared did. That he cou-.

"Ow!" I cry out when he pinches my side, "What was that for?" I whine, the spot he abused already sore. "I've been calling your name for five minutes and you didn't respond so..." he chuckles and I hum, not having the energy to scold him further.

He wraps his arms around my waist and props his chin on my shoulder just like I had been thinking about while spacing out, leaving me relaxing into him, the feeling of being in his arms taking away some of the anxiety that had started to build.

"You okay?" he asks, placing a kiss on my cheek to which I hum again, nodding along with it. "You sure, because you've been stirring your coffee for the past seven minutes" he says, my hand stilling once he points it out.

I take a drink of the completely cold beverage and sigh in defeat, realizing that his words are true.

"I wanted it cold anyways" I mumble and turn to walk over to the freezer to add some ice, Jungkook letting go but still staying close.

"Something's wrong" he says after observing me for another second or two, very used to reading my body language. "Nothing's wrong I'm just...tired" I reply and the truth is I am.

"My internship has been kicking my ass and I don't know, I guess it's all starting to catch up to me" I relent and he takes a turn humming, knowing I'm not telling him the whole truth.

"You know you can tell me anything right?" he says, coming closer and cradling my face in his hands, granting him a sad smile in return.

"I know, but I promise I'm fine. It's just been a long week that's all" he studies my features for a while and decides to take my word for it, seeing that I'm not ready to talk about it. He nods his head a tiny bit before leaning in and giving me a soft kiss on my lips, one that lasts but a moment before pulling away.

"You wanna watch something tonight?" he asks and I smile as my answer, making him chuckle. "I'll make the snacks if you wanna go choose" he offers and I nod, my face still cradled in his hands so he gives me one last kiss before letting go and leaving our source of entertainment up to me.

~~~~

As the movie we've already watched and fallen in love with plays Jungkook notices my absence even though I'm cuddled up next to him, my reactions being minimal to nonexistent.

The parts we always laugh at are met with the sounds of his enjoyment and not mine so he pauses it and waits for me to notice which I don't for a while leaving him even more worried.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours Bunny? Did I do something wrong?" he asks and I sit up, needing him to know that he hasn't. "No, no you've been wonderful, better than I deserve honestly" I say, mumbling the last part but of course he hears it loud and clear.

"I'm good to you because I love you and you do deserve it, that's all" he admits so freely that I almost don't catch it. "You...what?" I ask, almost too scared to breathe. "I love you" he says with a crooked smile, clearly enjoying my practically speechless state.

I sit there for a minute, stunned into silence, not having expected that at all but he just laughs. "What? You didn't think I loved you?" he asks, brushing a stray strand of hair off of my face, letting his fingers trail down my neck before withdrawing his hand.

"No...I mean maybe? Isn't it a little too early for I love you's?" I ask, tentative to say it after I had been burned by...

"I don't think so. I mean it might be forward but I've loved you for a long time and I've cared about you even longer. You're someone that has been a constant in my life for many many years and the fact that you've given me permission to hold you, kiss you...well it's something that I don't think I can hold back anymore" he confesses, making me feel as though my heart might explode.

"I-" "You don't have to say anything. Take your time and only say it if you truly mean it Darling. I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for" he says, chancing caressing my face again and rubbing his thumb along my bottom lip.

"Come here" he says and pulls me in, having me straddle him not for anything sexual but just for the need to hold me close.

I burry my face in his neck and he rubs my back, knowing that I feel vulnerable since although he's not rushing me, I know he'll be waiting for an answer.

"I'm scared" I mumble against his skin and he hums, understanding the situation honestly more than I wish he did. He witnessed the ups and downs of the relationship between Jared and I and sat on the sidelines, knowing he could treat me better but caring about me too much to take away my right to make my own decisions and choose who I love even if it wasn't him.

"Take your time Bun. You know I'll always be here for you, no matter how long it takes" he reassures me of what I knew, making me nod and wrap around him even tighter, taking his words as genuine but still terrified that this could all slip away at any moment.

~~~~

A week goes by and I still haven't said it and it's killing me.

When he says goodbye he says it, whenever we've been intimate he says it, he even says it randomly just to try to make me smile but my mind won't truly let it sink in until I say it back.

"Baby?" he asks, knocking on my partially ajar door, seeing that I've been taking a little while longer to get out of bed this morning.

I hum and let him come in, trying to assess the state I'm in before saying anything else as he comes and sits down on my side of the bed, looking down at me and placing his hand on my waist. I'm still laying down, not having made an effort to get up just yet which I know worries him as well but he doesn't push me too hard.

"You not feeling well?" he asks, now going to check my temperature with the back of his hand but not noticing a fever of any sort making his theory very short lived. "No, just tired" I say quietly, not having spoken a word since I woke up, my voice still raspy which I can tell he enjoys but doesn't comment on this time.

"You want me to make you something? It's already lunch time and you haven't eaten all day huh?" he asks, knowing the answer but still allowing me the chance to reply. "Yeah maybe something simple like a sandwich?" I request and he nods.

"Want me to get it from that sandwich place we love?" he suggests, rubbing small circles on my waist but I shake my head. "No I'm craving one of your sandwiches" I say making him smile, knowing one of his favorite forms of praise is compliments on his cooking.

"Okay Bun, the usual?" he asks, knowing exactly what I want but asking just in case I'm feeling like something a little different today but I nod my head in approval making him lean down and place a kiss on my forehead before asking if I want him to bring it up here to which I decline.

"I need to get out of bed at some point" I say and he shrugs, "You're allowed to have a lazy day every once in a while if you'd like. I could even come join you later on?" he proposes making me smile, in favor of his suggestion.

"Can we take a nap after lunch?" I ask and he smirks a bit, testing the waters to see what I'm actually asking for. "Just a regular nap this time" I roll my eyes leaving him sighing dramatically before leaving, telling me he'll call me down when it's ready.

Once he's gone the doubt that has been plaguing my mind comes circling back.

'What if he's just saying that to take pity on me? What if he's saying it to rush me into something I'm not ready for? What if-' I groan, cutting off the spiral that I send myself down every time I'm alone and throw the blankets off before going into my bathroom and throwing cold water on my face, glaring at myself in the mirror, daring me to keep acting like this.

He loves me. He loves...me. Why am I so torn up about this? People say it all the time so it's not like it's the end of the world. It's just that...well next time I say it I want to mean it. The next time I say it I want it to be real.

I want to say it to the man that I'll promise to say it to forevermore.

Call me a hopeless romantic all you want but if I'm going to trust someone with my heart again I don't want to regret it...

~~~~

"Here you go Bunny" he says and places my sandwich in front of me. "I love you" I mumble, softer than I've ever said anything before but it makes his movements stutter.

"What was that Darling?" he asks, sitting down in the seat next to me at the table. "I um...I said 'Thank you'" I chicken out and although he wants to call me out on it he doesn't.

"You're welcome baby" he says, his smile a little brighter when he realizes that I'm trying, that I want to say it too but I just don't have the confidence yet.

"Anything for you" he finishes and caresses my cheek before getting up and grabbing his plate along with our drinks.

"You sure you're feeling alright?" he asks, my silence through lunch palpable since whenever he tries to start up a conversation I give him small short answers that make his efforts die in his throat.

"I've just been feeling a little funky that's all" I say and he hums, contemplating his next words which surprise me. "I'm sorry" he says, defeated and honestly quite vulnerable. "Why are you apologizing?" I ask, not thinking that he would have done anything that would require something like that.

"I knew you weren't ready and I rushed things but I wanted to be able to say what I felt for you because it was eating me alive. Having to cut off my sentences and not being able to speak my mind fully, holding you as close to my heart as possible but not being able to tell you that you had it in the palm of your hand already I just...I couldn't do it anymore" he says, his whole demeanor shifted into an almost sorrowful state that I can't hold it back anymore.

I can't keep hurting him like this when all I want to do is scream it for all to hear, even if the thought terrifies me.

"I love you" I say making his head pop up from it's dropped state, then feeling guilty and looking at his lap again as a result. "You don't have to say it just because I did. I just wanted to apologize because I know that that's was why you've been feeling so off lately" he says but I shake my head.

"The thought of giving my heart to someone again scares the shit out of me. After...well after going through all of that the thought of opening myself up again was not something I wanted to do. I will admit I sought you out out of lust at first but as our friendship and eventual relationship began to grow I realized that I cared about you a whole lot more that I should" I say, me now with my head turned down, not being able to keep the intense eye contact he's giving me, hanging on every word.

"I didn't know if you were doing these things for me because you felt sorry or because you truly cared. I know now that doubting your motives was honestly my own self doubt getting the best of me. You've done nothing but love and care for me since the beginning and I haven't let myself fully process the fact that I'm..." I cut myself off and take a deep breath.

"The fact that I'm falling in love with you" and although he said those words first the admission alone has me feeling as though he hadn't, as if he would change his mind now that I reciprocated his confession but he does anything but that, further confirming his true intentions for me as he pulls me closer.

He doesn't pull me in with a carnal passion in mind, he doesn't even pull me in for a kiss, he pulls me in and holds me close, telling me wordlessly that he's proud of me. That he's proud of me for taking that step, for trusting him with my heart, my mind, soul, fully consumed by him without abandon.

"Thank you" he whispers, his face being buried in my hair making me laugh at the ticklish feeling. "Don't make it weird" I say and poke his side making him flinch and hold me tighter. "How can I not? The woman I love loves me back" he chuckles and when I try to pull back he squeezes me tighter.

"Just let me have my moment" he huffs making me sigh and return his crushing embrace. "I love you" he says making me burry my face into his neck, mumbling it against his skin in return.

"Nah nah nah, say it like you mean it" he says, pushing me back just enough so he can look at me. "But I do mean it!" I roll my eyes, playing into his pouty act. "Come on, say it!" he says, pushing me back and forth, making me sway.

"I already said it, why do you need to hear it again?" I chuckle when his pout gets deeper. "Okay fine" I give in making his brows raise at my quick defeat. "I love you" I whisper in his ear and then run away, his hold on me having loosened from pure shock of my honesty, knowing now that I truly truly mean it.

"Get back here!" he scolds once he's come back down to earth, the surprise replaced with determination, his intentions being to not let me go til sunrise.

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ennabear · 18 hours ago

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✴︎ —PAINT THE AGES A HUNDRED SHADES OF GOLD ⊹₊⟡⋆

I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT LOVE ANYMORE ‘CAUSE IT’S GETTING TOO MUCH FOR ME …

cw: councilor!sevika x painter!mel, sevika is a lil sad and mean but she gets over it, sevika is also kind of a loser who can’t stop talking when she gets drunk, jinx and isha mentions because i’m evil and we know this, mel paints sevika nude, body worship, lots of comfort, oral sex, 18+

word count: 7.3k

it’s been months since sevika’s big move, and she fucking hates it to say the least.

all of these pilties are stuck up, even more than she remembers. which is a lot. she’s exhausted, she questions why she’s even a part of the council if all they do is ignore her. showing up every day and listening to them talk about her home and her people the way they do makes her sick.

they draft plans to raid the markets, shutting down anyone who isn’t licensed to be selling meat or rice or bread, but they refuse to let anyone get a license to sell those things. of course, she’s glad that she gets to eat three meals a day now, but with every bite she takes, she’s reminded of her home, and how starving they must be over there.

no matter how much she fights back, offers up a real plan that could make peace between the rivaling nations, they all just snicker and point fingers at her like she’s some sort of circus act.

and don’t ask her about how much she likes being called councilor sevika, because she doesn’t like it at all. she’s not a councilor, and maybe that’s a good thing, because it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna be.

still, she keeps her emotions under control. this is a huge opportunity to help get zaun on it’s feet and cut ties with piltover officially, she won’t spoil it by making a scene and giving up. no matter what, she’s gonna make an effort, even if it means being locked in a room with a group of rich pigs who’ve never felt that growing pit of hunger in their stomachs that make them so dizzy that they keel over on the streets.

that they die on the streets.

so yeah, it’s not easy, not even a little bit.

most of her nights are spent alone in her room. it’s nice, “small” compared to the rooms everyone else occupies, but still bigger than any house she’s ever seen in the undercity. it has large windows that let every bit of light in, but it’s still eerily dark at night compared to zaun.

in zaun, there are neon lights and buzzing street lamps that glow and flicker at every hour, so when it gets dark, the colorful lights bounce off of every inch of the city. you can see them in the reflections of the puddles, bright streaks of light flying up into the night from behind buildings and stretching until they’re out of sight.

here, in piltover, they have different kinds of lights. tiny, white holes in the sky called stars that shine when it gets dark. they have spotlights and statues and lanterns, but it gets lonely at night. everyone is at home, distancing from their friends and their jobs, getting sleep and resting up for whatever the next day will bring.

there isn’t really any rest in zaun, just a small wink of sleep whenever you catch it, and you’re up again. everyone’s grouchy and hungry and cold, but it makes for good shimmer sales, and the bar is a great place to find refuge when you need a break from it all.

so sevika sleeps with all of her lights on. an attempt to remind her of home— although her home doesn’t have a queen sized bed, fluffy pillows and soft blankets, lamps, alarm clocks, fireplaces, clean water on their nightstands, and stars that shine through their windows.

the stars might be her favorite part about piltover. probably the only good thing about piltover. she doesn’t really know what they are or what they do, but they’re nice to look at late at night when she can’t manage to sleep.

every time she finds herself staring up at them, she sends a prayer or two up to janna. always one for the people, a prayer that even though they pretend to hate each other, and there sure are a few goons who are ready to slit her throat for never paying them back, she hopes they’re okay.

she hopes that ran and theiram have got the bar under control, that vi and ekko manage to keep the chaos limited, and most of all, that jinx and isha are doing alright.

ever since silco died, her whole world was flipped upside down and shaken vigorously. who knew that someday she’d be missing jinx? but she does. she cries at night for the blue haired girl, praying for her safety and her happiness, hoping that she’s managed to keep some of her creativity after everything that went down.

and of course for the more tolerable blue haired kid, isha.

she prays that isha is still attached at the hip to jinx, that her fluffy hair gets dyed that awful bright blue color as often as she wants it to, that she’s found some way to communicate with the world while her voice is at rest.

she’s got no clue as to where they could be. one second, she’s wishing jinx would leave her alone. that she’d pack up her inventions and make a home for them far away from sevika’s life. the next second, they’re gone. no warning, no heads up whatsoever, just completely taken from her life.

but if she wishes to find any wisp of happiness, she’s gonna have to push these thoughts to the back of her mind, only letting them front when she’s alone and awake and accompanied by the stars. they’re the only things who understand her.

——

if you listen closely, you might be able to hear the sound of mel’s thoughts buzzing around in her mind.

the past few months have given her some intense whiplash, but things are finally starting to straighten out. her life isn’t exactly normal, but she’s growing used to her… new self.

she spends most of her time perched at her easel, painting the canvas in beautiful colors that fall over various people or places. it’s therapeutic for her, whatever image or question or anger she has lingering in her head, she can work it out with the paints. when she’s done, she lines them up in front of her.

it helps her see things more clearly, like a thought that can’t float away, frozen in time for her to analyze further. some of them are just plain colors. gold, with white, yellow, and bronze streaks, an attempt to recreate the swirls that are painted on her own body.

sometimes she paints her mother, her eyebrows lowered in a scowl and her silvery gray hair crowning her head. jayce and viktor occasionally make an appearance, both of their faces lost in thought as they stare at various equations and formulas that she can’t quite make out.

sometimes she just sees miscellaneous things, quick visions that she needs to bring to life. countless canvases are covered in black, with that dark red fog reaching into it like vines. there’s also the hextech that makes the occasional appearance, but she can’t quite get that bright, rich blue color right.

a few times before, she’s attempted portraits, but she doesn’t prefer them. lest has been one of her closest friends during all of this, she can sit and pose for hours while mel works away at her figure on the canvas. they’ve also tried painting together, but mel prefers her alone time.

she’s tried recreating the pictures from her memory, but it never comes out as well. she covers the canvas in thick paint, a bronze, brown, and white, making up jayce’s features. but she always clouds his face with shiny white webs, and those glistening, rainbow stars. the ones that stole him away.

while she sits, her body stays stagnant, eyes racing around the blank canvas. she mixes the colors in her head before she even opens the tubes, her eyes proportion it all for her, so she rarely makes sketches anymore.

recently, she’s been more interested in staying in and shutting out the world. the occasional knock rings out against her door, but she can’t be bothered to investigate. she doesn’t wanna give her opinions anymore, doesn’t wanna lead all of topside to peace and gas the streets of the undercity. really, she never signed up for that. sure, she’s ambessa’s daughter, but she doesn’t care to be a leader anymore. not when all it does is get people hurt and killed.

but apparently it’s urgent this time, because the knocking persists.

“um, mel?” a timid voice asks. “i hate to bother you, but the council requires yo—”

she flings the door open, clad in her white robe and slippers. her hood hangs halfway over her head as she glares at the man, but he insists on escorting her to the council meeting. her feet gently pad against the floor as she walks through the long halls, already dreading having to play referee for a group of adults who should know better.

but ambessa is gone now, and these people need someone to give them any sort of direction.

the dome shaped room welcomes her, and although she dreads being there, the sun shining through the stained glass is gorgeous. she spies a few familiar faces sitting in their respective seats, and notices some new ones who were added after the war.

“but they need the money!” one councilor booms, one of the newer ones who mel doesn’t quite recognize yet. “you can’t just cut their funds and raise the tax prices, they—”

“councilor sevika, please.” someone says, talking over her voice. “what possibly could they need more money for? our city needs to be rebuilt, and it’s them who’s caused all of this destruction.”

mel observes quietly, noticing the tears that fill sevika’s eyes. she makes an assumption that they’re either out of sadness, anger, or exhaustion, but she can’t quite tell. one thing she does know, though, is that it isn’t fair.

it’s not fair to just drag a zaunite up to topside and force her to be the only one representing her nation. especially when she has to be locked in a room full of people who hate her, who think she’s nothing more than just undercity trash to mock and make fun of.

mel’s surprised that sevika has held her ground for this long. if that were her, she’d want to pack up and leave within a day, especially when she notices the snorts and sideways glances that she gets every time she opens her mouth.

“have you even been down there?” sevika asks. “have you seen the bodies lying on the streets? have you heard the sobs of the starving children?”

they all look at her, unable to imagine what hunger even is, much less an entire nation overcome by it. shoola offers a sympathetic frown, but it’s not enough for sevika. she’s exhausted, and the thought of seeing her home even more impoverished is killing her. worst of all, word on the street is that zaunites are beginning to call her a traitor.

she wishes that they could see how hard she’s working, how much she’s fighting for them behind the scenes. but she can’t exactly blame them, it must be hard to watch every leader they’ve ever had either fail at leading them to sovereignty or turn their backs on the people. must be worse to watch someone who they thought was on their side disappear into the council and watch as things just keep getting worse and worse down there.

and this makes sevika feel horrible.

it’s hard for her not to blame herself for this, especially because that’s what she’s used to. her job for years was to be silco’s right hand, so it was constantly her fault if something went wrong. that’s just how things are. if things don’t go her way, it must be her fault for not working harder to overcome it.

“i agree.” mel says plainly. “councilor sevika has firsthand knowledge of what it’s like for them, why shouldn’t we trust her?”

sevika is taken aback at this. she’s never seen someone so… rich looking… be this understanding toward her. but although it’s the bare minimum, she appreciates it. she’ll take whatever form of kindness she can get right now.

the other councilors stare at mel like she’s just grown three heads. obviously, they’ve never been told no a day in their life. sevika is glad that she gets to be present for the first time. some of them sputter and growl, some of them roll their eyes, but sevika just sinks back into her chair and decides to let them argue it out.

“i agree too.” councilor shoola says. “it’s only fair… unless, any of you would like to go down there and experience it for yourselves? then you could tell us all about their excess of funds.”

sevika sighs in relief, thanking janna or the universe or whatever god decided to help her out. she can’t exactly smile, at least not yet, but she manages a tiny grin, and decides that maybe she shouldn’t feel too bad about herself just yet.

mel is glad that sevika and shoola have at least a little bit of brains, but she’s starting to rethink having all of the others on the council. maybe they need to fire some, or at least add some more zaunites to level the playing field. although, she now knows that sevika can put up one hell of a fight, so maybe she doesn’t need it.

but the clock strikes two in the afternoon, and the councilors file out to get on with their day until they meet again tomorrow. sevika hangs back, waiting for everyone to leave before she returns to her office. but mel hangs back too, determined to talk to sevika more, to get to know her.

sevika pulls her cape over her shoulders, completely covering her figure before she exits the room. mel perks up and shoots her a questioning look.

“yes?” sevika asks.

“you’re brave.” mel says.

“no i’m not. d’you think it’s brave of me to leave my people starving and helpless down there while i have a real home and three meals a day?”

mel just stares blankly at her. that isn’t what she meant at all, but at the same time, she’s completely right. as much as she still believes that sevika is brave for putting up with the councilors, she should be calling everyone else brave, everyone in zaun who goes days without food. sevika is the luckiest of them all.

“that’s not what i meant.” mel explains. “i meant that you’re better than them because you stand your ground instead of just getting everything you want. you work hard for what you earn.”

sevika shrugs. “i guess you could say that.”

“do you miss it down there?”

“what do you think?” sevika grunts.

“i’d bet that you do, you just try not to show it in front of anyone.”

“yes, because showing weakness gets you killed.”

“not up here, it doesn’t. you should open up a little, it might be good for you.” mel suggests.

“i’ll pass.”

“i could help you.”

“i don’t need—”

“let me help you.” mel says, reaching out to grab sevika’s hand.

“help me how?” sevika asks.

“open up to me. tell me about your life. friends, family, past, anything.”

“okay… maybe.”

“okay, good.”

——

sevika has never been great at opening up to anyone, but mel is… understanding. as much as she hates to talk about her struggles to other people, mel is probably the best possible person to talk to. mel marched herself down sevika’s hall to her door, banging on it until sevika sleepily presented herself. she marched sevika down the hall and through the building until they reached her own suite, and she fed sevika more and more wine until she started to talk to her.

it started with just a confession. sevika was wine drunk and admitted that yes, she did miss her home, and that she hated topside. and then mel pressed for more, made her tell her specifically who she missed and what she missed about them.

the list of people who she missed was never ending. at the top— jinx and isha. in all honesty, mel is shocked to learn that sevika had anyone that she really considered family, much less a daughter or a niece. but sevika tells her all about them, how isha would beg to paint her nails or dye her hair, and how jinx finally had a sister who she could play with, instead of just being too young to do anything.

but when mel asks where they’ve gone, sevika freezes. she doesn’t know, and it’s not something she prefers to think about. dead is something she’d heavily considered, but that ending makes her too sad. as long as she doesn’t know that they’re dead, they’re not. at least not in her world.

she tells mel that she hopes they’re somewhere safe, somewhere that they can have fun together. like floating on a cloud, or living in outer space with the stars. maybe they are with the stars, and that’s why she loves them so much.

“you like the stars?” mel asks.

“that’s the only thing actually worth liking about this place, i think…” sevika slurs drunkenly.

“hmm, i guess they are pretty, aren’t they.” mel ponders.

“yeah and there are so many of them, and it’s like every time you see them you’re seeing a completely different sky. and they’re cool because they only come out at night when they think nobody can see them, it’s like they’re shy. but i always see them because i’m always awake with them.” she rambles.

mel can’t help but giggle. again, everything she said is exactly right, but she’s never seen it that way. sevika offers her a fresh new perspective, one that makes her ponder how much she knows about the world.

“sorry…” sevika whispers, suddenly aware that she’s drunkenly blabbering and probably making a fool of herself. she tries to blink herself sober but it doesn’t work.

“no worries. i like them too.” mel soothes.

“i think i should go.”

“already?” mel asks.

“it’s gett’n late. i have places to be tomorrow…” sevika sighs. mel stands and walks her to the door, grabbing on gently to her human arm in an attempt to stabilize the woman. she offers a sweet smile to sevika as she leaves, even takes her hand in her own for a second and squeezes it tightly, but sevika just stares at the floor.

“mel?” she asks finally, although in a timid voice.

“yes?”

“thanks for sticking up for me. i don’t know what those pigs would get up to without people like me and you.”

mel’s heart warms at this. sevika is so drunk that she’s starting to get sappy and sweet, and while it’s adorable, it’s clear that she needs to get home. but she’s glad that her effort isn’t going unnoticed, and she’s starting to really like sevika.

“of course.” she smiles again. “get some sleep for me, okay? don’t spend too much time with the stars.”

sevika curses herself for the warm feeling that wraps herself all around her, she hates that she’s being vulnerable and making friends. she just blames the feeling on the alcohol, but she knows that it’s not. because that light, warm feeling clings itself to her every time she sees mel.

it happens again when they coincidentally cross paths, mel on her way outside for some fresh air and sevika on her way to her room to sign papers until her fingers bleed. but she realizes for the first time that mel is so beautiful. she hasn’t spotted sevika yet, but the sunlight glowing in from the windows catches her golden streaked skin perfectly, and she’s shining. it’s like she’s a real life star, and sevika can’t peel her eyes away.

“oh, hi sevika.” mel grins.

“um… hi.” she responds, her heart suddenly beating faster than usual. “where are you going?”

“just outside. been cramped up inside all day and the smell of my paints are starting to give me a headache.”

“you paint?” sevika asks, although to anyone else the answer would be obvious.

“yeah, all the time. i’d love to show you someday.” she offers, already knowing that she’s gonna have to drag sevika by the arm and force her to visit.

“okay… yeah, that would be nice.” she says.

“what are you doing right now?” mel asks.

“i just have a lot of paperwork to fill out, letters to write, things to sign, you know how it is.”

“will you stop by later, then?”

“are you gonna make me?”

“probably. if you don’t show up by yourself.”

“alright, see you later then.”

——

sevika is dreading this outing. the more times she thinks about going back over to mel’s, the more anxious she gets. every time she’s been over there the past month, she’s ended up either drunk or blabbering on about stuff that doesn’t matter. or worse— drunk and blabbering. she always finds some way to make a fool of herself, and she doesn’t know how to stop. she just wishes it wasn’t so easy to open up to her, wishes that mel wasn’t so damn likable.

mel already knows she’s gonna have to drag sevika over to come look at her paintings. she always does. no matter how many times she tells the woman to come on her own terms, she finds herself stomping down to sevika’s door and forcing her to hang out. it’s cute, in mel’s mind, it’s like a date. so that’s what she finds herself doing tonight. cleaning up her suite a little, spinning one of her jazz records, and marching down to collect sevika.

she’s arranged her paintings in no particular order, but the array is beautiful. some are framed, some are smaller than others, some of them aren’t even finished. sevika feels so moved by this. she’s never seen anything so beautiful. not anything in real life, not mel herself, not even the stars are as beautiful as her paintings.

mel sits her down on the loveseat, pouring two glasses of wine and sitting down next to sevika, but sevika begs her to talk about her paintings. she’s dying to know how anyone could make anything look more beautiful than the stars. mel blushes at that compliment— it’s a lot coming from sevika for multiple reasons— but she decides that now it’s her turn to open up.

they sit an chat for hours, and before long, sevika feels as if she knows mel like the back of her hand. she now knows about jayce and viktor and what happened to them, about ambessa, her mother, the noxians, and the rest of her family. sevika’s oddly surprised. of course, she’s aware that mel is probably the strongest woman she knows, but she never would’ve guessed that she’s been through that much.

mel cries a bit, and sevika cries too, and they laugh about their emotions like old friends. for once in her life, sevika feels like maybe not everything sucks, and that maybe it’s okay to let herself fall for someone. she just hopes that mel feels the same way.

“sevika?” mel asks, still catching her breath after a fit of giggles.

“yeah?” she smiles.

“will you dance with me?”

“i don’t dance.” sevika says, laughing at the image of her dancing with someone. how silly.

“aww, come on! it’s just us and some jazz! you’ll be fine.” she reasons. “please?”

sevika rolls her eyes at mel’s outstretched hand, but she’s very tipsy and in a good mood, so how could she say no to the beautiful woman standing in front of her?

mel yanks her up by her arm, and sevika wastes no time following after her to the middle of the room where the big sky lights let the stars shine in. sevika scowls and tenses up a bit, but mel wraps her arms around sevika’s waist so gently, guiding sevika’s arm to press against her back. mel sways them back and forth a bit, and sevika soon loosens up and stares down at mel with a smile that puts all of the stars to shame.

“do you ever miss your arm?” mel asks.

“yeah, sometimes. i miss the one jinx made for me, i wish i didn’t take it for granted.” she responds, her mood quickly turning sad against her will.

“i could have one made for you.” mel offers.

sevika shakes her head and flattens her lips into a straight line. “they won’t let me have one on the council.”

it’s mel’s turn to roll her eyes now. “no, i’ll make you one that they’ll accept. they always listen to me, you know.” she grins.

“i guess that would be alright, as long as it’s not much of a hassle.”

“for you? nothing’s a hassle. don’t be silly.”

sevika’s eyebrows pull together in the middle and she pouts, tears quickly filling her eyes. nobody’s ever been this nice to her before. offering her a new limb, protection from the ruthless comments from the council, good wine, and a dance underneath the stars. she can’t help but cry, but she’s not afraid to anymore. with mel, she feels safe enough to be this vulnerable.

mel notices her sad expression, and she silently prays that she didn’t accidentally offend sevika, it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna do. “oh, what’s wrong? did i—”

sevika cuts her off with a kiss. she doesn’t wanna hear any apologies from mel, not after she’s been a literal angel to sevika this past week. mel’s lips are warm and welcoming, they taste sweet, like if gold was a flavor. she reaches her hands up and cradles the back of mel’s head, deepening the kiss.

mel is completely taken aback by this. she didn’t know that sevika had feelings for her. actually, she thought that sevika was sick of her. but she kisses sevika back, her lips are big and pouty and oh so soft. she also gets to feel sevika’s piercing up close, and the cold metal drags against the bottom of her lips ever so slightly. it’s a stark contrast, but a comforting one at that.

one thing leads to another, and they’re quickly back on the loveseat, lapping at each others tongues and giggling like kids and holding hands. sevika’s had tons of sex before, sure, but nothing comes close to this. she feels so special, so cared for, that she notices this strange, giddy feeling bubbling up in her chest.

little does she know, that feeling is called love.

she pins mel down to the seat, both of them breathless and high on this mysterious feeling— although it definitely has something to do with the liquor— and sevika almost cries again when mel spreads her legs beneath her white gown. the warm lamplight mixed with the starlight causes her to glow again, like she’s on fire, so sevika can’t help but kiss all over the gold patterns that paint her skin.

mel erupts into another fit of giggles, holding sevika’s shocked face in her hands. sevika tenses up slightly at her touch, but takes a deep breath and swallows all of her anxiety.

“can i?” sevika asks.

mel smiles and nods. “of course. you can do whatever you want to me.”

sevika shudders and reaches up mel’s dress, caressing her stomach and hips. mel is soft and malleable under her touch, and she’s golden. she reaches forward to tug her dress above her hips. sevika doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a beautiful sight, and mel absolutely adores sevika’s awestruck face.

the same golden markings that paint her face also trail down her abdomen, all the way to her ankles. there are thick streaks of gold that mirror each other on each side of her torso, twisting themselves into swirls and shapes. she also has small golden freckles littering her body, identical to the ones on her face. they look like stars.

best of all, as if sevika wasn’t already turned on enough, she has small, golden hairs that trail down from just beneath her belly button, only stopping when they crown her dripping hole. this woman is made of pure magic, and if sevika doesn’t get her mouth on her within the next millisecond, she thinks she might faint.

mel grabs sevika’s hand when she notices her hesitation, and this makes her snap back into the moment and start eating mel out. she starts slow, just some teasing, soft licks to her clit that make her shiver. mel moans so sweetly and beautifully and sevika feels like she’s floating.

sevika grips mel’s hand harder and harder as she keeps eating her out, and it’s times like these that she wishes she has two hands. one to hold mel’s with, and one to feel inside of her, pumping her full of her thick fingers. mel arches her back and thrusts up into sevika’s face, and they both nearly cum on the spot.

she pulls back for a second, a string of white slick connecting itself to sevika’s lips before dripping down her chin.

“sev, you’re doing so good, baby.” mel praises. “don’t stop, i’m so close.”

sevika speeds up her movements, determined to make mel cum. her big, silver eyes squeeze shut as her mouth works it’s magic, sucking on her clit and running her pointed tongue between mel’s folds to collect her slick.

but she doesn’t cum until sevika wraps her lips around her clit again, her piercing colliding with mel’s throbbing clit as she tips over the edge. a low whine is pulled from her throat, and sevika pulls back to admire the woman above her. mel yanks sevika up by her shirt, thanking her with a deep kiss. some of sevika’s lipstick is smudged, so mel wipes it off with her thumbs, as well as the wet slick that’s smeared all over her face.

sevika is suddenly very aware that she doesn’t need shimmer anymore, because she feels like mel’s sweet nectar is enough to get her high.

“i’m gonna need that new arm as soon as you can get it.” sevika says with her lips smashed against mel’s. “need to show you what else i can do.”

——

it’s been three weeks since then, and sevika’s been coming over every night. she still has lots of work to do, but mel helps her with all of it. they sort through tall stacks of paperwork, taking turns sitting on the others lap and pouring each other more wine. sometimes they get distracted with sex, but they try their hardest to stay focused. occasionally mel will bring out her paints and work on something new, forcing sevika to stay focused while she’s at work.

they also spend their mornings together. if they don’t wake up in the other’s arms, they’ll sleepily march down to their door and bang on it until they reunite and hold each other again.

but this morning, sevika wakes up in mel’s bed alone. she reaches out for the woman with her arm, but that side of the bed is just cold and empty. sitting up, she glances around the room until she spies mel in her silky white cloak painting on the balcony.

“mel?” she asks groggily. “why’re you up so early?”

“just had to finish something, love.” she responds, smiling at her girlfriend’s half awake state. “you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

“can i at least see what you’re working on?”

“not yet.” she smiles. “it’s a surprise.”

sevika groans and turns around to go back inside, but mel catches her arm and yanks her back for a kiss. sevika kisses over each of mel’s golden freckles, and then her lips, then her nose, her forehead, chin, and then lips again, before returning inside. mel giggles and tries to swat sevika’s back before she gets away, but she’s too slow and the effort is wasted.

back inside, sevika grabs onto mel’s pillow and stuffs her face into it, bringing a familiar comfort that lulls her back to sleep. she’s shaken awake a few hours later, though. it’s mel, very gently rattling sevika’s shoulder while caressing her hair. “sevika, babe, wake up.” she whispers.

“mmmmh?”

“i have a present for you.”

“hmmmm?”

“wake up so you can open it.”

“ughhhhh.”

“oh, please. don’t be so pouty. i want you to see it! quickly, quickly!” she urges, yanking sevika back to the balcony. the sun is slightly higher in the sky now, some of the orange in the sky is still fading away but the sky is painted in a light yellow color, it matches mel a little bit.

she hands her a giant white box with mel’s name on it, a small golden bow sitting directly on the top. “what is this?” sevika asks.

“open it and see!” mel smiles.

so she does. she flips the lock on the box and pulls it open, a smooth, golden arm staring back at her.

“what is this?” sevika asks again, this time in disbelief. she couldn’t tell how serious mel was about acquiring a new arm for her, so she didn’t think she’d be receiving a new one this quickly, or one this pretty.

it’s a lot more modern compared to her other two arms that she’s had in the past. it has a matte gold casing all around it, with shimmery gold patterns that resemble mel’s carved into it. it has all five fingers, but they’re not as pointy, more resembling her human fingers than her past arms. sevika is overcome with emotions, and she turns around to pull mel in for a hug, hiding her tears on her shoulder.

“do you like it?” mel asks.

“i love it.”

“will you teach me how to put it on you?”

“of course.” sevika promises, and with that, mel tugs her inside and makes her sit and show her. it takes a bit of fumbling. sevika isn’t great at explaining things, but she also can’t do much with only one arm, so lots of trial and error occurs during the process. but eventually it’s all screwed in, and the first thing sevika does is pull mel in for a real hug.

mel never really realized how strong sevika is, and how crushing her hugs are. at least, not until now. she knows that sevika can hold her somewhat tightly, but one arm doesn’t do much. now that she as two arms though, mel is struggling to breathe with the way sevika is crushing her. or maybe it’s just because sevika wants to show her girlfriend some love. and she’s definitely not crying.

“i have one more thing.” mel says, although most of it gets muffled by sevika’s chest.

“what is it?” she asks.

“come outside and look.”

sevika follows her outside, grabbing onto mel’s elbow with her new hand.

“close your eyes.” mel says, so sevika squeezes her eyes shut and tries her hardest not to peek. mel dashes over to retrieve the painting on her canvas that’s now fully dry, and then she holds it to face sevika.

“okay, now open them.”

she opens her eyes to see mel holding one of her new paintings— the one she wasn’t allowed to see yet. but now she’s aware of why she wasn’t allowed to see it, because the painting is of her.

it’s sevika. hunched over at mel’s desk with her reading glasses on and a pen in her hand, a glass of wine half empty on the table next to her. the colors in the painting are very warm, likely resembling the warm lamps that decorate mel’s suite. and the most surprising thing— there’s a smile on sevika’s face.

it’s not something she’s ever seen on herself before. for one, she’s never been one to smile in general, it’s just not something she was ever used to doing. photographs are also very rare in zaun, so the only way she could’ve seen it on herself is by smiling in front of a mirror, which is even more rare.

sevika doesn’t even know how to feel. she should cry, because nobody has ever been this kind to her before, and she’s overwhelmed with emotions from the arm, the painting, and just being around mel.

she should also be happy. nobody has ever understood her as much as mel does, and she feels so honored to be seen in her artistic lense. she should be glad that she gets to live up here, where everything is safe and pretty and valuable. she’s also still half asleep, and can’t exactly tell if she’s dreaming or not.

“what do you think?” mel asks after a while.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve this.” sevika says honestly. “is there some kind of special occasion that i don’t know about? or are you just spoiling me.”

“well, mostly the latter,” mel laughs. “but it is our one month anniversary, if that counts for anything.”

“i didn’t get you anything.” sevika frowns, suddenly feeling way out of mel’s league, almost insecure.

“that’s alright.” mel smiles. “your presence is enough.”

sevika rolls her eyes and manages a smile too, yanking mel forward and giving her a sweet kiss. one month isn’t much, but it’s been the happiest month of sevika’s life, and things are starting to look up for her. for zaun, too.

“well,” mel starts, pulling away from sevika’s lips. “there is one small thing you could do for me.”

“and that is…?”

“model for me so i can paint you?” she asks with a happy shrug of her shoulders.

“now? but you just painted me.”

“yes, i’m aware.” she laughs. “but i haven’t painted your new arm yet, and that was from a few days ago but you just look so adorable today. please?”

sevika smiles too. how could she say no to mel when she asks so nicely? “alright, fine.” she agrees.

“good, and take all of your clothes off, too.”

sevika freezes. although mel has seen her naked hundreds of times, she suddenly feels shy.

“don’t worry, it’s just for us.” mel soothes. “lay on the bed and i’ll position you.”

so sevika is left no choice but to follow the orders she was given. she strips herself of her clothes— which is much easier now that she has two arms— and lays down on the bed, looking up at mel with her big, watery eyes. mel walks over and pushes her backward until she’s propped up with just one elbow.

“is this comfortable?” mel asks.

“uh… y-yeah.” sevika responds.

mel pries sevika’s legs open, positioning them apart so that she has a full view of sevika’s dripping cunt from her easel. sevika whimpers, her eyes widening and sparkling as she looks up at mel.

“don’t be shy.” mel teases. “it’s just me.”

“i know, sorry…” sevika says with a sigh, making a mental note to loosen up.

“are you ready for me to start? we’re probably gonna be here all day.”

“yeah. ready.” sevika responds.

“okay, let me know if you need a break.”

mel isn’t too fond of painting from models, but she can feel her opinion changing as she sculpts sevika with the paint. her legs are easy. long and thick, and she gets to mimic the way they’re pressed open.

her torso is next, which is one of her favorite things about sevika. her abs are hard and sturdy, but they get slightly softened out by the rolls of her stomach. then mel moves up to her tits, painting two perfectly pointed brown circles accented with thick, dark nipples.

her neck comes after, and then her arms, and finally her face. mel has memorized every little expression sevika has, so she has a lot to choose from, but she chooses the one that sevika is wearing right now. a goofy, lovestruck smile, adorned with a slight blush sparkling on her cheeks.

her eyes are also fun, they’re so big and sparkly and metallic, mel can’t help but paint stars in them. and of course, her nose, her tooth gap, her piercing, and her hair. they all come together to make up the most perfect face that mel has ever seen.

she moves on to the arms next, painting one with her thick muscles and her warm brown skin, and the other with a shiny gold. her shoulders are slightly slanted, and they have bite marks and hickeys carved into them, which makes mel immensely proud of herself.

and finally, sevika’s glistening cunt. she paints each fold tenderly, a small circle at the top covered slightly by a thin, fleshy hood. she paints the slick in between her thighs that just keeps collecting with her finest white and silver paints.

and of course, her bush, because she wouldn’t dare to forget it. she curls each stroke of her brush until it perfectly mirrors sevika’s thick, dark curls, and then she trails them all the way up her lower stomach.

she finishes the background next, but it’s not much. she doesn’t want anything to take away from sevika’s beauty. but she makes sure to add a few stars surrounding her of various sizes and shades of gold.

sevika has been surprisingly patient throughout the whole thing, mel predicted that she’d be begging for snacks only ten minutes in. but mel finishes quickly and she’s beaming with excitement as soon as she’s done.

“do you wanna see it?” she asks.

“you’re done already?” sevika replies.

“yeah. you’re an easy model.”

“okay, yeah, let me see.” sevika smiles.

mel lifts up the canvas and presents it to sevika, and it’s somehow even more beautiful than the other painting. mel captures her so beautifully, sevika is so honored to be viewed that way. for the first time in her life, she truly feels beautiful. and mel can tell that she feels that way too, through the tears that threaten to spill in her eyes.

and just as sevika is about to tackle mel to the bed too, she notices something in the bottom corner. in a shimmery gold writing, the words “my star. -mel m.” are painted. sevika looks up at mel with a questioning glance and asks, “what’s that?”

“it’s my signature. the title of the painting and my name.”

“‘my star’?” sevika reads off.

“yeah, because that’s what you are. you’re my star, sevika. you’re so beautiful and bright.”

and those words echo in sevika’s mind for the rest of time, especially when sevika pins mel down and rides her face into the pillow a few seconds later. she’s right. she is mel’s star, isn’t she.

#inspired by golden age by ethel cain because i can’t write a fic if it’s not based off of one of her songs 😭#ANYWAYS MELVIKA IS HEREEEEE #sevika #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #mel medarda #mel medarda arcane #mel arcane #melvika #sevika x mel #sevika x mel medarda #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends

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steddie-island · 2 days ago

Text

I Want Your Midnights

Written for @steddiebingo Countdown to Midnight Prompts: Five, champagne, clothed sex Rating: E | WC: 832 | Tags: Getting together, first kiss, semi-public sex, declarations of love

ao3 | Divider credit

Five!

"Oh god—"

Four!

"Shhh, gonna get caught—"

Three!

"Don't stop—"

Two!

"Never— never gonna stop—"

One!

"I love you—"

They were never going to hear the end of it. They'd slipped out before the ball dropped because Steve had needed to get some fresh air.

Fresh air had turned into sharing a cigarette, had turned into joking about midnight kisses and plans for the new year. That had felt less like joking, though. Steve had known what Eddie's plans were— get the hell out of dodge, hit the road with the band. They had gigs lined up in bars that would have way more than five drunks to appreciate them.

Eddie's alleged crimes made him a target in Hawkins, but in other cities they were something that could draw in a bigger crowd. At least there was one good thing that had come from their fucked up spring break.

Talking about plans made Steve's throat tighten and his sinuses burn. There were no more monsters to fight now that Vecna was gone. Robin had offers from a dozen colleges. The kids were getting older, they didn't need him to be the goddamn babysitter anymore. They didn't need him hanging around, hovering even worse than their parents. They didn't need him—

Eddie had been right there, stepping into Steve's space and resting a cold hand on the back of his neck, snapping him out of it before he could spiral into a full blown panic attack.

"You're not supposed to look so sad on New Year's Eve, big boy. Hasn't anyone ever told you that?"

The weight of Eddie's hand, the familiar scent of his leather jacket and the champagne on his breath, it was too much for Steve to resist.

He'd grabbed the lapels of Eddie's jacket, pulled him in, kissed him just this side of too hard.

Eddie's hand had tightened around Steve's neck, Steve had wrapped both arms around Eddie's shoulders before deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue.

Their first kiss tasted like Joyce's champagne. Their second kiss tasted like the promise of new beginnings, like open doors and futures that were different than what had been imagined but that fit a hell of a lot better.

They pulled apart just before they could get a third kiss in.

"C'mon." Eddie had taken Steve's hand, tugged him towards the steps and away from the house, towards Steve's new truck. It didn't offer as much privacy as Eddie's van would have, but they hadn't managed to get that back from Hawkins PD yet.

Still, it was better than getting caught with their dicks in their hands on the front porch.

"We'll freeze to death," Steve had argued.

Eddie had just shot him a grin, turned the truck on and got the heat going. "Not gonna be out here long enough for that to happen anyway."

Cold fingers fumbled to get their jeans open. Steve's stomach jerked when Eddie ran a hand up under his shirt and up towards his chest.

"Fuck—" Steve arched towards Eddie's body as Eddie worked a nipple between his fingers.

"Can't believe I get to touch Steve Harrington's tits on the first date," Eddie laughed against his mouth.

"Tit— what?" Steve huffed out a laugh that turned into a moan. They could talk about that later, when Eddie wasn't sucking a mark against his throat and when he wasn't trying to get his hand into Eddie's jeans.

"Jesus, how'm I s'posed to get at your dick? Your pants are too fucking tight—"

"Are you really complaining?"

"…No."

They had laughed together until their cocks were free. Then Steve was taking them both in hand, stroking them together.

"Jesus— Steve—"

Steve just nodded, tugged Eddie in to kiss him hungrily.

This wasn't the first time that Steve had imagined for them. There were no pillows, no roses, no soft lighting that would let Steve see all of Eddie's scars.

There were just cold hands, fogged up windows, the sounds that Eddie made as Steve worked them both closer and closer to the edge.

Hearing Eddie gasp his name as he spilled over their fists was better than any New Year's Rockin' Eve could ever hope to be.

It was only after, when they'd cleaned up and Eddie was curled against Steve's chest, that Steve got a look at the clock. He smiled and turned to press a kiss to Eddie's forehead.

"You think '87 is gonna be your year?"

Eddie turned his face towards Steve's neck, to kiss the hickey he'd left behind. "Did you mean it? When you said you loved me?"

Steve looked down at Eddie's face. The interior truck lights were off but the moonlight reflected off of the snow lit everything up with bright light. "Yeah. Of course I meant it."

Eddie kissed his jaw and held him that much tighter, pushing back any thoughts about whether he'd said it too fast, too soon.

"Then I think it already is."

#steddiebingo2025 #steddiebingocountdowntomidnight #Steddie #Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson #Steddie fic #kintsugi_kid ao3

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lovrx-s · 1 day ago

Text

Unheard Cries

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

Contains: contains themes of depression, self-harm, and suicide.

a/n: [Please proceed with caution and seek help if you’re struggling :(] I have a part two of this! Idk if i should still post it or not

The light in the apartment had dimmed over the past few months, and so had you.

You and Jenna used to fill this space with laughter and late-night conversations, but lately, it felt like she wasn’t really there anymore. Physically, sure—her bags in the hallway, her perfume lingering in the bathroom—but her presence, the love and warmth you once felt, seemed to have disappeared.

You’d started feeling like a ghost in your own home.

Day One

You stared at the bedroom ceiling as the morning light filtered through the blinds. Jenna was already gone. Again.

She had left early, as she often did, muttering something about a meeting or an interview. She didn’t even kiss you goodbye.

You tried to shake it off, telling yourself that she was just busy. That this distance wasn’t personal. But as the hours dragged on and the silence of the apartment grew deafening, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest.

By the time Jenna returned, you were sitting on the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself for comfort.

“Hey,” you greeted her softly, but your voice came out weaker than intended.

“Hey,” she replied absentmindedly, her attention already on her phone as she kicked off her shoes.

“Can we talk?” you asked, the words sticking in your throat.

“Not now,” she said sharply, not even looking up. “I’m exhausted.”

Your heart sank as you watched her retreat to the bedroom, leaving you behind with nothing but the growing weight of your loneliness.

Day Three

You tried to reach out again. Tried to let her know that you were drowning in your own head.

“Jenna,” you began hesitantly, watching her sip her coffee across the table. “I’ve been feeling… off lately. Like, really off.”

She sighed, placing the mug down a little too hard. “Can we not do this right now? I just got back from a 12-hour shoot.”

“I know, but—”

“No, you don’t know,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. “You don’t understand how hard this is for me, okay? You just sit here all day while I’m out working my ass off, and then you want to unload all your problems on me? It’s too much.”

The words hit you like a slap. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“Forget it,” you mumbled, standing up from the table.

“Good,” she muttered under her breath, grabbing her coffee and walking away.

Day Five

You stayed in bed most of the day, staring at the ceiling, replaying Jenna’s words over and over. Clingy. Too much. Annoying.

She hadn’t come home the night before, and she didn’t bother to text you.

The apartment felt emptier than ever.

You got up only to look at the small collection of pills in the medicine cabinet. The thought lingered, but you shook it off, telling yourself, Not yet.

Day Nine

Jenna’s absence had become your new normal. She was always out—at work, with friends, anywhere but with you.

When she was home, she was distant, distracted, and irritable.

That night, you tried again. You sat beside her on the couch, your hands trembling as you reached for hers.

“Jenna, can we talk?” you asked quietly.

“What is it now?” she groaned, pulling her hand away.

“I’m not okay,” you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. “I feel like I’m falling apart, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

She looked at you then, her expression hard and cold. “You’re always like this. Do you even hear yourself? It’s exhausting, Y/N. You’re so clingy and needy all the time, and honestly? I can’t deal with it.”

You stared at her, your chest tightening as the tears spilled over.

“Do you even love me anymore?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

She hesitated, and that pause was louder than any answer she could’ve given.

“I don’t know,” she finally said, standing up and leaving you alone on the couch.

Day Fourteen

You hadn’t eaten in two days. Your body felt weak, but the heaviness in your chest was worse.

Jenna had left early that morning without saying goodbye. Again.

You sat on the bathroom floor, staring at the blade in your hand. The thought had been creeping closer every day, and now, it felt impossible to ignore.

But a small voice inside you whispered, One more chance. Just one.

You stood up and cleaned yourself up.

Day Fifteen

When Jenna walked through the door that evening, you approached her cautiously.

“Hey,” you said, your voice trembling. “Can we talk? Please?”

“God, what is it now?” she snapped, throwing her bag on the couch.

“I just… I need you,” you said, tears brimming in your eyes. “I need you to listen to me, to be here for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. You act like the whole world revolves around you. I can’t keep doing this.”

Your heart broke into pieces, each word cutting deeper than the last.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

She sighed and walked past you, heading to the bedroom.

You watched her go, the final thread of hope snapping inside you.

That night, Jenna woke up to an eerie silence. She rolled over, expecting to find you beside her, but the bed was cold and empty.

“Y/N?” she called out, but there was no answer.

Panic set in as she searched the apartment, finally finding the bathroom door locked.

“Y/N! Open the door!” she shouted, banging on it desperately.

When she finally forced it open, her heart stopped at the sight of you on the floor, lifeless, a crumpled note beside you.

Tears streamed down her face as she dropped to her knees, cradling your lifeless body.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.”

But it was too late.

You were gone.

And Jenna was left with nothing but guilt and the memory of every cruel word she’d ever said.

#jenna ortega x reader headcanon #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x reader angst #jenna ortega x y/n #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega angst

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jessjad · 2 days ago

Text

Rightfully deceived

Epilogue

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1079

Warnings: none really.

A/N: I hope you all had wonderful holidays and a good start into the new year! 😁 And here is the end of my story. All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

One year later...

It was late November again, a bitterly cold wind was blowing across the country and the first snow had already fallen. A sight that always made Y/N wistful. She looked out the window across the white fields and icy trees to the horizon, behind which the sun had now almost disappeared. The orange-red light made the snow sparkle. Her mom had loved winter, which made the memories of her death bittersweet.

A lot had happened in the last year and Y/N had often wished she could exchange a few words with her mom, ask her for advice or just hug her. She had been the good soul of her clan and had cared for everyone. A trait that the young woman hoped she had inherited. But there was no way to talk to her anymore and so Y/N had to do a lot of things alone for the first time.

It had often been difficult or even frightening, but Millie had always been by her side and supported her from woman to woman. But not just her. Dean hadn't left her alone anymore either. Although it wasn't always that easy for him too. But each situation had strengthened their relationship more and more.

When Y/N thought of her husband, she couldn't help but smile. She had loved him for so long and her heart almost burst with happiness because Dean had also loved her before. Even if it took him a long time to realize it. And he had tried to explain it to her over and over again. The Alex incident had been followed by many long nights of conversation. Honest, open hours full of feelings and affection. There had been days when she no longer believed that this was even possible.

The door behind her opened and Dean walked in, carrying some firewood under his arm. As soon as he saw his wife standing at the window turning to him with a loving smile, he had to smile too. What kind of year had it been? It had had its ups and downs and often wasn't easy, but they had persevered through everything together.

It had shocked his clan when Dean had shot Alex. Many people didn't understand it at first, but there were enough witnesses on the tower who could confirm the necessity. But it probably hit Cassie the most. In the days that followed, she seemed completely different. She had withdrawn and appeared thoughtful. After about four days, she had sincerely apologized to Y/N and Dean for her behavior and told them that she couldn't stay here any longer.

Y/N had reacted to this with mixed feelings. After all, Cassie hadn't tried to drive her away or kill her. And even though she was offended by her behavior, his wife had shown compassion. In the end, she could understand what it was like to be in love with someone for a long time without those feelings being reciprocated. But Cassie couldn't stay any longer and so they let her go.

"You okay there, my love?" asked Dean as he put more firewood on the fire.

"Yes, yes. It's just this time of year and the snow." Y/N answered and turned back to the window.

Dean stood up again and came over to her. He put his arms around her from behind and looked out into the wintry world with her for a while. He knew that it made her a little melancholy, but that also passed.

"I just prefer summer." she turned around in Dean's arms. "Especially when you're on the high seas."

He had to chuckle at that and hugged his wife a little tighter.

Y/N had accompanied him on many business trips and in May Dean had extended the business trip by three weeks and had taken her to France. Also so that he could show her the stars on the open sea on clear early summer nights.

"We can do that again next year." he replied, which earned him a beaming smile from his wife.

"But you know it won't be as easy as this year, right? After all, we're not alone anymore."

Dean smiled now. "Which probably makes it even nicer." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips and let go of Y/N to go to the second door in the bedroom, which was open a crack and gave a small glimpse into the room behind it.

They had had to switch bedrooms three months ago and had now moved into a larger room because they simply needed the extra space. And they were also closer to Sam and Millie, who had finally gotten married in July and were now overjoyed themselves.

"How is he doing?"

"No! Stop, Dean! You're gonna wake Connor up!" Y/N whispered loudly with a chuckle as she saw how Dean attempted to open the door a little further.

"He'll be fine." He replied, but hesitated for a second before he opened the door a little more.

Y/N came over to him and both looked to the small bed in which their son lied and slept peacefully.

Dean pulled Y/N to his side and she hugged him back. He placed a kiss on her hairline, enjoying the warmth she gave off. The last year had so many firsts for them and sometimes he couldn't believe how happy he was now. Dean looked at Y/N and knew that she was a big part of this and he would do anything to not lose her again.

"He has your eyes." The woman said lovingly.

"And he has your nose." Dean countered with a smile.

"Come on. We should let him sleep as long as he does so calmly and peacefully." Y/N said and turned away from the door again.

Dean did the same. "You're probably right." But his wife couldn't go far before he took her back into his arms. "Actually, I was thinking about something." Dean grinned.

"And what is that?" although Y/N already had an idea.

"I'm sure Connor would like to have a little sister." he wiggled his eyebrows and Y/N laughed. She pressed herself a little tighter against him and looked at him lovingly.

"I'm not sure if it will work that quickly, but we can practice anytime if you want." Now she wiggled her eyebrows and Dean laughed.

"That's sounds like a solid plan to me, sweetheart." Dean agreed and begann to kiss her with all his heart.

A/N: And now we're truly at the end here. I'm a little sad now, tbh. 🥹

It has been such a ride and I wanna thank all of you who have joined me on this. And I want to thank everyone who left me feedback or reblogged my story. I was so overwhelmed with the responses and I felt so blessed. I appreciate you all so much! 💜 And I hope we see us again in february to my new story. 😁

@chriszgirl92 @elenasalvatore1 @laurensfangirlingsideblog @moonxlightsworld @muhahaha303

@stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78 @allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover @ninii-winchester @itsdesiree86

@foxyjwls007 @jtink27 @tommysaxes @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @aylacavebear

@suckitands33 @pillowjj @hobby27 @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @winchesterwild78

@nikimisery @acid-spiderr @deangirl96 @lyarr24 @k-slla

@iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @stanzie @mochminnie @ettadear @globetrotter28

@leila22rogers @whimsyfinny @a-girl-who-loves-disney @goest-and-fuckest-thyself

@zepskies @star-girl-05 @tmb510 @louisianalady @deansimpalababy

@livsh20 @livya99 @whichwitchwanda @sydneyabcd @emotionsmgcbabe

@taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @deans-spinster-witch @strepsils123 @7leb-kakaw @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff

@thebiggerbear

#rightfully deceived #mideval au!#spn #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural #scotish men #scotland

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moki-dokie · 24 hours ago

Text

also i think this just perfectly highlights this sort of specific mentality we see so often when discussing blockades people face in life - but you see it most around discussions about disability.

"Well *I* can do it" and "Just get ___" are two common rhetorics that get lobbed at you all the time.

Like, for one thing we are not talking about individual cases here, but thousands to millions. That you can find a solution yourself does not automatically mean it's a solution for the millions we're talking about. If it was, there wouldn't be a problem to begin with.

And lets be honest, if you're making a meal with TEN servings for $15 or under, it is not going to be a fully nutritional meal. Basically the only meals that can be made at that price are going to be staple grains or beans and MAYBE if you are very lucky, a very small amount of very cheap and low-quality meat. Sure, that's fine occasionally - it isn't detrimentally unhealthy - but it isn't the kind of meal you should be eating every single day for every single meal. Not only does your body require more nutrients than that, but you'll very quickly find how much worse bad, bland food can make your depression and a shitty situation worse.

There was a time when you could make alllll sorts of meals for $15 or less. Pretty healthy meals too! Ones that could last you a few days, even. But that was at a time when cans of tuna were still like 30c and less, when canned veg was like 20c, when eggs were not even a whole dollar for a dozen. i'm very fortunate that where i live is like cattle paradise and thus we have incredibly low-cost beef compared to the rest of the country, but even still it's hard to find your basic chuck roast under $10 now. fucking chicken breasts are hard to find for under $10. CHICKEN!!

and, let us not forget that minimum wage has still not yet raised since 2009. yet our jobs have grown exponentially harder and more stressful, our hours longer, commute times worse, and our general health is in the shitter bc nobody can afford having just a routine primary care physician anymore.

Yet the mentality is still somehow stuck in this early 00s era. That lifestyle is not sustainable anymore. Hasn't been for a long time.

And as for "just get ___" okay, so tell me how? Is someone without an appliance to cook with meant to just starve themselves for a week to save in order to buy said appliance? yes, you would save money if you could get a thing to cook with, but in the meantime you still have to eat. and yet again that doesn't address any other blockade that there may well be. so maybe they get like, a toasteroven and a hot plate. awesome. now what good is that if they come in from a 10 hour shift at 9pm and have only enough time to shower before needing to get to bed for the next day's shift? how does having that appliance help them if they can't physically operate it? how would having a hot plate save any money if their dietary needs are far too costly from a grocer? If they have no place to store cold ingredients?

It isn't about individual issues. It isn't just ONE thing that has caused this big stupid problem. solve one thing and there's seven more problems still blocking the ultimate solution. It's a whole fucking mess of issues that continue to get worse and worse as capitalism continues to suck up more of our lives.

and you know what, i'll be the first one to admit that SOMETIMES, yes, i am just fucking lazy. But most times, I'm faced with like five different blockades and some of them aren't even shit I listed - like sharing a house with three people who work very different shifts and when *I* have time to use the kitchen, I run the risk of waking someone else up. Even if nothing else stood in my way, I only have the ability to cook without disturbing someone 1 day a week. i can only imagine what a nightmare it must be for folks with 4 and 5 housemates on different schedules.

there's been a bit of a Hot Topic going around bsky (and twt too i guess) about why my age group (particularly in the US) doesn't cook at home much anymore

and there's been a whole lot of takes ranging from dogshit to good and intelligent to total confusion from folks in other countries. neat stuff right. decided to throw my 2 cents in from my own perspective as part of the demographic.

the tldr of it being: there are *several* factors that make it not worth it nor cost efficient anymore where it once was. obviously that isn't gonna be the case for everyone, but it is the case for an overwhelming majority, me included. and this isn't even including, you know, a whole population of disabled people who are physically unable to cook for themselves but I sort of figured that was a given. but maybe not, considering...

then this absolute genius comes in

thank you buddy for having no reading comprehension and missing quite literally every single point i made that it isn't strictly about the dollar amount of the meal itself. like. okay??? good for you i guess.

sure, there will be some meals where that is very true. I could make a bigass pot of ham and beans that'll last me a whole week for about $10. hence why i added there will always be some meals cheaper to make at home. but that completely disregards every. other. point.

it is not, and has never been, about the direct cost of the meal itself. that's just one of a handful of reasons that factor into the whole conversation. there are going to be times that eating out will be more expensive price-wise, but when it checks off like 5 different boxes i couldn't fulfill myself for whatever reason, that price balances out. and we really are in an age where we're having to negotiate the worth of every action we take and every minute we spend on something. i don't know why thats such a hard concept for people to grasp.

legit nobody is arguing it *should* be this way. it shouldn't. we all recognize this. in the ideal world it would be both worth it and affordable to make every meal at home and leave eating out for special occasions, as was the case when i was growing up. and i totally get it that our parents, many of whom raised us by their lonesome, managed to do it fine so in theory we should be able to as well. sometimes, yeah, it really is a matter of sucking it up and doing it no matter how exhausted you might be. that's true for all facets of life tbh. but it shouldn't be that way all the time every time.

and, i don't know about the rest of you, but for us? it really was a whole fucking To Do to clip coupons and plan Shopping Day. I'd spend a couple hours clipping from a few different newspapers and the mail fliers we collected. then we organized them by store. then mom would plan out which stores we would go to for which items,the route we'd take since sometimes it meant going outside of town, the timeframe for everything since it was typically an all-day event. like, a whole day of planning and a whole day of executing JUST to grocery shop, and that was back in the 90s/00s. Inconvenient, yes, but still actually worth the trouble. couponing saved SO much money back then, especially if you knew the stores that would double them. coupons like those don't exist anymore. period. now the ones that do are like, pennies off or bogo deals and otherwise it's app this and app that for any sort of savings - which even then might only be like a meager 10% off the purchase. in no way is it worth my time and effort today to do the same thing we did when i was young.

anyway. so yeah. for a hell of a lot of us, sometimes going out to eat or ordering in is in fact the most worthwhile way, and sometimes even the most cost efficient way, to feed ourselves anymore.

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nemisuki · 16 hours ago

Text

Sudden Shower

Break up AU | You didn’t realize entering a new life would affect your relationship this drastically. Maybe some things are meant to stay in the past to live in the future.

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, pure angst, no fluff, sad but kinda open ending, aged up to 19-20, right person wrong time trope, high school sweethearts no more, time to cry, read at ur own will, 1.1k word count

"You can't keep pushing me away when all I've been doing is trying to help you Katsuki."

The sound of water droplets echo around the couple - pitter and pattering of the rain trickle on the concrete pathway under their feet.

Small vibrations course through his hand as the storm grows more intense, both in his heart and nature taking its course, heavy downpour hitting the surface of their shared umbrella.

Her gaze roams his facial features from the side, the moonlight illuminating his red eyes, making them look more intense if even possible.

"I didn't ask for your fucking help. I'm not a kid who needs to hold your hand every step of the way."

He refuses to meet her eyes - staring straight ahead as they walk towards the agency he interns at. His voice was intense yet not to the point of yelling.

Arguments aren't uncommon these days. Growing more frequent these past couple of weeks.

The stress of newfound adulthood seeping into the cracks of their relationship.

"Yes and I understand that but you're not acknowledging my concerns! It's not like I think you're not capable, I'm worried about you. What part of that don't you get-"

He halts in his stride as she expresses her troubles - causing her to stop as well.

They both stand in uncomfortable silence, the only thing being heard is the rain around them and sway of leaves from the trees of the park.

A shortcut to the agency they found months ago.

"Don't you think I know that? That's not the point! Breathing down my neck every time we meet and constantly babying me is fucking annoying!"

"Because I care about you!"

"You never were like this before we graduated! And don't give me that bullshit of hero work being dangerous. I know what I signed up for and you knew since we started dating!"

"Did you ever think for one second from my perspective?! I barely see you these days and when I do, you're so exhausted that I have to pick up your pieces!"

"I never asked you too, I'm fucking fine!"

"You never tell me anything! Just talk to me! Why can't you admit to yourself that you need a break?!"

"I don't exactly have the pleasure to have free time Y/N. I can't just stop going on patrols because my girlfriend fucking misses me!"

The storm only seems to grow more intense as the pitch of their voices turn sharp - courtesy of their fluctuating emotions.

A chill goes up her spine as he finally turns to face her, those red orbs boring into her own.

Whether it's from the cold weather or the frustrated expression on his face, she doesn't know.

At his words she's unaware of what to say in response, thinking about the tension between them as of lately.

Her gaze wanders away from his face and down to the puddle forming beneath them.

The reflections of them two tauntingly staring back at her. A version of themselves they have yet to explore.

This isn't high school drama anymore - the new world they entered was filled with responsibilities and unfamiliar experiences.

They have yet to open the gates of their unknown future as adults but looks like they'll be choosing which path to take from here on out.

And they both knew there was only one right option.

He seems to understand what's going through her mind and grimaces at the thought.

Even if he knew it was inevitable.

The decision was like a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode after weeks of arguments, conflicts and foul exchanges.

She couldn’t constantly be distracted from her work because of the uncontrollable anxiety towards him. And he couldn’t give it his all if he had to balance his busy schedule between his work and personal relationships.

They both had problems to work on but separately.

"....katsuki-"

"yeah i know... i know."

Before he cowers back on this decision, he gently places the umbrella in her hand, giving her one final look.

As if all his frustrations vanished and were replaced with a neutral reaction. Maybe because he’s trying to be strong for the both of them, knowing he has to be the one to end things.

That’s something that she always admired, his strength.

She’s about to apologize for not being the one to speak up but he shakes his head. Already knowing what she’s gonna say and gently patting her head.

Her heart thumping away at the small gesture.

A distant look casts over their eyes - though they both know once they look away, it will all come crashing down.

They didn't say much after that, unaware of how long they stood in the same position communicating with their stare alone.

He was the first one to move.

Turning around and beginning to walk away from her, droplets starting to absorb into the jacket he wore today.

One she bought him long ago.

"Text me when you get home at least dummy."

The serene sound of his voice made her unable to stay silent any longer, she bit her cheek as tears began trickling down her face, attempting to hold back the sobs urging to escape her mouth.

"Katsuki!" she yells out, once he's a good distance away.

Her heart is clenching so much that it hurts, her throat closing up as if her body registers that this is really it.

He hesitates but ultimately turns around, looking at her from afar.

This distance between them is so vast - both physically and emotionally.

When you love someone, set them free right? Right.

It was as if all their shared memories came flowing back to her.

Perhaps they were meant to meet when they're still young and find each other again when they're older.

Or maybe this truly is the end - only time would tell.

She musters up the best smile she could at the moment and stares at him. Many thoughts going through her mind but only one stands out.

Slowly she opens her mouth to speak, wanting nothing more then to run back into his arms and say "I love you" but-

"Thank you."

Before he could say anything back, she turns on her heels and spins around, walking away from him before she breaks down.

Finally allowing her emotions to surface, bursting into tears as her figure goes out of sight.

She knew if he said anything more, she'd go running back to him. But you shouldn't stay on a chapter for too long, no one should stay stuck in the past after all.

Unable to see the blonde, he stands there motionless, letting the rain devour him up completely.

Streaks of water dripping down his cheeks - unaware of the difference between possible tears and the downpour coming from the clouds.

"I love you too Y/N."

Oh how much the boy hates rain.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| im sorry i haven't posted in 2 whole weeks! honestly i zone out during december but im back ૮꒰ྀི > . < ꒱ྀིა and with some angst oooo la la. idk if u guys would like more sad fics like this on my page but do lmk in the comments! sometimes u just gotta let people go to improve on urself and thats okay :) tags ||| @leleyro

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arias-archive · 3 days ago

Note

can you do a Lyra x grayson fic where Lyra gets body shamed online or in public by paparazzi and Grayson looses it???? And Lyra calms him down and it’s all fluffy??

a/n: YES I ABSOLUTELY CAN! LOVE ME SOME GRAYSONLYRA

warnings: body-shaming

description: number one rule of dating a famous guy: never read comments. but lyra has seen and heard enough that it barely affects her anymore, grayson, on the other hand, might go to jail for beating up said commenters

tig masterlist | masterlist

protective asshole (a graysonlyra fic)

The video must have been replayed several times now, the same criticising voice droning on from her phone speakers. Yet, her finger refused to move, hovering just a hairbreadth away from the screen.

Just a pathetic girl, encased in her boring little life, with nothing better to do. That’s what Lyra kept telling herself as she dragged the cursor back to rewatch the video, as if the opinions flung out would actually change.

If Lyra was being completely honest, it didn’t affect her as much as it should’ve. The video was awful, the words coming out of the girls mouth harsh and hateful, but somehow Lyra managed to keep it out. She wouldn’t allow herself to become ruffled by some trashy tart on social media.

Besides, Lyra didn’t even know the girl enough to be offended. Truly. She was thinner, compared to Lyra’s accentuated curves. Growing up a dancer meant that Lyra maintained her healthy figure, which was continued through running. But her body wouldn't go any slimmer, and trust her, she had tried. She couldn’t help the genetics which shaped her to be the woman she is today.

So Lyra learned to embrace herself for who she truly was, not what she looked like. Sure, to some she had a body that screamed party to some people more than it showcased dancer, but why did that matter?

She was so engrossed in the short clip that she completely forgot her boyfriend who was lounging right beside her. And sure enough, his unforgiving icy-eyes pierced through her phone, silently seething at the video.

Snapping out of her daze, she scrolled past it, but not before Grayson spoke up. “What was her username?” His tone was so cold, so menacing, Lyra almost flinched.

Instead, she sat up and snorted, shrugging lazily. “Don’t know, don’t really care.” She was proud of herself to find that she actually meant those words, not having to hide behind the bravado to bear to bullet wounds.

“Tell me it.” That was Grayson mad. Very mad. Nobody could do ‘very mad’ as well as Grayson Davenport Hawthorne after seeing someone insult his loved ones. Seriously. Talk about lethal.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lyra insisted with dismissive wave of her hand, as if swatting the very thought from existence.

That didn’t make Grayson forget it though. He simply raised a stubborn brow, silently daring her to dismiss him again. His hand clenched around his own phone, and she was certain he was plotting someone’s very tragic demise behind those eyes.

“Why do you need to know?” If he wanted to be stubborn, she could dish it right back. She has told him to leave it, but noooooo, he just couldn’t listen. Stupid asshole.

He was silent for a moment, jaw clenching and unclenching. “Nobody ever has the right to speak to you that way.” He swore under his breath, shaking his head. “Who do they think they are? I’ll sue them. I will destroy th-”

Lyra cut him off with a firm kiss, her warm breath dancing over his face. When she pulled back, she pried his death-grip fingers off his phone, interlocking her own fingers with his instead.

The kiss barely distracted him. If anything, he still looked ready to murder someone. Protective asshole.

“I don’t want you doing anything,” she told him quietly, face mere inches from his, “because I genuinely couldn’t care less about some idiot’s damn opinion.”

She took a deep breath, her hand squeezing his tighter, lending some of her patience. “They don’t know me, Grayson, so let them say what they want. This isn’t the first time, and you know it won’t be the last.”

She could still remember the utter shock she had felt the first time the media comment on her body. It was soon after her and Grayson’s relationship went public. Paparazzi shouted some idiotic insult about how she looked in the dress she was wearing. Lyra had never seen Grayson so volatile before. He has never, ever, lost his control like that. Normally, he was so unshakeable arrogant.

Anger was still etched onto his every sharp feature, making him appear like a statue carved from ice, cold and unflinching. She rubbed her thumb between the crease in his brows, smoothing it out. She let out another heavy sigh, manoeuvring her body so that she was laying on top of his, head tucked beneath his chin.

This relationship was still relatively new, and Grayson wasn’t used to being touchy with, well, anyone. So Lyra didn’t get offended when she felt him tense up beneath her, but she also didn’t pull away. The asshole was just going to have to get used to it.

It took him a moment before he dropped his phone onto the mattress, wrapping an arm around her loosely. The room was quiet, and a soft, peaceful quiet that was impossible to experience in their lives. It felt… nice.

“Thank you, though,” she whispered reluctantly, so he could drop the damn subject. “For wanting to protect me. But you know I don’t need it.” With her cheek pressed against his chest, she could hear the slightly unsteady patter of his heart. You wouldn’t be able to tell that from his face though.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” he muttered lowly, tracing circles on her back. “Being with me doesn’t merit that.” He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head, breathing her in. He blamed himself for this, as he did with everything else. No matter how many times she argued with him, he didn’t believe her. It wasn’t his fault.

Society loves to pick apart girls who date celebrities to make themselves feel worthier, as if that girl was the sole reason they weren’t the ones picked. It’s a shitty justification but it’s also true. Lyra made her peace with that.

The room was quiet again, the occasional rustle of sheets or soft sighs disturbing the peace. Grayson cleared his throat before he spoke up again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He sounded slightly hesitant to ask the question, and Lyra had never known him to hesitate on much.

She nodded against his shirt, sticking up her thumb for good measure. “Yes. I mean it. I’m really not bothered.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to contact her. I’m sure I can get the message across withou-”

“Grayson.”

#the grandest game #tgg #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #grayson x lyra #grayson hawthorne x lyra kane #lyrason #lyra x grayson #lyra kane #lyra catalina kane #jennifer lynn barnes #graysonlyra #graysonlyra fic #lyrason fic

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jujumin-translates · 2 days ago

Text

[A3!] Tsuzuru Minagi | [R] Casually Showing Skin Mode | L3tt3r Fr0m A Gy4ru

Tsuzuru: (And I’m finally done with classes for the day. Okay, guess I’ll head home—.)

Tsuzuru: (Hm? That’s quite the crowd. Wonder what’s going on…)

Taichi: Ah, Tsuzuru-kuuun!

Juza: Good work.

Tsuzuru: Oh, so you guys are here too. Is there some kinda event going on or something?

Taichi: I dunno, we just got here. It sure is busy. Wonder what’s up.

Juza: Huh, there’s a whole lotta stuff here. They’ve got random things, books, ‘n even household appliances lined up.

Tsuzuru: Ahh, I get it… It’s probably a reuse market.

Taichi: Reuse market?

Tsuzuru: It’s a kinda on-campus event where students who are about to graduate give away things they don’t need anymore to younger students.

Juza: Now that ya mention it, you got a book of short stories at the last one, didn’t ya, Tsuzuru-san?

Tsuzuru: Yeah, I was curious about this one that one of the upperclassmen told me about, but it happened to be out of print.

Taichi: Damn, lucky! Where’s that book now?

Tsuzuru: After I finished reading it, I started passing it around the company to anyone who wanted to read it.

Tsuzuru: That reminds me, I wonder who’s got it now…

Taichi: Who are the ones who wanted to read it?

Tsuzuru: Umm, Miyoshi-san, and Takato-san have already read it… And I think Furuichi-san and Tsukioka-san said they were interested too.

Juza: I’m interested in readin’ it too.

Tsuzuru: Gotcha. I’ll bring it over to you whenever I get it back then, Juza.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: I’m back.

Tsuzuru: (...Huh, did I leave a book out on my desk…?)

Tsuzuru: (Ah, that was the book we were just talking about. What perfect timing to get it back. I’ll go and bring it over to Juza right aw—.)

*Paper falls out of the book*

Tsuzuru: …Hm? Did something just fall out of it?

Tsuzuru: A note?

Thx 4 l3nding m3 thiz, Tzr-kun. I w4z rlly impr3zz3d w h0w clvr th3 f0r3shad0wing w4z. Th3 nam3z of th3 flwrz n th3 flwr l4ngu4g3 m3nti0n3d n th3 prlg s3nt such 4 shvr d0wn my spin3 tht I rlzd tht th3 clprt mightv3 4ctlly b33n TwT nstd 0f xD. If I w3r3 t0 pl4y tht r0l3, M sur3 thtz wht I wld d0…

Tsuzuru: The hell…? Is this a cipher or a prank or something?

Tsuzuru: —Ah.

Tsuzuru: Is this… that gyaru-speak thing?

· ❀ —– ٠ ❀ ٠ —– ❀ ·

Tsuzuru: Jeez, he better still be here…

Omi: Welcome back.

Izumi: Hey, Tsuzuru-kun, would you rather have curry udon or soy milk curry hotpot for dinner tonight?

Tsuzuru: Aren’t both of them still curry? Well, it was pretty cold today, so hotpot would be…

Tsuzuru: Wait, that’s not what I’m here for! Is Miyoshi-san here?

Omi: Kazunari’s in the kitchen.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kazunari: Lookin’ for me~?

Tsuzuru: The hell is this? I literally can’t read any of it…

Kazunari: Oh, gyaru-speak! What’s this about?

Tsuzuru: What do you mean ‘what’s this about’...? You didn’t write this?

Tsuzuru: It was stuck in the book I just got back, and you’re the only one who would write something like this, Miyoshi-san…

Kazunari: Ermm~, well, it wasn’t me.

Tsuzuru: What? But if it’s not you, then the people who I lent the book to after you were Takato-san, Furuichi-san, Tsukioka-san—.

Tsuzuru: No, it had to have been you, Miyoshi-san.

Izumi: Maybe if you read the note you’ll be able to figure out who wrote it?

Tsuzuru: Right. Umm—.

Tsuzuru: …

Tsuzuru: Yeah, not happening. I’ve got no clue what it says no matter how hard I try to read it…

Izumi: Let me see. …Umm, I can’t read it either.

Omi: Those don’t even look like sentences to me.

Tsuzuru: Damnit. What are we gonna do…?

Kazunari: I’ve gotcha, fam. I’ve got this gyaru-speak translator website.

Kazunari: Just gotta take a pic, scan the text, and… copy-paste and translate ♪

Tsuzuru: That’s incredible… So, what does it say?

Kazunari: “Thank you for lending me this, Tsuzuru-kun. I was really impressed with how clever the foreshadowing was. The names of the flowers and the flower language mentioned in the prologue—.”

Kazunari: “Sent such a shiver down my spine that I realized that the culprit might’ve actually been crying instead of laughing.”

Kazunari: “If I were to play that role, I’m sure that’s probably what I would do…”

Kazunari: Wait, could this be…

Tsumugi: I’m back~.

Tsuzuru: Perfect timing. Um, Tsukioka-san. About this note…

Tsumugi: Ah! Thank you for the book, it was really interesting.

Tsuzuru: No, not that…! Did you write this, Tsukioka-san?

Tsumugi: Yeah. Ah, did I forget to write my name on it?

Tsuzuru: Forget about that! Why is it in gyaru-speak!?

Tsumugi: Kazu-kun told me that gyaru stuff and gyaru-speak are really popular nowadays, so I tried using it.

Kazunari: Ohh~, yeah, so, I might’ve told TsumuTsumu about that translation website the other day…

Tsuzuru: So it WAS because of you!

Tsumugi: Ahaha, maybe I should’ve written it normally. Sorry, my bad.

Izumi: I never would’ve thought it was you, Tsumugi. That was quite a surprise.

Omi: Yeah. Good thing we figured it all out.

Kazunari: But like, wasn’t it kinda fun? It was like a little cipher game.

Tsumugi: Yeah, and it was really easy to do. Why don’t we recommend it to the others?

Kazunari: Banger idea, bestie! I bet RonRon and Taicchan would eat this up, don’tcha think?

Tsumugi: I bet Azuma-san and Homare-san would enjoy it too.

Tsuzuru: Wait! Quit trying to come up with weird trends!

#a3!#a3! translation #tsuzuru minagi #kazunari miyoshi #omi fushimi #tsumugi tsukioka #// kicking off my return by obliterating all my braincells while working on this

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hugherin · 3 days ago

Text

HEAVEN CAN'T HELP ME NOW.

when zaya decides to spend her vacation in Davos to escape from reality, but ends up crossing paths with Nico Hischier, who has the same goal. pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 4 and pt. 5.

pairing: nico hischier x oc! reader.

warnings: none <3

You hesitated, the cold of the night feeling even sharper as the voice echoed again. Slowly, you turned around, already knowing who you would see.

"Andrew?"

He was there, standing with the same confident posture as always, but something about him was different. Perhaps it was the contrast between New York and Davos, or perhaps you were the one who had changed.

"Zaya. I knew it was you." He took a few steps closer, his face illuminated by the warm lights of the lobby. "What are you doing here? In Davos, I mean."

"Vacation." you replied, trying to keep your voice neutral. "And you?"

"Same. Needed a break from the city. Isn't it funny?" He chuckled softly, as if the coincidence were some sort of private joke. "Two New Yorkers ending up here, on the other side of the world."

You offered a brief, forced smile. "Yeah, funny."

An awkward silence settled between you, heavy with unspoken words and memories neither of you wanted to revisit.

"Are you okay?" Andrew asked, tilting his head slightly. "I mean, since... well, since we broke up."

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised by his directness. "I am. And you?"

"Yeah, of course. It’s just... you seem different." His gaze lingered on you with an intensity that made you want to escape.

"Maybe because I am different." You crossed your arms, whether to keep warm or to shield yourself from the conversation. "Time does that to people, don’t you think?"

Andrew smiled, but there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. "I guess it does. Well, I won’t bother you anymore. It was nice seeing you, Zaya. Maybe we’ll run into each other again?"

"Yeah, maybe." You kept your tone distant as he walked away.

Pulling your coat tighter around you, you stepped outside the hotel. The air was icy, biting, yet strangely comforting. The northern lights were already dancing above, as if they had been waiting for you. Shades of green, lilac, and gold swirled together, undulating like a melody only the universe could hear.

You found yourself on a wooden platform that extended beyond the hotel, a space designed for guests to marvel at the natural spectacle. Alone, except for your thoughts, which gathered like snowflakes — silent but persistent.

Andrew.

Seeing your ex-boyfriend here, thousands of miles away from where you thought he belonged, left a strange unease in your chest. It wasn’t sadness or longing. It was something deeper, more unsettling: a mirror he had held up, showing a version of yourself you barely recognized.

For the past few years, your life had been a race against time. Endless meetings, unreachable goals, nights too short and days even shorter. You always justified the exhaustion by telling yourself you were building something, but now, looking back, you weren’t sure if you had built anything other than a gilded cage.

Andrew had been part of that. Not because he was toxic or problematic — he wasn’t. But your relationship had been an extension of that same suffocating routine. Planned outings that felt like obligations, conversations squeezed between phone calls. Nothing flowed. Nothing grew.

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the sky, as if seeking answers among the stars. It was ironic how only now, far from everything, you realized how stagnant you had become.

And somehow, Nico was the opposite of that.

The way he talked about the simplest things as if they were extraordinary. The taste of the local coffee, the texture of the snow, the way the sunrise painted the mountains. He had an almost irritating ability to find beauty in the mundane, something you had forgotten how to do.

But it wasn’t just that. Nico made you feel alive.

When he was around, it was as if a part of you, long dormant, was waking up. You laughed more. You felt more. And for the first time in years, you wanted something you couldn’t quite name.

As these memories danced through your mind, the aurora seemed to grow even brighter, as if the universe wanted to join in your thoughts.

"I need to change." you whispered, the words nearly swallowed by the wind.

You needed to leave behind the safety of a predictable, monotonous life. You needed to embrace the unknown, even if it was terrifying. Deep down, you knew that staying as you were wasn’t living — it was merely existing.

Meeting Andrew had been a painful reminder of that, but also a gift. He had forced you to face the truth: the life you had in New York wasn’t enough.

And Nico... He was the spark you didn’t know you needed. You weren’t sure what that meant or where it might lead, but for the first time, you were willing to find out.

You stood there a while longer, breathing in the frigid air and letting every nuance of that night imprint itself on your memory.

You thought you were alone — until the sound of footsteps echoed on the wooden platform behind you. Your heart quickened as you turned.

Nico appeared, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, an easy smile on his face.

"Do you always sneak up on people like this?" you asked, still startled.

"No." he said, tilting his head slightly. "Do you always step out into the cold alone to think about life?"

You shrugged, wary. "What are you doing here?"

"Some teammates are staying at this hotel. The bar was getting unbearable, and then I saw you step outside..." He paused, glancing at the northern lights. "I figured this would be more interesting."

"Interesting? Or just spying?" you teased, crossing your arms.

"Let’s call it intellectual curiosity." he replied, stepping closer. "So, what brought you out here? Escaping something too?"

You hesitated. "Not exactly. I guess I just needed some air. Things can get... stifling sometimes."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Stifling how?"

"You know, expectations, the kind of stuff that makes you feel like you’re stuck in a bubble." You looked at him, surprised at how much you were sharing, and quickly added, "Anyway, I just needed to clear my head."

Nico fell silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on you before he smiled in a way that made your stomach flip. "You should pop that bubble, then."

"It’s easier said than done." you retorted, looking back at the sky.

"Maybe it’s easier than you think." he said, leaning casually against the platform railing. "When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to, without worrying if it made sense or was practical?"

You thought for a moment. "I have no idea."

"Exactly what I figured." His sideways grin was both infuriating and endearing. "I bet you have a mental list of things you’ve always wanted to do but never dared to try."

"Like jumping off a cliff?" you joked, raising an eyebrow.

"If that’s on your list, let me know. I’d love to see it." He laughed. "But seriously, Zaya. You should try doing things that have absolutely nothing to do with your routine."

"Like what? Give me an example."

"Ah, that would ruin the surprise. And I’m terrible at making lists on the spot." he said, tilting his head as if analyzing you. "But I guarantee that if you try, you’ll feel more alive."

"Alive?" you echoed, skeptical.

"Yeah. You know... that feeling where the whole world is buzzing around you." His smile was playful, but there was genuine warmth in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, poet. I’ll think about it."

"Just think?" He took a step back, already starting to walk away. "I thought you were braver than that."

"Good night, Nico." You tried to sound firm, but the amusement in his voice disarmed you.

"Good night, Zaya." He glanced back one last time before disappearing into the lobby, leaving you standing there, still smiling, his words echoing in your mind.

The muffled sound of snow falling outside was the first thing you noticed as you woke up. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater, and the soft light of dawn seeped through the curtains. You stretched lazily, your mind still clouded with memories of the night before.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you pulled a cozy sweater over your pajamas before heading to the small kitchenette. Making coffee was almost a ritual — an anchor.

The coffee machine hummed softly as you waited, your eyes drifting to the fogged-up window. Outside, the world was a sea of white, with snow blanketing everything in an untouched layer. It was beautiful, almost too perfect.

The smell of coffee filled the air, and you poured yourself a mug, cradling it in both hands to absorb the warmth. As you turned to walk toward the armchair by the window, something caught your attention.

A folded piece of paper was tucked under the door.

Frowning, you set the mug down on the table before bending to pick up the note. The fold was neat, and your name was written on the front in casual handwriting.

"Zaya,

I figured you could use some ideas to step out of your comfort zone. Consider this a challenge.

— Hischier.”

Your curiosity grew as you unfolded the note, revealing a list:

Zaya’s List

- Jump into a frozen lake (I bet you won’t dare).

- Ski off the trail (but only if you survive the lake).

- Hike up the mountain to watch the sunrise (bring hot chocolate).

- Sing karaoke at the tavern. Pick a terrible song.

- Attend the town’s Masquerade Ball. (Don’t you dare say no.)

You chuckled softly, surprised by his boldness and how he seemed to know exactly what you needed — a little push.

But one thing still puzzled you. How did he know your room number?

You hesitated for a moment before grabbing your phone and dialing his number. He picked up on the third ring.

“Zaya, calling me already? I thought you’d ignore the list.”

“How do you even know where I’m staying?” you asked directly.

“I have my ways." he replied, laughing.

“Ways? That sounds suspicious.”

“Let’s just say I’m good at finding things out. What do you think of the list?”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous but brilliant, I know.”

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “You seriously think I’m going to jump into a frozen lake?”

“I’m certain you will.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Oh, you will.” The confidence in his voice was both infuriating and oddly captivating.

“I should ignore you, but…” You hesitated. "What’s the address and time for the masquerade ball? Since it seems so essential.”

He laughed, a warm, light sound. “It’s in two days, at the hall in the main square, 9 PM. You’ll stand out, I’m sure of it.”

“We’ll see.”

“Can’t wait, Zaya.”

Before you could reply, he hung up, leaving you with the note in hand and a smile you couldn’t quite suppress.

The night arrived shrouded in mystery. The hall in the main square looked like something out of a dream — a mix of classic elegance and magic. Delicate lanterns hung from the arched ceiling, casting a warm golden glow over the space. Masked figures glided across the room like characters from an old tale, their elaborate outfits catching the play of light and shadow.

From what you’d read, it was a charity ball benefiting a nearby retirement home. It wasn’t surprising Nico had invitations—he was not only born here but also a well-known figure.

You hesitated at the entrance, adjusting the mask that covered half your face. You’d chosen something understated yet elegant, with black lace details to match your dress. You didn’t want to draw too much attention, but there was something thrilling about hiding behind a mask— like you could be someone else, just for a night.

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face—or rather, a familiar mask. Nico had mentioned he’d be there, but the hall was crowded, and he had a knack for disappearing.

A waiter passed by with a tray of sparkling wine glasses, and you grabbed one, taking a sip to calm your nerves. The string music filled the air, its rhythm making your body instinctively want to move.

And then, you felt it.

A light touch on your shoulder, followed by a low, amused voice in your ear. “I like the dress. It suits the whole mysterious vibe.”

You turned, and there he was.

The mask Nico wore covered most of his face, intricately detailed in silver that shimmered under the lanterns. But you recognized the smile. He held a glass in one hand, the other tucked casually into the pocket of his perfectly tailored black suit.

“And you? Do you frequent masquerade balls, or are you just an expert at looking out of place?” you teased, hiding your smile behind your glass.

“Out of place? I thought I was nailing the mysterious alter ego.” He tilted his head slightly. “You look stunning, by the way. But I imagine you already know that.”

“And you’re still laying it on thick with the compliments.”

“If it’s true, it’s not overdoing it.” He extended his hand, his eyes glinting behind the mask. “May I have this dance?”

You hesitated for a moment, but there was something about the way he looked at you—a confidence that felt impossible to resist. Setting your glass on a passing waiter’s tray, you took his hand.

He led you to the center of the room, where other couples were already dancing. The music shifted to something slower yet still lively, and Nico’s steps were surprisingly steady, as if he’d done this a thousand times.

“I didn’t know you could dance." you remarked, trying to keep up with him.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” he replied, a playful smile on his lips.

“Like what?”

“For example,” He spun you effortlessly before pulling you back, closer this time. “I like making strange lists to help people stuck in their routines.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out already.”

“Okay, then another: I’ve never been to a masquerade ball before. I’m improvising.”

You laughed, relaxing more in his arms. “You’re doing pretty well.”

“And you? How are you doing with the challenge?”

“I’ll jump into the frozen lake tomorrow morning if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said with complete sarcasm.

“That’s one I wouldn’t miss."

The conversation flowed easily as you danced, and for a moment, the rest of the room faded away. The music, the people, even the masks—none of it seemed to matter besides his presence.

When the song ended, Nico didn’t let go immediately. You stayed there, close enough to feel his warmth, your eyes locked. Behind the masks, it felt like there were no secrets—just the electric tension of something new and unexpected.

“I told you this ball was essential." he murmured.

“And I still think you’re exaggerating.”

He tilted his head, as if about to say something else, but then smiled. “Maybe. But I have a feeling you won’t forget tonight.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you into another dance, as if the world outside could wait. And for the first time in a long time, you believed it could.

The space between you shrank with every step. His scent—warm and woody—mingled with the slightly crisp air drifting in through the open windows. You found your gaze straying to the details of his mask, as if trying to read something hidden there.

“Are you analyzing me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow behind his mask.

“Maybe." you replied with a playful edge, a smile tugging at your lips.

“And what have you figured out so far?”

“That you love attention but pretend you don’t.”

He laughed — a genuine, contagious sound. “You’re good at this.”

“Not as good as you are at making ridiculous lists.”

“Ridiculous, but effective.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it carried a certain ease, amplified by the way his eyes remained fixed on yours, as if he were seeing beyond what you allowed.

“You said you’ve never been to a masquerade before.” you remarked, breaking the quiet. “What made you come to this one?”

“Because you came.”

The answer was straightforward, without hesitation, and you felt heat rush to your face, even with the mask partially concealing your embarrassment. He didn’t look away, and you realized he hadn’t said it to impress — it was simply the truth.

“And if I hadn’t come?”

“I’d probably be at the tavern with my teammates. But something told me you wouldn’t miss this.”

He smiled again, and you realized you were smiling too. As the music ended, you both stopped dancing, though he didn’t let go of your hand right away.

“Want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice low.

“Get out?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows.

“Not literally. Just… away from the ballroom. There’s a balcony out back with an amazing view of the mountains.”

The idea of escaping the crowd seemed tempting, especially with him. You nodded, and he led you through the room, effortlessly weaving past other dancers.

The balcony was wide, illuminated by a few lanterns hanging on the stone walls. Snow fell in light flakes, melting as they touched the warm wood of the floor. Outside, the air was colder but purer, and the view was breathtaking: snow-capped mountains glimmering under the soft moonlight.

“Definitely better than the ballroom.” you remarked, hugging your arms against the chill.

“Agreed,” he said, slipping off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Better?”

You nodded, feeling the immediate warmth.

The two of you stood there, side by side, silently taking in the mountains. The wind toyed with strands of your hair, and you noticed Nico watching them, as if trying to decipher something unspoken.

“I didn’t expect this." you said finally, breaking the silence.

“This what?”

“This trip. You. Everything feels… different from what I imagined.”

“Different is good?”

“It is. I think it is.”

He smiled, and the way his eyes softened when they met yours made your heart race.

A stronger gust of wind sent snowflakes swirling, sparkling under the moonlight. You pulled his jacket closer, inhaling the faint scent of him that lingered in the fabric. There was something about it that warmed more than just the cold night.

Nico was still beside you, closer now. He leaned on the railing, staring at the view like he was trying to absorb every detail. The confident smile he often wore had faded, replaced by something more thoughtful.

“Enjoying the night so far?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You turned to him, meeting his gaze through the mask. “More than I expected.”

“Good. My reputation depends on it.”

“Oh, really? And if I’m not impressed?”

He tilted his head, his smile returning, but this time with a hint of challenge. “Then I guess I’ll have to try harder.”

“And what else do you have to offer?” you teased, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

Nico didn’t reply immediately. He studied you, his eyes glinting as if he were reading something you hadn’t realized you were showing. Then, he stepped closer, until the space between you felt almost nonexistent.

“I could show you." he said, his voice so low it was nearly a whisper.

Your heartbeat quickened, but you didn’t pull away. There was something in the way he spoke— each word deliberate yet impulsive.

“Are you always this confident?”

“Only when I’m sure of something.”

“And what are you sure of right now?”

He smiled, a blend of assurance and tenderness. “That you want this as much as I do.”

Before you could respond —or even think of one — he closed the distance.

The kiss was warm and unhesitating, as though he knew exactly what he was doing. At first, it was firm, almost teasing, but then it softened, growing deeper and more consuming. His hands alternated between your waist and your hair, and the world around you seemed to vanish. No more cold wind, no more snow, no more mountains—just the heat of him, the pressure of his hands, the way he tilted his head to draw you closer.

Time blurred. The kiss carried a rhythm that shifted between bold and gentle, as though he were exploring every nuance while still leaving room for you to take the lead.

When you finally pulled apart, it was just enough to meet his gaze again. Your breath was unsteady, and his smile had returned—smug yet impossibly endearing.

“Impressed now?” he murmured, looking into your eyes like he didn’t already know the answer.

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