#this is a one-off i’m still out. i’m just doing reflections

[earthtooz]

x : LUST FOR LIFE *+ﾟ

in which: sunday discovers a new emotion when he's under you.

warnings: 1.5k words, sunday is B(h)ORNY and doesn't know how to deal with it, he wants reader so bad, lowkey implied switch!sunday, gn!reader being sunday's freak awakening, NO SMUT BUT UNDER 16 DNI, not edited

a/n: five likes and i'll write nsfw for sunday

What good is a leader who can’t empathise with the lives of the people he was supposed to be leading?

This thought has plagued Sunday ever since he exiled himself from Penacony, since he joined the Astral Express in a journey of self-discovery and reflection, embracing the Nameless lifestyle so he can broaden the horizons that Penacony had restricted. There, he was so detached from the reality of the people he was trying to help, so trapped in a whirlwind of his own ideals to experience humanity, too buried in official duties to rejoice in the many wonders of the universe, the simple pleasures and the grandiose ones.

Since boarding, the former head of the Oak Family has experienced humiliation, desperation, and many close calls with death. It seems he underestimated how easily trouble found the Trailblazers, and the diary he carries with him has been updated with multiple entries, filled with exasperated recounts that ended with him being grateful that he is still well and unscathed.

Sunday has also experienced laughter, connection, and the bond of humankind- something he did not have before. When he controlled the Oak Family, had everyone under or at his fingertips, the only person he could depend on was himself. When Robin left to travel the cosmos, what was he to do than learn the bitter truth of independence and self-sufficiency? 

Yet, he sits on the couches of the Astral Express and there is bound to be another by him, trying to converse with him like an old friend. He is mentioned in the conversations like an individual who they keep around because they want to, not because he is crafty, not because of what he can offer. No, he can’t offer anything right now, and the crew still wants him to stay.

He learns more about humanity with each passing day.

However, perhaps one of the more puzzling feelings Sunday has had to confront was… infatuation. 

It’s a tricky feeling. It sends his heart into overdrive and his limbs to become jelly, and at the epicentre of this hurricane of uncharted territory, is you. 

“Sunday?” Your voice comes through muffled from the other side of the door. He almost jumps off his mattress at the sound. 

“Door is open,” he responds as calmly as possible, heart thrumming alive at the sound of your voice, beating in time with the rapid succession of your knocks. 

The door slides open slowly to reveal you on the other side. “Pom Pom just wanted to let everyone know that we will be jumping soon.” 

“I see, thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem,” your gaze then flickers to the angels that flock around him and he watches as your eyes gleam with fascination.

Then, without any hesitation or reluctance, you enter his room and approach him, the door sliding closed without your weight to hold it open. You stop before him without a bow, without a formal greeting of ‘Mr. Sunday’- no, you stop before him like an equal, which you most certainly are. In fact, he would even think of himself below you, but Sunday needs to unlearn this assumption of hierarchy, needs to not let it define the relationships he forms, even if he looks up to you and finds you reverent. 

“Hey, I’ve never seen these little guys before!” You exclaim, sticking out a hand to act like a perch for the angel-like summons. One of them flits up to you and stays on your outstretched finger. “Well, not this close, at least.”

It keens at your praise. Like owner like summon, Sunday supposes.

“I don’t tend to bring them out. They are for combat purposes,” he explains. 

Your eyes widen slightly. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?” 

“What? No! That’s not it-”

“-I’m kidding, Sunday,” you snicker. “We’re friends, I wouldn’t want to fight you.”

“Right,” he exhales, “I wouldn’t want to fight you either.”

“Besides, we already did once.”

He freezes at the memory, remembers when he got hit with the exact train he is currently boarding. 

You, however, are unphased by the recollection, and even continue to rub salt in the wound. “I remember fighting against these little summons too, your owner was a real meanie, do you guys know that?” 

They flock around you, spinning and fluttering like little fireflies.  Instinctively, Sunday covers his flustered expression with his wings, and he doesn’t budge, even when he hears your laugh, the sound almost enough for him to melt into a puddle by your feet.

“Hey, hey, I was kidding, sorry if I took the joke too far.” 

He uncovers himself with an embarrassed sigh, not meeting your eyes. “It’s okay, I think the memory is just… humiliating, more than anything.”

“There are no more hard feelings. Everyone has accepted you on board and none of us think of you to be the same person you were when we first met, I promise.”

Your words are completely earnest, Sunday knows it, can feel it in the way you tell him so unabashedly. So who is he to deny it?

“Thank you,” he says, finally looking up at you, “it means a lot to hear that.” 

“I’ll say it as much as you need. Well, I’ll get out of your hair now, just prepare for the jump-”

Your sentence is interrupted by a shriek when you lose your footing, and Sunday feels it too, the force so strong that even he, while sitting, feels as if is being stretched and pulled into a miniscule hole. What he also feels is your body colliding on top of his, and his hands come to your waist to catch you in an attempt to prevent you from slipping, but it’s not enough and he’s falling with you onto the expanse of his made bed.

The Express is warping to some expanse of the universe, and his stomach drops at the sensation, spreading to the ends of his nerves before disappearing, just replaced by the extremely odd feeling of being pulled through the stars. He just hopes you’re comfortable, standing up whilst warping is tough, he heard the stories of when Stelle first tried to do it and how she fell flat on her face. 

When the feeling of normality returns and Sunday doesn’t feel like he has been stretched out, he opens his eyes and tries to take in the sight before him.

You. Your face. Centimetres away from his.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but seeing you this close… perhaps just pretty is an understatement. His gaze unwillingly flicks to your lips and he wished he hadn’t because suddenly the urge to sit up and lick into your mouth is raging; a fire that can’t be contained. 

Sunday wants you to push him down by the shoulders, with no gentleness or mercy, and just… devour him whole. His hands want to find you by the hips and pull you into him more than humanly possible, he wants you to indent yourself onto him so he can remember your taste forever, so that, in a way, you couldn’t ever leave him. 

Alternatively, he would happily flip around and pin you against the mattress. He would pry you open, explore the cavern of your mouth with his tongue and suck your sacred essence out of you so that it can stay and settle in his bones instead, replacing where marrow should be. He wants to lay you vulnerable so his hands can explore places only you want him to touch, wants to take you so that you stay forever, wants to feel your tongue against his, wants to hold your face and feel how you react when he takes his time cherishing you, revering you. 

This feeling is too much, these thoughts are overpowering, yet nothing has ever been more clear. Sunday wants you, lusts for you, even, and he’s never felt so intensely for someone before. 

How would the symphonies sound when they learn of the atrocities he wants to perform? 

Temptation holds him close and infects him with a desire so strong, he’s practically frozen in place as you recover from the shock, holding yourself up with your arms that were on either side of his head. 

“Ow, I’m sorry!” You immediately exclaim, before realising exactly what position you are in, your chests are pressed together, and you’re mortified to think about how close you were before you picked yourself off him, and- his… his hips… are pressed against yours- okay, you needed to leave as soon as possible.

You scramble off him like he had burnt you, frantically shouting apologies whilst doing so, the words clumsy and rushed, but neither of you can deny how you miss the warmth that was suddenly ripped away. 

(If he wanted to, you could have stayed in that position with him.)

Then, before you could get anymore thoughts, you turn and practically bolt out of his room without another word, leaving a hot and bothered Sunday behind.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[beloveds-embrace]

Hello! Thank you for feeding us the angstier timeline of the dukedom au!! I live for angst

You don’t have to entertain this thought ofc, the angst and how good you write for my brain worms worming. I just can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if König wasn’t there and instead the duchess had to suffer all on her own

(Or better yet, if he was there but ended up also leaving the duchess for someone else or was killed protecting the duchess)

Reader having to endure everything on her own which eventually leads her to falling terribly ill and in the olden times we all know how a simple cold could turn into more and yield deadly results

The stress combined with the overall lack of appetite (and the food not cooked well at times to add to that… more angst (: ) as well as other factors rendered the reader terribly ill

Maybe she fell into a body of water and had to save herself, or maybe she was caught up in a rainy storm on a walk with no one offering her warm clothing or a cover up until she eventually managed to get back that leads to pneumonia

Maybe she gets injured but hides it until the blood loss gets to her and infection sets in

Just so many options and flavours of angst

Anyway, thank you for sharing your writing with us! Agin, you don’t have to engage with this, so please don’t feel pressured!! I’m just having many thoughts and am currently going feral /pos

WAITTT WAIT I LOVE THIS

Because imagine clinging to König, to your one singular source of comfort in a manor that has no room for you, and in the end, he leaves as well.

You had been telling yourself that you had been simply more imaginative lately; König was simply busy, he wasn’t growing more and more distant! The way he looks at you now compard to before hasn’t changed. At all. His responses were in hums and nods, noncommittal but that’s okay, sometimes you did not feel like speaking- like existing- either.

Until he stands in your office, the light from the windows reflecting off his armour. You had been happy to see him, a smile on your lips to be in the company of the only one who didn’t seem to despise you.

When he tells you that he will not be doing this anymore, it feels, for a very split second, like your heart shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. You can feel the shattering of each, single piece.

Better place. He says, pity in his eyes but no regret. He pauses for a second. I wish… the best for you.

König leaves you like that; staring after his back in abject horror. Every step he takes echoes in your ears, until you are left alone in your office, hands trembling, and your ears ringing.

After that day, everything practically crumbled. You crumbled.

Without him, the weight of your isolation became unbearable. The disdain of the household grew sharper once it became known your only solace was no longer there, the whispers more cutting. Meals came cold, uneaten. Sleep eluded you, and the constant stress gnawed away at your strength.

One fateful day, you went outside in a desperate bid to escape the suffocation. The air was crisp, the sky gray with the promise of rain, and yet you still did not turn back. You wandered farther than you intended, your steps aimless even as the first drops began to fall.

The storm came quickly afterwards, drenching you to the bone. Your thin cloak offered little protection, and the chill seeped deep into your skin. By the time you returned, trembling and soaked, no one was waiting to help you. No fire had been lit in your chambers; no warm blanket was offered, and no company was given.

The fever began that very night, burning through you with a strength that left you bedridden. Days passed in a haze of pain and delirium. The wound you had hidden- an injury from your fall in the storm- festered, the infection spreading rapidly through your weakened body. You hadn’t the strength to call for help, nor the faith that anyone would come even if you did hoarse out your voice in your attempts.

Only when your condition worsened and you really, truly disappeared out of view, the household finally took notice. Whispers swirled, faint echoes beyond the fog of your fading consciousness, and everyone became alert of your absence, meals returned untouched and maids reporting it’s weeks since they’d helped you with anything.

John sat in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey as the fire crackled in the hearth. He told himself your absence didn’t matter- that you were retreating because you’d finally realized the truth. But when he closed his eyes, he saw your face as it had been on your wedding day- hopeful, trusting, and unaware of the coldness that would greet you.

Simon found himself pacing the halls around your room more often than usual. He would glance toward your chambers but never step inside, convincing himself it wasn’t his concern. And yet, something about the silence unsettled him.

Johnny had begun to notice the meals sent to your chambers were left untouched, the plates returned barely touched or sometimes not taken at all. He hadn’t cared at first, dismissing it as you sulking because no one was giving you attention. But now the thought lingered- had you even been eating at all?

Even Kyle, with his sharp tongue and sharper gaze, felt the unease creeping in. He found himself hesitating when passing your door, his usual indifference cracking as guilt gnawed at him.

In the end, it’s Kyle who couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He stepped into your room, telling himself it was simply to prove to himself that you were fine and just- sulking.

The sight stopped him cold.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and the air heavy with the faint, sour scent of illness. You lay motionless on the bed, your body shockingly frail, your skin damp with fever. Your hair clung to your forehead, and your breathing was shallow, each breath rattling in your chest.

You didn’t even notice him. Not even when he turned around and barked sharply for John, for a doctor now. You didn’t notice him at all. Not him, not John or Simon or Johnny when they appear while the maids run to get the doctor.

(Kyle will never tell anyone how utterly sick he felt upon seeing the dried tear-tracks on your face. The unfinished, rotten meals near the bed. The tear spots on your pillows. He will never, ever forget today. He doubts any of the others will be able to do so, either.)

[thesecondhandwoman]

HOVERBOARD PRACTICE

Ekko x f!reader

Summary: Another day, another morning with Ekko. Today you were practicing riding a hoverboard, a ride that both Ekko and the other fireflies use. However, practice comes with failure, especially when it came to you, and Ekko was there for you every step of the way.

The faint hum of Zaun’s flickering neon lights was drowned out by the steady whir of hoverboards cutting through the air. Ekko stood ahead of you, one foot firmly planted on his own board, the other dangling off lazily, his balance impeccable as always. His lopsided grin reflected both confidence and amusement.

“You’re overthinking it,” he called out, spinning in a lazy circle to face you. “It’s all about flow, y’know? Let the board do the work.”

You groaned, planting your foot back on the ground for stability as the board beneath you wobbled. “Easy for you to say, Mr. Gravity-Doesn’t-Apply-To-Me.”

He laughed—a sound that was warm, teasing, and annoyingly attractive. “Alright, alright, keep your balance steady, then push off. Use your core.” Ekko gestured toward you with a sweeping motion. “And for the love of everything, stop looking down.”

You rolled your eyes, but obeyed. Lifting your gaze to meet his, you swallowed your nerves and tried again. With a deep breath, you nudged the board forward. This time, you moved a few feet before wobbling uncontrollably.

“Whoa, whoa—” Ekko’s voice barely reached you before you veered sideways.

The hoverboard jerked, and you let out a yelp as you careened toward a nearby tree. You braced for impact when—just before disaster struck—a strong hand grabbed your arm, yanking you to a stop.

Ekko’s face was inches from yours, his chest heaving from the effort. His chuckles rumbled against your arm where his grip lingered. “You okay there, rookie?”

You glared, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed your composure. “Barely.”

He smirked, letting go of your arm but not stepping back. “Guess I gotta keep you outta trouble, huh?” He climbed back onto his board and rolled around you in slow, playful circles.

“I think I’ve had enough for today,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

“Nope,” he said, stopping right in front of you. His grin widened as he flicked a strand of your hair out of your face. “Not until you’ve learned to not almost die. Besides, I’m having too much fun watching you flail.”

You smacked his arm lightly, earning another laugh.

“Alright, alright. We’ll take it slow.” Ekko nudged your board gently with his foot, guiding you back onto it. Then he jumped on his own and slid in beside you, hands hovering close in case you stumbled again. “Just keep your eyes forward. Trust your instincts. And hey,” he added, his voice softer now, “if you fall again, I’ll catch you.”

With a huff, you pushed off the ground, this time with Ekko right at your side. His presence, steady and sure, made the task seem a little less impossible. As the board hummed beneath you and the wind began to whip past your face, you couldn’t help but laugh at the thrill of it all.

Ekko’s own laugh joined yours. “There you go! I told you you’d get it.”

You smiled, the fear giving way to excitement. “Still not sure I trust you,” you teased.

He shot you a playful look. “Good. Keeps things interesting.”

After a bit, you were finally starting to get the hang of it, though the occasional wobble made Ekko reach out instinctively to steady you. His hands brushed against yours once or twice, and you felt your stomach flutter each time, though you played it off with a smirk or a sarcastic comment. He didn’t seem to mind—if anything, he thrived off your banter.

“Alright, let’s see if you can handle a turn,” he said, his board gliding effortlessly ahead of you. He slowed just enough to match your speed, skating backwards like it was nothing.

“A turn? I just learned how to go straight!” you protested, your voice rising in mock indignation.

Ekko only shrugged, his grin infuriatingly smug. “Guess there’s only one way to find out if you’ve got what it takes.” He darted to the side, smoothly curving around a piece of scrap metal embedded in the ground.

You gulped, eyeing the path he’d taken. “Easy for you to say when you’ve been doing this for years,” you muttered.

“Hey,” he called over his shoulder, “the Firelights don’t wait for anyone. If you’re gonna roll with us, you gotta be able to keep up. No pressure or anything.” His tone was teasing, but there was an undeniable challenge in his words.

You grit your teeth.

No way were you going to let him think you couldn’t handle it.

“Fine. Let’s do it.”

You tilted the board slightly, leaning into the motion like he’d shown you. The board shifted beneath you, and for a terrifying second, it felt like you were going to fall—but then you found your balance, cutting a clumsy arc around the scrap metal. When you emerged on the other side, your heart was pounding, but you were still upright.

“Ha! Look at that!” Ekko whooped, his smile wide with pride. “Told you you had it in you!”

You slowed to a stop, panting slightly as you grinned back at him. “Not bad for a rookie, huh?”

“Not bad at all.” He skated up beside you, reaching out to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “But don’t let it go to your head. You’ve still got a long way to go before you can keep up with me.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” you shot back, your competitive streak flaring to life.

Ekko raised an eyebrow, his grin turning mischievous. “You bet it is. First one to the water tower wins.” Without waiting for your response, he pushed off, his board shooting forward like a bolt of lightning.

“Hey, no fair!” you yelled, scrambling to get moving again.

The chase was on, and though Ekko had a head start, you threw everything you had into catching up. The wind whipped through your hair, and for the first time, you felt like you were flying. You stumbled once or twice, but you managed to stay on your board, fueled by determination—and maybe just a little bit of your desire to wipe that smug grin off Ekko’s face.

He reached the water tower first, of course, lounging on his board as he waited for you. “Took you long enough,” he teased when you finally rolled up beside him, breathless but grinning.

“You cheated,” you accused, though you couldn’t keep the laughter out of your voice.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a wink. “But you still did good, especially since that was probably the only way I would make you actually try without being clumsy. Heck, you did better than good, actually.”

His praise made your cheeks warm, but you tried to play it cool. “Guess I had a pretty decent teacher.”

“Decent?” Ekko repeated, pretending to be offended. “I’m the best in Zaun. You’re lucky to have me.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “Whatever you say, hotshot.”

As you both rested against the base of the water tower, the city stretching out beneath you, Ekko nudged your arm gently. “For real, though. You did great today. You’re a natural.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you turned to meet his gaze. His golden eyes sparkled with pride and something else—something softer that made your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks, Ekko,” you said quietly, feeling your usual bravado fade under his steady gaze.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Anytime.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: gotta right my final reflection today and then I don't have schoolwork for a while!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“So, when is the wedding?” Lillians asks over a half-empty plate. 

You take your time chewing. You don’t have an answer. As far as you’re concerned, this is Lloyd’s plot so he can come up with the detail. You're here to enjoy the wine. 

“Uh, the spring,” he blurts out. 

“The spring?” Gwenyth repeats. “Don’t you have a specific date?” 

“Erm, May something...” Lloyd says. 

“May? That’s so soon. If you don’t even have a date, I doubt you have a venue or a dress or--” Lillian counters. 

“Oh, well, we were thinking of. Er...” Lloyd turns his fork in this hand. “Eloping?” 

“Eloping,” Gwenyth hisses. “Eloping? Does that mean we’re not invited? It’s simply not fair.” 

“Mom, I--” 

“Gwen, he didn’t say that, did he?” 

“Well, dad--” 

“We are invited,” William states. It’s not a question. 

“You see what happens?” Gwen takes her cloth napkin and folds it, dabbing her tearless eyes, “the groom’s mother is always excluded. He is my son--” 

“A destination wedding would be nice,” William suggests. 

“Uh, of course. Yeah. We’d like to go somewhere far away, but uh, not far from you...” Lloyd stammers and you kick his foot. You could laugh at how flustered he is if you were entwined in his lies. He sits straighter, “We’ll have the invitations out soon. Everyone’s invited of course--” 

You kick him again. He slips his hand on your knee and squeezes, “we’re still figuring things out,” he declares. 

“Oh, it seems so!” Gwenyth clasps the napkin between her hands. “Darling, you must let me help. And Lillian. Her wedding was fabulous.” 

“Which one?” Lloyd snickers. 

“We’ll see if you even have one,” his sister retorts. 

He cackles and William sighs. 

“Yes, weddings. All that mess,” William drawls. “The ladies can suss out the details but I do believe it’s time for the yearly rematch.” 

“You still do that?” Lloyd asks. 

“Hm, of course. It is a tradition. What’s the matter? You too old, boy?” 

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd bounces back, shocking you with the snipe. 

Another surprise, William laughs. 

“Ben may need to sit out,” William suggests. 

“Oh, to the contrary, old boy, I’ve had just enough bourbon that I am a prized asset in my state,” the man with the fluffy ash hair doffs his mug. 

“Hm, yes, Carter, Linus, Ransom, Ben, myself, Lloyd,” William counts on his fingers, “Dawson, Lewis, Hudson, and Owen. Quite the lineup this year.” 

You look at Lloyd confused. He doesn’t look excited. You reach under the table and move his hand off your leg. He flinches and glances over at you. 

“Is this some sort of cribbage tournament?” You scoff under your breath. 

He shakes his head. “Touch football...” 

“Football...” You peer across the table with concerns. At least four of the players named are a bit too old to be running around in the snow. 

“It’s fine. Just like tag,” Lloyd shrugs unconvincingly. You chew your lip as you consider him. His eyes follow the movement and you stop yourself. “What?” He asks. 

“I’m just trying to picture it,” you say. “You don’t seem like a football person.” 

“What does that mean? You don’t seem like one either? What would you know?” You hiss back. 

“Ah, dear,” William calls across the table, “do not fear for his safety. We are all family, no one means to hurt each other.” 

Despite his assurance, you’re even less convinced that there won’t be some horrible accident. Again, you remind yourself, it’s Lloyd’s problems. Your sole focus is the money. And the wine. 

You reach to drain your glass, “I’m not worried at all,” you smile, “oh, and honey,” you turn to Lloyd, “you never asked but I love football. I’m a big Bills fan, actually. Remember, laces out.” 

Lloyd grumbles and stands. The other men do in a lazy succession. They stretch and groan over the scraping chair legs. The women rise too and start to clear the table. You’re not a fan of that divide; the men get their fun and the women get to tidy, but you will not be as rude as they’ve accused you. 

You start to gather cutlery and plates. Lloyd startles you as he puts his hand on your hip to stop you. You face him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He says. 

You bat your lashes and smirk. You’re amused that he thinks you’re that concerned. 

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle a game of tag, but you might want to stretch. There’s no one you can pay to run the ball for you,” you snort. 

You move past him and follow Lillian. He huffs as you leave him to the rabble of old man talking trash. As you enter the kitchen, Lillian sets the plates on the counter and you put yours next to hers. You take the top one and scrape it clean. 

“You’ll enjoy it. It’s always a good show. I am interested to see the teams this year,” she trills. “Of course, without Lloyd around for so long, I had to step in. Unfortunately, this year, I'm in no condition to lace up.” 

“Oh, it sounds like a fun tradition,” you remark. 

“It’s wonderful fun,” she assures as Gwenyth enters. Lillian shifts closer and lowers her voice, “also, you might want to consider, Lloyd wasn’t keeping us from you, perhaps it was the opposite. We are a rather selective bunch.” 

You meet her bruising sneer and smile. The wine helps drown your agitation. Why should you be bothered? Once you have your money, it won’t worry what the bloated bitch thinks? Oops, let’s keep those thoughts inside. 

“Oh, I’ll be sure to thank him for that,” you wink. She frowns. 

“Leave the plates at the sink, ladies,” Gwenyth commands. “Let’s grab out coats! The powder’s fresh. It’ll be a good match.” 

It’s odd. You really didn’t take this horde of pretentious ghouls as the football type. Well, maybe not the NFL-watching, tailgating type in pickups or minivans. Still, you can’t help but be a little amped for a Christmas game. 

There’s a crunch at the front door. Andrea, Angela, and Raquel warble with Gwenyth, as Shanna, Linda, and Lana come over to admire Lillian’s bump and ask her about the birth plans, while you stand to the side and watch Beatrice with a few younger girls, the elder daughters from all those pairing, who are less than enthused about the whole show. The parade of names escape you though you hardly wonder who is who. 

Your eyes wander to the next room. The younger kids are kept busy before the large Christmas tree by women you haven’t been introduced too. You assume those are the nannies Lloyd mentioned. It’s rather grim, a family divided as if the younger generation were a nuisance. Despite the enthusiasm for Lillian’s coming child, the poor soul will only end up at kids’ table apart from their mother. 

The men chatter near the open door as a brisk wind flows in. As you reach for your coat, you collide with another. You turn in the tight space to face Ransom as he cracks his neck. 

“You going to cheer me on, baby girl?” He smirks at you. 

You stare at him crisply. You continue to pull your coat on as you censor the variations of ‘hell no’ rolling through your mind. You look around for an escape but there isn’t one. The entry way is packed with bodies. 

“It will be cathartic. You’d just be cheering on the team, not necessarily, cheering against your beloved fiance,” he snickers. 

You look at him dully, “oh, I'm certain you’ll run circles around a team full of middle aged and elder men.” 

“You love to see it,” he grins and reaches around you. Before you can react, he pinches your ass again. You hit his chest as he pulls away and rubs his fingertips together, “for good luck.” 

“You’re nasty.” 

“Look at who you came with, sweetheart,” he sticks his tongue out and turns away. “But I understand if it’s my ass you’re watching out in the snow.” 

You curl your lip as you zip up your coat and shuffle over near the women. The men disburse through the front door ahead of you. They holler at each other, pointing impatiently, “over there.”; “Ben, too far”, “No, you snap--” 

You watch them break into team in the snowy street, barren of cars in the calm of Christmas Day. You tuck your hands into your pocket as you stand along the curb and the other women puff clouds into the frigid air. Lazy flakes swirl down and add to the glowing ambiance of the wintry midday. 

William, Ransom, Linus, Dawson, and Hudson huddle on one side with the ball as the others, Benson, Lloyd, Carter, Lewis, and Owen watch, waiting to respond to the first play. You’re not expecting anything more than wobbling throws and clumsy runs, still, it’s better than arguing at the dinner table. 

Ransom gets down to snap to William. The ball passes hands as Dawson runs a route and Ransom and Linus block the front light. Hudson takes the running backs route for the fake handoff before William searches for his receiver. Not bad for amateurs, especially given the demographic. 

The ball is caught as Owen makes the touch. No proper tackle, just a tap on Dawson’s shoulders. The play end as the next play is called in the huddle. Instead of moving down the street, the team resets at the same line, counting yard from that point. 

Another snap. The run is stuffed as Lloyd makes the touch on Hudson, almost indifferent about the play. The women cheer but not at the right times. They’re not really paying attention as they garble about desserts or their hair stylists. 

“You know what would be perfect, some mulled cider,” Beatrice suggests. The comment does make you thirsty but you’re not so sure you’d trade the cold outside for that inside. 

The ball switches possessions. Lloyd takes the snap. You’re a bit surprised but Benson is swaying in his blocking position. That’s less shocking. 

Snap. A pass. Straight and on target. Carter, one of William’s brothers, makes the catch and runs for ten more. Or what’s assumed to be that man. 

A new call. Lloyd rambles out signals in a parody of a real game. “Blood. Wine. Beemer, beemer beemer. Black sheep...” Your eye is drawn by Ransom as he shifts low. You tilt your head. 

“Offside,” you mutter as the ball snaps. Ransom’s across the line before the blockers can react and before the ball can change hands. In an instant, Lloyd is in the snow beneath the other man. 

“Oh my!” “Gosh.” “Ransom...” The concern washes over the audience of women as the men stop the play and turn to look at the two men in the snow. 

The latch onto each other in a toothless brawl. Lloyd knocks Ransom into the snow and grabs his neck. Ransom grips him in turn and they roll back and forth, trying to throttle each other. The other men move to separate them. 

“You two,” William booms. 

“Oh, Ransom, what are you doing?” Linda rushes over. 

“Linda,” William growls as Lloyd is dragged away from her son. “We were kind in letting him come here after everything--” 

“Oh, don’t blame him. Your son is just as bad.” 

“My son has a job,” William snarls back. 

“Don’t worry, that cuck barely got a ding on me,” Lloyd sneers as he shrugs the other men off. There’s a raw and red patch on his cheek bone and snow in his mussed hair. Scratches peek out above his collar as he coughs. 

“Fucker’s weak as pudding,” Ransom jeers back. 

“Both of you. That’s disgusting,” William growls. “Enough. Both of you, benched.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd whines. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re ruining the game,” William says. “Both of you, go inside.” 

“He antagonized him,” Linda squalls, “you heard his play call--” 

“Your son’s grown. He can handle words,” William rebuffs. “You can go inside with them.” 

You’re disappointed. It wasn’t bad while it lasted. Lloyd chuffs and steps around his father. Several bodies move to keep him away from Ransom. He rolls his eyes and waves them off. 

“He’s not worth it,” he stomps over to you. “Whatever, let’s get some hot chocolate or some shit. Better than standing in the snow with a bunch of geezers.” 

He grabs your arm and you have no choice but to let him lead you away. You can hear Ransom pleading his own case, whining at his mom, as she huffs and sighs. The argument fades as you near the front door. 

Lloyd pushes through and drags you in with him. He checks his reflection in the wall mirror, fixing his hair as he winces. He left his coat and blazer inside, wearing only his black turtleneck, now wet from the snow and streaked with salt along his back. He shakes his head at himself. 

You undo your coat and hang it. You almost want to call it a day. You came to brunch, you faced the wolves, and there isn’t enough wine to make them tolerable. 

He touches his cheek and hisses, “ugh, bastard.” 

“Hard hit,” you say. 

“Sure was. Who knew the brat had it in him?” He gingerly presses his cheekbone, “ugh, well, Pix, how about you kiss it better?” 

“What?” You grimace. “No way.” 

“But it hurts,” he turns to you and pushes his bottom lip out. 

“Uh uh,” you cross your arms. “We need to talk. About the wedding.” 

“Really? You wanna talk about that?” 

“Lloyd, I said a courthouse.” 

“I know but...” he pauses and glances around the entry way, “come on.” 

He ushers you down the hall and into the bathroom. He shuts the door and you’re once more trapped in the tight space with a Hansen twin. He stands in front of the door as he faces you. 

“Look, I’m just trying to get this done. It’s good for both of us. You want your money, don’t you? So you need to play along.” 

“I am.” 

“It’s just a fucking ceremony and a dinner.” He argues. 

“It’s not what I agreed too.” 

“Yeah, well, we have to be convincing if we want our prize.” 

You scowl, “I really am not enjoying this whole ‘we’ narrative.” 

“That’s the script, Pixie pie. So put a little bit of energy into it.” He steps closer and you stiffen as he puts his hands on your shoulders. “Loosen up and you might actually have a bit of fun.” 

“It was supposed to be the holiday and the courthouse,” you insist. 

“Not good enough. We both know it.” 

“I want more money,” you grit. 

He pouts again, “you drive a hard bargain for such a soft little thing.” 

You push him away as he goes to stroke his cheek. 

“Two million. I’m not wearing a white dress for anything less.” 

“Baby, please, you’re bleeding me dry--” 

“I’m not blind, Lloyd.” You look around emphatically, “I know what I’m asking for is a fraction of what you’ll get. I’ve worked for you long enough to know your tactics. Whatever I ask, I’m being undersold. Two or I walk right now.” 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, “let me just see a little ass.” 

You blink, stunned by his barter. You shake your head. “Not for a three million.” 

“Ugh, fine. You’re so damn stubborn. I like it but I also hate it,” he sighs. “Two,” he pulls his hand free and offers it. You shake it with a triumphant smirk. “Let’s seal that the right way.” 

He tightens his hold on you as he grabs the back of your head and bends to smother you with a bristly kiss. You squeak before you can pull away. You scoff at him and yank your hand free to wipe your lips. 

“It’s gonna happen, Pixie,” he grins. “Trust.” 

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 4: Bubble Baths and Faded Scars✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Cut my entire heart out to write this chapter. I love love how soft Joel is, and I hope this brings a little comfort to all the healing girlies 🩷 There’s a lot of triggers in this chapter, so pay attention to the tags. I hope you enjoy this chapter because I so loved writing it.

Chapter Summary: Who knew that facing one of your fears would be so hard? It’s just a shower, but a shower is so much more to you. And just when you think you can’t face it, Joel helps you one step at a time.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6k words

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused and SA, angst, soft and protective Joel, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, shower triggers, vulnerable reader, panic attack, sweet nicknames (sweetheart, angel)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

One month. You’ve been here one entire whole month and you still haven’t been able to get yourself to step into the shower. It’s only a shower. It can’t hurt you, but they can. The memories that drag knives through your skull, leaving you to bleed out on the cracked tile. 

   It’s only memories, only deep scars from your past, but they still haunt you night and day, swearing to come back and swallow you whole with their jagged, sharp teeth — just like a great white shark. 

   Nevermind that you’ve been washing your hair in the sink or scrubbing your body until your skin glows red with the washcloth. You can’t fucking do it, but you’re going to force yourself to try today. You have to. You have got to break this traumatic cycle. 

   You can do this. It’s a shower. Only a shower. 

   Making your way cautiously to the edge of the tub, you glimpse at the metal shower head, fixate on the way it curves and dips and glares back at you with vengeance in its wake. It’s like a monster’s staring right back at you, sneering its sharp teeth and whispering nightmares into your mind. 

   Come and get me, you want to say, but it’s already sunk its razor-sharp fangs into your skin. It’s already bled you dry.

   Swallowing your fears, you stand your ground and narrow your eyes into thin slits, flexing your fingers into tight fists as you look into the face of fear. 

   It can’t hurt you, can’t wrap its long cord around your neck like they tried. But yet, it still can…

   You still feel their icy breaths blowing down your neck, still feel their filthy hands trailing up your skin, still feel the scars they clawed down your back while they had you pinned against the tiled wall. You still feel them inside you, all around you, branding you as their own forever. 

   You’re still theirs. 

   You hear their cackling laughter ringing through your eardrums as you reach for the shower head, stretching your arm through the visions of Garrett and his buddies having their way with you in the bathroom. 

   “Get out,” you mewl, chattering your teeth as you grab a hold of the bottled lavender soap from the side of the porcelain tub. You can’t let them win.

   “Look at you. All scared and helpless, begging for someone to come save you,” Garrett snickers, fisting the back of your hair as another man tears your dress off. 

   “Stop. Please…” you beg, tears streaming down and clouding your vision. “I’m worth more than this. You don’t have to…”

   “What makes you think you’re so special, princess? Nobody’s looking for you. You’re ours until we sell you. And right now? Right now you’re mine.”

   Tears slip from your lash line, falling like raindrops as they hit the edge of the tub. You remember that night so clearly, remember it like it’s happening all over. 

   Your body starts to shake the further you reach for the shower head, making it your mission to push through. But the voices echo in your mind, vibrating down your spine until you actually see their muted faces and narrowed eyes in the reflection of the metal. 

   Push through. Fight. Forget them. They’re not real anymore. But they are still real, and they’re just repeating the cycle with other innocent women that were taken…

   Just as your fingers latch around the shower head, Garrett’s voice booms through your head, ricocheting off the pristine tiled walls. “You’re mine, little whore. I’m not done with you yet.”

   “Get out of my head. I’m not yours!” you scream, dropping the shower head as it bangs a loud clash against the shower walls, startling you like a gunshot just went off. The soap tumbles out of your palm, the bottle opening and spilling lavender liquid all over the bottom of the tub, making messes you can’t get yourself to clean up. 

   You drop to the floor and cover your head with your hands, begging the yelling voices to just stop. But they don’t. They come parading in like a steep hurricane and crash their waves down on you, knocking you off center so they can snake their way into your mind to scream even louder. 

   “Stop, stop,” you whisper as a fallen teardrop hits the edge of the bathtub. And then they just keep coming like scattered storm clouds.

   You can’t fucking do this. You’re not strong enough. You’re not brave. You’re not brave. 

   Footsteps on the floorboards make your fingers curl deeper into your messy hair. You squeeze your eyes shut as the door hits the back of the wall with a loud bang. And now you’re spiraling.

   Garrett. It’s Garrett coming for you. And this time, he wants blood.

   You have to run. You have to get out, you have to leave. 

   “Hey, sweetheart—”

   “No!” you scream out in blind fear, afraid your life is about to flash before your eyes. You start to swing your arm but when you look up, you drop it right back to your side with wide eyes. 

   “Hey, it’s jus’ me. It’s me,” he reassures gently.

   When you look through your tear-stained eyelashes, the world gets a little more quiet. A green flannel fitted against broad shoulders sits before you, his silver-threaded hair glowing from the fluorescent bathroom lights, and those eyes... Those big, brown, syrupy eyes.

   Joel. 

   “Joel…” you whimper out.

   He leans down right beside you and gets on your level, brown eyes locked directly on your teary ones. “S’right. It’s me.” His hand lands on the edge of the bathtub, thumb grazing against the smooth surface. Close enough to feel the heat off his tanned skin. 

   You’re breathless, tears still streaming down your cheek, but he looks like he wants to reach out and wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. 

   “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern lathered all through his soft brown eyes.

   “I was just… I just…” You can’t finish your sentence without cringing at the shift of his shoulders.

   “Take your time, sweetheart,” he says encouragingly.

   He’s always so patient. 

   Taking a deep breath, you make yourself speak quietly. “I just wanted to get a shower. And I just can’t. I couldn’t do it. I can’t…” Tears muddle your vision, and then you’re right back into the pool you were in.

   “Breathe for me,” he coos softly, making your breathing a little easier. “There ya go,” he encourages. “Jus’ take it slow.”

   He takes a long look at the hanging shower head and the spilled lavender soap that runs down the edge of the tub, ending in a small puddle where your fear lies. It’s like he puts two and two together, like he understands exactly what happened. 

   “I made a mess with the soap, I…”

   He stops you right there. “Shh. S’okay,” he whispers. “Let me jus’ help you here, sweetheart.”

   Slowly reaching over, he turns the faucet to warm and lets fresh water run through the tub. He pours more lavender soap in, creating a pool of bubbles that cover the surface of the water. And then he puts the shower head back where it belongs, at a safe distance where it can’t touch you. And you just sit there, watching in silence as he tests out the temperature of the water next. 

   “You’re running a bath for me…”

   He stops for a moment and looks at you with big, warm eyes, looking at you as if you’re in need of saving. “Yeah, I am.”

   Gulping down a lump in your throat, you watch him get back to his task at hand. Stretching his long arms, he cuts the faucet off when the water hits just against the top of the tub. Enough for you to slip in and not spill any water out. 

   He tilts his head back to you and says, “You think you can get in by yourself?”

   Staring at the steam coming up from the warm water, you tremble inside. He drew you a bath when you didn’t have the strength to stand in a shower. He did that. He did it for you…

   Wiping your blurry eyes, you sniffle out. “I think so.”

   He gives you a small smile and then pushes himself up to his feet, nodding to the bath water as he turns the other way. “Go ahead then. I won’t look.”

   You sit there in shambles, still gawking as his broad back stands firm across the room. He’s not even peeking. He’s not trying to look at you. 

   “Sweetheart, s’alright. You can trust me.”

   You can trust me. There’s that word again. Trust. 

   Gradually, you start to pull your t-shirt over your head, cautiously dragging your leggings to the floor and hiding your purple lace underneath the fabric of your shirt. And then your bra unclasps with a snap, leaving you completely bare as you sit in a heap on the cold floor. 

   Turning your head back around, you see he’s still not looking, so you decide to slip under the warmth of the bath bubbles and sink until your body is covered from the breasts down. You pull your knees up to your chest, blanketing yourself with the large bubbles and your arms. 

   “You okay?” he asks.

   “Mhm,” you whimper out.

   “Is it alright if I turn around?”

   Freezing, your body is suddenly ice cold, despite the warmth surrounding your skin. Panic consumes you for a second, but then you remember it’s Joel. 

   He won’t hurt you.

   Balling yourself up even tighter, you make your decision. “Oh. Yeah, I umm. Okay,” you mumble out.

   The shift of his jeans and his boots tiptoeing across the floor makes your mind race, feelings of fight or flight invading your body as you work to steady your fast breath.

   You’re completely naked, stripped raw and bleeding all your insecurities and fears into the lavender soap that envelops the bath. There’s no layers covering you except the thin coating of bubbles and your curled up knees hiding what’s been taken time after time again from you. 

   You shrink yourself further into the tub, curving your back, praying your hair will cover the faded scars that slit you open night after night. You don’t want anyone to see them, can’t even stand to look at them yourself. They’re ugly reminders of what’s happened to you. Just heavy burdens weighing you down, telling you how invaluable and broken you really are. 

   Garrett used to love that… dragging glass through the top of your right shoulder, or just using his teeth to make blood run down your cracked skin. You still feel it. Every lash and bite and cut he gave you. He ruined you just like every other man that touched you in that house. Except he was the worst of them.

   You’re so fucking vulnerable and exposed, and it’s so raw. And you’re just showing all your bleeding shades of red to Joel. 

   When you hear him shift behind you and slightly feel his large presence near the bathtub, you freeze, and then your body starts to shake violently, like you just got dunked below an icy lake.

   “Hey, s’alright. It’s alright, sweetheart,” he coos as he kneels down against the side of the tub. “You’re tremblin’ like a leaf. Are you cold?”

   “N—no,” you whisper, shaking your head back and forth until you believe what you’re saying. It’s warm inside the bath water, but you’re still shuddering like you just got hit with a bucket of ice cold water.

   It’s quiet for a second before he asks, “Is it me? Do you want me to leave?”

   Briefly flicking your teary eyes up at him, you take a long look at his concerned face, embracing those warm brown eyes that you could get lost in. 

   Do you really want him to leave? If he does, that means you’ll be all alone with the roaring thoughts in your head. And you don’t want to be alone. Not really. You want him to stay because the truth is… he makes you feel not so alone. 

   He feels like fresh air.

   “No. I… I don’t want you to go,” you whisper, keeping your eyes locked right on those deep brown pools.

   He gives you a tight-lipped nod and takes a good look at your face, like he can just slip inside your mind and feel everything you’ve ever felt in those last two years.

   “M’not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Gonna stay right here. Right where you need me.” His words pull at your heartstrings, stopping the screaming voices in your mind. 

   He said he’ll stay. 

   You… need him. 

   Sitting there curled up in shambles, you don’t move. You just wade in the soapy bubbles and look up bashfully beneath your eyelashes, praying he’ll keep the flashbacks at bay. You don’t know when exactly you grabbed a washcloth, but your knuckles are white from how tight you’re holding on. Maybe it’s helping keep you sane right now.

   Don’t let the memories come flooding back. Keep me from sinking, Joel. 

   His thumb traces along the edge of the tub, while his other grabs the open bottle of lavender soap. And then he looks at you, hesitating before he speaks. He almost looks like he doesn’t know what to say, like he’ll scare you off or say the wrong thing. 

   He could never scare you, you think. No. Never. 

   “Can I?” He tilts his head toward your exposed back, his calloused fingers still skimming the surface while your heart beats sporadically from what he’s asking. 

   Swallowing the words that threaten to spit out, you push them back and nod cautiously, allowing him to take the purple washcloth from your shaking palm. He brushes his calloused skin against yours, and you jump at the contact.

   “Hey, s’okay. I’m gonna be real gentle, sweetheart. You just tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop.” His deep timbre stops the panic, and all you can do is hang your head lower and focus on the slow deep breathing technique Joel taught you last week.

   “Okay…” you whisper out in a hushed breath. 

   The first touch of the soapy washcloth feels like knives to your skin, carving you up slowly as your body is served to the slaughterhouse. It almost feels like Garrett behind you, cackling as he had his way with you all those times. And when he slides the washcloth down your spine again, you hear a quiet sob escape your lips. 

   You weren’t supposed to show him this side. One that’s so torn apart and abused and broken. You weren’t supposed to show him your scars…

   “Sweetheart, s’alright,” he coos, blowing his warm breath against the back of your head as he stops his slow strokes for just a moment. “You’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you…” he repeats again slowly, quietly.

   Swiping a falling tear away with the back of your arm, you let him continue. He’s so gentle with every movement, taking care to watch your reactions, back off if something seems too much. He listens to your body language and respects you because he knows how scary this is for you. You don’t want anyone to touch you, but you think this is okay. Because the truth is, you couldn’t do this without him. 

   Slowly brushing your hair to the side, he washes along the back of your neck, gently going over the curve of your shoulders, down your spine, and stopping where your body is submerged. 

   “Tilt your head back for me, sweetheart,” he asks politely, reaching to grab the bottle of shampoo. You do as he says. 

   He fills a little bucket with water and slowly runs it through your hair, until it’s all drenched in warmth. Next, he laces his thick fingers through your hair, scrubbing your scalp to get all the knots and tangles and sweat out. You fight to hold in a low groan, reveling in how good it feels to have his fingers running through your locks in such a gentle way. 

   And he stays there, talking you through it, telling you it’s all okay. And he’s so gentle. Almost like a little lamb with those brown eyes that could soothe you into a deep lull, calm your flying thoughts until you’re just standing still. 

   No one’s ever done this, taken the time to care. You’ve never had someone to do that. He’s doing what no one else signed up to do. 

   But why… why would he do this? You’re nothing. At least that’s what they told you back at the house. That’s what Angela said while Garrett had you pinned to the dining room chair, breathing all down your ear, his teeth dragging until he left marks.

   You shiver in place, teeth chattering even though you’re in warm bath water. But right now you feel like you’re ten feet under a frozen lake, and you need Joel to pull you out.

   The visions of Garrett come rushing back, clouding your better judgement and making you fold over again in fear. 

   Get out. Get out of my head. 

   But you’re right back at that stagnant old house. You’re back in Garrett’s hands…

   Fuck. Why’d you have to remember that night…

   It’d be so easy to slip under the surface of the bubbles, embrace the black seas that would drag you under into oblivion. You could just sink into the warmth, watch the real world disappear along with all your memories. Melt into a peaceful bliss. You could just end it all, but you don’t want that. You want to live, to face your fears, to go on living. You want to be brave. You want… you want… 

   “Sweetheart? What is it?” he asks lightly as he watches a tear break the surface of the water. 

   “I… I just…” You trail off, staring at the shower head, trembling as you remember everything. 

   His eyes follow yours, and it’s like he sees right through your thin layers of red.

   You’re scared. You’re so fucking terrified. 

   Joel knocks you out of your dark mindset, his Southern drawl taking that fear away. “Hey, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

   “Umm. I…”

   “S’okay if you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it. Jus’ tryin’ to understand what happened so I can help. I want to help. If you’ll let me.”

   You turn his words over and over in your mind, contemplating if you want to let him in. But honestly, talking to Joel does make you feel a little better. And keeping everything bottled up inside is eating you alive, so maybe talking about it will help. Joel will help. He always helps… 

   You take a deep breath and let it all out. “I just… I used to be so independent. I did everything for myself and now? Now I can barely do anything…”

   “Hey. S’alright, sweetheart. You’ll get back to that point one day. You’re gonna be okay.”

   “I don’t feel okay.”

   He stops the slow movements of his wrist, rests the washcloth against the middle of your back. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

   “He hurt me…”

   The room turns silent, not even the splash of water meets the white noise in the bathroom. That is, until you hear his knuckles flex.

   “What?” he asks in a husky breath.

   “He hurt me,” you repeat, your voice dropped an octave lower.

   “Who, sweetheart? Tell me who hurt you.” He’s attentive, all attention on you, his eyes dark chocolate when they lock with yours.

   “Garrett… The one that sold me. He… he…” Your voice quivers into silence, only the quiet sobs escaping your throat.

   “Hey, s’okay. You’re okay,” he coos. “He’s not here and he never will be again. He won’t touch you again. Ever. And I… Well, I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ll never hurt you. You’re safe now.”

   You’re safe now. You’re safe with him.

   Your eyes drop back down to the bubbles, shining under the fluorescent lights, your hands skimming under the water against your hidden legs. “Back at the house, we weren’t really allowed to take showers alone. Well, not all the girls. One of them just happened to be me…”

   Pausing to flinch, you start again when he doesn’t interrupt. “No matter how much I fought back or screamed or tried to get away, they just held me down against the tile wall. And Garrett was the worst of them, even if he was the one trying to sell me. He was the one that used me the most. Said I was his favorite plaything,” you spit out, sinking your nails deep into your ankles to relieve some of the heartache.

   “Jesus Christ…” His voice drops an octave, and you feel his fingers flex against the washcloth, ringing it dry as he takes his frustration out on it. 

   “And the shower head,” you continue. “They… they umm, did things to me with it. Horrible, awful things.” You see his lips part, eyes widening in horror out of your peripheral vision. He doesn’t like this anymore than you do. “They should’ve just finished me off when they strangled me with it while they had my face pressed against the wall…” You choke on a sob, like you’re reliving that night over right now. You still feel it. The press of the coiled hose wrapped tightly around your neck, choking you as they had their way with your frayed body. 

   Joel sits back on his heels, looking at you like you’re made of glass. Like he’s afraid one wrong word will send you over the edge. “Sweetheart, I… Fuck. M’so sorry that you went through that. That I didn’t get you out sooner. I swear to God if I ever get my hands on Garrett or any of those men, I’m gonna make ‘em pay. They’ll wish they never laid a finger on you. I’m gonna fuckin—” 

   You stop him from going any further. You don’t need him to be the knight in shining armor right now. You just need someone to listen. “You’ve done enough, Joel. You don’t have to. What’s done is done. I’ll never be anything more than something to use to them, and they’ll never change.”

   Staring off into the waves of water, you try to let the bubbles wash your pain away, but another tear slips free, falling down the side of your cheek.

   “Hey, look at me for a second,” he asks softly. You turn to face him all teary eyed, and he catches the tear from falling. His knuckles brush tenderly against your skin for just a second, and then his warmth is gone the second he pulls away. He doesn’t let it linger, but you almost wish he would. His touch is so feather-like. So soft and gentle and warm.  

   He takes a good look at your somber face and sighs, his fingers knocking against the side of the tub. “You never deserved any of that abuse. And I’m sick to death that it happened to you. But you can’t jus’… You gotta keep goin’, sweetheart. You gotta keep livin’. You have so much to give. You’re so full of life and bright and the bravest girl I’ve ever met, and you—”

   “Brave?”

   “S’right, sweetheart. Jus’ like I said the other day in the parking lot. You’re so very brave. And you’ve got a lifetime ahead of you jus’ waitin’.” He stares at the washcloth for a second, but then he’s looking back up at you. “It’s gonna be hard. God, it’s gonna be so fuckin’ hard for a while, but you’re gonna make it. With a little help, you’re gonna soar.” 

   You feel water burn the backs of your eyes, feel like you’re going to implode right now in this bathtub. But you push the fears away and look back up into the soft brown eyes of a man who cares what happens to you. 

   “It’s not gonna be easy, but you’re gonna get through it. You’re gonna have bad days where you feel like you can’t do anything, but those are the days you gotta jus’ take it one step at a time, like today. And those are the kinda days where it’s okay to ask for help. I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here to help, whatever I can with. I jus’ want you to be okay, sweetheart. That’s all I want. For you to live.”

   Your heart clenches in your chest as you gaze into those soft brown eyes. And you just stare with your arms wrapped around your legs, almost want to reach out and graze your fingers through his sandy brown locks. He does something to you. Makes you feel like you’re worth saving. Makes you feel alive. Makes you feel like a human being. 

   He had every chance to take advantage of you in here. He could’ve done anything, but he chose to protect you and take care of you instead. 

   He took care of you. 

   So you continue to stare into those glossy brown eyes, memorizing every speck of gold in his flecked irises. He kinda reminds you of sunshine, warm rays of yellow and orange peeking over the horizon. 

   He reminds you of safety. He’s safe.  

   You shift in the bubbles that cover you, watch as the water breaks against your knees, and then your eyes are back on him just like you’re mesmerized. “How is it that every single particle of me doesn’t want to trust another man ever again, but I trust you?”

   A smile crosses his lips. “You trust me?”

   “Mhm.”

   He takes a good look at you and smiles wider, making his dimple sink into his left cheek. It tugs a little at your heartstrings. “Well then, thank you for trustin’ me.”

   You nod and peek up through your eyelashes, waiting a few seconds before you confess something. “You make me feel safe…”

   His brown eyes delve deep into yours, and his smile still hasn’t faded. “That’s ’cause you are, sweetheart. You’re safe with me. Always. I would rather kill a thousand men than ever lay a harmful finger on you. You’re too special for that, sweet girl. You deserve good things. You deserve the world.”

   His voice sounds like velvet. Smooth, delicate, soft. And even though you’re laid out like bare bones and crumbled dust, he seems to cover all your vulnerabilities and put all your broken pieces back together like glue.

   Somehow, he can knock the breath out of you but also give you an overabundance of oxygen at the same time. He’s good at that. Bringing you life when you feel like you’re getting buried alive. He gives life. Gives you life. And you feel so alive around him.

   You could drown in this bathtub, disappear under the thick sheen of bubbles until the world goes silent, but he wouldn’t let you go so easily. So maybe you’ll just drown in him instead. 

   Silence resonates over the bathroom. Only the longing stares and unspoken words fill the empty void. And it’s so obvious now why every time you stare into those soft brown eyes you fall a little more. 

   That’s it. You’re falling for him. Slowly, cautiously, silently. And maybe one day he’ll catch you, too. Maybe you’ll just fall into his arms one day when you’re a bit braver. Maybe he’ll take the sting out of your bleeding wounds. Maybe he’ll be exactly what you’ve needed all along. 

   But today, you’re not that brave. So you’ll just keep it bottled up like you do most things. For now, you’ll just let the slow burn simmer until it’s an uncontrollable wildfire that bursts into fiery flames. 

   Another few minutes pass by and just as the bath water starts to get cold, Joel asks, “You ‘bout ready to get out, sweetheart?”

   “Yeah. It’s getting a little cold now.”

   “Alright. Well, here’s a clean towel. Gonna put it right here for you.” He sets a fluffy white towel next to the side of the tub and nods his head toward the sink. “And I put your pajamas on the counter for you.”

   “Thank you,” you reply quietly, fascinated by the lengths he goes to make sure you’re taken care of.

   “You gonna be okay?” he asks, his words softening like his gentle brown eyes.

   “I think so,” you nod as a bubble pops around you. 

   “Alright, sweetheart.” He pushes off the floor with a grunt and heads toward the closed door, his hand reaching for the doorknob. “Well, I’ll let you get dried off and changed. I’m jus’ gonna…”

   “Joel?” You stop him before he leaves the room.

   “Yeah?” He turns his head, slicking a hand back through his dark locks.

   “Thank you… for being here for me.”

   A gentle smile meets his lips and a soft chuckle comes out. “Anytime, angel. Anytime.”

   Angel. He called you angel. 

   With one more glance, he’s exiting the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him. You sink into the tub, letting out a deep breath and closing your eyes. 

   Joel did it. He helped you take a small step forward, helped you face one of your fears. And he didn’t push you, didn’t even nudge you toward the shower head. Instead, he drew you a bath and helped you get through it in one piece. You don’t think you can ever say enough words to thank him for what he did tonight. But deep down, he knows. 

   After drying off and throwing on your pink pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, you run the towel through your wet strands and rake the brush through your locks, already exhausted from the exertion of your shower meltdown. But then relief hits you that you took one step. 

   The first step is always the hardest, and Joel was right there, holding your hand the entire way. He was the reason you made it into the bathtub. And with him, it wasn’t as scary as you thought it’d be. Although, it was still terrifying, but you did it. 

   One step forward, no more back. 

   When you’re slipping under the sheets and about to turn off the bedside lamp, a slight knock sounds across the room, and your head snaps to the closed door, pulling your hand back from the lit lamp. 

   “Come in,” you echo across the big room. 

   The doorknob turns and in comes Joel, hesitantly hovering by the threshold of the open door, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You all settled?”

   “All settled,” you reply, shifting just a smidge beneath the warm comforter.

   “That’s good.” He leans against the doorway, his broad muscles pulling against the flannel fabric, eyes as warm as the first night you saw them. 

   You fidget your fingers around a thin piece of string, flicking your eyes nervously up at the man that stands in the glow of the dim hall lights. A man that helped you face one of your fears. And suddenly, you can’t think of what to say, so you just silently stare up at him until he speaks. 

   “Jus’ wanted to see if you got to bed alright.” He hovers there, big hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heel of his leather boots. 

   “Oh, right. Yeah, guess I made it alright.”

   He nods, giving you another soft smile in return. “You need anything? Water, tea?” 

   Shaking your head, you smile. “No. I think I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

   “Anytime, sweetheart.”

   Another pause and then he’s slowly turning away from you. “Well, uhh. I’ll let you get some sleep, sweetheart. S’been a long day—”

   “Wait,” you stop him and watch him turn back toward you, his eyebrows threaded together, an eager stare masking his face. 

   “Yeah?” he asks, anticipation hanging in the air. 

   This is it. You gulp down a breath, blow one out, and let another fall from your lips. “Joel, I just wanted to say thank you. For… for helping me take that first step of facing something that’s been eating me alive.”

   He nods, the pad of his thumb brushing over his denim jeans. “You were brave doin’ that, you know? After what you’ve been through… That took a lot of guts.”

   “Yeah…” you whisper out, nails digging deep into the blanket over your thighs, but then you flick your eyes up to him. “Not just for that either but also for listening to me. You didn’t have to…”

   “I did have to, though. That’s what you needed. Someone to listen.”

   Your eyes widen, throat tightens up, and you feel the prick of a tear meet your lash line. He wants to listen to you. He didn’t shut you out when you needed to get a little weight off your shoulders.

   Brushing away the tear before it can fall, you give him a look that says how desperate you are to be free from these nightmares that plague your mind. “Maybe if I just… talk about it then maybe it won’t hurt so bad.”

   His face drops, and his big, sad eyes look like a lost puppy who just watched its owner drive off without them. “Oh, sweetheart… I’m always here. I’ll always listen. You jus’ let me know when, and I’ll be right by your side. And Tess will listen. Ya know, when you’re ready, that is. But I’ll be your outlet when you need one.”

   You tug on a little smile, giving everything you have to show him how grateful you are he’s here. If it wasn’t for him, you might’ve been lost to the shadows already. But there he is, trying to pull you into the sunlight. 

   Sunlight. He’s sunlight. 

   “You always seem to know exactly what to say, don’t you?” you say reassuringly, eyes glossy as you look up into pools of warmth. 

   He shrugs his broad shoulders and gives you a crooked smile. “I try, sweetheart.”

   There’s a pause in the room, a silence that’s fallen like snow. You’ve suddenly forgotten how to speak so instead, you lift the blanket higher under your chin and slip down further in the bed, letting a yawn leave your lips. 

   Joel shifts by the door and places a large hand on the handle, about to make his exit. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep, sweetheart.”

   “Yeah, good idea,” you yawn again, now realizing how tired you actually are. 

   But before he steps out, he turns back and looks at you with those sappy brown eyes you can’t seem to get out of your head. “Oh, before I forget…” He pauses to take a breath. “They might’ve tried to drain you, deplete you of everything inside you, but they didn’t steal it all. You’ve still got your shine, your soul, your heart. And they can’t ever take that from you. You’ve got so much potential in you, and I see it all. You’re gonna glow. I already see that flame in you. S’burnin’ brighter than a wildfire.”

   Eyes as wide as can be, you swallow back a choke and feel your eyes swimming. Did he really just say that?

   Brighter than a wildfire. 

   You open your mouth but nothing comes out. It’s like you’re stunned in place, frozen under a bright spotlight with nowhere to run. Nowhere except maybe to Joel because he’s at the end of the bright light just waiting for you. 

   He’s waiting. 

   “Thanks for seeing that I was worth saving…” you whisper out, still enamored by his kind words, his doe eyes, his beautiful heart. 

   “You’re welcome, angel,” he smiles, his hand still hovering over the doorknob. “Well, good night, sweetheart. Try to get some sleep.”

   “Good night…”

   And then he’s shutting the door softly, leaving you still mesmerized and bewitched by all the events that unraveled this evening. But most of all, you can’t forget every single word he said to you. 

   He sees potential in you, sees it all. He thinks you were worth saving. Thinks you’re gonna glow and shine and thrive. 

   As you rest your head on the fluffy pillow and close your eyes, all you see is Joel. Joel Joel Joel. And he’s the last thing you see before you slip off into a deep sleep. Except he’s still there in your dreams, shining like gold under the sunlight. 

   He’s sunlight. 

Tag List: @clawdee @jellybeanxc @lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra

@whxtedreams @sawymredfox @sanarsi @mountainsandmayhem @bitchytimetravelqueen

@southernbe @katinasweeney @pixelspunk @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@christinamadsen @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @littlevenicebitch69 @alltheirdamn

@inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @fandomdaydreamer @elliaze

@callmecath1 @kulekehe @yorkshirewench @untamedheart81

@tateypots @stylesispunk @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @mellymbee @pascalsbae

@locaparapedrito @ladyofmidlo72 @readingiskeepingmegoing @copperhalfcent @axshadows

@here-briefly @cozylittlepigeon @pastawench @keylimebeag @joelsoftie

@romanarose @captainredspade @megangovier @bishtrouille @almodovarispunk

@papipascaaaal @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @bambisweethearts @puddles221b

@valkyreally @northennlights

[henry7931]

Swap Short: Thanksgiving Edition

Not My Cousin Andrew’s Body!

Jamie:

I loath the thought of Thanksgiving because my family is so freaking weird! Every year we get together and all of us stay in my Uncle’s house for the night before Thanksgiving. And right before bed all of us are forced to play this dumb game. We call it, ‘guess who.’ (Which is nothing like the board game btw.)

Basically everyone randomly swaps bodies with someone else and none of us know who’s in who. We all have to try our best at pretending to know whoever’s body we’re in that year. And the last two who don’t get guessed correctly basically win bragging rights and like $500. I personally don’t want to participate but I don’t have much of a choice.

So when I arrived at my Uncle’s house, I caught up with my family. I felt the my nerves kick in every time someone mentioned the game.

I looked around the room, thinking to myself who would I be comfortable being for a day. Probably my Uncle Peter or maybe my little cousin Davie. I haven’t swapped with either of them yet. But I know one person who I’d hate to swap bodies with… my cousin Andrew. I find him repulsive!

He’s one of those far right guys who just has the most punchable face you’ve ever seen. He looks like he skips a bath every other day and I’m confident that he’s not a fan of gay people. I don’t know, I try to avoid him at all cost. Luckily I haven’t swapped with him yet and I’m hoping it stays that way.

By the time the night started to wrap up, I was so ready to go to bed. I say good night to everyone and laid in bed slowly falling asleep thinking about who I was going to be in the morning.

The Next Day…

As I wake up, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. It’s just so dark in the room but it doesn’t take me long to realize that I was no longer in the room I fell asleep in.

I stumble to find a lamp and turn it on. As I swing my new borrowed legs out of bed. I stared down at the feet that I now control.

I don’t even get up quickly, my mind races eliminating who I could possibly be until i conform who’s stubby toes I’m looking at. Andrews.

“SHITTTT FUCKKK!!! WHHHYYYYYY!!!!”

I stand up feeling Andrew’s heavier frame move and almost want to cry. I look the in mirror confirming what I already knew.

“Well this fucking sucks.”

I stare at his reflection taking it all in when I realize something else. I’m hard as a rock right now.

The bulge underneath his pjs was begging for my attention. And I didn’t want anything to do with it.

I try to ignore it but it’s difficult. His body is just soo horny!

I walk myself through the logistics and my best conclusion was to just close my eyes and pretend I’m in my body.

So I lay back in bed and pull off the pajama bottoms. And the smell of ball sweat fills my nostrils.

My eyes are still closed and I reach down to touch his dick. As his fingers embrace his dick, I feel a rush come over me.

His dick… it’s so sensitive especially his cockhead.

I trace his fingers along his balls and feel so turned on. And it’s like I don’t even have pretend anymore that I’m still myself. Even in my cousins body, it’s kinda hot jerking off with someone else’s dick.

I pump faster and faster… I start to moan. I open my eyes and stare down at my cousin’s junk.

I bring his fingers up and sniff them… they smell like a jockstrap. Who knows the last time he’s washed his dick.

I pump faster and faster…

And then the freaking door swings open!

“What the fuck!”

It’s my body standing at the door. I thought about stopping but I’m too deep into it.

He slams the door shut and runs over.

“Jamie! What the hell dude!!! Stop playing with my dick in front of me.”

“I… can’t …stop! Your body… it’s too…. Horny!!”

“Shit! Here,” he says pulling my fingers off of his dick.

Andrew wraps his fingers around it and starts working it in a way that feels a million times better.

I can’t handle it! I end up cumming everywhere and he’s now soaked in it.

“Are you kidding me??? God of course this is what happens when I swap with my gay cousin!”

“Oh come on!! It’s your body, you think I wanted to do that?”

“Maybe! I don’t know, you’re the one who likes dick!”

“Well it looks like you enjoyed the show too!”

Andrew looks down and he’s now rocking a boner. His face turns red.

“Did you enjoy jerking yourself off?,” I say to him.

He looks away and groans. “Yeah… it was kinda hot.”

“Yeah well I have to say it was hot watching my body doing the work as well. You definitely know your way with your dick”

I look at my boner and get an idea.

I grab Andrew and tug him into bed.

“What are you doing?”

“A favor.”

I pull off the pair of shorts I had on last night and my dick comes flying out.

“Wait! Are you about to?”

I grab my dick and force it down Andrew’s throat.

“Holy shit!” he screams out.

I put in the work and feel him running my hands over his body.

I run my fingers down my balls to my taint and then my hole. He squirms and lets out a little noise as I insert his digits into my hole. He tries to complain until he realizes just how good it feels.

I then pull back and decided to try something a little more freaky.

I laugh to myself thinking about how much of a mind fuck this has to be for my conservative cousin. I take both of his feet and lick them.

“Fuckkkk why is that so hot to watch,” he says to me.

“Oh you like watching me lick your feet? What if I did this…”

I wrap his toes around my dick and start pumping. He’s moaning so loud now and ends up exploding all over them.

And reaches for one of his feet and rubs the cum covered foot on my face.

“Oh my god, that was… that was amazing…” he says out of breath.

I grin at him and say, “ I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“But don’t get any ideas! I’m not gay!!”

“Are you sure? Because you just rubbed your cum covered foot all over.”

He gets agitated and says, “YEAH WELL! ITS ONLY BECAUSE IM IN YOUR GAY ASS BODY!”

I laugh and say , “then why am I not attracted to girls then Andrew?”

“Well… that’s a good point.”

“So how about you whip off my face and go get ready for the day cuz.”

Andrew grabs my shorts and throws them on.

“Don’t forget my face!”

He turns around and grabs a rag. He whips it and throws it on the ground. I giggle loudly as he storms out of the room slamming the door.

“Shit, that almost made this worth it!,” I say laying back in his naked body.

The rest of the day was fun. Mainly because I got to fuck with Andrew the entire time and he couldn’t say shit!

Andrew sat across from me and I pulled off his shoes. And then just one sock.

I sit back in the chair crossing my arms and stared at him while wiggling his toes.

Andrew gazes at them for a minute before standing up and storming out again.

As the day goes on, I watched my family trying there hardest to put up a front for everyone. My little cousin Davie was the first one out, ironically he swapped bodies with my uncle Peter.

He was pretty easy since he kept talking about how cool it was being an adult. Then it was my dad and my grandpa, then my aunt and her son… soon it came down to only four of us.

None of us were aloud to out one another. Now it’s up to the rest of the family to guess. You have my brother Ashton and my other Uncle Jessie. And then me and Andrew.

But it was one wrong guess that lead me to a victory. ✌️ Yep! I won the game (and so did Andrew technically).

We both got ushered to the front and they asked us to say a few words.

I speak up and say, “Well, I’m happy I swapped with Andrew this year. I feel like we got to know each other better and can’t say we’ve ever been closer. Is that right Andrew?” I say wrapping his strong arm around him.

“Yeah… I agree, we’re so much closer now.”

“Well good job guys!,” I says Uncle Pete in Davie body.

I grin and discreetly grab one of my butt cheeks which causes Andrew to blush.

I hear him say under his breath, “I hate you.”

“Yeah well, you got a few more hours and then we get to do this again next year,” I say softly back to him.

“Great…”

We all head to the dinner table and I purposely sit across from Andrew.

“So who’s ready for some turkey?”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto Wolff with wife reader. Feat their son, Jack. Celebrating Merc 1-2 in Las Vegas!!!! What's better than that? Anything. Fluff/suggestive. (Heard they're going out that night celebrating, must be wild party🤭) Thanks!! :))

Las Vegas was a spectacle on any night, but tonight, it felt like the city itself was celebrating Mercedes' one-two finish. It wasn’t just about the race; it was about Toto. Seeing him standing tall and proud, grinning ear to ear as his team flooded the podium, sent a wave of pride through you.

Your son, Jack, tugged on your dress, eyes sparkling as the bright lights of the city reflected in them. “Did you see Daddy up there, Mum? He looked like a superhero!”

You chuckled, ruffling his dark hair. “He’s always a superhero, Jack.”

Now, hours later, you found yourself in the suite, Jack snuggled on the couch with his tablet while you prepared for the night ahead. The air buzzed with excitement as the Mercedes team had gone all out planning a grand celebration.

When Toto stepped out of the bathroom, your heart skipped. He wore a crisp black shirt with the top two buttons undone, sleeves rolled just enough to show off his watch and his strong forearms. He caught you staring and smirked, walking closer to place his hands on your hips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he teased, voice low. “We still have a party to attend.”

You raised a brow. “Who says I’m looking at you in any particular way?”

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

A warmth spread across your face as Jack called out from the couch. “Are we going now? I want to see Uncle Lewis and George!”

Toto straightened, laughing as he turned to Jack. “You, my boy, are staying here with the babysitter. Adults only tonight.”

Jack groaned, dramatically falling back onto the cushions. “Fine. But if there’s cake, save me some!”

By the time you arrived at the club, it was in full swing. Music pulsed through the air, and the Mercedes crew was already halfway to a wild night. You spotted Lewis on the dance floor, sunglasses on despite the darkness, while George attempted to pull off moves that made you burst into laughter.

Toto pulled you close, one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. “You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured against your temple.

“I’d say the same about you,” you replied, tracing a finger along his jaw. “But we both know you always look good.”

He tilted his head back and laughed, the sound full and unrestrained. It wasn’t often you saw him so carefree, and it made your heart swell.

As the night wore on, the drinks flowed freely, and the music seemed to take hold of everyone. Toto surprised you by leading you to the dance floor, his movements smooth and deliberate as he guided you along to the beat.

“You’re a good dancer,” you teased.

“I have to keep up with you somehow,” he replied, dipping his head closer until his lips grazed your ear. “Besides, I need to make sure no one else gets the wrong idea about whose wife you are.”

The suggestive edge in his tone made your cheeks flush.

“Possessive much?”

“Always.”

Hours later, when you finally returned to the suite, Jack was asleep in his makeshift fort on the couch. Toto looked at him, his expression softening as he gently tucked the blanket around him.

As you both slipped into bed, he pulled you close, his voice low in the quiet room. “You know, tonight wasn’t just about the team. It was about us. Everything I do, every win, it’s for this. For you and Jack.”

Toto’s sincerity never failed to undo you. You leaned in, kissing him softly. “We’re proud of you, always.”

And in the glow of Las Vegas, with the sound of the city humming below, you fell asleep in his arms, feeling like the luckiest woman alive.

[misshoneyimhome]

What's up buttercups!

So, we’re kicking off Sexy Christmas a little early this year—because why not? 🎄✨

And what better way to jump-start the holiday vibes than with the generous helping of Willy-deliciousness? ❤️‍🔥 Buckle up for a mix of holiday cheer, tension, and a whole lot of heat. I hope you enjoy this festive treat!

Happy (early) holidays and happy reading babes!

➼｡ﾟ

Naughty Under the Tree - William Nylander

OC unwraps an unexpected gift from her hockey player love interest—him, wearing only a strategically placed ribbon, waiting for her under the Christmas tree.

Tropes & Warnings: 18+ smut, William Nylander x reader oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v)

Word count: 2.2K

The quiet hum of Christmas jazz filled the room as the golden glow of the tree lights reflected off your dark red silk pyjamas. The set—a matching button-up top and shorts—had been a spontaneous indulgence for the holidays. It hugged your curves just enough to feel elegant but comfortable, perfect for a cosy evening spent unwrapping gifts.

And yet, the most important gift was still missing: your boyfriend.

You glanced at the clock and sighed, swirling the last bit of wine in your glass. William had been acting strange all day, sneaking off with a mischievous grin that made you suspicious. Now, you were alone on the couch, the festive atmosphere of the room only accentuating the absence of his usual playful energy.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the message.

William: Be ready in 5. Trust me. Close your eyes when I say so.

Your brow furrowed, but your lips curled into a smile. What was he up to this time? You placed your glass on the coffee table and leaned back into the sofa cushions, deciding to play along.

Moments later, you heard the door open. The familiar creak of his footsteps mixed with the faint rustle of bags. “You’re back,” you called out, your voice laced with curiosity.

“Stay there,” he replied, his tone teasing. “And close your eyes. No peeking.”

You sighed dramatically but obeyed, shutting your eyes and crossing your arms. “This better not involve glitter or reindeer antlers,” you teased.

He chuckled, the sound growing closer. “Just trust me.”

You heard the soft shuffle of movement near the Christmas tree, followed by the faint clink of ornaments shifting. The seconds stretched, and your anticipation built until finally, his voice broke through the silence.

“Okay,” he said, a smile audible in his tone. “Open your eyes.”

You blinked your eyes open—and gasped.

William lay sprawled out beneath the Christmas tree, the twinkling lights casting golden highlights across his toned body. He was entirely bare except for a single large red ribbon tied around his hips, the bow sitting precariously low on his waist. His golden hair was slightly tousled, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he rested his head on one hand, looking like a gift-wrapped fantasy come to life.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his grin boyish yet impossibly alluring.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you fought back laughter and heat rising in your cheeks. “Oh my God,” you breathed, unsure whether to scold him or climb on top of him. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he said, gesturing to himself. “I’m your present. Unwrap me.”

You shook your head, your laughter finally spilling out. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me for it,” he countered, his grin softening as he propped himself up slightly. His voice dropped to a lower, more serious tone. “You’ve been stressed lately. I just wanted to give you something… more special.”

Your smile softened, your heart melting at his words. You moved closer to him, kneeling by the edge of the tree. “You’re already the best gift,” you said, your fingers reaching out to trace the ribbon resting on his waist.

His breath hitched slightly at your touch, and you noticed his grin shift into something more serious. “Good,” he murmured, “because I’m all yours tonight.”

Your hand lingered on his bare skin, and the playful tension between you thickened into something deeper. He reached up, brushing his fingers along your cheek, and the gesture made your heart flutter. Slowly, he sat up, his face mere inches from yours, and leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss.

The kiss started soft, tender, but quickly deepened as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as his lips moved against yours, igniting a fire in your chest. Without thinking, you climbed onto his lap, your silky pyjamas brushing against his bare skin. His hands roamed over your thighs, pushing the hem of your shorts up slightly as he groaned into the kiss.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire.

You smiled into the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair as you pressed your body closer to his, feeling his hardness slowly growing. The ribbon slipped loose from his waist, falling to the side as your hands explored the hard planes of his chest, savouring the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

Breaking the kiss for just a moment, William rose effortlessly, lifting you in his arms as he carried you to the sofa. He set you down gently, hovering over you as the tree lights bathed you both in a soft, romantic glow.

“You’re overdressed,” he teased, his voice a low murmur as his fingers toyed with the buttons on your pyjama top.

“Are you going to do something about it?” you challenged, your tone breathless yet playful, a hint of anticipation lacing your words.

William’s lips curved into a smirk, his blue eyes darkening with desire. “Gladly.”

He didn’t need further encouragement. His hands moved deftly, undoing each button with deliberate, torturous slowness, as though savouring every moment of unveiling you. His lips never left your skin, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jawline, down the curve of your neck, and across the delicate line of your collarbone. Each press of his lips sent tiny sparks dancing across your body, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

When he reached the last button, he paused, his fingers brushing over the open fabric of your top as the cool air whispered across your bare skin. A shiver coursed through you, though it had nothing to do with the temperature. The silky fabric slid off your shoulders with ease, pooling around your elbows. William’s gaze raked over you, his expression a mixture of awe and reverence.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as his hands traced the curves of your exposed body. His palms brushed over the soft swell of your breasts, down the curve of your waist, and along your hips, each touch igniting a fire that burned hotter with every second.

His lips followed his hands, trailing featherlight kisses across your collarbone, down the centre of your chest, and along the soft curves that rose and fell with each unsteady breath. The deliberate slowness of his movements was intoxicating, his attention making you feel like you were the centre of his universe.

His kisses deepened, growing more urgent as he slid the waistband of your pyjama shorts down your hips, revealing bright red lace beneath. He paused, his lips hovering above your exposed skin, his breath hot against your thighs as his hands roamed over your body.

“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he muttered, his voice low and filled with want.

Your hands found their way into his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you tugged him closer. “Good,” you whispered, your voice trembling but firm.

He smirked against your skin before his lips found yours again, fiery and consuming, his kiss a perfect blend of tenderness and raw passion. His hands slipped under the lace, his fingers brushing against your sensitive core, drawing a gasp from your lips. He teased you with light strokes, circling your clit with just the right pressure before slipping a finger inside you, his touch both gentle and confident.

“William,” you breathed his name, your voice a plea and a prayer all at once.

He watched your face as he worked his magic, adding another finger to stretch you gently, curling and pumping them in a rhythm that made your breath hitch with every movement. His thumb pressed against your clit, coaxing soft whimpers from you as your hips instinctively rocked against his hand.

“I could make you come just like this,” he whispered, his voice thick with pride and affection, his gaze locked on yours. “But not tonight. Tonight, I want to feel every part of you.”

Before you could respond, he shifted lower, his hands gripping your thighs as he knelt between them. He pressed his mouth against your core, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles that made you arch against him. His fingers continued their slow rhythm inside you, complementing the movements of his mouth in a way that left you utterly undone.

“William,” you gasped, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you as your body tightened with pleasure.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat through you. His mouth was relentless, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to push you closer and closer to the edge.

And when the climax hit, it was nothing but overwhelming, your body trembling as a wave of pure ecstasy washed over you. Your moans filled the room, your fingers tightening in his hair as he held you steady, his movements slowing as he guided you through the aftermath.

He rose to meet you, his lips brushing against yours, tasting like the very essence of you. William laid you back on the sofa, his body fitting perfectly against yours. The feel of his bare skin against yours was intoxicating, the warmth of him grounding you as the firelight cast flickering shadows across his face.

“I need you,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing as he positioned himself above you.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders as he aligned himself with you.

He entered you slowly, his movements deliberate and careful, savouring every second as he filled you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, the sensation almost overwhelming. The connection between you was more profound than words could capture—like two halves of the same whole finding their place.

William’s eyes locked with yours, his gaze intense and filled with emotion as he began to move, each thrust measured and unhurried. The way his body fit perfectly with yours was exquisite, his movements deliberate yet deeply passionate, a rhythm that felt both instinctive and consuming.

Each time he pushed deeper, his length stretched and massaged your inner walls in a way that had you trembling beneath him. The slight curve of his hips allowed him to hit spots that made you cry out softly, your fingers clawing at his back as waves of pleasure built inside you.

“You feel so good,” he murmured against your ear, his voice strained yet tender as he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck. His breath was hot, his words sending shivers down your spine as your bodies moved together, perfectly in sync.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, marking him as your moans grew louder, more desperate. His name fell from your lips like a mantra, each syllable a plea for more. Meanwhile, William’s control was slipping. His fists clenched the cushions on either side of you, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold himself back, wanting to draw out the moment. But the way your body responded to him—the way your walls clenched tightly around his cock, pulling him deeper—made it nearly impossible to resist.

“Fuck baby, I can’t hold it,” he groaned, his voice husky as his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a visible battle between holding on and giving in to the overwhelming pleasure.

The heat between you intensified, your breaths mingling as you pushed each other closer and closer to the edge. The friction, the closeness, the way every part of him seemed to align perfectly with you—it was all-consuming. Every thrust, every moan, every whispered word of encouragement sent you both spiralling higher, the world around you blurring until there was only him, only this.

And as he continued to push harder and faster, you cried out as your climax hit, your body arching against his as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your walls clenched tightly around him again, and the sensation pulled him into his own release. His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper just as his hips jerked, his own groan filling the room as he buried himself deep inside you, spilling into you as his body trembled with the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still locked together, trembling from the aftershocks. William lowered himself carefully, his weight warm and grounding as he pressed a series of soft kisses to your shoulder, then your collarbone, before finally burying his face in the crook of your neck.

His arms wrapped around you protectively, pulling you close as his breathing began to slow, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmured, “You’re amazing.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along the muscles of his back. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased softly, though your voice was still thick with affection.

He chuckled, the sound low and content as he shifted just enough to meet your eyes. His blue gaze was softer now, filled with something deeper than lust—a warmth and adoration that made your heart swell.

As the two of you lay tangled together on the sofa, the flickering light of the Christmas tree casting a warm glow over your bodies, you couldn’t help but feel like this was the perfect gift. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment except the man holding you as if you were his entire world.

[only-lonely-star]

can you do dallas winston x soc reader where she invites him over to her house and it’s super pink and girly and he wants to look at every little thing! love you’re work btw!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Pretty in Pink . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Warnings - Pure fluff. Established relationship between a soc!fem!reader and Dallas Winston.

Summary - If it were up to him, he would never leave your room ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

Author’s Note - Thank you so much for this request!!! I’m truly so happy to hear you love my writings, it means the world to me 🫶🏼. I sort of took ‘house’ and turned it into bedroom, so I hope this is still okay skhfhsjjs 😭. I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do!! 🩷🩷

Word Count - 1.1k.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Applying a thin layer of tinted gloss, you puckered up and smiled upon the reflection in your vanity mirror. The white, wooden piece blended with the rest of your room perfectly as it leaned against the floral wallpaper adorned in patterns of pink peonies. Pink - you were certain there wasn’t a color as perfect as the pastel hue that flooded your room. As a finishing touch, you doused the sides of your neck in a fancy perfume, one that cost a fortune. The bottle was, of course, a baby-pink heart with a white ribbon tied around it. You felt ready to take on the world.

Leaned against the windowsill of your bedroom, your eyes longed to catch a glimpse of that rusted, old Thunderbird that Dallas typically took you around the city in. You could hear it a mile away, the noisy vroom of the vehicle, and the screeching shrill of its breaks. The stars cast a beam of light against the pavement to your driveway, ensuring he’d find his way there eventually.

Although you loved him to death, this boy had never spent a second in this house past your doorway. Tonight was different - he wasn’t dropping off flowers, knocking on your door to shower you in drunken kisses, or even luring you into his car to sneak out for the night. He was staying over. In your bed. Staying in your girly bedroom. Just at first glance, it was clear Dallas was no softie. He didn’t care for frilly pink bows or dainty jewelry, he was as masculine as they came. A hint of nervousness formed at the pit of your stomach as your brain worked double-time to map out every negative outcome possible. Maybe he wouldn’t like it, it would be too overwhelming - the possibilities were endless.

Just as these thoughts began to overwhelm you, the repetitive ring of your doorbell brought you back to reality. He was here. You raced for the front door without a second thought, leaping down the staircase, taking two steps at a time. Once you had reached the door, you flung it open with excitement, only to wrap your arms around his figure. He wore a cocky grin, a classic expression he often used in moments like these. You felt the jerk of his body as he stifled a laugh. “I saw you yesterday,” he commented wittily, slowly running a hand up and down your back.

You stood on the tip of your toes, planting a kiss on his cheek. Without waiting a second longer, you snatched the boy inside with a simple yank to his arm. “Come on, get out the cold, Dal,” you teased.

Dallas glanced down at his boots, giving them a quick stomp or two before taking a look around. “So this is your little mansion, huh?”

“Mansion,” you scoffed in reply. “This ain’t even the best part! Come on upstairs with me, I’ll show you my room.” You ran a hand up and down his sleeve as a signal for him to follow your lead.

Dallas let out a low whistle, slowly making his way up the staircase. His eyes darted in every which way, gliding his hand the entire way up the wooden railing of the staircase. “Shoot - I’d sure like to live in someplace like this.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re living in my room tonight,” you responded cheekily, biting back a smile. As you reached the final step, you guided him down the hallway which led to a number of bedrooms, each decorated in their own unique way. Dallas poked his head in each one, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as to which was yours. “Dal, it’s this one.”

He whipped his head around, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Continuing to follow your lead, he carefully took in the new environment. Pink, flowers, ribbons, lace, hearts, dolls - it all hit Dallas like a tidal wave. His dull eyes were now filled with excitement at the sight of it all. “Jesus Christ,” he scoffed, “l think you might like the color pink.”

Letting out a burst of laughter, you ushered him inside. “Who would’ve thought, right?”

Dallas’s attention was immediately drawn to the white jewelry box with flowers painted along the side. He curiously stepped closer. He traced his finger along the woodwork, whistling lowly, “This a dollhouse or something? Looks like it would be for a-.” His attention diverted quickly, just before you could correct him. Dallas smiled in fascination as he caught sight of a small ballerina placed on a shelf near the closet doors. He inspected its fine details, running his fingers along the figure.

Before his interest was sparked again, you decided some commentary was needed. “That’s actually a music box, if you look at the bottom there’s a little knob.”

Dallas had his fingers twisting relentlessly around the knob before you even finished that sentence. He set it back down on the shelf, watching the little dancer spin around as the steel comb inside produced a delightful sound. “No fuckin’ way…” his voice trailed off in awe.

“You like that?” you chuckled, standing beside him to observe the figurine. It felt strangely comforting seeing Dallas with such youthful wonder in his eyes.

“That’s so cool, man, I want one,” he shifted his gaze from the music box back to you with a genuine smile.

“I have to show you this doll, I’ve had it since I was…five? I don’t know,” you spoke excitedly, dragging him towards your bed.

Kneeling beside the bed frame, you reached underneath it to retrieve a box. This box was worn out, each crease and wrinkle in the cardboard, a sign that it was well-loved over the years. Out came a porcelain doll, dressed in a white, ruffled dress with a lacey bodice that was colored in a soft shade of pink. Her hair was blonde and curled to perfection, a small bow added to accessorize her faux hair. Dallas stood over you, his thumbs in his jeans pockets. “She’s gorgeous, I bet that thing is worth more than my life.”

You gently stroked the back of her hair, admiring the delicate fabric of the miniature dress. “Hell- who knows?” You began to pack the doll up once more, hearing the shuffling of Dallas’s feet along your carpet. You paid no mind to this at first, assuming he was checking out more of your belongings. It was only then, that you stood up to find Dallas cozied up in your bed underneath a heap of fluffy pink and white blankets, holding a teddy bear against his arm. He had thrown on a satin sleeping mask adorned with small red hearts. Dallas had truly made himself at home, despite standing out more than any unique decoration in your room. He had a field day in your dollhouse of a room.

“How do I look?” he asked playfully, adding a hint of sass to his voice.

In adoration of a softer side you’d never seen before, you pounced onto him as you let out a giggle, wrapping yourselves in the plush blanket. “You look so pretty in pink.”

THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS ONE!!! 💋

- Sophia 🫶🏼

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 15

Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation. Blood drowning drowning in blood. Nightmares.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

We knew it was coming, but it still sucked to be going to bed alone.  There just wasn’t enough room for everyone to sleep comfortably in a hotel room.  I was strangely anxious as I got ready for bed.  I procrastinated.  Taking a longer shower than usual, doing an extra-long skin care routine, picking out an outfit for tomorrow, playing on my phone.  Until I finally had no choice but to turn in.

My dreams were full of blood and screaming.  A faceless, nameless Alpha bleeding out, reaching towards me for help.  Gurgling and choking on their own blood as it pooled around my ankles, rising quickly until it was at my hips.  The blood was cold and thick, not letting me move to get away-to run.  As it rose to my neck the pressure started to make it hard to breathe and I gasped in small amounts of air desperately trying to move.  I couldn’t let it cover my nose.  I didn’t want to drown in someone’s blood!  Please!  Oh god, please!

Waking with a flair of pain as I fell out of bed and hit my shoulder on the unforgiving hotel floor, I lay there, adjusting to reality and catching my breath.  I could still see the bleeding Alpha every time I closed my eyes.  My throat felt raw, like I had been screaming.  Maybe that was the screaming I heard in the nightmare.

I jumped hard when there was a knock on my door and an unintelligible voice on the other side, muffled by the thick hotel door.  With a sigh and still shaking I stood and answered the door.  If I was really screaming it was probably security coming to check on me.

I blinked, shocked when I opened the door to most of the staff and all my Omegas.  Plus, of course, security who were the only ones who didn’t look half asleep.  “I’m sorry.  I had a nightmare.”  I explained embarrassed.

Luckily, there were no outward signs of judgement.  Most staff and security just nodded or murmured in understanding and left.  Back to their rooms to sleep more.  The Omegas stayed, though most looked mostly asleep, leaning on each other.

“I’m really okay guys.  Go back to bed.”  No need for them to be tired tomorrow because of me.  They were already jam packed with schedules.

They dispersed back to their rooms.  All except Cahn and Lino.  Unceremoniously, Lino shoved by me and went straight to my bed - immediately falling back asleep.  I looked back at Chan in question.

“We’ll stay with you tonight.”  He stated.

Chan waited until I stepped aside to enter my room, but it was clear he wasn’t leaving – just being polite.  He made himself comfortable on the opposite side of the bed from Lino, leaving a space in between them for me, which he patted in invitation when I didn’t immediately join them.

I was immensely grateful that neither made a big deal about staying with me.  With them near me I felt like I would actually be able to fall asleep and get some rest.

Climbing over Chan, I squeeze myself between them and snuggled up to him.  He pulled me closer to tuck me under his chin and soothingly started rubbing his foot along my half.

“Was it the airport incident?”  Chan asked quietly a minute later.

“I guess it affected me more than I thought.”  I was disappointed in myself.  For not being stronger.  I wasn’t even hurt, it’s so stupid to be afraid now!

Chan kissed the top of my head.  “You were covered in human blood.  Anyone would be traumatized.  I would have vomited or cried for sure.”  He assured me.

“You did good.  Didn’t give the bastards anything.”  Lino mumbled from his pillow behind me.  I had thought he was sleeping, but apparently, I was wrong.

“I did faint.”  I pointed out.

“After we were safely out of public eye.  Don’t be so hard on yourself.  No one can be strong all the time.  We all have out breaking points.”  Chan chastised gently.

Lino scooted closer behind me.  There are 9 of us.  We carry each other.”  He sighed nuzzling his face on the back of my neck.  Something he would never do or say if he wasn’t half asleep, I am sure.

“Okay, okay.  Both of you get some sleep.”  I tucked the blanket around the three of us and settled back in, ready to give sleeping without nightmares another chance now that I was between two of my Omegas.

With their warmth and scent around me, I fell back asleep easily.  And despite the nightmare still fresh in my mind, I only had pleasant dreams for the rest of the night.

The great thing about dance practice is that I could go in sweatpants, and no one cared.  Which was good because early morning practices were not my favorite.  Between Lino and Chan, I was somehow dressed, given a piggyback ride to the car, and provided caffeine.

When the caffeine finally started to kick in, I blearily looked at the calendar on my phone to see the schedule for the day.  Trying to make sense of the chaos of nine schedules in one day all jumbled and overlapping each other.

From what I could tell, after practice Chan, Felix and I had an interview with an Australian entertainment show followed by a photoshoot for a magazine spread.  My first official interview and photoshoot where I wasn’t the photographer.

Since I had never been a model before I needed to study.  So, I pulled up some of my best photos on my tablet and while the boys practiced their dances I practiced modeling.  Both facial expressions and poses.  It felt and looked clumsy as hell, and I was embarrassed.

“What the fuck are you doing?”  Lino asked coming over on one of their breaks.  I had been attempting to replicate a particularly soft and sexy pose in my camera – and failing apparently.

I relaxed my face and dropped my arms with a huff.  “I have a photoshoot with Cannie and Lixie this afternoon.”

“So, you decided to practice bad modeling?”

“Am I really that bad?”  I pouted feeling defeated.

Lino patted my head.  “You’re thinking too much about it.  You do this all the time.”

“No!  I take pictures – I’m not in them!”

“Y/n, babe, you are going to do fine.  No one is expecting you to be perfect.”

“I cannot drag you guys down!  I will not allow it!”

“You won’t.  And we won’t let you fall either.  We will walk you through the shoot.”  Felix said, joining us with a half empty bottle of water and a damp sweat towel.

I gave in easily to his promise – trusting him to keep his word.  He was one of the better models of the group, so he would likely be able to walk me through it easily.  And, despite what I said to Lino, my experience behind the camera would help, just like it did when I took the bonding marks photos.

This was the first time I was leaving a significant number of my Omegas.  And it was for almost half a day.  As the time to leave drew closer I found myself almost clinging to the Omegas I would leave.  Constantly reestablishing contact and seeking out their touch and scent as well.  Like I was some kind of drug addict in need of a constant fix.

I even went as far as sitting on Bins lap during their meeting with staff.  Pulling Hyune close and playing with his fingers in my lap and hooking an ankle around Ayen’s calf firmly.  And even as I had all three of them, my instincts wanted to bring Han, Lino, and Seungmin closer.  To have some part of me touching them, just a little.

For their part they didn’t seem to mind my clinginess.  In fact, I don’t think it bothered them at all that we would be apart for hours.  They weren’t seeking contact like I was, and any skinship I got from them I had to ask for.  Knowing that they weren’t affected by being separated from me for hours stung.  It downright hurt.  It made me sad and bitter, but unable to stop seeking contact with them.

I tried not to be bitter.  They all had a lot going on right now.  A lot on their plates and a lot on their minds.  They really didn’t have time to think about me, to worry about being apart.

I tried to remember this and not be bitter and upset, but it didn’t really work.  Emotions didn’t work on rationality and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop them.  The best I could do was try not to take it out on the Omegas.

“Alright, baby girl, time to go.”  Chan clapped and rubbed his hands together.

I shook my head.  “Not yet.”  It was too soon.  I needed more time.  Like maybe a week or two.

Chan tilted his head with a fond smile and exasperated body language.  “We have to go, or we will be late.”

We had a stare down.  Me pouting and him in fond exasperation before I finally gave in with a growl.

Lino laughed and came over to squish my cheeks together when I stood.  “That was so cute!”

Rolling my eyes I shoved his hands away but pulled him in for a hug.  I rubbed my hands all down his back and arms to make sure plenty of my scent was left behind.  So, everyone knew – even if I wasn’t here - that he was bonded.  That he was mine.

I gave the same treatment to the other Omegas I was leaving behind, taking my time, and making sure enough scent was left behind.  I had to make sure – it was an absolute must.

They tolerated it well enough.  Standing still while I rubbed at them with hyperfocus.  Only a few chuckles and eyerolls.  Han and Ayen curling up when I accidentally tickled them.

“Honey, we really are going to be late if we don’t leave.”  Lix called gently.

I nodded.  “Okay, okay.  I’m coming!”

Once in the car the anxiety doubled, and I stared at the building as we drove further and further away from six of my Omegas.  Felix took my hand and squeezed it in comfort.

“They will be fine.  And we’ll be back before you know it.”  He said quietly.

And he was right.  They would be fine.  They had their own schedules to keep them busy.  It was literally just me freaking out over separating.

It’s not like I thought they needed my protection because I knew they didn’t.  Omegas weren’t weak, and my Omegas were the strongest I have ever met.  It was me that needed them.  Needed to be needed – be wanted – by them.  I was the weak one.

😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

General Taglist @stellasays45

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion @jasmin-loves-k-pop @cookey-lock @possum-playground @demigoddreamon-blog @rei-reia @dreamerwasfound @jasmin-loves-k-pop @ms-flowergirl @princess-sunshyn @technicallyimportantsweets @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @bluesoobinnie @threeopossumsinacoat

[amazingmsme]

Last night I had an idea for an epic AU that is either really cool or really stupid.

So basically, the gods can be killed. But only with one specific weapon or tool that is special or sacred to them. For example, the Spear of Athena, or Demeter's labrys (a double headed axe for woodcutting). If they are wounded with that weapon, they might as well be mortal. Anything else, they can heal from. But this? Nah.

Which brings me to the next part. So remember how Poseidon is turned into Swiss cheese in 600 Strike? Well, Poseidons weapon, the one that can fatally harm him, is nothing other than his trident. You know, the very trident that Ody used to make him more see-through than cheap toilet paper.

So, I imagine that 600 Strike goes as normal, but Poseidon lives long enough to gasp out the word "please" like he does in the song, and then he just dies. Odysseus is confused as hell. He kinda pokes him with the trident, like "why is he just lying there?" Only to look on, horrified, as the god's body turns into a puddle of seawater and merges with the rest of the ocean.

(Now the fun part) After around 3 seconds Odysseus feels a white hot pain all over his body, before promptly blacking out.

When he comes to, the storm has faded away, and the sea is as calm as a sleeping toddler. He sighs and gets up from the rocks he was laying on, only to realize that everything felt off. Now is he going crazy, or is everything more defined and colorful? And his hearing sounds like it got better as well. And the ground seemed farther away than normal. Had some god blessed him? Was this Poseidon's way of conceding their battle? No, that can't be right. The trident is still lying there. Odysseus reaches to pick it up, and freezes in shock.

His fingers have membranes in between them.

It's only then that he takes a good look at himself. There are patches of scales all over his arms, legs, and torso. He now has fins on his arms and legs, and ears as well. His nails have gone from blunt to long and sharp. Pulling a lock of hair in front of him shows that it's longer than it used to be, with streaks of blue and teal. Catching his reflection in the water shows him that his eyes have changed from brown to a striking aquamarine, and the whites have turned black and, are those fangs?

Something is terribly wrong here. While he is sifting through all of the possible causes in his head, he hears a voice to his right. It's a merman. Why is he calling Odysseus "My lord?" What is going on?

On Olympus, the gods are shocked that one of their own had been killed. Then, as the implications begin to dawn on them, they feel something that a god never feels. Fear. One of the strongest Olympians was killed by a mortal. Could this happen to the rest of them as well.

Back on that rocky patch, Odysseus came to a sudden, chilling realization. He looked at the water around him, and tried to will it to do something, anything. To his surprise, the water began to churn, before turning into violent waves, as the skies darkened again, reflecting the storm in Odysseus's mind.

Ody is no longer Odysseus, King of Ithaca. He is no longer the monster that Poseidon had turned him into. He is now Odysseus, God of the Seas.

It's a little rusty, but I thought it sounded like a cool idea. What do you think? Also sorry for the ramble.

- 🧁 anon

MDJSMSBDD LITERALLY LOSING MY FUCKING MIND OVER THIS OMGGGGG! I LOVE the idea of a god’s weapon being the thing that can kill them! & it adds so much weight to everything Odysseus already did to add killing a god onto that list is bound to have some kind of effect on him!

This is such a cool, interesting concept & I’m eating it up! Love the description of god!ody

[ginxyy]

Steps Towards Love

“You see how picky I am about my shoes and they only go on my feet.”

You know how meticulous you are when it comes to your shoes—the way you scrutinize every detail, from the heel's height to the impeccable alignment of the laces. They only go on your feet, after all, and your feet deserve nothing but the best. You remember the day Seungcheol first noticed this quirk of yours; how he watched you at the cafe, leaning against the wall, your arms crossed and eyes bright as you debated the merits of a pair of classic black pumps versus the daring red stilettos. You felt him watching, the warmth of his gaze enveloping you like a cocoon, and mentally, you added him to the list of things that occupied your thoughts that ever-growing list you never quite wanted to expand but couldn’t help but add to.

“Focused on them?” he asked with a teasing edge to his voice as he approached, a small smirk dancing on his lips. You had tried to mask your surprise, your cheeks betraying you as they flushed under his gaze. You hadn’t even noticed that he had walked in. “What’s wrong with these?” he gestured playfully to your feet, adorned with the current favorite pair, sleek black ankle boots that you had spent an hour picking from an array of options.

“Nothing!” you defended, perhaps too sharply. “Just making sure I don’t regret my choices. Shoes are a commitment, after all,” you added, pretending to shrug his playful distraction off. In truth, you loved the chaotic rhythm he brought into your world, an alluring contrast to your organized life.

Seungcheol had a way of enchanting you, effortlessly slipping in between the lines of your independence with each thoughtful conversation and gentle gesture. He never pushed, never chafed against your independence, but you could feel the determination in him, like a solid rock anchored deep beneath the surface. A month turned to two, and then four, and he was still there, a constant presence wrapped up in the tender possibilities of what could be.

“Okay, but really,” he said one day, seated across from you in your regular booth at the cafe, “you’ve got to give me a chance.” His voice was earnest, his eyes steady as they locked onto yours with a warmth that made your insides flutter. “I’ve put in the effort, haven’t I?” He gestured vaguely to the daily visits, to the elaborate jokes he told to make you laugh, to the way he would hold the door open and pull your chair out like you were the only woman in the world. “You can’t possibly be that picky about me too.”

You chuckled, fighting to contain the giddiness inside you. “I’m a woman of high standards,” you said playfully, even as you could feel your resolve waver. “My shoes are a reflection of my personality. They need to be perfect, just like the man I choose to go out with.”

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a bit too adorably, and you had to look away to avoid losing your composure entirely. “I may not have all the perfect qualities you’re looking for... but I can make you laugh and smile more than anyone else. Isn’t that an important quality too?”

Your heart softened, caught in the warmth of his words. It was true; the way he made you feel was worth savoring. Yet you stubbornly clung to your independence, your headstrong stubbornness a shield against the vulnerability that came with love.

Days became weeks, and as winter crept in, the chill in the air was juxtaposed against the warmth that swelled in your chest at the thought of him. He was so patient, offering only sweet, lingering glances that felt like promises. Yet every time he broached the subject of a date, you deftly dodged.

But tonight, as darkness draped over the city and holiday lights twinkled like stars against the velvet sky, you found yourself hesitating. His voice floated over to you, mellifluous and hypnotic amidst the bustling sounds of the street as he said, “Let’s do something different this weekend. You bring your favorite shoes. I’ll plan a surprise, and we'll see where it takes us.”

The challenge settled heavily in the air between you, and you bit your lip, toes curling at the prospect of his plan. What if it turned out to be spectacular? What if it unraveled a world you had long kept neatly boxed away, out of reach? What if you didn’t want to return home after, your heart tethered too far from the independence you cherished?

You took a deep breath as your resolve tightened. “You know I’m picky,” you cautioned, though deep down, there was a hesitant flicker of excitement curling within you. It wasn’t just any shoes you had to choose, after all; they were an extension of yourself, the armor you wore as you navigated these risky new waters.

“Yes, and you know what? I’m entirely in love with your pickiness. You have exquisite taste but that doesn’t mean we can’t explore what lies beyond your comfort zone.” He leaned closer, a teasing glimmer in his eyes, “Besides, can’t we just see where the night leads us? Just like when you try new shoes?”

Something shifted in the air. You could feel the edges of your resolve softening. What if you let him peel back the layers, just this once? What if you decided to take a leap?

The weekend arrived, and as you stared at your reflection, you slid your feet into a new pair tantalizingly daring emerald heels that felt a bit too bold yet intoxicatingly freeing. They were a far cry from what you usually chose, and yet somehow, they filled you with an unsettling thrill. You were stepping out into the world, and tonight, maybe it would be more than just a night out.

When Seungcheol met you outside your apartment, his eyes lit up like fireworks at the sight of you. “Wow,” he breathed, taking a moment to drink in the vision before him, “you look stunning.” The sincerity in his voice melted any lingering apprehensions you had.

With each step you took beside him, the sharpness of the heels transformed into an exhilarating rhythm, reflective of the pounding of your heart. Each moment together felt sweeter than the last; his laughter mingled with the cool night air as you strolled through softly-lit streets, his hand brushing against yours before gently intertwining your fingers.

You didn’t know where the night was headed, but the possibilities seemed as endless as the stars above. You felt a shift maybe love could exist alongside independence, weaving itself through the fabric of your life rather than overpowering it.

And as you looked up into his eyes, seeing the affection etched there, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, allowing someone in wasn’t as frightening as you’d convinced yourself it was. After all, just like your shoes, love could be a commitment worth the careful selection a journey of its own, if only you dared to take that first step.

[water-lemon-alex]

the night before the finale.

a pre-s1e17 oneshot revolving around the season one finalists.

you have reached the end of the current chapter, but what about the one before it? what happened on the night before one of them went home a millionaire?

the penultimate episode of the first season has just finished airing, and the sun begun to set.

the show once had sixteen contestants fighting for the million-dollar prize, and each night they sleep, there were one (or two) less contestants by their side.

now, there were only two. two contestants.

one who only won a few couple challenges to get this far into the game, and another who kept her true persona a secret just for people to like her more.

both of them have just lost their closest allies in the competition. now, they’re on their own.

together.

the two finalists sat atop a hill, the one where all of them used to rest on. the sun is no longer visible from the sky— only the light of the moon reflected from it. the sky became dark, with a million tiny white diamonds in the sky.

the lettuce-filled “friend” sneakily tapped the glass of her orange competitor.

“hey! hey, oj!”

but the orange beverage didn’t respond. he was sulking over the loss of his best friend, who he thought was going to make the finals with him. now, he’s stuck with some half-witted mexican food.

then he finally takes a deep breath, and slowly turns to her with a sad look on his face.

“not now, taco. can’t you see i’m disappointed? i thought that i could make it with him to the finals! now i’m stuck with you…”

she clears her throat to get in character with her false persona.

“well— i lost my best friend, too! i never thought he would get voted off just when we’re this close to winning!”

“so he voted out him just so that you could advance…”

this argument is unnecessary. you can’t change something that already happened.

“…ugh, forget it. the finale’s tomorrow, and i need to get enough sleep to prepare for the final challenge.”

but both of them knew he wasn’t gonna sleep anytime soon. not with all the pressure from the game. it’s the finale, after all.

“…let me guess, you can’t sleep too.”

she nodded.

the hard-shelled contestant couldn’t sleep at all. she was still beaming with energy! (on the outside.) due to her high stamina, her plan was to tire him out before the finale.

“come on, we never got a chance to hang out at all! the moon’s so pretty tonight! let’s do something fun to tire ourselves out!”

…okay, this was supposed to be a game strategy, but in all sincerity, she actually does want to spend time with him, even just one time. as a treat.

this might be the first and last chance she’ll ever get. win or lose, she might never get to hang out with him again.

but whatever, it’s not like she became fond of anyone in the game at all or anything.

“what do you suggest we should do?”

“well, i dunno. have a little walk while lookin’ at the stars? we never really got to. because of the contest!”

he let out a deep sigh.

“…well, okay. maybe just once.”

the two started going down the hill to the direction of the very sixty-foot cliff where they once stood two years ago, when the show first aired.

taco started sprinting to the cliff, so much that oj couldn’t keep up without losing his balance and his juice in the process.

“h-hey! wait up! i thought we were going for a walk!”

“well, not anymooore-!”

she let out a hysterical laugh.

they finally stopped running when they finally reached the end of the cliff.

“ahaha… we’re heeeere-!”

with her left foot, she points at a certain something from the cliff. he thought she was gonna push him off.

“are you crazy!? are you going to push me off the cliff!?”

“not at all-! just look over there!”

all of those obstacles beyond the cliff weren’t even there before. looks like the host is preparing something big for the final contest.

“oooooh, that looks like the final challenge! so cool!”

“it looks like it’s still a work in progress.”

“well, fugget about it! let’s dance!”

“dance? seriously? with the only one left who’s standing in the way between you and the million? ha! let’s be honest right now. you don’t even have arms!”

“um, yeah i do!”

she unsheathes the arms she hid in her shell for so long, with the exception of a few instances where she actually used them.

“happy now?”

“you hid these the entire time!? you could’ve used these to your advantage!”

“oh, don’t worry! i won’t try to use them in the finale! i’ll try to go easy on you, because we both know i’m gonna win! easy!”

the orange glass teases back.

“haha, oh no, you’re not! because the million belongs to me!”

after a little while, she starts to reach her hand onto his.

“so? let’s go?”

“y-yeah! shall we?”

the energetic one got ahead of herself and unknowingly dragged their feet across the ground.

they turn, and they may tumble, but they both seem to enjoy themselves.

they’ll be rivals tomorrow, sure. but they are fellow competitors still in the running tonight. the only ones left, at that.

even if this bond will come to an end once all of this is over, even if the prize can’t go to the both of them,

they’ll enjoy the little time that they’ve had.

and as promised, they danced until they could barely catch their breath. (they didn’t exactly “dance”. none of them know how to dance! all they did was spin around in circles, hand in hand.)

now, they sat on the exact same spot as before. on the top of the hill.

“wow, that was…”

“crazy?”

“yeah, crazy! did you decide to do all this just to make me feel better after i lost paper?”

“well, i did this to make myself better after losing pickle! hahaha…”

“i guess we aren’t really so different. even if you’re kinda dumb sometimes, you did help me a few times with your lemons.”

“and you helped me win the boxing contest because of how fragile you are!”

“uh, correction! i didn’t help you win, i was just completely defenseless from those darn lemons…”

they begin to tease at each other again.

“i’m still riiiight-!”

“no, you’re nooot-!”

both of them let out some chuckles once again. their eyes are becoming heavy, and they have a big day tomorrow.

“well, good night, taco! i’m going to beat you tomorrow!”

“no! i’m gonna win! hahaha!”

the glass of juice has fallen fast asleep. sleeping upright. i guess that’s just how he sleeps just so that his juice wouldn’t spill all over the place.

before she closed her eyes, she hides her arms within her shell once more, gazed upon his resting face, and let out her true smile. a rather menacing smile, indeed— but her feelings were more… sincere.

for the first and the last time, she whispered,

“good night, oj.”

[enemiestolovershoe]

Can you write an X reader with JJ Maybank where the reader has loved him and been kind since they were kids so when he shows interest in kiara they are upset. They get into a into a situation where they have to confess that to JJ, and he kind of confesses back that he was only interest in kie to try and get over y/n? Maybe angsty a bit, happy ending fluffy. Thanks you! Love ur blog btw

All this Time

JJ Maybank x bsf!reader

Summary: Y/N and JJ finally confront their feelings after years of tension.

Words: 2880

Warnings: minor fighting and crying

A/N: I got a new Theme for the visuals! What do you think?

The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting its golden rays over the docks where you and JJ Maybank spent most of your days. The familiar scent of saltwater and the rhythmic creak of boats bobbing against the tide had been the backdrop of your friendship for as long as you could remember. JJ was your constant — wild, reckless, and impossibly charming.

Growing up on the Cut, you’d been inseparable. Late-night bonfires, daring each other to jump off the highest dock into the cold water, and sneaking into abandoned houses had become second nature. It was in those moments, with the stars reflected in the ocean and JJ laughing beside you, that you realized your feelings for him ran deeper than friendship.

You tried to suppress it. JJ wasn’t the kind of guy to settle down or even notice subtle changes in your behavior. Still, you found yourself lingering in his presence, soaking in every grin and every teasing comment he threw your way.

One late afternoon, you sat side by side on the edge of the dock, legs dangling over the water. JJ leaned back on his hands, squinting at the horizon. “You ever think about leaving this place?” he asked suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You glanced at him, surprised. “What, like forever?”

“Yeah. I dunno.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I think I’d be better off starting fresh somewhere. But then I think about you guys—” He caught himself, quickly correcting, “—the Pogues. I couldn’t leave y’all behind.”

Your heart ached at the thought. “I can’t imagine you anywhere else,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

JJ smirked, his blue eyes meeting yours. “You’d miss me too much, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself, Maybank.”

His laughter filled the air, and for a moment, it was just the two of you against the world. But as summer rolled on, something shifted.

“JJ, where the hell are you?” you called out, pushing through the dense trees that lined the edge of the beach. The sound of voices and laughter drew you closer, and you froze when you saw him.

JJ was sitting with Kiara on the sand, his usual cocky grin plastered across his face. He leaned in closer than necessary, gesturing animatedly as Kiara laughed at something he’d said. It wasn’t the first time you’d noticed the two of them together, but this time, it felt different.

“Hey!” you called out, plastering on a smile as you approached. JJ glanced up, his face lighting up at the sight of you.

“There you are!” he said, waving you over. “We were just talking about heading to the wreck for a swim. You in?”

Kiara gave you a friendly smile, but her posture didn’t shift, her focus still half on JJ. “Yeah, it’s perfect weather for it,” she said.

You hesitated, feeling out of place. “Actually, I was gonna head back to the Chateau. I need to talk to John B.”

JJ frowned. “You sure? You’ve been ghosting us lately.”

“I’m not ghosting,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Just… busy.”

He didn’t look convinced, but Kiara spoke up before he could press further. “Well, maybe we’ll catch you later, then.”

You nodded, forcing a smile before turning on your heel and heading back up the path. Your chest tightened as you walked away, the sound of their laughter fading behind you.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked later that night, finding you sitting alone on the Chateau’s porch. She plopped down beside you, handing you a cold beer.

You sighed, taking a sip. “Yeah. No. I don’t know.”

Sarah arched a brow, waiting.

“It’s JJ,” you admitted after a long pause. “He’s… into Kiara.”

Sarah’s expression softened. “And that bothers you because…?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Because I’ve been in love with him since we were kids, and now it feels like he doesn’t even see me anymore.”

“Y/N,” Sarah began, her tone gentle but firm, “JJ’s an idiot, but he’s also… JJ. He doesn’t notice things until they slap him in the face. If you want him to know how you feel, you’re gonna have to spell it out for him.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling over. “He’s already made his choice, Sarah. It’s not like I can just tell him now.”

Sarah didn’t respond immediately, her gaze thoughtful. “Maybe you should,” she said finally. “Before it’s too late.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stared out at the dark waves rolling in, wishing more than anything that JJ could see you the way you saw him.

Sarah’s words lingered in your mind, no matter how much you tried to push them away. Tell him? You couldn’t even imagine the humiliation that would follow. Besides, JJ had been spending more time with Kiara lately, their bond growing stronger with every passing day. It was a losing battle, so you avoided him.

Two weeks had crawled by since that night. You’d become a master at dodging JJ. When the Pogues planned hangouts, you either claimed you were busy or conveniently showed up late and left early. At first, it seemed like he didn’t notice, but JJ was sharper than he let on.

It was a blazing summer day when it all came to a head. The Pogues were sprawled out on the beach, soaking up the sun. The scene was idyllic — John B and Sarah were locked in their little world, Pope was reading a book under the shade of a palm tree, and Kiara was tossing a frisbee around with JJ. You sat further up the shore, your legs crossed as you pretended to be engrossed in scrolling through your phone.

“Hey, Y/N!” JJ’s voice cut through the sound of crashing waves. You ignored him, keeping your eyes glued to your screen. He called again, this time louder. “Y/N! You gonna sit there all day, or are you actually gonna hang out with us?”

You sighed, barely glancing up. “I’m good here, thanks.”

JJ’s carefree grin faltered, replaced with a flicker of irritation. He jogged over, kicking up sand as he approached. “Alright, what’s your deal?” he asked, standing over you with his hands on his hips.

You blinked up at him, feigning confusion. “What deal?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between the two of you. “You’ve been acting weird. Distant. Did I do something, or are you just having a rough couple of weeks?”

The others were starting to notice now. You could feel their eyes on you, the weight of their curiosity settling heavily.

“Can we not do this right now?” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

JJ crouched down, lowering his voice. “No, we’re doing this. You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” you snapped, your tone sharper than intended. “Maybe I’ve just got other things to worry about besides whatever game you and Kiara are playing.”

The words were out before you could stop them, and JJ’s face twisted in confusion and frustration. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You stood abruptly, brushing sand off your legs. “Forget it.”

JJ grabbed your wrist, stopping you from walking away. “No, I’m not forgetting it. Talk to me!”

You yanked your arm free, your voice rising now. “Why do you care so much? You’ve been glued to Kiara’s side for weeks. Go bother her!”

“Are you serious right now?” JJ exclaimed, throwing his arms out. “You’re pissed because I’ve been hanging out with Kie?”

The commotion had drawn the attention of nearby beachgoers. You could hear the snickers of Kooks lounging under their umbrellas, their whispers cutting through the air.

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy being oblivious, you’d understand why this bothers me!” you fired back, the heat of your frustration bubbling over.

“Oblivious?” JJ repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief. “I’ve been trying to figure out what’s wrong with you for weeks, and now you’re blaming me for—”

“God, JJ, you’re impossible!” you shouted, throwing your hands in the air.

“And you’re being ridiculous!” he shot back, his face reddening.

The Kooks’ laughter grew louder, the sound twisting the knife in your already fragile composure. You felt your face burn as you realized how much of a spectacle you were making, but you were too far gone to stop now. JJ looked just as flustered, his hands raking through his blond hair as he struggled to piece together what had caused this fight.

“Whatever,” you muttered, shaking your head as you turned away. “I’m done.”

JJ’s voice followed you, tinged with anger and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m done too!”

The tension in the air was unbearable, thick enough to choke on. You stopped in your tracks, your body trembling with frustration and pent-up emotions. With a sharp turn, you faced JJ again, your chest heaving as tears began to blur your vision. The suddenness of your movement made him pause, his anger replaced by a flicker of concern.

“What the hell is wrong, Y/N?” JJ’s voice softened, his brows furrowing. “Talk to me. Please.”

Your lips trembled, the words caught in your throat, but the dam finally broke. “I love you, JJ!” you shouted, the confession tearing its way out of you with a force that left you breathless. “Why can’t you see how much it hurts me when you hang out with Ki this close?”

His eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing as if he didn’t know how to respond. The weight of your confession hung between you like a storm cloud, and suddenly, all the anger, all the jealousy, all the heartbreak you’d been bottling up spilled over in waves.

“I’ve loved you since we were kids,” you continued, your voice breaking as tears streamed down your face. “And every time I see you with her, laughing with her, looking at her like that—it feels like someone’s ripping me apart from the inside.”

JJ stepped forward, his face etched with something you couldn’t quite place. “Y/N…”

“No, let me finish,” you said, wiping at your face as sobs wracked your body. “I’ve been by your side through everything. I’ve defended you, fought for you, and loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And you—” your voice cracked, “—you’re so busy chasing after Kiara, you don’t even notice what you’re doing to me.”

Your knees buckled slightly under the weight of your emotions, but JJ caught you, his hands gripping your arms as he steadied you. His touch sent a jolt through you, but you were too exhausted to pull away.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I swear to God, Y/N, I didn’t know.”

“How could you not know?” you cried, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I thought I was obvious.”

JJ’s hands slid down to your wrists, his grip firm but gentle. “Because I’m an idiot,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… I thought I didn’t have a chance with you. So I—” He hesitated, looking ashamed. “I spent time with Ki because I didn’t know how to talk to you, Y/N. I was trying to distract myself.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. “What?” you asked, barely able to process what he was saying.

“I love you too,” JJ confessed, his voice trembling now. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I just didn’t know how to say it without screwing everything up.”

Your heart stopped, the weight of his words crashing over you like a tidal wave. Before you could respond, JJ closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. The warmth of his embrace was overwhelming, his scent—saltwater and sunscreen—comforting and familiar.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he murmured against your hair. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I was scared.”

You melted into him, your sobs quieting as you clung to him like he was your lifeline. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Because I didn’t want to lose you,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I almost lost you anyway, didn’t I?”

Pulling back slightly, JJ cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the remnants of your tears. His blue eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of fear and hope. “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, his voice trembling with vulnerability.

You nodded, unable to find the words. JJ leaned in slowly, giving you a moment to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t. When his lips met yours, it was everything you’d imagined and more. The kiss was soft and tentative at first, but it quickly deepened, both of you pouring years of unspoken feelings into that one moment.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and trembling, JJ rested his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dumbass,” he said, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “But I promise, I’m not gonna screw this up again.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “You’d better not, Maybank,” you teased, your voice still shaky but laced with warmth.

JJ chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “You’re stuck with me now,” he said, his tone soft but resolute.

The warmth of JJ’s arms around you was something you never wanted to lose, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore was drowned out by the steady rhythm of his breathing, and you clung to him as if the tide might carry you both away. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, but when you heard voices approaching from the direction of the Chateau, reality began creeping back in.

“Would you look at that?” Sarah’s voice rang out, filled with teasing amusement.

“Finally!” Kiara exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air dramatically. “I thought we’d need an intervention.”

You pulled back slightly from JJ, still wrapped in his embrace, and turned to see the rest of the Pogues standing a few feet away, all of them wearing varying expressions of amusement and smug satisfaction. Pope had his arms crossed, shaking his head with an exasperated smile. Sarah was grinning widely, nudging John B, who looked equally pleased. Even Cleo, leaning casually against Pope, raised an eyebrow and smirked knowingly.

“Don’t mind us,” Cleo said, her accent laced with humor. “Just here to enjoy the show.”

JJ groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he finally released you, though his hand lingered at your waist. “Seriously? You guys were spying?”

“Not spying,” John B said, holding his hands up in mock defense. “We just heard the yelling and figured someone was about to beat the shit out of JJ.”

“Honestly, I kinda hoped she was,” Pope added with a grin. “Would’ve been entertaining.”

“Very funny, Pope,” JJ shot back, though his tone was light. “Glad to know I’ve got so much support.”

“Can we just take a moment to appreciate how dumb you two have been?” Kiara said, stepping closer. “Because, seriously, everyone knew. We’ve been waiting for you to figure it out for years.”

You felt your face heat up, glancing at JJ, who looked equally sheepish. “Years?” you asked incredulously.

“Oh, yeah,” Cleo chimed in, her smirk widening. “Y’all weren’t exactly subtle. The looks, the ‘friendly’ touching, the way JJ turns into a golden retriever whenever you’re around? Please.”

JJ groaned again, dropping his head back dramatically. “Okay, we get it. You’re all geniuses.”

“Hey, at least it’s finally out in the open,” Sarah said, giving you an encouraging smile. “And, for what it’s worth, I think it’s cute.”

John B clapped JJ on the shoulder. “Don’t screw this up, Maybank.”

JJ gave him a mock glare. “I don’t need the advice, John B.”

“I mean, you kinda do,” Pope muttered under his breath, earning a laugh from Kiara and Cleo.

Rolling his eyes, JJ turned his attention back to you, his expression softening. “You good?” he asked quietly, his voice so low that only you could hear.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Better than good.”

His grin returned, and for a moment, it felt like the two of you were in your own little bubble again, despite the teasing and laughter from your friends.

“Well, now that this is settled,” Kiara said, breaking the moment, “can we get back to enjoying the beach? I came out here for some sun, not a soap opera.”

“Sure, Kie,” JJ said, smirking as he slung an arm around your shoulders. “But don’t act like you weren’t loving every second of it.”

“Don’t push your luck, Maybank,” Kiara shot back with a grin.

As the group started to disperse, Cleo caught your eye, her expression softening slightly. “About time, Y/N,” she said with a wink. “Good for you.”

You smiled at her, a wave of gratitude washing over you. For the first time in weeks—no, years—it felt like everything had finally fallen into place.

[synesindri]

the thing is that there are two ways of looking at archangel-true vessel relationships (ok more than two but let’s go simple for now): each entity as fundamentally distinct from the other despite the similarities and fate connection, and each entity as being actually just a component of the other. two halves made whole in the poetical sense of partnership (each is one of two, 1/2) or in the more mathematical sense of being different facets of a single unit/each other’s shadow versions (each is .5 of 1).

most of the fandom focus has been on the relationship between two distinct individuals, which is fair enough but i do think canon (especially early on when the true vessels thing is introduced) invites you to think about both. and personally i’ve always been 100% willing to go in on the idea that an archangel and true vessel are facets of the same entity. i don’t think that is 100% accurate to what is going on, but i am willing to pretend it is. i don’t think that’s any more simplistic than over-simplifying the other direction and considering them totally distinct either.

and look ok. the thing is that two pieces of one individual just do not have to relate to each other the way two separate individuals do. finding new parts of yourself can be like meeting another person, like damn who even am i?? i’ve felt this way when dealing with particularly negative emotions, and when reckoning with parts of my identity i had either repressed or not ever needed to confront before. it’s weird and unsetttling, but i’m not literally a separate person from myself because of bits of me i dislike or feel alienated from. i do not consent, necessarily, to those parts of me being part of me, they just ARE. i can’t banish them just by saying i don’t want them in my life the way i (theoretically) could with another person (who i would hope would respect my boundaries). i can either decide to be how i am indefinitely, or i can accept that that’s part of me and try to change it. but that’s not the same as how i would interact with another person and it wouldn’t make sense to treat it that way (your mileage may vary, maybe you are better at self-distancing than i am). consent is a different experience when it’s about aspects of your actual self.

is that thee most accurate way of going about it? tbh i don’t really care because i do think it is THERE in the show, it’s a fair line of analysis even if it isn’t The Best, and it is what is most personally compelling and exciting to me.

and like yes i do call myself an archangel/true vessel shipper but am i really? i’ve personally never been sure. it’s more like selfcest to me than anything, mostly. and i totally get why that wouldn’t be for everyone but i think it at least partially explains why i have not. like. succeeded at or really enjoyed engaging with especially samlucifer in ways many other people do or assume that i would

[cuteniaarts]

Small drawing collection of my latest creation Emran as a teenager/freshly minted Air Acolyte, for my dear partner in unhinged OC shenanigans @katkastrofa, as promised <3