#and grew a bit too much conscience

[goldpilot22]

this is part of a comic that I haven't finished yet because the last bit of it kept not looking right. but I like this bit enough to post it without context

featuring bianca with glasses and also problems now

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 19)

masterlist

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A blood-orange sun hangs low in the sky.

You might think it ominous on any other day, but not this one. What more adversity could stand in your way? 

Instead of sharing a saddle with John, you ride the same horse that Graves rode out of town. Days spent on horseback have finally caught up to you, pain radiating up and down your legs, a soreness embedded deep in your inner thighs, the skin positively chafed from the constant friction. At least you no longer have the handcuffs digging painfully into your wrists, the metal cuffs long since unlocked using the key in Graves’ pocket and discarded, now lost some acres back for the coyotes and the hares to prod at and sniff. 

You drift in and out of conscious awareness, coming back into your right mind every mile or so, losing track of time along the way. Sometimes you blink and trees disappear out of sight, already ten miles back. Scouring the landscape for something familiar only to come up empty. 

Recent events lour over your conscience. It’s difficult not to let it get to you. So much has happened in such quick succession that part of you still thinks you’re dreaming in the abandoned shack with Graves sleeping just a few feet away. 

A distinct sound scrapes against the inner recesses of your mind and eardrum. If you were to look behind you, you’d find the source of it wrapped in a shroud and dragged behind John’s horse. Drying blood stains the fabric. The head, obscured under the fabric, jostles from side to side as it passes over rocks and undergrowth. 

It’s beyond you now though, the future shuttling forward at an unfathomable speed and taking you with it, willing or not. The world hurrying on to repeat its past mistakes. 

So you don’t look behind you. 

“Won’t be much longer,” your husband murmurs from beside you, speaking just loud enough for you to hear him over the influx of thoughts in your head, which rapidly empty out at the sound of his voice. 

“We can stop for a break after?” you ask, turning your head enough for your eyes to land on the hard, bristled line of his jaw. He nods. 

“Just gotta get this part out of the way.”

He says it so casually, like a bit of unpleasantness that has to be dealt with; no way around it. Unfortunately, a body isn’t something that can be just swept under the rug. No matter how much your muscles beg for a moment’s reprieve, you won’t get it until all the loose ends are tied up. 

“How do you know the land around here so well?” you ask as John leads the two of you deeper into the plains.

“The boys and I have been out here before. Grew up in this county anyway; been wanderin’ these parts since I was born.”

You can’t imagine John as a young boy, uncertain of his place in the world. He seems like someone who emerged from the womb ready-made, already able to skin a deer and build a bushcraft shelter by hand. But he must have been young at one point. 

Finally, he comes upon a suitable place to bury the body. 

Deep in the wilderness, he digs a shallow grave with the short shovel strapped to his horse, sweating up a storm before the hole is big enough to bury the body. You dismount your horse and wander off while John handles the burial. 

This is the part where you have to turn away and pretend it isn’t happening. You stave off the urge to plug your ears and close your eyes. Dogear any page in your life except this one. This is the only memory that you want to fade into obscurity, pretend that it never happened, that this was some bad dream that you only half-remember twenty years from now. 

You glance back only once to find John breathing heavily at the edge of the hole, having just hauled himself out. Sweat slicks his brow and drips down the side of his face near his temple, a dark flush spreading over his cheeks from exertion. Even his shirt is damp with sweat under the pits and around the collar. 

You force yourself to look away. Now is not the time for your libido to trouble you. 

Graves’ body lands with a dull thump when John rolls it into the makeshift grave. You bite your lip and let your eyelids slide shut. Then he starts the process of covering the body, shoveling the dirt back into the hole. It takes a while. An offer to help hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite make yourself say the words. 

A half hour later, it no longer matters, the hole covered until the only thing demarcating the grave is the layer of upturned soil, slightly darker than the dirt in the surrounding area.

“That’s it,” John announces, making his way back to you with the shovel slung over his shoulder. You can smell the ripe scent of sweat wafting off him even from a foot away. “Let’s head out; we’ll wanna make camp before it gets dark.”

You don’t answer. Not verbally anyway. The guilt almost makes it hard to breathe. In all your stupidity and poor decision-making, you’ve inadvertently made John an accomplice in your crimes; forced him, in fact, to commit one as heinous as the one that had started this whole debacle. 

You travel the next mile in relative silence, scouring the landscape for a neat patch of land to set up camp. The sun plummets towards the ground at a faster and faster pace until it’s tugged below the horizon, vanishing with a green flash. Then it’s too dangerous to keep going, the way back far too dark to keep traveling down. 

John builds a small fire after tying up the horses for the night. The temperature drops exponentially as the sky darkens, the cold sinking low to the ground. You help with gathering the kindling, mostly twigs and clumps of dry grass, then take the packs off both horses to use as makeshift seats by the fire, unrolling the sleeping bags as well. 

It comes as a relief to finally sit down after the fire is struck. Rest is a double edged sword though; the longer you sit with Graves’ old pack propping you up, the more the pain has time to sink its claws in deep. 

In the hours since he shot Graves, neither of you have spoken more than a few words to each other. You certainly haven’t brought it up. The memory of Graves revealing the truth of what you’d done back east to John looms over you. It’s inevitable that you’ll talk about it eventually though. It’s heavy in the atmosphere, almost oppressive; the weight of everything said and unsaid. You can’t take back what Graves revealed to John. At some point you’ll have to face it. 

At what point will you have to beg for forgiveness? It sits on the tip of your tongue. 

The small fire crackles in front of you. Red tongues of flames lick at the darkness, the light extending out in a circle around the two of you. You’re grateful for the warmth though, particularly after spending the previous night in the cold.  

“Nothing to eat, m’afraid,” he says apologetically, brow creasing. “I didn’t exactly pack before coming after you.”

You shake your head. “That’s fine. I’m not hungry anyway.”

In a few more hours, you might work up an appetite again, but for now, you couldn’t be further from it. All you want to do is lie down on your bed back home and sleep through to the next day. 

“Yeah,” John sighs. “Me neither.”

He picks up your hand and holds it in his for a time. It’s strange how such a small gesture has become such an immense comfort for you. You wish you could thread your fingers through his and bring his hand up to your lips to kiss all over, but you’re too tired for a gesture of that magnitude. 

When he lets go of your hand, it’s only to transfer it to your face. His thumb runs over your split lip, pulling away when you wince. “Looks like it’s healing on its own.”

“That’s good,” you mumble. “…It hurt a lot more yesterday.”

John’s nostrils flare. The fire reflects off his eyes in such a way that, for a moment, it almost looks like it’s coming from within him. “I’d kill him again if I could.”

Your stomach clenches at the ferocity behind his words. 

“You—you shouldn’t have done it in the first place,” you croak. “Not when he was—” right, you don’t say. Right to haul you out of town by your hair and drag you back to the scene of the crime, back to pay for what you’d done. 

“Now I ain’t gonna hear you go spoutin’ that horseshit,” he growls, clasping you by the back of your neck and tugging you to his side. It’s so sudden that your butt skids across the ground, raking up a small mound of dirt with the weight of your body.

You look away, unable to meet his eyes even as he pulls you forward until you’re nearly nose to nose. “It’s not—”

“Yes, it is, darlin’. That shit weren’t none of your fault. You ain’t done a thing wrong by keeping yourself safe.” 

It’s almost hard to hear. It’s taken you months to scrub the dirt from your soul, which until recently was raw to the touch and pained you to even think back on. And the hopelessness. And the longing, the irreversibility of it; irreversible in the way that you couldn’t turn your pain inside out. You could never go back to the way things were because the only way out was to keep on trudging forward. 

Like rain in a drought, you’ve been missing someone’s mercy. You’ve been waiting for someone to come and forgive you for your sins; someone to absolve you of them. 

You lean forward, burying your face in his neck. Not making much of a sound except for a harsh exhale, your throat quavering with something unsaid. 

Then you grip him by the back of his shirt and pull him to the ground with you. 

Out in the open like this, John doesn’t dare remove your clothes, but he does reach beneath your dress to pull off your underclothes. He’s silent through it all, eyes fixed on yours. Never wavering or dropping your gaze. It’s intoxicating to be stared at with such a fierce intensity. Vaguely overwhelming, the sensation creeping up your chest and lodging in your throat. 

The light of the fire he built for the two of you flickers across his skin, illuminating his face in shades of orange and gold. 

He holds your gaze when he rucks the skirt of your dress up and crawls down the length of your body until his mouth is level with your center, slick already dripping from your sex. Your breathing goes haggard, anticipating his mouth before it’s suddenly there between your thighs, planting a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before dragging his lips over your sensitive skin until they brush your clit. Your mouth opens to a soundless gasp. Electrical impulses travel up your spine, your arching back following their trajectory. 

He pulls back to stare at your dripping hole. “Missed me, my love?” 

You’d answer if you could form words, but then you realize who he’s talking to and your mind goes blank. 

When he runs his tongue up the seam of your pussy, you jolt, legs slung over his shoulders kicking at the air. He eats you out with gusto, with reverence, sighing into your pussy that it’s been too long, that he’d worried himself nearly half to death over you. 

Rough hands hold you by your waist and pull you down onto his face. Long, crude licks of his tongue, rubbing the flat of it over your clit until you’re a roiling, twisting hotbed of pent up arousal. 

The urge to suppress your noises is almost overwhelming. When you twist your head from side to side, there’s nothing but miles of land; trees and shrubbery and a deep, impenetrable darkness. Not another person around for miles. It makes you shiver when you stare out into it. 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—” you gasp, chest getting tighter and tighter until you expect it to burst but it doesn’t. It stays all pent up, all itchy and scratchy and you can feel the sweat slicking the small of your back and the blood furiously rushing to your cheeks, heating you up from the inside out. Sweat-laden and flustered. 

Your toes curl in your boots, throat tightening up the closer it gets. All it takes to push you over the edge is John cupping his hands under your butt to tilt your hips up, licking you from hole to hole. The impertinence and thrill sends a rush through your body, the coil in your belly twisting and releasing, core pulsing around nothing. Your body gives a violent jolt when he gives your clit one last wet, suckling kiss.

“Are you comfortable like this, darlin’, or should I wait until we’re home?” John asks when he positions himself over you again, beard still wet with your desire and a big hand cupping the front of his trousers. You stare down at the hair dusting his knuckles and the bulge straining against his pants. 

The shadows make it seem even larger than usual. Your throat goes dry the longer you stare down at where he fists his length through his trousers.

“Darlin’?” he repeats, drawing your attention back up to his face.

“Oh?” you ask, cheeks heating. “I’m, um…I’m quite comfortable.”

It seems absurd to have such a conversation when your husband’s hand is reaching into his trousers to pull out his cock and fuck you with it, but the nervous tickle in your belly is far from unpleasant. 

He’s so careful with you, cognizant that your muscles are already sore and aching from days of being on the road and the abuse Graves put you through. Gentle hands maneuver your legs around his hips and move your hair from your face. Again your belly flips. 

Your grunt is involuntary when he first pushes in, walls stretching around the head of his cock. It hasn’t been long enough for the blunt intrusion to be painful, but it’s overwhelming all the same. You wince and grimace through it all. 

“Easy does it. You’re alright,” John shushes when you whimper, rough hand cupping your cheek. It sends a thrill down your spine, but doesn’t lessen the intensity. 

He stays like that for a time, hovering over you and stroking a thumb over your cheekbone until you relax around his girth, gradually finding your breath again. In and out; one after the other. When he pulls his hand away, it’s to plant his forearms on the ground beside your head and grind his hips forward, taking your breath away. 

“Oh Lord,” you wheeze, then brace your hands around his neck. 

“You’re doing great, darlin’. Just hold on; I’ve got ya.”

It’s nothing like the times before; your arms link around his neck and your breath goes shallow, hitching with every measured thrust. It’s too much and not enough. You feel windswept and battered, bruises smarting now that you’ve had time to feel them, but still you need more from him. 

He works himself into the wet flex of your pussy with slow, heavy thrusts. Taking his time. Not rushing it just yet because though the threat of you being taken from him still looms over his head, he’s sated his bloodlust. His reassurance now comes in the form of your legs spread to receive him and the fat head of his cock fitting snugly in you. 

The heels of your boots press firm against the flesh above his buttocks. Taking him this way with your clothes still on feels debaucherous, filthier than usual; like you were so desperate to have your husband inside you, that you couldn’t even be bothered to remove your garments. 

He must feel the way that thought heats you up because he rasps, “Need a lil somethin’, love?” 

Before you can even answer, he’s reached a hand down and tucked it between your thighs to strum the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex. 

“John—”

Your fingernails must dig into the back of his neck because he grunts. Serves him right, you think, digging your nails in all the harder when grinds a knuckle against your clit and you briefly see stars. 

You’re splintering down to the root, coming apart in his hands like clay; when he says your name, the darkness fades and for a moment, you’re in the light, a shaft of it haloing your face. Chasing it no matter how fast it runs. A hare in a snare, a shadow captured in the palm of your hand. 

It comes fluttering down from somewhere beyond sight. Gasped out in another voice, a truer voice. From the depths of you, true as stone and air. 

“I love you.”

Give it time and it’ll come naturally. Now, it comes as a gut punch. Even John stills over you when he hears the words, and you can feel the shudder that runs through him under your fingertips. There’s no time to sit and talk about it though, not with the frenzy that comes over him, blue eyes glazed over by a manic glint. 

He braces one hand on the top of your head and surges forward, so rough with you that your teeth clack together, eyes rolling back in your head. 

“Say it again,” John growls, leaning down until his mouth is right next to your ear. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Then it hits you. A wall of heat. Your belly rolling and cheeks burning, walls squeezing around John’s cock, tighter with every thrust. You yelp when he lifts himself off you to yank the skirt of your dress up higher and presses his hands to your inner thighs, spreading your legs wider for him. Bullies his cock into your channel even as you try to squeeze him out, pounding into you until the lurid torrent of words spilling out of his mouth go slurred and his release floods into you, his hips slapping against yours until he’s emptied the last of his spend into your womb. 

It’s a while before either of you can move after that. Your energy melts into the ground like rainwater, purifying the earth. Maybe life is already germinating beneath you, grass seedlings about to burst from the dirt, flower buds curled up in tight coils until they’re ready to bloom. 

Your hands shake when you lift one up to wipe the sweat from your face. 

When he finally pulls out of you, the feeling of his come leaking down your inner thighs makes you fussy. You lift your thighs just enough to let him pull your drawers back up before lying back down, no energy left in you to do more than that. You only scrunch your nose a little at the feeling of your combined juices already wetting the gusset.

Time seems to come apart and then piece back together. You roll over onto your side and nestle up against John’s chest, staring up at him wordlessly. His eyes stay shut for some time until he feels your stare on him and they peel open, the color of his irises barely discernible in the flickering light. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” he asks in a tone so devoid of accusation or condemnation that you’re almost thrown by it. He says it like it’s just another day, like something horrible and monumental didn’t just happen. 

It takes you a while to find the words. Even when you do, they come out jumbled and disjointed. “How long have you…—when did you find out?”

“‘Bout what happened back East?” he clarifies, blunt as usual. 

The question makes you swallow impulsively, anxiety secreting from you again. “Yes.”

John looks up into the dark sky, quiet for a spell. “Not until recently. The arrest warrant drifted across my desk probably around the time Graves first stopped by. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together after that—you showing up in a tizzy around the same time as the warrant was issued. General description matched as well.”

You feel a bit foolish in retrospect, certain that you were getting away with it all this time. 

“You know my name.”

“I do.”

“My real name.”

“In a manner of speaking. Got yourself a new last name since then though, didn’t you?”

Your lips pull up at the corners involuntarily. “Yes. I guess so.”

You can almost hear it now. The penultimate note of the overture writhing against convalescence like you might stay this way for a second longer. But it isn’t right to keep feeling the same old pain. At some point, it has to heal. 

“Hey,” John says, giving your shoulder a little shake to draw your attention back to him. The look in his eyes is serious. “This is as far as the story goes, alright?”

You stare up at him silently until you nod against his chest. 

“You’re my wife. End of story. The rest ain’t anyone’s business but ours.”

Off in the distance, an owl hoots, and its call hits your ear as a distant evocation to sleep. You press one last kiss to his chest before rolling off him, letting him put the fire out before the two of you turn in for the night, and then drawing a blanket over the both of you. 

And then, you go to sleep.

[rrysbabydoll]

Chemetrails Over The Country Club

Pairing: Harry Styles × Reader

CW: Flirting, kissing, teasing.

Synopsis: In Berlin for work, Harry takes Y/N to play tennis with Jeff tagging along.

Harry wasn’t exactly bad at tennis. He just wasn’t good. Not by Y/N’s standards, anyway.

The Berlin sun was unusually warm for April, and the clay courts at the private tennis club were practically glowing under it. Harry adjusted his cap, squinting at Y/N through the net. She stood poised, racket in hand, her white pleated skirt swaying slightly with the breeze. It wasn’t fair, honestly, how easily she fit here, like a painting come to life.

Jeff sat off to the side on a bench, sunglasses on, a bottle of water resting loosely in his hand. “Don’t embarrass yourself too much, mate,” he called, grinning.

Harry laughed, twirling his racket. “No promises.”

He’d been in Berlin for a week, tied up with meetings, fitting sessions, endless rehearsals for a few secret things brewing. It had been busy, almost too busy. So when Y/N had flown out from their house in london to visit him, Harry had insisted they steal away an afternoon for just the two of them. Well, the two of them, plus Jeff, because Jeff was glued to Harry’s side like a second conscience.

Y/N served with the ease of someone who’d been doing it since she could walk — which, in fact, she had. Born into old money, she grew up at country clubs and boarding schools, in a world where weekend tennis matches were as essential as Sunday brunch.

Harry grunted as he tried to return her serve, sending the ball way off into the fence.

Jeff let out a loud, mocking oof.

Y/N stifled a giggle behind her hand. “It’s okay. You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Harry picked up another ball, tossing it in his hand. “I’ll have you know, I was this close to playing Wimbledon once.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Really?”

“No.” He grinned. “But I did once beat Niall at Wii Sports Tennis, so.”

“That’s not the same thing at all.”

“Agree to disagree.”

She winked at him across the net. Harry's heart stuttered. he could survive any amount of public humiliation if she was smiling like that.

He served, not terribly, not gracefully either. Y/N returned it easily, making him dart left, then right, then lunge forward for a shot he missed by a mile. He stumbled and almost ate clay.

“Alright, alright, time out.” Harry threw up his hands dramatically, panting a little.

Jeff clapped slowly from the sidelines. “That was... admirable.”

Harry shot him a glare before trotting to the net where Y/N was waiting, laughing openly now.

“You’re evil,” he accused lightly.

She pouted mockingly, brushing a bit of dust off his shirt, her touch light. “Come on. Let’s rally a bit. Less pressure.”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “If I win a point, do I get a prize?”

She hummed, pretending to think about it. “Depends what you’re asking for.”

Harry smiled, wide and boyish. “A kiss, maybe?”

Y/N pretended to mull it over before nodding. “Alright. One point, one kiss.”

Jeff groaned loudly. “Please, I beg you, don’t make me watch.”

Y/N spun her racket expertly in her hand. “You’re the one who wanted to come.”

“Because you two are feral unsupervised.”

Harry just grinned. “We’ll keep it PG, Jeff. Promise.”

They rallied, slow at first, then faster as Harry found some footing. Every time he managed a good shot, Y/N would cheer exaggeratedly, making him beam like a kid. His form was questionable at best, but his effort? Unmatched.

Finally, after what felt like a thousand tries, Harry smashed a ball past her. It wasn’t clean, and it definitely wasn’t pretty, but it landed in.

“YES!” Harry whooped, throwing his racket up like he’d just won the U.S. Open. “Victory!”

Y/N raised her hands in mock defeat. “Alright, a deal’s a deal.”

Harry jogged over to her side of the court, still flushed from running around. She stood on tiptoe, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth.

It was barely a brush, but Harry chased it, tilting his head to capture her properly. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, anchoring him. The world blurred for a second, the clay, the bright sky, Jeff’s exaggerated gagging noises in the background.

When they finally broke apart, Harry tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Best game I’ve ever played.”

Y/N smiled lazily. “You’re not terrible, you know. Give it a few months, and you could be halfway decent.”

“High praise,” Harry said, grinning.

Jeff tossed a ball at Harry’s back. “Alright, lovebirds. Some of us have meetings to get back to.”

Harry caught the ball easily and turned to Y/N. “Wanna ditch him and stay here all day?”

Y/N laughed, but her fingers squeezed his for a second, a silent yes.

“Yeah, I think we should teach you a proper backhand.”

Harry groaned theatrically, but followed her back onto the court anyway, racket dragging behind him.

He didn’t care if he looked ridiculous. He didn’t care that Jeff would tease him for weeks. He didn’t even care that every muscle in his body would ache tomorrow.

Because Y/N — sun-drenched, smiling, her laughter catching on the warm Berlin breeze — was looking at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

[2b4st4r]

Hi, hi! If you don’t mind, is it alright if I have the ASL with a Fem Reader who's just the most normal one out of them?

She isn't a pirate, a revolutionary, or apart of the navy. She's just kinda vibing, and the only reason they met was because she got lost in the woods in Mt. Corvo (Colubo?).

Maybe the ASL trio so happened to dock on the same island at once? Or it happens separately.

(I suppose I'm going to be a constant Anon in your request box (because I really like your writing, also, to clarify, um, hi I'm the anon that requested the ASL tall reader, I feel so patronizing referring back to that over and over again Q-Q, I'm so sorry). If that's alright with you, you can identify me as 'Spot-Anon' •^• [mostly so you can be able to prioritize on newer anon requests])

But, as always, thank you for taking your time reading this request (mostly ramble) and hopefully this will be fun to write! :3 Have a lovely day/night!

The Anchor in the Storm

ASL x reader

Words: 8,096

Warnings: lack of conflict, comfort,not fully cannon, shock.

A SIDE NOTE.

—I AM SO SORRY SPOT..THIS IS KIND OF RUSHED IM NOT GOING TO LIE BUT I HOPE YOU STILL ENJOY IT!! Can’t wait to see more of you:3

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

A Quiet Heart in a Wild World

The East Blue winds carried the scent of pine and adventure, a constant companion to your unconventional childhood. You grew up on Mount Corvo, a place where "normal" was a foreign concept, and your playmates were three boys who embodied chaos: Ace, Sabo, and Luffy. While they reveled in the dirt, the daring, and the constant threat of Dadan's wrath, you were a different breed altogether.

You were the last to arrive, a quiet addition to their boisterous trio. While they wrestled wild beasts and plotted pirating careers, you were often found tending to Dadan's garden, mending torn clothes, or, much to their exasperation, trying to mediate their endless squabbles. "Can't we just talk this out?" you'd ask, your voice a calm counterpoint to their shouts and punches. They'd just stare at you, bewildered, before resuming their fisticuffs.

Ace, with his fiery spirit, would try to coax you into their games, promising grand adventures and hidden treasures. Sabo, the thoughtful strategist, would attempt to appeal to your sense of logic, explaining the "necessity" of their wild escapades. And Luffy, bless his rubbery heart, would simply grab your hand and drag you along, convinced that sheer enthusiasm was all you needed to embrace their brand of fun.

But you rarely bit. You were polite, yes, and kind to a fault, but you possessed a quiet resolve that often baffled them. You remember the day they unveiled their makeshift Jolly Roger, a tattered flag adorned with a crudely drawn skull and crossbones. Below it, in bold, triumphant strokes, were their initials: A.S.L. "Come on, Y/N!" Luffy had cheered, thrusting a charred stick at you. "Put your initial on it too! We're brothers and sister!"

You looked at the smudged, smoky flag, then at their eager, grime-streaked faces. A small, polite smile touched your lips. "Thank you, but no," you'd said, handing back the stick. "I think it's perfect just the way it is." Ace grumbled, Sabo sighed, and Luffy, momentarily deflated, eventually shrugged and declared it was still the best Jolly Roger ever.

You were their anchor, their quiet conscience, a steady presence in a world that spun on the whims of three future pirates. And though you might not have shared their wild ambitions, a part of you, a quiet, resilient part, was undeniably shaped by the untamed spirit of Mount Corvo and the unbreakable bond you shared with Ace, Sabo, and Luffy.

The years rolled by, marked by the changing seasons on Mount Corvo and the ever-present ache of absence. Your brothers, as you'd always thought of them, had set sail, each charting a course as wild and unpredictable as the Grand Line itself. And true to your nature, you remained.

News of Portgas D. Ace traveled like wildfire across the seas. He had joined the Whitebeard Pirates, a crew legendary for its immense power and its patriarch, Edward Newgate, the "Strongest Man in the World." Ace, with his Mera Mera no Mi (Flame-Flame Fruit) powers, quickly rose through their ranks, becoming the Commander of the 2nd Division. You heard tales of his valor: clashing with pirates, defying the World Government, and always, always protecting his nakama. He was known for his polite demeanor, a stark contrast to his devastating power, and for his unwavering loyalty to Whitebeard, whom he openly called "father." You'd occasionally see his wanted posters, his smirk as familiar as the sunrise, and a pang of pride (and a touch of worry) would echo in your chest.

Sabo's reappearance in the world was a quieter, yet no less impactful, tremor. After years of believing him lost, you learned he had ascended to the position of Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army, second only to their enigmatic leader, Monkey D. Dragon. Sabo, the thoughtful strategist you remembered, now commanded armies dedicated to overthrowing the oppressive World Government. He moved in the shadows, orchestrating rebellions and inspiring the downtrodden. His actions were subtle yet profound, chipping away at the foundations of tyranny, always with a cool head and a burning desire for freedom. You often wondered if he still carried that pipe, a remnant of his childhood dreams of a world free from injustice.

Then there was Monkey D. Luffy, a whirlwind of rubber and reckless abandon. You'd scoffed when he declared he'd be the King of the Pirates, but then the news started pouring in. He gathered a crew of misfits as diverse and quirky as himself, each a force to be reckoned with. The Straw Hat Pirates, as they became known, embarked on an epic journey that defied all logic. You followed their exploits through the newspapers: their heroic stand against tyrannical warlords, their daring escapes from Marine strongholds, and their uncanny ability to make allies in the unlikeliest of places. Luffy, the boy who couldn't sit still for a moment, was now famous for punching celestial dragons, declaring war on the World Government, and constantly challenging the status quo. His wanted poster, with its wide, infectious grin, always brought a smile to your face. He was still the same old Luffy, just with a much higher bounty.

And you? You remained on the periphery of their grand adventures, a steady, unwavering presence in a world that spun with chaos. You lived a normal life, as normal as one could get in the East Blue. You didn't sail the seas, fight against oppressive regimes, or seek out ancient treasures. Instead, your days were filled with the quiet rhythms of community.

You became a schoolteacher in a small village, your calm demeanor and endless patience perfectly suited to guiding young minds. You taught reading and writing, basic arithmetic, and the importance of kindness – lessons that your brothers, in their own chaotic ways, had certainly missed. Your home was a cozy cottage filled with books and the scent of freshly baked bread. You spent your evenings tending to your small garden, a vibrant patch of color amidst the wildness of the mountains.

You also volunteered at the local orphanage, reading stories to the children and offering a comforting presence to those who needed it most. You were known for your gentle smile, your willingness to listen, and your ability to bring a sense of order to even the most rambunctious of children. There were no grand battles, no legendary feats, just the everyday heroism of a kind and compassionate heart.

Sometimes, a particularly large wanted poster would arrive, featuring one of your brothers, and a student would inevitably point it out, eyes wide with wonder. "Ms. Y/N," they'd ask, "do you think you could ever be like them?"

You'd simply smile, a knowing glint in your eyes. "Everyone has their own kind of strength," you'd say, "and their own way of making the world a better place."

You might not have been a pirate, or a revolutionary, but you were content. You were the quiet heart in a wild world, and in your own way, you were just as extraordinary.

The scent of salt and pine always clung to the air of your small village, a comforting blend that spoke of home. You were out that day, navigating the familiar cobblestone paths, a basket of fresh produce hooked over your arm. The sun, a warm benediction, dappled through the leaves overhead, painting shifting patterns on the ground. Life here was predictable, peaceful, a stark contrast to the grand, chaotic narratives unfolding across the seas.

You were just passing the old fishmonger's stall, haggling good-naturedly over the price of a particularly plump tuna, when you felt it—a light, almost hesitant tap on your shoulder. It was so gentle, so unlike the boisterous shoves you'd grown up with, that for a moment, you thought it might just be a low-hanging branch.

You turned, a polite smile already forming on your lips, ready to apologize for whatever minor obstruction you might have been. But the words died in your throat. Standing there, bathed in the dappled sunlight, was a figure you knew impossibly well, yet hadn't seen in over a decade.

His broad shoulders were still familiar, his unruly black hair peeking out from under a familiar orange hat. His face, weathered by sun and sea, was etched with the experience of a thousand battles, but the freckles that dusted his nose were exactly as you remembered them. And those eyes, dark and intense, held a flicker of surprise and a deep, undeniable warmth that made your heart skip a beat.

It was Ace. Portgas D. Ace. Your brother.

He hadn't changed, not really. The same confident stance, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He was larger, more imposing than the boy who used to drag you into mud fights, but the essence of him was undeniable. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the bustling sounds of the village fading into a distant hum. The basket slipped from your grasp, its contents spilling onto the cobblestones, but you didn't notice. All you could do was stare, your mind racing to bridge the chasm of years and miles that separated the quiet schoolteacher from the legendary pirate.

The basket of spilled vegetables lay forgotten, an offering to the sudden, impossible reality of the moment. Ace's smirk softened, transforming into the familiar, easy grin you remembered from sun-drenched afternoons on Mount Corvo. He looked... different. Harder, perhaps, with the scars of a pirate's life etched onto his skin, but the essence of the boy who'd once shared your childhood remained.

"Y/N?" he finally said, his voice a low rumble, richer than you remembered, but still undeniably his. The single word, after so many years, felt like a physical embrace.

A breath hitched in your throat. "Ace," you whispered, the name a precious, fragile thing on your tongue. Tears, unbidden, welled in your eyes, blurring his image. You hadn't cried like this since… well, since they'd all left.

He took a step closer, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in the simple dress, the basket, the quiet village around you. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face – surprise, perhaps, at how utterly unchanged your life seemed to be from the grand adventures he'd led. Then, in a movement that defied the years and the notorious reputation that preceded him, he reached out.

His hand, calloused and strong, settled gently on your shoulder, mirroring your own earlier tap. "You really haven't changed, have you?" he murmured, a fond amusement in his tone. "Still the same Y/N, polite and proper." He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that resonated with forgotten memories. "Still refusing to get your hands dirty, I see," he added, nodding towards the spilled produce, a teasing glint in his dark eyes.

You managed a watery laugh, swiping at your tears. "Someone has to be sensible, Ace. Unlike some people I know."

That earned you another, wider grin. "Fair enough." He removed his hand from your shoulder, only to extend it, palm up. "Mind if I help you with that, sensible person?"

Before you could respond, he was already crouching, his powerful hands, accustomed to wielding fire and fists, surprisingly gentle as he began gathering the scattered carrots and potatoes. You joined him, a strange normalcy settling over the impossible reunion. As your fingers brushed, a jolt of recognition, of shared history, passed between you.

"What are you doing here?" you finally asked, your voice still a little shaky. "No one ever visits this quiet corner of the East Blue."

Ace straightened, holding a few onions. "Had some... business in the area," he said vaguely, his eyes scanning the peaceful village. "And figured I might as well see if the infamous Ms. Y/N was still taming the wild beasts of Mount Corvo." He paused, his gaze meeting yours, and the teasing faded, replaced by something deeper. "Truth is, I was passing through, and I... I just wanted to see you."

The simple honesty of his confession hit you harder than any grand pirate tale. You saw the sincerity in his eyes, the longing that mirrored your own unspoken one. All those years, all those headlines, all those worried prayers – and here he was, just wanting to see you.

"It's been a long time, Ace," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, a shadow passing over his face. "Too long. A lot's happened." He glanced down at the basket, now mostly refilled. "Heard you became a teacher. That sounds... like you."

You smiled softly. "And you became... quite the pirate." You gestured to his arm, where the tattoo of the Whitebeard Jolly Roger peeked out from under his sleeve. "Commander of the 2nd Division, no less. I hear you're quite famous."

He shrugged, a dismissive gesture that didn't quite hide a flicker of pride. "Just doing my job. Protecting my family." His eyes, momentarily distant, seemed to see beyond the village, to the vast, dangerous seas he called home. "It's different out there, Y/N. Dangerous."

"I can imagine," you said, a familiar ache in your chest. The thought of him, out there, constantly facing peril, had been a constant companion to your quiet life.

He looked back at you, a thoughtfulness in his gaze. "But... it seems you've found your own kind of peace." He gestured vaguely at the village, the children playing in the distance, the warm sunlight. "This suits you. You always were the calm one."

You picked up the basket, now heavy and reassuringly familiar. "And you always were the one who charged headfirst into everything." You paused, a sudden wave of warmth washing over you. "I missed you, Ace."

The words hung in the air, simple, honest, and filled with the weight of years. Ace's playful expression softened completely. He took another step, closing the distance between you, and without a word, he reached out again, this time pulling you into a tight, crushing hug.

It was awkward at first, your arms full of groceries, but you dropped the basket again, wrapping your arms around his broad back. He smelled of sea salt, smoke, and something undeniably him. His hug was strong, a protective embrace that momentarily banished the years and the miles, transporting you back to the days of scraped knees and shared secrets. You buried your face against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, a comforting rhythm you hadn't realized you'd so desperately missed.

"I missed you too, Y/N," he rumbled, his voice muffled against your hair. "More than you know."

For a long moment, you simply stood there, two halves of a long-lost whole, reunited under the gentle East Blue sun. The bustling village, the spilled vegetables, the incredible, dangerous life he led – all faded away, leaving only the warmth of a brother's embrace.

The hug, a silent balm for a decade of longing, finally broke. Ace pulled back, his hands still resting on your shoulders, a soft smile lingering on his lips. "Well," he said, clearing his throat, a hint of his old awkwardness peeking through his confident pirate persona, "don't want to cause too much of a scene. The Marines tend to frown on impromptu reunions with notorious pirates in town squares." He winked, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Right," you agreed, bending to gather the remaining scattered vegetables. Ace, ever helpful, crouched down with you, his large hands surprisingly deft as he picked up a rolling potato. "Though I doubt anyone here would even recognize you. You're a far cry from the scruffy kid who used to steal Dadan's sake."

He let out a boisterous laugh, the sound carrying a familiar warmth through the quiet village. "Hey! I prefer 'resourceful youth,' thank you very much! And besides, I've got a much bigger bounty now. Maybe that'll jog their memory." He puffed out his chest playfully, and you rolled your eyes, a genuine smile gracing your face.

As you both straightened, baskets finally secured, Ace looked around the village, his gaze thoughtful. "So, this is where you settled down, huh? Pretty quiet."

"It suits me," you replied, beginning to walk, naturally assuming he'd follow. And he did, falling into step beside you, his long strides easily matching your more sedate pace. "It's peaceful. The children here are wonderful."

"Children, huh?" he mused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "So, you're the one teaching them all to be polite and proper?"

"Someone has to," you retorted, a playful edge to your voice. "Can't have another generation of rascals running wild like some I know." You glanced at him pointedly, and he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck.

As you walked, the villagers, initially curious about the tall, dark-haired stranger with the distinctive hat, seemed to slowly relax. Your presence beside him, your easy conversation, seemed to signal that he wasn't a threat. Some offered polite nods, others, bolder children, simply stared with wide, fascinated eyes.

"So," Ace began, his voice dropping slightly as you passed the familiar bakery, the scent of fresh bread wafting out. "What's a typical day like for you these days? Still lecturing stray dogs about proper etiquette?"

You laughed. "Something like that. I wake up early, get the house in order, then head to the schoolhouse. I teach classes until the afternoon, help out at the orphanage sometimes, and then I come home, tend to my garden, and read." You paused. "It's not very exciting compared to your life, I'm sure."

He shrugged, kicking a loose pebble with the toe of his boot. "Exciting isn't always what it's cracked up to be, Y/N. Sometimes... sometimes quiet sounds pretty good." His tone was surprisingly reflective, and you caught a glimpse of the weariness that must come with constant battle and endless travel.

You walked past the small, well-tended park, where a few mothers watched their children play. "Remember when we used to build those ridiculously elaborate traps in the forest?" you reminisced, a fond smile playing on your lips. "And then Sabo would always be the one to fall into them."

Ace let out a booming laugh. "And Luffy would just bounce right out! But you... you always managed to spot them. Or you'd lecture us about the dangers of unsupervised pit traps."

"Someone had to keep you all from breaking every bone in your bodies," you said, shaking your head. "Though I think Luffy still managed it, eventually."

"He's certainly collected his share of injuries," Ace agreed, a brotherly exasperation in his voice. "He's still the same rubbery idiot, charging into trouble headfirst. Though now, he brings his crew with him."

The conversation flowed easily, an effortless bridging of the years. You talked about trivial things, about the changing tides of the East Blue, about the village gossip you knew, and about the far-off tales of the Grand Line that Ace could only hint at. He asked about Dadan, and you told him she was still as gruff and as secretly caring as ever. He listened intently, his dark eyes fixed on you, as if trying to soak in every detail of the life he'd missed.

As you approached your cottage, nestled at the edge of the village, surrounded by a riot of colorful flowers, you felt a warmth spread through you. It was a simple home, but it was yours, a sanctuary of peace.

"Well," you said, pausing at your garden gate, "this is it. My humble abode." You turned to him, a slight flush on your cheeks. "It's not much, but... if you're not in a hurry, I could make some tea? Or maybe something stronger, knowing you." You chuckled. "It's been a long time, Ace. I'd like to hear about everything." You gestured to your small porch. "Unless you have to rush off for... pirate business."

Ace looked at your home, then back at you, a soft, almost shy smile touching his lips. The hardened pirate seemed to melt away for a moment, replaced by the boy who used to share stolen meals with you under the open sky.

"No pirate business," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Not for a while, anyway. I think... I'd really like that, Y/N." He stepped through the gate, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path. "Tea sounds good. Or maybe... maybe something to eat? I hear you make the best berry pies."

You laughed, a genuine, joyful sound that echoed through the quiet afternoon. "Only if you promise not to try and set the kitchen on fire."

"Deal," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Lead the way, Y/N. It's been too long since I had a proper home-cooked meal."

As you pushed open the front door, inviting him into your quiet, normal life, you felt a profound sense of rightness. The world might be vast and dangerous, and your paths wildly different, but for this moment, under your roof, you were simply Y/N and Ace, brother and sister, finally home.

Hours later, the sun began its slow descent, painting the cottage windows in hues of orange and gold. You and Ace had settled into a comfortable rhythm. He’d devoured two slices of your berry pie, declared it the best thing he’d ever tasted, and was now regaling you with censored tales of Grand Line adventures—leaving out the blood and the explosions, of course, but painting vivid pictures of exotic islands and strange creatures. You, in turn, had shared anecdotes from your teaching job, the simple joys and frustrations of shaping young minds. The years melted away with every shared laugh, every comfortable silence.

Then it started.

From the direction of the village square, a sudden crashing sound ripped through the peaceful twilight. It was loud, followed by a cacophony of shouts, surprised exclamations, and most distinctly, unmistakable laughter. It wasn’t the polite, quiet laughter of your villagers; this was boisterous, uninhibited, almost… rubbery.

You exchanged a look with Ace. His brow, moments ago relaxed, now furrowed with a mixture of recognition and exasperation. "That sounds awfully familiar," he muttered, pushing back from the kitchen table.

"It can't be," you whispered, though a strange premonition coiled in your stomach. It was a familiar feeling, one you hadn't experienced since childhood: the sudden, thrilling dread that accompanied the knowledge that chaos was about to erupt.

Ace was already halfway to the door. "Only one person I know makes that kind of racket without actually trying."

You followed him, your heart pounding a rhythm against your ribs. The air outside was cooler now, the sounds from the village growing louder with every step. More crashes, more startled yells, and then, above it all, a joyous, utterly unrepentant "SHISHISHI!"

When you both rounded the corner into the town square, the sight that greeted you was a perfect storm of pandemonium. The old fishmonger’s stall was indeed half-collapsed, fish scattered across the cobblestones. The baker was waving his rolling pin frantically at something unseen. And in the very center of it all, standing atop a pile of overturned barrels, was a figure in a red vest and blue shorts, a straw hat perched precariously on his head, his wide, rubbery grin stretching from ear to ear.

It was Luffy.

He was pointing at something in the distance, his arm stretched impossibly long, apparently having just swatted at something or someone with incredible force. His eyes, bright and brimming with an innocent mischief, darted around the square, taking in the chaos he’d wrought with evident satisfaction. Beside him, a long-nosed individual was frantically apologizing to an enraged shopkeeper, while a green-haired swordsman calmly cleaned his blade, seemingly oblivious to the mayhem.

Ace let out a long, slow sigh. "Of course," he murmured, running a hand through his hair. "Leave it to Luffy to announce his arrival by dismantling half the town." He looked at you, a wry, resigned smile on his face. "Looks like our quiet evening just got a lot less quiet."

Your own reaction was a mix of exasperation and an overwhelming surge of affection. He was still the same, absolutely, wonderfully, infuriatingly the same.

"What are the chances?" you muttered, more to yourself than to Ace, as you both stared at the scene unfolding in your once-peaceful village square. Luffy, still perched on his barrel-throne, was now laughing hysterically as a very angry goat chased his navigator, Nami, around a toppled fruit cart. The green-haired swordsman, who you now recognized as Roronoa Zoro, simply yawned, unimpressed.

Ace just shook his head, a mixture of brotherly exasperation and genuine fondness on his face. "With Luffy? One hundred percent. He's a magnet for trouble, and somehow, we always end up caught in his wake." He took a deep breath, letting out a long, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of countless prior interventions. "Alright, let's go before he decides to use the mayor's house as a trampoline."

Before you could even fully process the sheer absurdity of the situation—your two notorious pirate brothers, together, in your tiny, normal village—Ace was striding forward, his presence alone causing a ripple through the chaos. Villagers, who had been panicking moments before, now paused, their eyes widening as they recognized the formidable figure of the Whitebeard Pirate's 2nd Division Commander. The goat even seemed to hesitate.

"Luffy!" Ace's voice boomed, cutting through the general din.

Luffy, still giggling, turned his head, his wide eyes landing on Ace. For a split second, his jaw dropped, his rubbery face contorting into an expression of pure, unadulterated shock. "AAAACE?!" he yelled, his voice carrying across the square, making everyone jump. "What are you doing here?!"

He then spotted you, standing slightly behind Ace, a quiet observer of the unfolding spectacle. His eyes, already wide, somehow managed to stretch even further. "Y/N?! YOU'RE HERE TOO?! AHHH! ACE! Y/N! IT'S ACE AND Y/N!"

With a mighty, elastic lunge, Luffy launched himself from the barrel, flying through the air with a speed that made several villagers shriek. He landed with a thud that vibrated through the ground, right in front of Ace, pulling his older brother into a bone-crushing, rubbery hug that lifted Ace clean off his feet.

Ace grunted, caught off guard. "Alright, alright, Luffy, easy there! You're going to break my ribs!"

You couldn't help but smile, a lump forming in your throat. It was just like them. No matter how famous, how powerful, how legendary they became, they were still just Ace and Luffy, brothers.

Luffy finally released Ace, spinning on his heel and tackling you next. "Y/N! It's been so long! You're still so tiny!" he declared, wrapping his impossibly long arms around you in a surprisingly gentle embrace that still managed to lift you off the ground.

"Luffy, you're going to suffocate me!" you gasped, laughing despite yourself. You hugged him back tightly, the familiar warmth of his enthusiastic embrace a comfort you hadn't realized you desperately missed.

Once you were back on your feet, the three of you stood there in the middle of the chaotic square, a living tableau of impossible reunions. Luffy, ever the oblivious force of nature, looked from Ace to you, his grin infectious. "What are you two doing here together?! Are you joining my crew?! We're going to be King of the Pirates!"

Ace just rubbed his temples. "No, Luffy, we're not joining your crew. I was just visiting Y/N."

Luffy's eyes lit up. "Oh! So you were having a party! Why didn't you invite me?! I love parties!"

"You were busy destroying the town, it seems," you interjected, gesturing around at the overturned stalls and scattered produce.

Luffy looked around, tilting his head. "Oh! Right! Sorry, fish-guy! My bad!" he yelled towards the bewildered fishmonger, who just gaped. "We were just playing! A little bit of 'catch the goat!'"

Nami, the orange-haired navigator, finally made her way over, looking absolutely exasperated. "Luffy! You can't just wreck an entire village because you 'wanted to play!' And who are these people?!" Her eyes, sharp and calculating, landed on Ace's Whitebeard tattoo, then flicked to you, taking in your unassuming civilian attire.

Ace stepped forward, putting a hand on Luffy's head to keep him still. "This is Portgas D. Ace, Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates' 2nd Division. And this," he said, gesturing to you with a proud, albeit subtle, tilt of his head, "is our little sister, Y/N."

Nami's jaw dropped. Zoro, who had finally stopped polishing his swords, opened one eye slightly, a flicker of interest crossing his face. A tall, blonde man with a swirly eyebrow, who you assumed was the cook, nearly tripped over himself.

"Your sister?!" Nami exclaimed. "And you're... Ace?! The Flame-Fist Ace?!" She looked from the notorious pirate to you, the quiet, normal teacher, as if trying to reconcile the two.

You offered her a small, polite smile. "Hello. Yes, it's a bit of a surprise for everyone, I suppose."

Luffy, meanwhile, had already forgotten the chaos, his eyes now fixated on Ace and you. "Ace! Y/N! Let's go get some meat! I'm starving! And Y/N, you make the best pie!" He was already tugging on Ace's arm, completely disregarding the ongoing mayhem he'd caused.

Ace sighed again, a deeper sigh this time, but a soft smile touched his lips. He looked at you, a silent question in his eyes.

You knew what it meant. Your quiet evening was well and truly over. Your normal life had collided spectacularly with the extraordinary. But looking at your two brothers, one a living legend of the seas, the other a force of pure, untamed freedom, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Alright, Luffy," you said, a genuine laugh escaping your lips. "But first, we're going to help clean up this mess you made."

Luffy groaned dramatically, but then his smile returned, even wider. "Okay! But then, meat and pie!"

A Grand Line Feast in the East Blue

The chaotic energy of Luffy's arrival was infectious, and despite the mess, a wave of warmth washed over the town. The villagers, initially alarmed, now watched with a mix of awe and amusement as the legendary "Flame-Fist" Ace and the infamous "Straw Hat" Luffy stood in their square, embracing their civilian sister. It was a scene ripped straight from a wild campfire story.

"Meat and pie, you say?" you chuckled, looking at Luffy's expectant face, then at Ace, who was already starting to look a little too comfortable with the idea of a free meal. "Alright, but you two are going to help clean up this disaster first."

Luffy groaned dramatically, his whole body seeming to deflate. "But Y/N! I'm starving! My stomach's going to eat itself!"

"And who's going to pay for all this?" the fishmonger grumbled, pointing at his scattered wares.

Ace, ever the pragmatist with a surprising streak of responsibility, stepped forward. "We'll handle the damages, sir. And Luffy, you're not getting a single bite until this square is spotless." He fixed his younger brother with a stern look that, surprisingly, made Luffy deflate further.

"Fine!" Luffy whined, but he immediately set to work, albeit in his own chaotic way. He stretched his arms like elastic bands, gathering fish and barrels with impossible speed, though not always with the greatest finesse. Nami, sighing, pulled out a stack of Berry notes and began to placate the shopkeepers, while Zoro, with a bored flick of his wrist, somehow managed to right a teetering fruit stand without even looking.

You watched them, a profound sense of wonder settling over you. This was your life now, albeit for a fleeting moment: the quiet rhythms of your village punctuated by the utterly extraordinary presence of your brothers and their equally outlandish crew. You even found yourself helping to pick up a few stray oranges, a small smile playing on your lips.

Once the square was reasonably restored, a hungry procession made its way to your humble cottage. Your small home, usually a haven of peace, was suddenly bursting at the seams. Ace, with a practiced ease, commandeered the tiny kitchen, rummaging through your pantry with an almost predatory efficiency.

"You really do have the best ingredients, Y/N!" he declared, already dicing vegetables with surprising speed. "Though you could use more meat. A lot more meat."

Luffy, meanwhile, had claimed the largest cushion in your living room, his infectious laughter echoing through the small space as he excitedly recounted their latest adventures, often talking over Nami's exasperated corrections. Zoro simply found a corner, leaning against the wall, and promptly fell asleep. Sanji, the blonde cook, after an initial flurry of dramatic compliments about your "angelic beauty," quickly joined Ace in the kitchen, a competitive glint in his eye.

You found yourself in the unexpected role of hostess to a notorious pirate crew. You brewed pots of strong tea, retrieved extra chairs from your neighbors, and listened, truly listened, as your brothers, in their own unique ways, filled the quiet corners of your life with their grand, impossible tales.

Ace, while cooking, would occasionally glance at you, a soft, warm look in his eyes that spoke volumes of unspoken affection. He recounted stories of the Whitebeard family, the deep bonds he'd forged with his new father and brothers. He spoke of battles and betrayies, of loyalty and sacrifice, painting a picture of a life lived on the razor's edge, yet filled with profound meaning.

Luffy, between mouthfuls of whatever Ace and Sanji were whipping up, bounced with boundless energy. He described islands shaped like giant cakes, ancient kingdoms under the sea, and the sheer joy of sailing with his nakama. His dreams were as vast as the ocean itself, and listening to him, you couldn't help but feel a spark of that limitless hope ignite within you. He might be chaotic, but his conviction was absolute.

"And then," Luffy exclaimed, mid-chew, pointing a drumstick at Ace, "Ace saved me back at Marineford! He broke through all those Marines! He's the best!"

Ace, caught off guard, coughed into his hand, a slight blush creeping up his neck. "Luffy, you're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not!" Luffy insisted. "You were awesome, Ace! You're really strong!"

You watched them, these two brothers who had carved such different, yet equally impactful, paths through the world. Ace, the protective older brother, carrying the weight of a lineage he hadn't chosen. Luffy, the free-spirited force of nature, driven by an unwavering dream and a boundless capacity for joy. And you, the "normal" one, caught in the unexpected nexus of their extraordinary lives.

As the hours passed, the initial novelty of their presence settled into a comfortable, almost nostalgic familiarity. The Straw Hats, surprisingly, were respectful, charmed by your quiet kindness. Nami, ever practical, even offered to help with the dishes, while Sanji, ever the gentleman, insisted on preparing dessert.

Later, when the moon hung high and the village was finally quiet, Ace and Luffy were the last to linger. Luffy, now thoroughly stuffed and sleepy, was curled up on your largest rug, snoring softly. Ace sat on the porch swing, gazing out at the star-filled sky.

You joined him, a warm blanket wrapped around your shoulders. "It's good to see you both, Ace," you murmured, the words heartfelt.

He turned to you, his expression thoughtful. "It's good to see you too, Y/N. Really good." He paused, then said, almost tentatively, "You know, we... we never forget you out there. Even when things get crazy. We always talk about you. How you're the sensible one, keeping the peace."

A soft smile touched your lips. "And I always worry about you two. Reading the newspapers, seeing your bounties go up..." You shook your head gently. "It's hard, sometimes, knowing what you're up against."

Ace reached out, his hand settling over yours on the swing. His touch was warm, reassuring. "We'll be fine, Y/N. We're strong. And we have each other." He nodded towards the sleeping Luffy. "And we have you, looking after things here. Keeping a piece of home safe."

You leaned your head on his shoulder, a profound sense of peace settling over you. You weren't a pirate, or a revolutionary, or a world-saver. But you were Y/N, the steady anchor, the quiet heart, and in the grand, chaotic tapestry of the One Piece world, your normal life was, in its own way, just as essential. For tonight, at least, the impossible had happened, and your family, in all its wild, wonderful glory, was home.

The first rays of dawn painted your cottage in soft hues of rose and gold, but the silence that usually accompanied the morning was conspicuously absent. Luffy was still snoring, a surprisingly loud rumble for someone so compact. Ace, ever the early riser, was already in the kitchen, not cooking this time, but carefully, almost reverently, polishing your small collection of sea-glass.

You, meanwhile, were on the porch, a mug of steaming tea clutched in your hands, watching the village slowly awaken. The events of yesterday felt like a dream – the chaos, the laughter, the impossible reunion with Ace and Luffy. It was a beautiful, jarring intrusion into your quiet routine.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over you.

"Mind if I join you, Y/N?" a familiar voice asked, smooth and calm, yet carrying an undeniable strength.

You turned, and your breath hitched once more. Standing at your gate, a top hat perched jauntily on his head, was Sabo. His blonde hair, now longer, framed a face that held both the earnest idealism of the boy you remembered and the hardened resolve of a revolutionary. He wore a distinct blue coat, and in his hand, a familiar metal pipe.

Your mug clattered softly against the saucer as you stood, disbelief warring with overwhelming joy. "Sabo?" you whispered, the name a sacred utterance.

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his intelligent, kind eyes. "The one and only. Though I'm pretty sure I heard a certain rubber-brained idiot causing a ruckus in town last night, and I figured where he went, his older brother wouldn't be far behind." He glanced over his shoulder, a hint of amusement in his gaze. "Looks like my instincts were right."

Before he could take another step, you were down the porch stairs and engulfing him in a fierce hug. He returned it readily, his embrace firm and protective, his hand coming up to gently ruffle your hair. You buried your face in his coat, inhaling the scent of ozone and parchment – a strange but distinctly Sabo-like aroma.

"I can't believe it," you murmured, pulling back slightly to look at him, tears stinging your eyes. "All three of you. Here. Together."

Just then, a sleepy groan came from inside the house, followed by a startled yell. "SABO?!" Luffy's voice, now wide awake, reverberated through the cottage. A moment later, a blur of red and straw hat burst onto the porch, directly colliding with Sabo in an explosion of limbs and joyous cries.

"SABO! YOU'RE HERE TOO! I MISSED YOU!" Luffy shrieked, his rubbery arms wrapping around Sabo with an unyielding grip.

Ace, drawn by the commotion, emerged from the kitchen, a piece of sea-glass still in his hand. He blinked, seeing Sabo, then slowly, a wide, incandescent grin spread across his face. "Sabo! You made it!"

The next few minutes were a whirlwind of brotherly embraces, shouts, and an overwhelming sense of impossible completeness. Ace joined the hug, creating a tangled, wholesome pile of three legendary figures and one very grateful sister. You were squeezed in the middle, laughing, crying, and feeling more cherished than you ever had in your life.

After the initial chaos, the four of you settled into a scene that felt both utterly surreal and perfectly natural. You brought out more tea, and Sabo, surprisingly, seemed to appreciate the quiet warmth of your home. Luffy, now fully awake and incredibly hyped, was practically bouncing off the walls, demanding to know everything about Sabo's adventures.

"So, you're a Revolutionary now, Sabo?!" Luffy exclaimed, his eyes wide. "That's so cool! You're gonna take down the bad guys, right?"

Sabo chuckled, a calm counterpoint to Luffy's boundless enthusiasm. "That's the plan, Luffy. We're working to free people from oppression." He then turned to Ace, a serious look on his face. "Ace, I heard about Marineford. I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

Ace waved a dismissive hand, though his eyes softened. "Don't worry about it, Sabo. We all thought you were gone. And Luffy... he did fine. He always manages."

"Yeah!" Luffy piped up, oblivious to the deeper undertones. "Ace punched a bunch of Marines, and I almost got punched, but then I didn't! It was awesome!"

You just shook your head, a fond smile on your face. You turned to Sabo. "It's incredible what you've done, Sabo. You've truly changed the world."

Sabo's gaze met yours, a genuine appreciation in his eyes. "And you've held this place, Y/N. Kept it safe and peaceful. That's just as important." He looked around your cozy home, then at the sleeping Zoro and Nami who were still sprawled in the living room. "It's good to see all of you. It's been too long."

The conversation flowed, a tapestry woven from shared childhood memories and the vast, disparate experiences of their adult lives. They reminisced about Dadan, about their dreams of freedom, about the day they swore their brotherhood. Ace told stories of Whitebeard's wisdom and the camaraderie of his crew. Sabo spoke of the Revolutionary Army's clandestine operations and the quiet battles for human rights. Luffy, of course, filled in the gaps with exaggerated tales of grand adventures and endless feasts.

You listened, interjecting with your own quieter memories, correcting their wild embellishments, and offering a grounded perspective to their larger-than-life narratives. You were the bridge between their past and present, the anchor that connected their extraordinary lives to the simple truth of their shared origins.

Later, as the sun climbed higher, the three of them, for the first time in over a decade, sat together in the small clearing behind your house, the same spot where they had shared their dream of becoming pirates. Luffy was already rambling about something, Ace was listening with a fond exasperation, and Sabo sat with a quiet thoughtfulness. You watched them, a profound sense of completeness washing over you.

"Remember that time we tried to climb that giant tree?" Luffy said, suddenly pointing at a distant, towering oak. "And you, Y/N, you told us we were being reckless, but then you brought us bandages anyway when we fell!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Someone had to. You three were always getting into trouble."

Ace chuckled. "And you were always there to patch us up, Y/N."

Sabo nodded, a rare, gentle smile on his face. "Our calm in the storm. You always were."

The world outside might be a chaotic sea of pirates, revolutionaries, and Marines, but here, in this small, sun-dappled clearing, under the quiet gaze of your familiar mountains, three legends and their normal sister found a moment of perfect, wholesome peace. It was a fleeting bubble of normalcy, a precious gift of shared history and unbreakable bonds, before the Grand Line inevitably called them back to their extraordinary destinies.

The sun began its slow descent, painting the western sky in hues of orange and purple, a fitting backdrop for the bittersweet finality of the day. The afternoon had been a precious gift, a stolen moment of normalcy in lives that were anything but. Ace and Sabo had even helped you mend the fishmonger's stall, their combined strength and unique abilities surprisingly effective. Luffy, after exhausting himself playing 'hide-and-seek' (which mostly involved him stretching into ridiculous shapes to fit into tiny spaces), was now fast asleep on your porch swing, his straw hat tilted over his face.

You, Ace, and Sabo sat together on the porch steps, mugs of lukewarm tea in hand, watching the stars begin to prickle the twilight sky. The comfortable silence that had fallen between you three was punctuated only by the chirping of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves. It was a silence filled with unspoken understandings, with the weight of years, and with the poignant awareness that this moment, so impossible and perfect, was drawing to a close.

"Well," Ace finally said, his voice soft, almost reluctant, "I guess it's time for us to head out." He glanced at Sabo, who nodded in agreement.

Your heart gave a familiar pang. You knew this moment was coming, had known it from the second Ace had tapped your shoulder. Their lives were on the Grand Line, chasing dreams and fighting for ideals. Your life was here, a quiet anchor in a vast, tumultuous world.

"Already?" you asked, though you knew the answer. The world was too big, their destinies too grand, to linger in a small East Blue village for long.

Sabo reached out and gently squeezed your hand. "The Revolutionary Army doesn't stop for long, Y/N. There's always work to be done. And I'm sure Ace has his own... engagements." He gave Ace a knowing look.

Ace just grunted, then turned to you, his dark eyes filled with a warmth that contradicted his usual tough exterior. "We wish we could stay longer, Y/N. But... you know how it is."

You nodded, a small, sad smile on your face. "I do." You stood, and they followed suit. "Just... be careful, all of you. Promise me."

Ace pulled you into another tight hug, his arm strong and reassuring around your shoulders. "Always. And you stay safe here, Y/N. Don't let these rascals cause too much trouble." He gestured vaguely at the sleeping Luffy.

Sabo embraced you next, a gentler, more deliberate hug. "We'll write, Y/N. When we can. And if you ever need anything, anything at all, you know where to find us. Or, at least, you know who to tell to find us."

You pulled back, looking at your brothers, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light. Ace, the fiery protector. Sabo, the thoughtful revolutionary. And inside, snoring contentedly, Luffy, the dreamer who tied them all together. They were legends to the world, but to you, they were simply your brothers, the boys you'd grown up with, the boys you loved fiercely.

"I love you both," you said, the words heartfelt and genuine.

Ace's signature smirk softened into a genuine smile. "Love you too, sis."

Sabo nodded, a quiet affirmation in his eyes. "Always."

Ace then nudged Luffy with his foot, and the rubbery captain jolted awake, blinking disoriented. "Huh? What? Meat?"

"Time to go, Luffy," Ace said, a familiar exasperation in his voice.

Luffy finally registered the scene, his eyes widening. "Already?! Aww! But I wanted more pie!" He then spotted Sabo. "SABO! You're leaving too?!"

"We have to, Luffy," Sabo explained gently. "But we'll see each other again."

Luffy groaned dramatically, but then his usual boundless optimism reasserted itself. "Okay! But next time, you both come to my ship! We'll have a giant party! And Y/N, you have to make all the pie!"

With a final wave, Ace and Sabo turned, their figures melting into the gathering shadows. They moved with the silent efficiency of seasoned veterans, heading towards wherever their respective crews awaited them. You watched them go, a lump forming in your throat, until their forms were mere blurs against the darker hues of the distant treeline.

You stood on your porch for a long time, the cool night air wrapping around you. The cottage felt impossibly quiet now, the vibrant energy they brought replaced by a profound stillness. The fishmonger's stall was mended, the spilled vegetables gone, and the Straw Hat Pirates had vanished as quickly as they appeared.

Your life, the normal, quiet life you had chosen, would resume its familiar rhythm tomorrow. You would teach your students, tend your garden, and perhaps even bake another berry pie. But it wouldn't be quite the same. The brief, impossible reunion had left an indelible mark, a warm glow in your heart that would shine brightly on even the most ordinary days. You knew they were out there, making history, shaping the world. And you, the steady heart in the East Blue, would always be here, waiting, watching, and knowing that somewhere, across the vast, chaotic seas, your extraordinary brothers were living their dreams, and carrying a piece of your quiet home with them.

[bellaxgiornata]

You Are My Sunshine [8]

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.2k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Teller Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; sunshine!Reader/grumpy!Jax (somewhat), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, canon divergent, canon typical violence (more tags to possibly come)

a/n: It's been a little bit since there was an update for this series, but I had a few different ideas bouncing back and forth before I settled on this emotional little part. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

series tag list: @mariamadison6-blog @moongirlgodness @kmc1989 @thedreadandthefugitivemind @fallout-girl219 @nfm-12 @f1samcro @sinfulscorner @danzer8705 @baybaybear1 @nutellajade @anime-lover-forever-1127 @steviebbboi @secretlysamcro @aria725 @sarraa-26

The sky overhead was a soft blue this afternoon, the color only occasionally broken by a sporadic passing cloud. Soft birdsong carried on the faint warm breeze as it blew gently past where Jax sat on the grass. But he barely noticed the weather, and he certainly didn't give a shit about the sun shining overhead or the birds singing. He was far too in his own fucking head right now for any of that to fucking matter. 

With his fingers idly running through the sparse blades of grass beside him, Jax sat with his back resting against the headstone. His legs were stretched out in front of himself as he sat in silence, not knowing what to say. Though, with the way things had gone, there wasn't much to say.

This was where Jax often found himself after he'd been released from Stockton–visiting Opie's grave. When shit with the club got too stressful, or his mind grew too damn loud, or the rage inside of himself felt like it was going to completely consume him, Jax somehow always found himself back here. He wasn't entirely sure why either, because it wasn't like he felt comforted sitting six feet above his best friend's now lifeless body. But this was where he always ended up. It was the closest thing he could ever get to spending time with Opie now. 

“I miss you, man,”  he whispered, the soft breeze carrying away his words. “Every goddamn day.” 

Jax tugged at a few blades of grass, pulling them up from the ground as a crease formed between his brows. It didn’t matter how many times he’d come out here now, it never felt right. It never got easier. 

“Should've been me,” he added solemnly. “Should’ve been me in that damn coffin. You didn’t deserve this, Ope. Neither did Donna.”

His head shifted slightly, glancing over at the headstone beside him. Donna’s. The shit that had happened to her still weighed on his conscience. He should've known that Clay would go behind the club's back and target Opie, he should’ve known that Clay would still believe Opie had turned on the club and ratted them out to the feds. If Jax had been less trusting of that old fucker, Donna might’ve at least still been here when Clay had failed to kill his best friend.

Yet another thing that felt like it was Jax’s fault. Everything seemed to be piling up on his shoulders, one thing on top of another. The weight of it all was fucking suffocating most days. Donna's death, Tara using him to kill Kohn, Tara leaving afterwards because she still couldn't accept the man that he was–that he’d always been. Opie's death. The home invasions that kept happening. The bullshit going sideways every time he kept trying to push the club into a legitimate direction.

A heavy sigh fell out of Jax before his head fell back, softly hitting Opie’s headstone behind him. His eyes closed as a flood of memories filled his mind, the years of his friendship with Opie washing over him. All those summers they spent riding around Charming on their bicycles when they were kids pretending they were riding the Harleys they planned to own when they were older. Those summers where they snuck bottles of beer and hard liquor from the clubhouse and drank them on the roof, laughing and getting drunk until they were both puking their guts out in an alley behind the ice cream shop downtown. All those times they'd both snuck out of classes in high school before they eventually dropped out at sixteen to join the Sons. 

Jax could still perfectly remember the conversation he had outside Teller-Morrow with Opie when they were barely twenty. They’d been sitting outside smoking a cigarette in the cool breeze outside of the garage, taking a break from working on a truck that was pissing Jax off. That was the afternoon Opie confessed he'd bought a ring for Donna the day before, telling Jax that he was planning to propose to her that weekend.

Now here they both were a few years later. Side by side and six feet under.

Jax's lips trembled as he fought down the tears threatening to spill, his throat growing tight with emotion. The pain and dark thoughts that always surfaced when he was here came rushing back to him now, and there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do to stop it.

Neither Opie or Donna would ever see their kids grow up, never watch as they eventually graduated high school and went out into the world. Opie would never pull up on his bike outside the clubhouse again, or throw back another beer in the bar with Jax. He wouldn't be working in the garage getting frustrated over a car, or cracking jokes when they were outside having a smoke. He wasn't there anymore when Jax needed someone to talk to, someone to help him sift through the chaos of his mind.

Opie was just gone. Permanently. And Jax would never get him back. He could never change what had happened to him, and it was partly his fucking fault.

Sniffling hard, Jax ran a hand across his eyes, wiping away the tears before they even had the chance to fully fall. Jax might have had Abel, Gemma, and the club, for which he was grateful, but that didn't make him feel any less absolutely fucking alone in the world. Which is what he often felt just beneath the fury and the fire inside of himself–a sharp, painful loneliness that steadily grew more and more every day ever since Tara had left and Opie had passed.

“I don't know what to do anymore, man,” Jax quietly confessed, shaking his head. 

Opening his eyes, he blankly stared up at the lone, shapeless white cloud in the sky. His vision briefly blurred as more tears began to sting at his eyes, and then without warning, he couldn’t stop himself from spewing all his thoughts as he stared heavanwards.

“Feels like everything is falling apart even more every day,” he admitted to Opie. “It’s like I can’t make moves sitting at the head of the table without feeling like I’m turning into fuckin’ Clay. But I don’t wanna be that. I don’t want the gavel to corrupt me, or to fuck up the shit we talked about changing, man. I wanna make a difference. I wanna save the club. Keep it alive.”

Tossing aside the few blades of grass in his fingers, Jax’s hand came up to run across his forehead in frustration. Now that he’d begun baring his soul in the empty cemetery, he couldn’t seem to stop.

“I’ve barely been back from Stockton, taking my place back at the head of the table as president, and there’s already a shit storm in Charming,” he continued. “Friends of the club getting hurt. Having their homes broken into. And the guys are looking to me to fix it, while all of Charming is looking at me for blame. And I got no goddamn idea what’s happening. No fucking clue how to fix it because I can’t seem to figure out who the fuck is behind it.”

Inhaling a sharp breath, his hand scrubbed down his face until it fell back limply at his side. Closing his eyes, he could almost pretend he was sitting in his room at the clubhouse talking to Opie right now instead of sitting atop his grave.

“And yeah, I’m still pissed about the shit with Tara,” he told him, his voice growing a bit softer but not losing that frustrated edge. “I hate that she showed up outta nowhere last year. Hate that she got back under my skin again like it was nothing, and I fucking hate that I let her.” Jax’s face twisted into a grimace before he barreled on, spilling everything that he’d never said aloud before. “And I know I went over this shit with you so many fuckin’ times before, but…”

Jax’s words trailed off, the weight of what he hadn’t admitted yet hanging in the air. He’d already told Opie so much about his pain over Tara leaving him before Opie had been killed in prison. But there was one thing he’d never confessed, one thing that had only been known between Tara and himself. 

“But Kohn didn’t just ditch the FBI, brother,” he confessed, opening his eyes and staring up at that shapeless cloud again. “He didn’t just fucking disappear to evade arrest. Tara came back here because she knew I’d take care of him for her. That I’d protect her. And that’s what I fuckin’ did. I protected her–and then she fucking ran right back to Chicago.” 

A bitter laugh fell out of Jax as he shook his head, tears still brimming in his eyes as he stared at the sky. He couldn’t believe how he’d been so goddamn stupid to think things would’ve been different with her. That she’d have stayed when she hadn’t stayed all those years ago.

“Got what she wanted outta me though,” he spat. “Left me with the weight of the guilt and a fuckin’ gaping hole in my chest that she made while Abel was just barely outta the hospital. But Tara only cares about Tara.”

His hand ran over the blades of grass beside himself again, his jaw tightening in agitation. That fire burning inside of him felt as if it were growing hotter and hotter, threatening to burn him alive and change him into something else, something unrecognizable whenever he looked at his reflection lately.

“I'm always fucking pissed off,” he grit out between his teeth. “At everyone. At everything. How the fuck does the world keep goin’ without you here, Ope? It doesn't fuckin’ feel right.”

His hand slowly curled into a fist along the grass, his blunt nails digging into his palm. Jax's gaze slowly drifted down from that single, shapeless cloud to his fist. He wanted to hit something again. Bloody his knuckles. Scream until his voice was hoarse and his throat was raw. But even that didn’t feel like it’d be enough.

“I don't know what to do with this rage,” he told Opie. “I don't know how to get rid of it. The only time it ever seems to lessen is when I'm–”

Jax broke off, his brows knitting together at what he'd been about to say. The only time it ever lessened was when he was around you. He didn't know why, either. 

“Is when I'm at this coffee shop that opened up across the street from the clubhouse,” he finished quietly. The image of your face passed through his mind and his fist unclenched just a fraction. “I know, man. A fucking coffee shop opened up in Charming.”

A small, breathy chuckle slipped out of Jax as he remembered that day he'd been released from Stockton. He'd rode his bike with the guys back from the prison to Charming, and your goddamn shop with all its fucking plants outside had been the first thing he'd seen. He remembered that first glimpse he’d had of you then with the afternoon sun shining in through the windows. You’d been smiling at a customer behind the counter, glowing in the warmth of the light like something too good to be real. You’d mesmerized him from that very first glimpse.

“The owner is far too sweet,” he continued, a hint of a smile on his lips. “It's honestly fucking abnormal, I don't get it. She actually likes when I stop in, even though her customers clearly hate it. Most of her employees are afraid of me, but not her.”

He shook his head, the anger inside of himself slowly easing the more he talked about you. His hand had uncurled from the fist, his fingers beginning to comb through the blades of grass beside him again. 

“She's funny, too,” he added, his tone softening further. “Wouldn't have expected that. Also didn't expect for her to really see me, y'know? Whenever I'm around her, it's like she doesn't even look at me like I'm a Son. Or some dangerous goddamn criminal. She talks to me like a normal fucking person. No one's ever done that before.”

Jax sighed softly, his fingers still brushing through the blades of grass. In the distance, his gaze landed on the homeless woman he’d occasionally seen around town for the past year or so. She was pushing a cart of her things along the cemetery path, far enough out of earshot that Jax knew she hadn’t been listening to him talking to himself. Yet she'd still noticed him sitting on the ground. He watched as she smiled in his direction before she continued down the path, a strange feeling settling in his chest as his eyes followed after her.

“You'd like sunshine,” Jax murmured, his attention eventually returning to his one-sided conversation with Opie. “That's what I call her. She’s like an overly-caffeinated goddamn ray of light and a fucking rainbow all in one, and somehow I still think you'd have found her interesting. And if I'm being honest with myself,” he continued, his head resting back against the headstone behind him, “I like her. More than I should. It's not just some…physical thing, either. It isn’t that I wanna just get her in my bed. I find myself wanting to sit in her presence and listen to her strange take on the world. Hear her laugh. Watch her smile. And fuck when she smiles at you, brother.”

Jax paused as his eyes gently closed, remembering when he’d last stopped by your shop almost a week ago. The way you’d greeted him with a warm smile on your face like usual, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal to just smile at someone the way you did–to smile at him like that.

“You can feel it,” he murmured, aware of how fucking stupid he sounded. “I swear to fuckin’ hell, Ope. There’s just somethin’ about her. She's different.”

His tongue slipped out, wetting his dry lips as he sat there staring off into the distance at the rows of headstones surrounding him. That solemn, lonely feeling gradually returned, hitting him right in his chest like a persistent ache that he couldn't get rid of.

“But she's too good for someone like me, Ope,” he admitted reluctantly. “I'm just some criminal piece of shit. She's like the goddamn sun itself. I'm afraid I'd just ruin her like every other fucking thing if I get too close. She's better off just being the pretty coffee girl I talk to sometimes and nothin’ else. I can’t be the one to destroy her light, man. Can’t let her get too close to my fucked up life. I’ll only hurt her. And I’d never forgive myself for that.”

Jax’s Harley roared through downtown Charming as he drove back to the clubhouse. He was still wrapped up in his thoughts as he drove despite how he’d tried to leave them back at the cemetery. Fortunately, that rage inside of himself had been quelled for the moment after he’d bared his soul to Opie. But unfortunately, there was a different feeling sitting at the forefront of his mind. One that didn’t feel much better. 

Heartache.

He’d been feeling it for years because of Tara, ever since she’d left him that first time shortly after she’d graduated high school. Then he’d felt it all over again when she’d left him a second time a year ago. But this pain Jax felt now wasn’t quite the same as that. This was different. It felt like a persistent, gnawing sensation in his chest. A yearning for something he knew he’d never be good enough to have.

You.

And it didn’t help that as he was pulling his bike up into the lot outside Teller-Morrow, he spotted you stepping outside of your coffee shop with a watering can in hand. Probably to water the absurd amount of plants you had in pots sitting out in front of your shop. The bright smile and the cheerful wave you’d sent him when you saw him parking his bike across the street tugged at his heart in a way he’d never experienced before. 

Jax sent you a single, brief wave in return before he unbuckled his helmet, pulling it off and hanging it from the handlebars of his bike. But as he did, his eyes remained fixed on you. You’d turned your attention on watering your plants, bending over just a fraction as you did. For once in his life, Jax’s gaze didn’t linger on your ass or your exposed thighs in the shorts you were wearing today. Instead, he was staring at that peaceful expression on your face that he could see from across the street. The slight upturn to your lips that just always naturally existed, the lack of worry anywhere on your features. You moved to the next plant, pouring water into the pot with such simple grace for such a mundane task.

He knew it was a bad idea, especially after the realizations he’d just verbalized to Opie’s grave not even twenty minutes ago, but he couldn’t help it. He dismounted his bike before his feet were already carrying him across the pavement and towards the street, his attention fixed on you like you were some sort of goddamn magnet. 

He didn’t want to go back into the clubhouse, though. No doubt there’d be some problem or bullshit that would land at his feet the moment he stepped inside, and right now, Jax didn’t want to be the one in charge. He didn’t feel like finding solutions to problems and carrying the weight of everything on his shoulders. He just wanted to see you, to simply be Jax Teller for a little while.

It wasn’t until you’d finished watering your fourth plant, about to walk past the door of your shop to water the potted plants in front of the other large window of your shop, that you caught sight of him approaching. The way you’d abruptly stopped what you were doing and turned with a genuine smile lighting up your face just at the sight of him had that bitter ache in his chest somehow simultaneously tightening and relaxing.

Fuck, you had definitely gotten to him.

“Hey, Jax,” you greeted him warmly. “It’s been a few days since I last saw my favorite biker on this side of the street. How’ve you been? 

Your sweet words fell over him like honey as he stepped up onto the curb, taking in the sight of you and that ever present aura of cheer that seemed to surround you. Despite how much he’d been crying at the cemetery not that long ago, he couldn’t fight back the smile that spread across his face now. Your fucking smile was contagious and felt like a balm to his soul. He didn’t understand how, but goddammit if it didn’t make him feel just a little bit better–and possibly a little less alone–whenever you flashed it in his direction.

“Yeah, I know. Been a little busy, sunshine,” he replied, making his way towards you as he stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. “And I’ve been doin’…”

He trailed off as the smile faltered on his lips. He’d been about to tell you that he’d been doing just fine, the practiced line he always used whenever someone asked how he was doing. Because Jax wasn’t about to fucking delve into feelings with anyone. But the way you’d looked at him with those eyes of yours that somehow always seemed to see right through him had him hesitate. And you seemed to catch onto that hesitation, too.

Stepping over to one of the nearby tables in front of your shop, you set your watering can onto it. Then you turned back towards Jax, your bottom lip nervously caught between your teeth as you looked back at him, your hands toying with the hem of your top. He could see you mentally working something out and his eyes narrowed marginally as he wondered what you were thinking. But he wasn’t left wondering for long.

“This is going to sound really weird, but I’m going to give you a hug,” you stated, taking a tentative step closer towards him. “Because I feel like you’re going to try and lie and tell me that you’re fine, but you definitely don’t look fine and I’m not buying it. Not that you have to tell me anything about what’s really going on, ” you quickly continued, taking another step closer towards him as his face twisted up in confusion, “but please just let me give you a damn hug.”

“Sunshine, what–”

His words were cut off when you’d closed the remaining distance in a rush, as if you were trying to give him a hug before you could talk yourself out of it. Jax froze the moment your arms were around him, his body tensing at the contact as his hands remained stuffed in his pockets. Eyes widening slightly as he turned to look at where you’d pressed your face against his shoulder, Jax stood there conflicted. Half of him wanted to wrap his arms around you and crush you to himself, not wanting to let you go because this small gesture felt far better than he’d ever willingly admit. But the other half of him knew how dangerous it would be if he did that. He’d just finished telling Opie at the cemetery that he couldn’t get too close to you for your sake, and now here you were hugging him.

But fucking hell, you smelled like fresh ground coffee and vanilla, as if you’d been baking more goddamn cookies in your coffee shop. You were warm and soft and sweet. You were so many fucking things he wasn’t used to, things he knew he should keep at a distance. But what was the harm in a single damn hug? Especially when it felt so fucking good coming from you.

Without thinking his actions completely through, he pulled his hands from his pockets before slowly wrapping his arms around your waist in return. A flicker of emotions abruptly hit him hard as he held you, and he struggled to hold them down. What the hell were you doing to him? How did you have such an effect on him?

But as he stood there holding you in his arms, his eyes slowly closing, he knew one thing for certain. You were his to protect. Whatever that fucking looked like. Whatever that fucking meant. He would do absolutely anything in his power to make damn certain that you were over here opening your coffee shop every goddamn morning with a smile on your face, safe and happy.

Eventually–what felt like far too soon–you disentangled your arms from around him before pulling away. A small smile spread over your lips as you took two steps back from him on the sidewalk, acting as if you hadn’t just hugged the president of the Sons in the middle of broad daylight in public. Despite having been in countless difficult situations dealing with dangerous people in the past, this situation was one he had no idea how to even begin navigating right now. 

But apparently you did.

“Why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee?” you suggested, gesturing your head at the door to your shop behind you. “I made extra vanilla cookies–purely by accident. Maybe you could bring some home with you? To share with Abel? Because there’s no way I’m going to sell all of them.”

Standing there staring at your beautiful face expectantly waiting for his response, Jax knew he was in trouble. Because keeping you at a distance wasn’t going to be easy when you kept shining that warmth of yours on him like this, meeting him with kindness over and over. He didn’t know what the fuck to do with it. No one had ever treated him like this.

“Yeah, alright,” he replied with a single nod of his head. “Suppose I’ve got a few minutes for you, sunshine. Just don’t go hugging me in there or you might scare away your customers.”

Your smile grew wider at his words before you shrugged a shoulder. “They’ll manage just fine if you need another hug, Jax.” You turned, grabbing your watering can from off the little outdoor table before smiling back at him. “Just let me water the last couple of plants, then I'll make you a cup of coffee. Maybe today will be the one that turns a bad day around.”

Jax’s eyes lingered on you, watching as you stepped over to the other potted plants out in front of your shop and finished watering them. He was beginning to understand that maybe it wasn’t about the cup of coffee turning his bad day around, but the woman who kept making him them. 

[lunajay33]

Why Me? Part.2

•🤎🐺🪵🍂🌑•

Summary: Bella and Y/n are twins but when Bella and Renee moved away you stayed with Charlie always growing closer with the people around La push, but when Bella comes back it’s like everything is flipped around, Bella becomes distant obsessed with the cullens, you find solace with the guys at the beach but things change after the first year and suddenly you’re all alone, will anyone come back, will Paul your best friend, your forever crush come save you from depression

Pairing: Paul Lahote x f!reader

Warnings: Depression

Part.1

•Masterlist•

Song Suggestion: Heartbeat by Nessa Barrett

Hopping down from the wolf I make my way closer to the house but before I can enter strong warm arms wrap around me I know who it is instantly

“Paul” I choke out before crumbling to the ground in tears for the second time this night , the cold ground meeting my knees his arms still secure around my hips hind chest pressing against my back hearing his cries along with mine

“Why did you leave me” I scream letting myself feel everything I’ve gone through the last month

“I’m so sorry Angel, please give me a chance to explain”

“But you hurt me so badly” my cries settling a bit seeing Sam and Emily come out the house worried

“Please I’ll do anything please” he was begging and he never begged, I nodded warily, he picked me up effortlessly and brought me into the house setting me back on the couch Emily and Sam lingering near obviously knowing what’s going on

“Is this normal Sam? For the bond to cause her these emotions to such an extent?” Paul asked from over his shoulder as he was kneeled infront of me his hands never leaving mine

“The bond can cause despair when separated but to this extent for her to be physically ill must mean you have a much deeper connection than just the bond, you can’t leave her again Paul we don’t know what could happen” the talked like I wasn’t right here and they made no sense

“What’re you guys talking about, you said you’d explain”

“I will but…….y/n how could you try to kill yourself, that would’ve devastated everyone, to lose the most precious being to walk this town”

“It was too much Paul, with you gone and Bella being preoccupied by Edward and Jacob with Bella I was alone and it just grew the pit in my heart” I sighed feeling the emotions of the day finally drain me

“Never again, I’ll never leave but what I’m going to tell you is gonna be a lot”

He told me everything, how he and Sam were wolves how it ran in their blood and only came out when vampires appeared, their truce with the cullens how I had to keep everything a secret, but most of all how I was Paul’s imprint and why he had to stay away to protect me

Everything suddenly made sense but it didn’t make it hurt any less

“Are you okay Angel?” Paul asked after the long pause that lingered in the air

I sucked in a quick sharp breath just registering everything

“But what now, will I get better, what about us what’re we now?”

“You’ll get better in time as long as we keep seeing eachother, and like I said I’ll be anything you need, your best friend, your protector, your boyfriend”

“I wanna be with you Paul, I can’t lie about it anymore, it’s always been you since day one” his warm hand caressed my cheek making some of the pain go away

“I knew it would always be you, but you have to promise to never do what you almost did tonight, even though I hate those blood suckers I’m glad he saved you in time, cause I’m never letting you go again” his head pressed against mine our lips so close

“I love you Paul”

“I love you too always”

Get home at 12 am felt different, my conscience was clear once again, me and Paul stand in the back yard as he walked me home I guess, I rode on his back as he walked in his wolf form, it was all crazy really, my best friend a shapeshifting wolf

“Can you stay the night maybe? I just don’t want you to go just yet” i ask fiddling with his fingers

“You go up to your room open the window I’ll be up”

I ran up the stairs as lightly as I could in hope to not disturb dad or Bella who was probably accompanied by Edward, then being vampires didn’t scare me atleast not them they were nice especially alice Jasper and Emmett

I flipped on my lamp and opened the window looking down to see Paul quickly climbing up the house and right through the window

“So you’re super human too”

“Still got your humour” he smiles as he huffs spreading out in my bed like usual when he comes over

Changing into pajamas and joining him in bed, it wasn’t weird we’ve been doing this kind of thing since kids

“I’ve missed this” I sighed curling up into his radiating warmth compared to the cold sheets that replaced him when he was gone

“You have no idea how much I wanted to come to you every night and make sure you were okay, it killed to have to stay away from my mate, my best friend” he sighed running his hands through my hair

“You’ll be here when I wake up right?” Worried he’ll be gone and this was all just a dream

“Always”

And he was for the rest of my life he was there every morning

Taglist: @lilredcamaro14 @cvmtitss @larissa01-blog2 @evanpetersmood @xocellyy @sbrn0905

[thecaptainofcosmichorrors]

[What do you mean cosmic horrors can be sad too?!]

A Shoulder To Cry On

Pure Vanilla Cookie x reader

[Warning/notes: hurt/comfort, fluff, reader is overworking themselves and hypercritical of themselves]

…

How much could one cookie take before they buckled under the weight of their own troubles? Could one sorrow be so plentiful that their self-destruction would be assured? Whatever the answers to these questions were, you could hardly care less.

You had work to do, no time to mope and wallow in self-pity; not to mention, that you wouldn’t dare bother Pure Vanilla with such trivial problems—not when he was swamped with his own work. Regardless, you still felt terrible. Once again you become overzealous in your work and your health had fallen into the wayside, a rookie mistake in hindsight, but you couldn’t help yourself! This has been the most motivated you had been in ages—you had to take up the opportunity, how would you have known your devotion would be your undoing? Well, maybe you should’ve known, but self-reflection was always easier after the fact.

You found yourself sitting down at your desk, staring blankly at your work; you could almost feel the dread of continuing on, but if you stopped now, would you ever get the motivation to start it back up? Besides, you were so close to finishing… might as well push through it. Minutes turned into hours of tirelessly working, everything every new contribution looked worse than the last; only frustrating you further as you kept at it until finally,

You couldn’t.

A disgruntled grown escaped your lips as you pushed aside your work in a bout of contempt, holding your head in your hands. Nothing was turning out right, but it needed to be done— How on earthbread would you get this done if you couldn’t even sit down and complete it?! You sighed, looking up from your hands to glare at your horrendous progress; as if that alone was enough to make it fall in line, it was not, but the sentiment was there.

Unbeknown to you, you ‘two’ were not the only one to witness such a display; a fact that hadn’t dawned on you until you leaned back your chair, glancing at the entrance to see—Pure Vanilla?! A bit startled, you instinctively tensed.

“Oh, I’m sorry my love. It was not my intention to scare you.” He spoke up apologetically before bowing his head towards you, further solidify what was already stated. You just simply waved it off. “It’s fine, wasn’t really even scared—it’s just…” you paused, tilting your head to the side as you eyed him curiously. “Wait, how are you back so soon? I thought you had some business to attend to with Hollyberry Cookies.”

Pure Vanilla nodded as he made his way to you “I did, but we were able to find a resolution fairly quicker than I had initially anticipated, so I decided to make my way back to check on you.” He stopped just shy from your desk, the desk you had to practically chained yourself to for the better part of a day. You had been inadvertently ignoring him, and yet, had nothing to show for it. No grand Symphony. No stroke of brilliance, just subpar work that you couldn’t bring yourself to let him see; so you covered it, placing your hand on top of it to hide your failure best you could—the mark of a guilty conscience. “… Well thank you for checking on me Nilly!” You meekly smiled, trying your hardest to avoid his knowing gaze as you fell into an uncomfortable silence; all you want to do was to just curl in on yourself…

Not that your boyfriend would let you do that, Pure Vanilla was the first to break the silence yet again. “Are you alright dear?” You both knew that wasn’t a real question, instead an invitation. After another moment, he gently coaxed you to look at him; while his concern was evident, that was no judgment to be had— just pure love.

Your eyes grew cloudy and your throat seized to hold all moisture under the weight of the ‘question’. Slowly, you shook your head—your words failing you. With that, your boyfriend took no time to close the distance; hugging you close to his chest.

There it was, the final stick to break the dam. You let it all out: your grief, your exhaustion, your fear of failure, your fear that you had failed him—It all came pouring out. It was messy, yes, but that didn’t seem to bother Pure Vanilla; instead he only listened, occasionally encouraging you to continue route all your grievances, rubbing circles along your back as you let out the mess that was your emotions.

Eventually, your incoherent sobs turned into soft sniffles, and only then did Pure Vanilla take the opportunity to speak “It’s ok my heart,” he said, still hugging you close. “You haven’t fail me and you are not a failure, far from it—I am proud of you no matter what, and I am ever devoted to you.” With that, he kissed your forehead. He chuckled a bit as you yawned, it seems exhaustion has finally gotten to you. Your boyfriend was quick to spring to act, encouraging you up before guiding you to your shared sleeping quarters; not like you had the energy to push back much anyways, you were fine just following his warmth. After making sure you were settled in, he turned his attention to your shared bathroom “Allow me to run you a good bath dear.” Any reluctance to his temporary leave was quickly forgotten with a soft kiss that seemed to follow soon after.

Before you knew it, it was night and your lover had successfully ran through his checklist of all the things you had seem to neglect; you had some of your favorite snacks thanks to your blonde hair sweetheart, and were now nuzzled into bed. Pure Vanilla initially had just sat on the edge of the bed, but even in your tired state, you wouldn’t let him not avoid taking care of himself too. He let out breathy chuckle, “Dear, you truly spoil me.”

Soon the two of you found yourselves woven into each other’s embrace, a tranquil peace permeating the warm space. On the cusp of drifting off, a soft “I love you” could be heard; leaving a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest. You drowsily looked over to see Pure Vanilla already asleep, you press to him further before mumbling an “I love you too nilly” before finally falling to sleep yourself.

…

Little did you know, Pure Vanilla hadn’t be asleep quite yet.

[wisecura]

Pretty

Suguru x fem-reader p.2, p.1 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ p.3

summary: You're Gojo's cute little sister.

AN: thank you for continuing, these are still under edit so please be aware

Warning: Yandere behavior oncoming please continue with caution

And the saga continues

The boys had been buzzing with excitement at the prospect of meeting the Satoru Gojo, bombarding you with questions for weeks—how did his technique work? How strong was he? Was he really the strongest?

You loved your brother, but their admiration seemed to border on idolization, perhaps even surpassing your own.

While it was initially flattering, it quickly became annoying. And finally, you arranged for them to meet. If not just to shut them up.

Yet, when they came face-to-face with Satoru and his upperclassmen friends, their initial excitement dissolved into…intimidation.

Watching their shy, flustered demeanors made you giggle, just a little bit—they stuttered over their words, fidgeting nervously, trying to make a good impression.

It was almost endearing.

However, when you introduced your two new classmates to Satoru, his reaction was anything but impressed.

It didn’t help that you had been endlessly talking about your new "friends." for weeks now. You’d been gushing about how adorable you found them, and how well you all got along—much to Satoru’s growing irritation. He hadn’t meant to come off so protective but he just couldn’t help it.

It didn’t escape Satoru’s notice that the two boys were a little too…comfortable around you.

They didn’t hesitate to touch you during conversations, brushing against you casually, their tone toward you too familiar for his liking.

And the more he watched, the more his irritation grew. One of them casually draped an arm over your shoulder, another brought you your favorite snacks (for the three of you)—each little gesture, a silent declaration of how at much they liked you.

It was all too much, and Satoru couldn’t help but roll his eyes at their “obvious” flirty moves. His cute little sister was too sweet to shove off their advances—no doubt mistaking it as nothing more than friendly. The closeness, the comfort—all of it—he couldn’t stand.

What did you see in them? They weren’t particularly strong—actually, they were pretty fucking weak, in his opinion.

Satoru hadn’t realized it before, but now he understood just how much you’d changed. You weren’t the small, helpless child who used to follow him around the estate looking for midnight snacks.

Or the baby who clung to him late at night after having yet another nightmare, proclaiming that only being with Satoru would make you feel better.

You’d, unfortunately, filled out a little too much in his opinion. Grown into your squishy cheeks in a way that made him uneasy. You’d started showing more skin, wearing shorter skirts—tighter outfits (In reality, you were simply wearing the standard school uniform for that time of year, which was hardly revealing at all—)—Becoming a little too friendly, and that…that bothered him.

The fact that you had the two boys constantly at your side, eyes locked on your every movement—seemed to eat away at him, itching at his conscience in ways he couldn’t ignore.

Those boys were absolutely not worth your time. Satoru was convinced you were far too good for some high school kids who still picked their noses when they thought no one was watching.

Nasty boys who snuck peeks in the girls' changing rooms or even stole your underwear when you invited them over—Okay, maybe that was pushing it a bit far, but that’s all to say: Satoru didn’t like the type of attention you were attracting.

He was certain you were leagues ahead of them in every aspect. They could never protect his sweet little sister the way he thought necessary. They’d never measure up to the high standards he held for you in his eyes.

He only hoped you would see it too.

So—no. He couldn’t help but grip their shoulders just a bit too tightly. Refusing to let go even after they winced.

And—no. He couldn’t control the icy look in his eyes, the sharp, cold furrow he gave any boy who dared get within a few inches of you.

And he had no intention of stopping his "antics" of placing himself between you and your classmates—jokingly—any time soon.

Nor could he stop the "teasing" that bordered on outright bullying. Why the hell were you always surrounded by boys, anyway?

Did this school even bother recruiting female sorcerers anymore?

And you know what?

He felt a such a sense of relief when Suguru seemed to pick up on their overly familiar behavior, too. Made him feel a little less crazy when he too noticed their blatant offenses.

But Suguru.

Fucking Suguru.

He did nothing to ease his best friend's growing paranoia. In fact, he seemed to feed off it, taking every opportunity to stoke the flames of Satoru’s irritation.

It wasn’t entirely deliberate—it was just…impulsive.

A reflex.

He felt protective of you too, though not in the same obvious way Satoru did. Maybe it was a shared bond, a need to keep you safe from anyone who got too close.

But Suguru couldn’t deny the unease that twisted in his gut whenever those boys so much as spoke to you.

And not to mention the way they looked at you, the way they touched you…it made him…restless.

These nasty feelings formed an itch, urging him to push Satoru into action. It became a daily occurrence, provoking him like this. Hoping to achieve his one goal.

To make Satoru do something drastic.

So he’d lean in, just close enough for his breath to brush against his ear, low and soft—quiet enough for only Satoru to hear, but loud enough to burn. Whispering just the right things to set him off.

“I’m positive he’s flirting with her. Did you see how he brought her favorite snack today? Cute little gesture, don’t you think?” Suguru’s words were practically dripping with mock sweetness. She doesn’t need his fucking snacks.

“Why’s that kid sitting so close to your little sister, huh, Satoru? Is he that desperate?” Suguru’s voice was almost playful now, laced with the right amount of indifference to feign nonchalance. Why the hell was that shrimp blushing so much?

“Why’s she grabbing his arm like that, huh? Seems a little too…close, don’t you think?” Suguru teased, letting the words linger, his eyes glinting in that usual teasing way. Why touch filth like that?

“I think I just saw him peek up her skirt, Satoru. What do you think about that?” The words weaponized and angled. He’d better keep his fucking eyes to himself.

And a final blow.

“Who do you think she’d marry out of those two losers, Satoru?” Suguru leaned in, his voice so low it was almost conspiratorial. Satoru only saw red. Red.

It wasn’t hard to rile him up. Not when it came to you.

And Suguru wasn’t stupid.

He knew exactly who could stop those two parasites from staring at you with such longing. Who could make an impact—without you getting too upset. Without shutting him out completely. It didn’t take much to figure it out—the damn near possessive, overprotective streak that ran deep in Satoru. One that you tolerated well.

You were just so unbearably sweet.

And no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the idea of you with those two boys tore him apart, twisting his gut into something ugly. He hated it. He hated the way they were always lurking around you, always so close. Closer than he could ever get.

Suguru would watch these minuscule, fleeting interactions you had with them—those light touches, those knowing glances. As to put it plain and simple, he couldn’t fucking stand it.

So, as usual, Suguru did what he did best—he prodded, poked, and nudged Satoru in the right direction. Subtle. Calculated. Sneaky as hell. All of it was done carefully, out of your earshot.

After all, Satoru was protective in his own way—overprotective, really to a fault—and Suguru had a feeling he’d agree easily, knowing it needed to be handled somewhat discreetly. You were just too innocent to call those boys out yourself. You’d never do it, no matter how obnoxious they got. You were too good-hearted for that.

And you hadn’t noticed. At least that’s what they thought. But of course you had. One of the boys confided in you about how terrifying your big brother and his best friend were.

How they glared at them both with pure vitriol, though neither couldn’t figure out why. How they’d found some of their school stuff mysteriously torn to shreds—books, assignments—how everything they left in the hall would vanish, only to sometimes reappear ruined, as if someone was sending a clear, hostile message.

And, of course, how they wanted absolutely nothing to do with you, your brother, or the rest of his friends.

This confession only came after you cornered questioned them, demanding requesting to know why they’d been so distant. Why, after everything, they had suddenly gone cold.

You’d watched them for days, racking your brain to figure out if it was something you’d done—if you’d somehow messed up—but nothing made sense. Sure you weren’t the most social, but you didn’t think you were that bad.

And, funny enough, you didn’t take this news well.

Satoru was genuinely shocked when you came storming to his dorm room, looking like you were ready to knock the damn door off its hinges. He had no clue what was coming, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

“Satoru, open up!” you hollered, your voice sharp with frustration and something deeper than anger, maybe even hurt. You were fuming, practically vibrating with a storm of emotions. Frustrated with your loss of friends, the betrayal, the fact that your brother was always so…so—

Satoru didn’t even have time to process before the door swung open, and you stormed past him like a whirlwind. The door smacked right into his face, and he instinctively stumbled back, rubbing his nose as he tried to regain his balance.

“What’s wrong now?” he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and mild irritation, though his tone softened the moment he saw your eyes.

You didn’t hesitate. “What did you and Geto say to my friends? They’re barely talking to me anymore!”

Suguru, sitting across the hall in his room, perked up at the sound of your voice. Not able to help pick up the conversation.

“Not much,” Satoru mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He shifted his weight awkwardly, glancing away. “Just told them to stop making those big, dumb heart eyes at you… and maybe to keep their hands to themselves. That’s all.”

He almost whispered the last part, his confidence faltering for just a moment as he realized just how mad you really were. Satoru wasn’t great at lying to you—he never had been, no matter how hard he tried. He’ll just leave a few bits out.

You scoffed, your cheeks flushing a furious shade of pink, not from embarrassment but from sheer indignation.

“They are my friends!” Your voice dropped to a dangerously low level, forcing Suguru to press his ear to the door to catch what you said next. He’d never heard you so upset.

“And just because my focus isn’t on you all the time doesn’t mean you can take it out on them.”

Your words were sharp, each one cutting deeper than the last. Satoru flinched—actually flinched—at your tone. You’d never been this upset with him before, and it threw him off completely. You two had always been close, so this sudden, biting anger felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

Satoru wasn’t weak—far from it. But if he had one weakness, it was you.

He swore he could hear the crack in Satoru’s voice.

“I… I’m sorry, imouto,” Satoru stammered, his voice softer now, unsure. He almost sounded small, an unusual vulnerability creeping into his tone. “I didn’t think it would upset you like this.”

Suguru’s leaned closer. Was that hesitation he heard? Maybe even guilt? Satoru Gojo wasn’t one to crumble, yet here he was, faltering under the weight of your anger. Your dynamic was just so…interesting. You practically had him eating from the palm of your hand.

“I just didn’t like the way they were getting so close to you,” Satoru admitted, glancing at you like he was bracing himself for the backlash. His voice dipped, barely above a whisper. “Do you really have to hang around them so often?”

For a moment, silence filled the room, heavy and unrelenting. Suguru, still eavesdropping the room over, had to strain to hear your response, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He could practically feel the shift between you and Satoru, and oh, if it wasn’t keeping him on edge.

Suguru thought he heard you let out a sigh.

“Toru, c’mere,” you said, the soft command in your voice.

Suguru could picture it clearly—the way Satoru must have hesitated for half a second before stepping closer, his usual confidence giving way to something more careful, more tentative. He could almost see the two of you in a loose, familiar embrace, the tension between you softening just enough to make room for understanding.

Maybe it was jealousy creeping in, though Suguru quickly shoved it aside. It was ridiculous to feel that way, wasn’t it? This was between you and Satoru. Nothing more. Nothing less. He wasn’t here to be jealous, after all. He was here to observe—just an outsider, listening in on the sibling bonding he had no place interrupting.

“They’re going to be my classmates for the next several years,” you explained with a heavy sigh, your voice carrying a softer tone. As though you were comforting a child. “I need to get along with them. Besides, I’m not interested in someone weaker than me and uglier than you.”

At that, Satoru let out a soft, genuine laugh. “Yeah, well, how will we ever find you a husband like that? Can’t you just stay with me forever, imouto? I’ll make sure no one hurts you, and I’ll buy you anything you want.”

His teasing tone was back, playful as ever, yet soft. So soft and Suguru could hear something deeper in it—something protective, maybe even a little desperate. It wasn’t loud, but it was there, tucked beneath the layers of humor and charm that Satoru wore so well.

The comment made you laugh, light and airy, but Suguru caught the tension that still lingered just beneath it. Your laugh had always been warm, but this one didn’t quite sit right. And somehow, that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He could tell Satoru’s comment dug at you a little. But his mind kept a shifting back to your previous words.

Weaker than her and uglier than Satoru?

Was that really all it took? If anything, Suguru fit that description perfectly. He shoved that thought down quickly. He’d deal with it later. He reminded himself to pull Satoru aside to tell him to stop spoiling you so damn much.

But before he could spiral too far into his own thoughts, your voice broke through again, quieter this time, but with a weight that made Suguru pause.

“Satoru, I can’t stay with you forever, you know that.”

“Yeah, well,” Satoru shot back, “I’ll sure as hell make sure you don’t have all these trashy men crawling after you.”

That made you laugh again—though this one sounded more genuine.

“You’re really somethin else.”

Suguru leaned back against the wall, sighing as he rubbed a hand over his forehead. What was he even doing?

This wasn’t like him. Not at all.

And yet, he couldn’t stop listening.

p.1 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ p.3

come home

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy had hoped that the wind might die down, at least a bit, but the wind had other ideas… and do did the rain, for although there were occasional bright intervals they were all promptly terminated by sudden torrential downpours.

Algy decided that there was nothing for it but to seek shelter, and there attempt to amuse himself as best he could, until conditions improved. His favourite refuge in his assistants' garden was beneath a small stand of waving bamboo, which grew close to an old wall. The two combined, being on the side of the prevailing wind, provided admirable protection from the weather, and comfort was ensured by a thick carpet of fallen bamboo leaves, which tended to remain dry under the dense canopy.

Settling himself down, Algy reflected that he could perhaps depend on his own fluffy mind to entertain him while he waited for the weather to improve, and so he began to recite:

My mind to me a kingdom is; Such present joys therein I find, That it excels all other bliss That earth affords or grows by kind: Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave. No princely pomp, no wealthy store, No force to win the victory, No wily wit to salve a sore, No shape to feed a loving eye; To none of these I yield as thrall; For why? my mind doth serve for all. I see how plenty surfeits oft, And hasty climbers soon do fall; I see that those which are aloft Mishap doth threaten most of all: They get with toil, they keep with fear: Such cares my mind could never bear. Content I live, this is my stay; I seek no more than may suffice; I press to bear no haughty sway; Look, what I lack my mind supplies. Lo, thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring. Some have too much, yet still do crave; I little have, and seek no more. They are but poor, though much they have, And I am rich with little store; They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; They lack, I leave; they pine, I live. I laugh not at another’s loss, I grudge not at another’s gain; No worldly waves my mind can toss; My state at one doth still remain: I fear no foe, I fawn no friend; I loathe not life, nor dread my end. Some weigh their pleasure by their lust, Their wisdom by their rage of will; Their treasure is their only trust, A cloakèd craft their store of skill; But all the pleasure that I find Is to maintain a quiet mind. My wealth is health and perfect ease, My conscience clear my chief defence; I neither seek by bribes to please, Nor by deceit to breed offence: Thus do I live; thus will I die; Would all did so as well as I!

[Algy is reciting the poem My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is, written in England in the 16th century. But the authorship of the poem is disputed. Edward Dyer was considered the author until the late 20th century, but some now think that it was written by Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford.]

[babyjakes]

in the middle of the night. [blurb.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | somnophilia

pairing | dark!stepdad!pete brenner x reader

warnings | stepcest (stepdad!pete is sooo sleazy.) soft dark!pete. reader is giving innocent vibes. noncon + somnophilia (reader is asleep.) age gap (reader is college age, pete is 40+.) slight daddy kink (pete refers to himself as such.) nipple play. fingering. oral (f receiving.) forced orgasm. squirting.

word count | 913

an | this is my first time writing pete brenner so please be nice!! i hope you all enjoy <33 he's so sleeeazzy, i need him :'))) also i'm just making as many taylor references as i can at this point, im not sorry about it lol

Eyes trailing up your unmoving form, Pete forced himself to swallow down the low groan building in his throat. The pale moonlight pouring in your bedside window was just bright enough to give view to your perfect figure. Taking in the delicate features of your resting face, the older man swore he was laying over a sleeping angel.

He knew what he was doing would be considered wrong by most. But Pete never had too much trouble ignoring his decayed conscience. When the opportunity had presented itself, it was just too good to pass up. You were home from college for the weekend, and your mother was away on a business trip. That left you alone with plenty of time to bond with your affable new stepdad, who you had no idea was such a raging pervert beneath his friendly smile and easy-going temperament.

The man tried to keep his hands steady as he dared to pull aside the fluffy white blanket covering your unconscious frame. When he saw what you were wearing: a skimpy satin nightgown with lacey straps and little bows along the seams, Pete cursed your unfeigned innocence, "Shit, babydoll. You're not makin' this any easier for yourself."

You were a heavy sleeper; that much he knew. He had seen it firsthand a few times when you had dozed off during movie nights with your mom. He brought a careful hand up to test out the waters, gently pawing at your breast as it rose and fell with your elongated breaths. Receiving no reaction, Pete smiled. He grew a bit bolder, gently teasing his fingertips over the slight tent in the fabric where your unguarded nipple lay. The removal of the blanket was already causing a shift in your body heat, both of your tiny pebbles growing semi-hardened at the drop in temperature.

Your body twitched, your plump lips letting out a quiet sigh as his even hand moved in circles over the stiffening nub. "There. That's nice, isn't it, angel?" he hummed, his other hand venturing to the hem of your nightgown's skirt. As lightly as he could manage, he pushed the fabric up to bunch over your tummy, his eyes widening at the sight of your lacey white panties. "Oh sweetheart," he sighed, his cock throbbing in his boxers at the sight of your clothed mound, "you have no fuckin' idea what you're doing to me."

Your slumbering body was cooperative as he eased your legs apart, scooting himself up a bit as he lay flat on his stomach, his head easing up between your bare thighs. Seeing you shiver slightly, he rubbed a large hand over your legs to warm you up. "Don't worry, baby. Daddy'll take care of you. You just lie there and keep lookin' pretty." The man was practically drooling as he peeled the strip of fabric covering your precious petals away, pushing it carefully to the side. At the sight of your little cunt glistening with the smallest bit of wetness, Pete let out a muffled chuckle. "My naughty girl," he cooed, rolling your nipple a bit more forcefully now between his thumb and finger.

Your little body was rocking gently, pulses of pleasure coursing through your limbs despite your deep state of unconsciousness. Licking his lips, Pete brought both hands down to gently part your folds, exposing your leaky hole to his hungry eyes. "Oh princess," he murmured lovingly, gently prodding the tip of a finger against your itty bitty opening, "so tight down here, aren't you? Daddy'll have to be careful with you, huh baby? Be nice and gentle for my girl."

He dipped his head down, teasing the tip of his tongue in place of his finger. The taste of your sweet, slippery juices only worsened his raging hard-on. Dragging his tongue up to your tiny clit, he traced the little nub in gentle circles, his elbows coming to rest over your thighs as your hips began to buck softly. "That's it, angel. So sweet for me," his hum was slurred as he gently slipped his finger inside you before wrapping his lips around your twitching button.

He pumped his digit in and out at a steady pace, finding your tender ceiling with ease as he nursed your clit. He could feel your core warming beneath him, your poor legs starting to shake weakly as you were worked up to an orgasm in the midst of your unwavering sleep. Soft little whines began rising in your throat as you were brought to the edge by your sinful stepfather's efforts. Seeing your climax approaching, Pete pulled his lips away from your burning nub, replacing them with his thumb. He wanted to see your precious little face as you came; he wanted to watch as your orgasm was forced out of you.

Soon it was, and it hit you with more force than he was expecting. As your cunt contracted helplessly around his single finger, a wave of glistening juices sprayed out onto your printed sheets. The man's grin only widened as he carried you through your high, not slowing his ministrations until your shaking died down. Breaths staggering, you were somehow still fast asleep, pussy dripping shamelessly onto Pete's fingers and the bed below.

Exiting you slowly, he brought his drenched digit up to savor your juices as his greedy gaze remained locked on you. "Oh pretty girl," he murmured with a breathy laugh, "the fun I'm gonna have with you..."

[hopefulceladon]

︶⊹ a battered light (can only burn so bright) | sunday x reader

summary: it truly was only a matter of time before he burnt himself out, wasn't it? pairing: sunday x reader notes: the self-indulgent brain worms influenced me i am so sorry. you give sunday a wing massage and he clearly has Mixed Feelings about it all. is he yearning? is he just stubborn? the world may never know. word count: 4.5k (help me) ao3 link: here!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ ⋆ ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A blanket of starlight had wrapped itself around the Dewlight Pavilion, the ethereal glow illuminated ever brighter by the governing moon.

On such peaceful nights like this, solace for the fatigued was all too simple to acquire for those who sought it, yet even still, there remained those who did not yet allow themselves the luxury of rest whenever daylight grew dim.

It was just such a terrible pity that the Head of the Oak Family was one of them—a conclusion strengthened by the restless, focused, and very much still awake Halovian displayed before you.

“Mr. Sunday,” you called for him as you balanced a silver tray in your arms, hoping to garner his attention.

Your hopes were soon drowned out by the clatter of footsteps as they treaded to-and-fro against wooden floorboards, a pace that hardly ever changed in stride and never once dared to cease.

The sight laid before your eyes was a troubling one; Sunday was in the midst of sizing up his miniscule-scale model of the Golden Hour, his weary eyes roaming over the elaborate diorama as he muttered words that fell upon your ears like muddled verses of a foreign poem.

It was also a sight that you, unfortunately, were growing all too familiar with.

When the two birds of a feather had been reunited by the scarred hands of dormancy days prior, you quite naturally—and quite foolishly—had believed they had snatched away the tension that rested upon Sunday's shoulders in exchange.

It hadn't.

The scattered plumes of both deep purple and white, the likes of which were now haphazardly skirting themselves beneath the premises of the table Sunday paced around, had already given that away, after all.

Wordlessly, you avoided trampling any of the fallen feathers by the grace of your careful footing, and you settled the tray that carried both a cup of tea and a small plate of freshly cut strawberries—Robin had let it slip that he was fond of them once before—upon his desk in the room above, before descending the stairs and continuing to observe the madness before you.

Once you decided you could no longer bear the burden of playing a helpless bystander for much longer, you took a step forward and gently tapped Sunday upon his shoulder.

Sunday's feathers bristled in reaction to the abrupt touch, but his gaze softened once he turned around to face the source.

“Ah, do forgive me, please,” he began with a cordial, apologetic smile, his eyes tearing away from the model to glance at the tray. “I must've forgotten about this evening's tea.”

“If it clears your conscience any, I nearly forgot to start brewing it.” you admitted.

“Is that so?” Sunday hummed in response, nearly bewildered by your confession. “Hm, perhaps I should allow for a bit more leniency in the schedule...”

You frowned at the self-deprecating chuckle that left his lips, but you resisted making a remark. Without a further word spoken, you sat down in the chair that he had graciously pulled out for you, planted right next to his desk.

Peeking over at the files he was so adamantly focused upon, a small smile graced your lips at the underlined and emboldened heading, proudly declaring the parchment's title of ’Charmony Festival Preparations’.

“I can see why your memory slipped,” you mused, hoping to stave off any suffocating silence. “It’s an exciting thing to be in charge of something so memorable, isn’t it?”

Sunday tensed, a flicker of something unreadable dimming the usual poised gleam of his golden eyes.

“It... most certainly will be a festival one shall never forget.” Sunday finally replied.

You decided against inquiring as to why his wings had betrayed him, a subtle twitch disrupting their perfectly mundane flutter.

You also decided against dwelling upon the pitiful sight of gaps between his feathers.

As Sunday picked up his pen to scribble something upon the documents, a frown crossed your lips as you noted the way his eyes, with their appearance already marred by the evidence of lack of proper rest, had their corners crinkled from overexertion.

The remnants of a dying flame lingered upon the nearby candelabra’s wick, before extinguishing itself with a forlorn puff of smoke. As the light diminished further within the room, Sunday’s eyes squinted.

With a frown creasing your lips, you finally decided to speak up.

“Sir, if you’d like, I could relight the candle?”

Sunday paused to look up at you, shaking his head in light of your concern. “You really needn’t go through the trouble.” As your unwavering gaze met his, the visible extent of your worry piercing through his obstinate resolve, Sunday promptly faltered. “...but, of course, if you’re so insistent, I won't stop you.”

You nodded before getting up to scour his office for a matchstick, acquiring one with relative ease. As you struck the match against the igniter, you waited for the head to mingle with the worn-down wick with a steady hand.

Your focus soon fell upon Sunday’s weary countenance.

He was much akin to his candle, you reckoned—meant to burn bright for all to see, yet the burdens of his extensive obligations had weighed his benevolent, ever-giving wick down to a charred stub; whenever he had wavered, so, too, did his light.

And, much like a moth enraptured by a kindled flame, you, like most any other Dreamscape denizen, had clung to the luster he meticulously weaved from the luminance of his candle. Nonetheless, his elevated status hadn’t hidden that he was as helplessly human as those he served, and that even he, too, needed a lamppost to sturdy himself upon.

You wondered if he ever allowed himself to acknowledge such logic.

Once the match finally ignited the wick, you silenced your internal musing with a sigh, snuffing the lingering embers upon the wooden stick with a flick of your wrist.

As you set the candelabra back down onto his desk, it was then that you noted the still untouched cup of tea.

“Your tea must be getting cold by now...”

Sunday’s attention drifted away from his paperwork, and he glanced over at the cup. “Ah, right...” he hummed in acknowledgment, studying it carefully. “It’s chamomile, I presume?”

“As evident by the pigment, yes.”

“And the bitter leaves have been amplified by a squeezed lemon, correct?”

“Of course.”

“Thoroughly stirred, though not too harshly?”

“Only the gentlest of stirrings for you, sir.”

“That’s my wonderful assistant,” Sunday mused with a tired smile, lifting the drink up to his lips and taking a small sip from it, before setting it back down. “Life is quite more convenient when everything is coordinated as it should be, isn’t it?”

You nodded at his observation, all too familiar with the principles he's uttered before in the past. “It does have its perks.”

Sunday stirred the spoon in his cup around in slow circles, his expression growing unreadable.

“So, it truly is a shame whenever something disrupts how things ought to be...”

“You’ve... mentioned that before, yes.” you replied, hesitantly clinging onto his every word.

Sunday hummed as he took another sip. As he refreshed the tea against his palate, his eyebrows narrowed in concentration, prompting his lips to form a frown.

“I’ve noticed the sugar you've been sprinkling in.”

“And I’ve noticed that you've begun to molt.” you quickly retorted without much thought. It was childish, yes, you knew, but perhaps your hasty tongue had a point.

The Halovian stiffened at your remark.

“I beg your pardon?”

Your confidence wavered as Sunday’s eyebrows furrowed, yet your shame was outweighed by your concern.

“The floor is littered with proof, and as pristine as you keep your appearance, it’s hard to cover up unevenness caused by fallen feathers," you paused, your focus drifting from the wings near his temples to fall upon his paperwork. “And, given the stress that normally accompanies festival preparations...”

Sunday’s tongue clicked in frustration at the implication.

“Whether or not I was stressed—or even molting, for that matter—my feathers should hardly be any of your concern,” he replied, his voice trailing off as he eyed your approaching hands.

In a swift motion, he pinned your wrists down against the desk, a counteraction made in desperation to prevent them from reaching their destination.

“...and I would appreciate it if you kindly refrained from touching them.”

You tried your best to recoil one of your hands away, but they wouldn't move—how could they, when they now sought the mercy of his restrictive grasp?

Even as Sunday’s palms cordially arranged for your wrists to be wed to the wooden surface, however, you didn't budge. “Were this over anything else, I would gladly listen, but given the fact that you’ll need someone to help you safely-”

Sunday’s eyes squeezed themselves shut in frustration.

“Beloved assistant of mine, please do not be so obstinate.”

As the Halovian's hold upon your wrists gradually softened, you snatched them back to your sides.

“I learn from the worst.” you murmured.

Sunday let out a soft sigh in response before returning to his paperwork. A part of you wondered why you even dared to bother vocalizing your concern.

Nonetheless, in the ever-growing silence, it was only then that you realized how truly worn out the Halovian had appeared. The dark circles underneath his eyes and the missing feathers had been telltale signs, but even his countenance had changed; beneath his layers of practiced, superficial perfection, you could sense that he was exhausted beyond both your unwavering understanding and his intentional ignorance.

Your heart sunk to the pit of your stomach as your eyes caught themselves on the sight of dried blood in the center of one of the gaps in his feathers, before they reluctantly tore themselves away. It was hardly like him to ignore his appearance to such an extent.

A sigh crossed your lips as you focused upon a droplet of heated wax, witnessing it roll off the surface of the pitiful candle and onto the table.

You couldn’t hold your tongue for much longer.

“Sir, you really should examine your wings.”

“I hardly have the luxury of time on my side,” Sunday countered swiftly. “Were it not for the preparations, I would've already-”

“Then, please, at least let me try?” you interjected without second thought.

Sunday’s gaze tore away from his desk to stare at you, unblinking, as if you had just uttered the most irrational thing possible, and perhaps you indeed had—an offer made in haste could surely be considered as such, couldn't it?

“Did I not already beg you not to do so?”

“You did, but as your assistant, I’ve known you long enough to be certain you’ll just prioritize perfecting the festival over your own well-being, so...” you stared at the spot once more before glancing back at him. “Please.”

Sunday shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he pondered your offer, his wings twitching from what you assumed was contemplation. He parted his lips to speak, only to draw out a mere reluctant sigh.

Slowly, Sunday opened one of the drawers to his desk, pulling out a cloth and a spray bottle, before holding out his hand with the two items bundled together within his grasp. As he motioned for you to take the items with a nudge of his hand, you noted that his eyes never once met yours.

“Thank you.” you said with a soft smile.

Recalling the multiple occasions you had witnessed him clean his wings, as well as the knowledge you secretly procured from handbooks on Halovian biology, you spritzed the water upon the cloth and held it a few inches away from Sunday’s wing, all memories of the least intrusive methods coming to mind.

As you pressed the cloth against the surface, a sharp breath had made you halt.

“Forgive me.” Sunday muttered. “As you can tell, it’s... been a while.”

You nodded, all questions dying upon your tongue for the sake of his comfort, before gently dabbing the cloth against the spot, wiping away the bloody inequity and restoring his pristine visage.

Setting the cloth down on the desk, you smiled. “And... done.”

“Ah, thank you kindly.”

A small portion of your worry had ebbed away at in light of the relief in his voice, but returned with a vengeance once you remembered the sight of the disastrous floor from moments prior. As your gaze trailed away from him and towards the dark purple feathers that dotted the floor right next to those of cloudy white, Sunday’s gaze had soon followed.

Inquiries regarding their condition formulated themselves without much prompting within your mind, but you couldn’t dare speak them out loud.

Not when he had already been so stubborn over his first set of wings.

Not when he had already faltered so strongly in his breathing, a pattern you associated with immense discomfort.

In the absence of all conversation, you both tirelessly danced around the inevitable before something finally had to give.

“The festival has been, admittedly, more of a... project than I could’ve ever expected,” Sunday began, droning off with an awkward, tensed chuckle. “...and I suppose that, perhaps, amidst the madness of it all, the matter of my wings’ upkeep must’ve slipped my mind...”

“I... I see.” you acknowledged his words with a soft hum, accepting his unlikely-to-be-true excuse without further prompting.

Sunday sighed as his hands absentmindedly fidgeted with his gloves to smooth out an invisible crease, before he finally continued.

“The upkeep of a Halovian’s wings just hardly isn’t a thing to entrust so lightly to another being, you see, and I just, I...” his voice trailed off. 

The eyes that were once so keenly intent on scrutinizing the floor beneath his feet soon met yours.

Had you of been anyone else, you would've surely melted under his weary gaze, but no, quite frankly you couldn't and most definitely shouldn't, for you were merely his assistant, and such feelings must not be stoked by any such foolish thing-

“If I absolutely must trust another soul with such a hefty responsibility, I suppose it would indeed be you.” Sunday finally murmured.

You were startled, to say the least. Hurriedly, you gleaned for any signs of hesitance upon his features, finding nothing except a softness in his eyes that you prayed was not drawn from reverence.

“And you're sure of this, sir?”

Sunday hesitated, his expression unreadable before finally, he nodded.

As Sunday arose from his chair to stretch his stagnant muscles, intent on ridding himself of his white coat, he had reached for his shoulder with a barely-suppressed wince. Without thinking, you rushed over to his side, cupping the top of his shoulder with your palm, attempting to gently work off the sleeveless coat for him.

Seemingly frightened by the abrupt touch, Sunday breathed in sharply, hastily brushing your hand off of his shoulder before his picture-perfect poise could shatter.

“Please,” he murmured tersely, his hand still protectively grasping his clothing. “I believe I can handle doing this part myself.”

You nodded as you slowly stepped back, resting your treacherous hands at your sides.

As Sunday worked the snow-colored coat off of his shoulders, he grabbed the discarded garment and folded it into a neat square before putting it up on his desk, then focused on the silvery blazer that had laid beneath.

After a few moments spent fumbling with his multiple layers, Sunday was now stripped down to his dark turtleneck.

Your eyes fell upon the sight of the dark blue, wing-like vest that wrapped itself around his waist, and just as you were about to ask if they were yet another layer he had to remove, you froze once the ‘vest’ had shifted and twitched.

“Are those...?”

Sunday noted your confusion and shook his head, his fingers working diligently to unwrap the clinging, restrictive article of clothing.

What had twitched underneath the vest was a pair of deep purple wings, their plumes matching the pigments of what was strewn beneath you. As beautiful as the appendages were, the difference between their standard of upkeep compared the likes of which rested above his temples were like night and day.

A part of you wondered if, for whatever unspoken reason, he was ashamed of them.

The Halovian tensed under the weight of your prying gaze, trying to relax to force the dormant plumage awake as he averted his sight. “I know what you must be thinking,” he whispered, his voice taut from the effort. “...but I beg of you, please do not pry.”

Your heart ached at the way he struggled with the furled appendages.

“Do you... require assistance?”

“I...” Sunday fussed with the tight wrap once more, before reluctantly nodding. “I suppose.”

Your hands were quick to approach the wings, intent on massaging the tension out of their pinions so that they'd might unfurl.

The very moment a disgruntled, screechy craw from a raven rung from above, however, Sunday had faltered and hastily smoothened his garments back down, urging your hands to shy away.

You turned to face the direction of the sudden disruption, before tilting your head at Sunday, wondering why he seemed so distraught by the avian's call.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Yes, there is something wrong!” Sunday snapped, before his tone softened. “This... this is improper ! To have convinced myself to allow you to touch my primary wings was one thing, but this...” his voice broke off as he glanced down at his unsightly feathers. “...this... I truly never should've...”

A frown etched itself upon your lips at his sudden change of heart.

“I’m sorry, sir. I know a Halovian's wings are...” you hesitated, vividly recalling the multiple times he had recoiled at your touch. “...sensitive. I’ve studied handbooks once before, and-”

Surprise briefly flashed in his eyes at your admission, before his face hardened into a disapproving scowl the moment he interrupted you.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve studied handbooks upon such a topic, and yet still, you allow yourself to willingly fall victim to the whims of compliance over my foolish fallacies?” he sputtered, his tone abrasive. “You should've stopped me, for heaven’s sake!”

Irked by the criticism, you, too, began to bristle.

“If this truly is so wrong in your eyes, then did you really ever wish for my assistance?”

Startled by the bite in your words, Sunday bit back any further protests, swallowing down his anxious ire. Loneliness had been his home for so long, and your touch was nearly a dangerous siren's call—he couldn't truly bear the thought of losing such a privilege.

The puffed up, bristling feathers of Sunday’s higher wings smoothened themselves back down as he steadied himself, flexing his fingers against his palms.

“Please, just get on with it.”

“Thank you.” you whispered before leaning forward, your hands delicately palming the fragile cartilage of his wings as you tried to help them unbind themselves. Reluctantly, Sunday flexed them against your touch, trying to encourage them to spread.

“Still, this is all so... terribly insolent,” Sunday muttered through gritted teeth.

You stilled your efforts, desperately wishing you knew why he was so resistant to your assistance.

“Are you absolutely certain you want me to do this?”

Sunday winced from the loss of motion, the loss of blissful touch against the very surface that yearned for it, no less, and he was far too quick to nod his head.

“Yes, of course. Loathe as I am to confess such a thing, this... truly is a process that must be done,” he replied, his breath wavering. “It’s hardly your fault that I’ve been so... neglectful.”

As your hands tenderly helped work the cartilage to awaken, massaging the spots you figured must’ve been sore, it only took moments later for them to finally loosen from their protective stance.

Dark, raven-like wings, pigmented like the glimmering skies of midnight, had blossomed forth from Sunday’s sides and splayed themselves before you. Battered and bristled as they were, they were nonetheless a breathtaking view.

As the deep purple plumages fanned themselves out like curtains, you gaped with pity at the sight of the clipped plumes, the multiple defects marring an otherwise symmetrical pair of wings. A remark formulated itself upon your tongue, but died upon your lips once Sunday acknowledged your staring with a slight grimace, as if he could guess what you were nearly about to say.

You continued to stare at his fragile feathers with unwavering wonder.

“Your wings are truly beautiful, sir.” you whispered adoringly.

Sunday turned around to bare his back before you instead, swift enough to conceal the rush of both shame and bashfulness that had abruptly invaded his features.

Gently, you reached your hand forth and tentatively brushed against his plumage.

“Careful.” Sunday reminded you with a slight wince.

You nodded at his warning and reached for the cloth with your other hand, dabbing the damp material against any dried spots of blood where his plumes had fallen out, before placing it back down after you finished tending to them.

Your touch was light, delicate, as your fingertips mapped a path forged by concern against the surface of his wings, seeking out any broken feathers as you sought to soothe as many of his aches as you could.

Unbeknownst to you, your very touch was both a soothing balm for Sunday’s miseries and a temptatious instigator for a stirring within his very core.

Brushing past a sore spot located at the starting muscles of his wings had ripped a soft gasp from Sunday’s throat, and quickly, you stopped.

“Does it hurt?” you asked quietly.

“No, no, just...” he breathed out, distracting himself by how heavenly your hands had felt. “If you would just kindly massage them, that'd be-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you worked your thumbs carefully against the cartilage's base, inadvertently rendering him silent, save for a few tender, wavering breaths.

Your hands worked practical miracles against the bothersome likes of his tension, snuffing them out by the source as they brushed up and down the entirety of his wingspan, your body pressed close to his for better grounds.

As your breath cascaded upon the back of his neck, your fingers delved deeper against his muscles. “I hope this is enough...”

Sunday swallowed thickly at your closeness. “Oh, dearest assistant, you...” he paused, clearing his throat. “You haven’t the faintest idea how much of a blessing this is to me.”

Slowly but surely, Sunday’s ever faithful front of ‘perfection’ had bared its frayed threads before you and unraveled itself by its fragile seams, leaving the fate of his precious, oft-concealed vulnerability within your tender hands.

Every trembling breath at each pass of your hands, along with every visible tremor of his bones in wake of your care, had clawed further at your heart, constricting its cage with concern.

Weathered down by his responsibilities and blemished by the expectations placed upon his shoulders as he was, it was clear that he was blind to how thin he had worn down the wick of his perseverance—the very structure of his charitable soul.

Finally satisfied with the sight of relaxed feathers displayed before your very eyes, your hands had retreated back to your sides, and as sudden awareness of your close proximity washed over you like a rebuking flood, you hastily moved yourself away.

Sunday had turned around to face you, his pale skin flushed as he shifted his weight from side to side. The moonlight that filtered through the Pavilion's windows seemed to enhance his ethereal beauty, the glow of the evening catching upon his halo and permitting it to shimmer like an ever-glittering star.

“I must ask,” Sunday began quietly, his gaze fleeting about the room, from the candle, to the barely-sipped cup of tea, even to the untouched plate of strawberries. “Why did you do this all for me? Surely, there must be something you need in exchange...”

You shook your head and frowned at his words. Why did he believe an act of goodwill had such a price to pay?

With so many words you wanted to say and a plethora of woes over his wellbeing you wanted to profess, you held your tongue and swallowed down the bitter medley of trepidation, fearful of shattering the tenderness that graced this rare moment of solitude.

Surely, one day, there would come an opportunity where you could properly formulate all of your thoughts, but this night was far from being that night.

“It’s just that you’ve been working tirelessly these past few days in preparation for the Charmony Festival,” you began, eying the stack of paperwork that laid in a neat pile upon his desk, before turning back to him. “...and it seems to be my obligation to at least try to remind you to take a break.”

“I’m sure I would’ve remembered to take one eventually...” Sunday protested weakly, as if he himself hadn't believed his words.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Perhaps, once you’ve finally burnt yourself out.”

Sunday’s head wings lowered themselves with a meek display of shame upon being put under such conviction.

As his eyes flitted away from yours, far too sheepish to meet your perceptive gaze, you took a step forward and, without much thought behind your all too forward actions, you wrapped your arms delicately around his waist.

Feeling your familiar touch snake around his sides as it enveloped him into a warm, blissful embrace, Sunday stiffened.

You gulped as he tensed against your grasp.

“Forgive me,” you whispered an apology against his chest, careful to not overwhelm him with any further skin contact. “...you just looked as if you needed one.”

Sunday took a few moments to steady his breathing before responding. “I... suppose I did.”

You watched as, with trembling footsteps, Sunday dragged you both backwards, before stopping to allow himself to sit back down in his chair.

His gloved hands clenched at his sides before finding purchase on the tops of your shoulders, pushing you down so that you'd settle against his lap—adjusting you accordingly so it wouldn't look conspicuous—before finally reciprocating the hug.

Completely unsure of what to do with his hands, Sunday had freed one of them to lift your head up with a shaky palm, his cold glove a soothing touch against your chin.

With ever-softening glances being exchanged, the weight of so many unspoken confessions had hung in the balance of the room's silence, but to your surprise, you hardly minded at all. Sunday’s eyes were briefly drawn to your lips before he forced himself out of his stupor, resisting the deafening call of the tender temptation with a soft clearance of his throat.

It was for the best, however—you really weren't sure if you could've resisted the notion of leaning forward yourself.

You were startled as the top of Sunday's head brushed against the underside of your chin, leaning his face down so he could rest the side of his cheek against your chest, breathing softly as he melded himself close to you, cocooning you both together within the vast expanse of his wings.

“I... I truly thank the heavens upon every moment I remember that you're in my life,” Sunday murmured fondly.

Ignoring the abrupt, intrusive flutter in your chest, your arms strengthened the secure hold they possessed against his form.

“I feel much the same, Sunday.”

In the silence of the night, you held each other close, the beat of your own synchronized hearts as you clung to one another the only melody worth dwelling upon.

Even if you couldn't outright plead for him to be more mindful of his limits and capabilities—that his singular light was not enough to shoulder the burdens he subjected himself to, let alone be strong enough illuminate the entire sky—you were grateful that in your arms, he could find his ever-fleeting, redeeming solace.

In that moment, it was enough.

It had to be enough.

[370005]

sollux & terezi on beforus are in the business of ruining lives (for fun and profit)

details + bonus doodles under cut

ive been in a beforus mood lately so im thinking abt what the trolls lives could have been like.

sollux and terezi are white collar criminals. i wanted to give her the seer curse of Seeing Things even though she isn't a player, so she utilizes her infinite outcome matrix analysis abilities to forsee tragedies specifically caused by negligence. there was definitely a point in her childhood where she attempted to be a mothmanesque figure, warning potential innocents of upcoming events and terrorizing the people responsible for totally preventable misfortune.

but then she grew up and realized that the people who were responsible for shoddy architecture, massive layoffs, and general societal injustices didn't have a conscience to torment. They were gaming the system for money $$$ and you had to hit them where it hurts. she used her proclivity for predicting small-scale catastrophes to predict how said ensuing scandals would affect the stocks for the entities involved. you can't make the executive heads feel bad about dropping 30% of their staff to feed their own salaries, but you can definitely manipulate the market and ruin their public perception until people are papering their hives with the company currency

sollux, who worked the BSE as their best surveillance analyst, clocked terezi as a front runner when she showed up out of absolutely nowhere and scored huge profits after two consecutive PR disasters led to the bankruptcy of like 8 corps and heavy damage to their subsidiaries. it was kind of impressive, but he had a job to do yaknow? terezi, who was immediately on the run from the beforus finance cops and had to be sneakier and meaner with her manipulation, and sollux became completely obsessed with this criminal mastermind who was VERY easy to track. she was always behind the scenes in every major upset but sloppy about it. he probably should have turned her over to the authorities the second he knew her location. but, let's be honest, can you resist a pyrope on a mission?

after a very tumultuous rivalry that swung red and black like a centrifuge they eventually join forces because it turns out terezi doesn't have any inside info. she's just acting on VERY good hunches. there's honestly not really anything illegal she's doing PERSAY. and then sollux joins the efforts and uses his forensic experience to make her a lot harder to track, as well as collecting sensitive info and facilitating scandals that will rock the bottom line of anyone they consider an enemy. terezi is very into the networking part of it, amassing a silent army of business associates who can do the dirty work for them, either through bribery or blackmail. she knows how to get people to do what she wants >:] it's a bit morally dubious but it's all for the sake of the people.

lots of fun moments with these two, like when sollux brainstorms a series of possible connections that could insinuate that a group of people have been too careless in their various embezzlement schemez and theres a big tower of cards begging to be toppled. or when terezi comes to a sudden realisation that a potential whistleblower's nerve is about to run out and they've gotta act NOW if they want to benefit from the fallout.

these two are always hiding from the 9+ cumulative life sentences they've accrued and the financial ruin theyve rained on corporate beforus. as a result, they pretty much only have each other, and maybe a handful of their most trusted affiliates. kind of hard to nourish any type of relationship when the people close to you are in danger of being implicated in your many crimes and all of your enemies are incredibly wealthy, powerful, and influential. i imagine their luck runs out one day and they're disappeared from society without a trace.

[mydearviserra]

Wanting more

╰┈➤ ❝ [ otto Hightower x Fem! Reader ]

Warning: affair, fingering, oral, first time sex, ,LONG one shot!

Note: Reader first time having sex so it’s written with innocence and guilt because Otto isn’t her husband. Lol this took me a week to write I’m writing better lol i didnt rush that bad with it

It’s exactly 2/13 11:50pm when I finished editing/ writing I know damn well I missed so much so tm I’ll fix it so don’t mind what my half exhausted mind wrote💔

How

How did I land myself in such position

I couldn’t remember the first time i kissed him, I was too drunk at the feast to even remember. One simple kiss landed me almost many moons later with Otto behind my legs, staring down at me as he held back from wanting to grip off my nightgown with his teeth like a damn animal.

Daemon never looked at me the way Otto does, nor have I scene daemon since our wedding feast. The thought of never consummating our marriage made me feel a bit in my stomach but now that Otto is ready to eat me alive i felt the pit burning a hole through my body

Otto's breathing grew heavier as he cupped between her legs, feeling the heat emanating from their most intimate area even through the fabric of her smallclothes. His fingers began to move, rubbing and stroking along the outside of the garment, tracing the contours of her most sensitive parts.

A twinge of guilt pricked at Otto's conscience, knowing this was wrong, that he should not be touching a married woman in such a lewd manner. But his lustful urges overpowered any sense of propriety or familial decorum. He told himself that this is what they both wanted. How much i craved to be touch and longed by a man, I wound have never guessed it’ll be Otto. Days I tried to discuss my, needs to daemon. The most recent time he brought a whore into his chambers while I was trying to have this discussion with him. For Otto, Women was the least concern after his wife passed he imagined he’d never lust for another again. Let alone now in the most scandalous way, unbecoming of his title as hand of the king he’ll lust for a married woman. Daemon women, yet deep in Otto heart he felt so alive in this moment. The thrill of his fingers caressing the folds of her, her untouched pussy made him want to cum in his pants at the thought.

Otto's other hand slid under the covers, finding my bare thigh. He caressed the smooth, soft skin, relishing the feel of it beneath his calloused fingers. His hand moved higher and higher, pushing up her nightgown as he went. Soon, he was cupping my bare core, feeling the warmth of it against his palm. A finger traced along my slit, feeling the delicate folds.

Otto's manhood throbbed almost painfully in his breeches as he touched her so inappropriately. He ached to free himself, to plunge into her most secret place and claim her as his own. But he resisted the urge, not wanting to startle he saw how sensitive she was to his simple touch. Face bright red while her gaze looked away what she didn’t hide was soft, eager moans escape her soft parted lips. 

Instead, he continued to fondle and caress her core, his finger circling around her sensitive pearl. He could feel the dampness beginning to gather there, the proof of her body's response to his touch. Otto's breathing grew ragged as he touched her, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Such a pretty little thing, aren't you?" Otto murmured under his breath, more to himself. "And all mine for the taking..." He smiled wickedly to himself, his mind already conjuring up all the deliciously depraved things he wanted to do to her body

Otto please talk be through it

Daemon will forgive me

He has his own play things, I shall have mine

Otto shall be my toy..

Otto's own body reacted to the sound of her moan and the feeling of her slick arousal coating his fingers. Otto began to move his fingers more purposefully, rubbing and circling her sensitive pearl as he slid one long finger inside her tight, wet heat. He groaned softly at the feel of her walls clenching around his invading digit, as if trying to pull him in deeper. His manhood throbbed almost angrily against the confines of his breeches, a damp spot forming where the head leaked pre-cum.

"Look at me- now. ," Otto murmured, his voice low and rough with lust. "Tell me to stop okay? This is for your pleasure”

“Keep going..please don’t stop..” my voice trembling with slight guilty, the awakening of pleasure slowly brewing inside of me it felt like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Once I opened my eyes turning my head to meet his gaze he continued again . 

Otto worked a second finger into dripping pussy, pumping them in and out, curling them to rub against that spongy spot on the front wall of her core. His thumb continued to circle and rub my clit, making my hips twitch and jerk

Otto's other hand slid up to cup and knead my breast, feeling the soft weight of it in his palm. He brushed his thumb over the peak, feeling it stiffen and harden under his touch. He longed to take her nipple into his mouth and suckle hard, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he focused on bringing closer to the edge with his fingers, fucking her harder and faster, his digits glistening with her arousal.

“O-oh! Oh gods! Otto! I can’t-“ I quickly cover my mouth to hide screaming of pleasure, the guilt was eating me alive as i clenched around his fingers. My body began tensing, breathing growing more ragged as I practically gasp to hide the sinful moans. I pulled my hands that once grip onto the sheets to travel move my hands onto your breasts, needing and pitching over the night grown

"That's it, my little dove," he encouraged, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "Touch yourself just like that. Imagine it's my hands on your body, worshipping every inch of your luscious curves." He watched shamelessly as I fondled my breasts, I bit onto my lips as I saw his own hand slid under her nightgown to grope and squeeze the bare flesh of my breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm. He rolled the nipple between his fingers, tugging and plucking at it until it was red and throbbing. Pulling my hands away to let him go on

“Otto- please I..I can’t I need too-“ I fumbled my words i couldn’t even complete the sentence as an unfamiliar feeling swirling in my stomach. Otto could feel my body tensing, my inner muscles fluttering wildly around his plunging fingers as he broughtmr closer and closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear as he growled,

"Come for me, I want to feel you come undone on my fingers, want to feel your sweet little pussy spasm and clench as you scream your release. Give yourself to me, my dove . Let me feel you come apart."

With that, Otto rubbed my clit harder and faster, his fingers pumping into me at a relentless pace as he pushed over the edge. He could feel my body stiffening. My body went rigid, my back arching sharply off the bed as a strangled cry tore from her throat.

"A-Otto! Oh, gods, Otto!"i wailed, my inner walls clamping down viciously around his plunging fingers as I came undone. My juices gushed out around his hand, soaking his fingers and dripping down onto the sheets beneath you.

Otto groaned gutturally as he felt my velvet soft walls spasming and fluttering wildly around his fingers, her pleasure dripping out and coating his hand. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, drawing out her climax for as long as possible, relishing every clench and shudder of her sex.

"That's it," Otto panted harshly, his own arousal throbbing almost painfully in his breeches. "Come for me, scream my name, let all of the castle know who makes you feel this way." He rubbed her clit firmly, circling the sensitive nub as her orgasm crashed over her in waves.

As my climax began to subside, my body going boneless and slumping back against the mattress, Otto slowly withdrew his soaked fingers from my dripping core He brought them to his mouth, making a show of licking my essence from each digit, his eyes never leaving my face.

"Delicious," Otto murmured, his voice rough with lust. "You taste even sweeter than I imagined, my dove ." He licked his lips, his gaze roaming hungrily over my disheveled form, taking in the way my chest heaved with each ragged breath, the way my nightgown was hiked up around my waist to reveal the glistening flesh of her core. "I know this is all so new and overwhelming for you, but I swear, I will make you feel pleasure beyond your wildest dreams."

"You want to taste more, don't you, my princess?" Otto murmured, his thumb circling her clit, making you gasp and shudder. "You want to wrap your sweet little mouth around my cock, to feel it throbbing against your tongue as you take it deeper and deeper into your throat?"

Yes! Oh please yes

“I do..oh please I do”

Otto's other hand reached down to wrap around his straining erection, pumping it slowly as he watched my face for her reaction. He could feel the thick vein on the underside pulsing with each beat of his heart, could feel the silky steel of his shaft as he stroked it. My teeth sinked harshly against my lip, almost enough to cause blood.

"I want to feel your lips stretched wide around me, want to fuck your pretty face until I paint your throat with my seed," Otto growled, his hips rocking into his fist. "Would you like that, my dove ? To taste my cock, to swallow down every drop of his essence?"

I nodded eagerly , a moan escaping as Otto's thumb circled ny sensitive clit, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. I couldn't believe what i was feeling, the overwhelming urge to touch myself, to taste Otto, to have his cock in my mouth. But the ache between my legs was too intense to ignore.

"Yes," my voice barely above a whisper. "I want to taste you, Otto. I want to feel your cock in my mouth, want to make you feel good." I licked my lips, my gaze locked on his thick shaft, watching as it throbbed and leaked precum. "Teach me how to please you," i added, a hint of shy eagerness in my voice.

Otto's eyes darkened with lust at my breathless confirmation, a feral grin spreading across his face. He released his shaft and reached out to grasp her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. His thumb brushed over her plump bottom lip, tracing the delicate curve.

"That's my good girl," Otto praised, his voice a low, approving rumble. "I'm going to teach you everything you need to know to be a perfect little cock slut for me." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "First, start by wrapping your hand around the base of my shaft. Feel how thick it is, how hard it is for you."

Otto guided my small hand to his throbbing erection, wrapping my fingers around the thick base. He groaned at the feel of my soft skin against his aching flesh, his hips jerking slightly at my touch. His cock was so engorged and stiff that he could feel every ridge and vein pulsing beneath her palm.

"Now, start stroking it," Otto instructed, his voice strained with desire. "Move your hand up and down the shaft, squeezing gently. Explore every inch of it with your fingers." He demonstrated the motion with her hand, helping her stroke him from base to tip and back again.

As I began to pump his cock with clumsy enthusiasm, Otto reached down with his other hand to grip himself at the root, pointing his shaft towards my face. Drops of precum oozed from the flared head, dripping onto my parted lips.

"Open your mouth, princess," Otto commanded, rubbing the leaking tip

My lips parted obediently, my tongue darting out to lap at the bead of precum drooling from the swollen head of Otto's cock. I shuddered at the unfamiliar taste, a jolt of electricity shooting through the intimate contact. The musky, slightly salty flavor exploded on my tongue, making me want more.

"Good girl," Otto praised, his voice a low, approving growl as he felt her tongue flick against his sensitive flesh. "Now take the head into your mouth. Wrap your lips around it and suck gently."

I did what I was told, my soft lips engulfing the broad crown of Otto's shaft. I could feel it throbbing against my tongue, could taste the salty precum leaking steadily from the tip. Hesitantly at first, i began to suckle, my cheeks hollowing slightly as i drew on the head of his cock.

"That's it, princess," Otto encouraged, his hand coming to rest on the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. "Take more of it into your mouth. I want to feel your hot little throat squeezing around me."

Obediently, i opened her jaw wider and took another inch of Otto's thick length into my mouth. I could feel it stretching my lips, pressing against the roof of my mouth as she struggled to accommodate him. The taste of his skin, the weight of his shaft on my tongue, was dizzying.

"More," Otto demanded, his hips rocking slightly to push himself deeper into the wet heat of my mouth. "Take it deeper, my dove . I know you can do it."

I relaxed her throat and took another few inches, feeling the head of Otto's cock pressing against the back of my throat. I gagged slightly, my throat convulsing around the intrusion, but I didn't pull away. Instead, i focused on breathing through her nose and relaxing my muscles.

"That's my good girl," Otto praised, his voice strained. "Your mouth feels so fucking good wrapped around my cock. I can't wait to feel your tight little pussy squeezing me just as nicely." He began to slowly thrust into her mouth, fucking her face with shallow pumps of his hips

Otto groaned as he felt my throat constricting around his sensitive cockhead with each thrust, the tight, rippling flesh massaging him exquisitely. He could feel my hands coming up to grasp his thick thighs for balance as he slowly hilted himself deeper and deeper into my hot, willing mouth.

I fear I might crave Otto

A sin to want another man

My untouched body ruined by Otto and yet..I’m happy it’s him

I want to be pleased by a man, not a spoiled prince

"That's it, princess," Otto grunted, his fingers tightening in her hair as he hit the back of her throat. "Take it all like a good girl. I want to feel myself buried in your tight little throat."

He began to thrust more firmly, his heavy balls slapping against my chin with each pump of his hips. Drool began to leak from the corners of her stretched lips, dripping down onto her nightgown as Otto fucked her pretty face with increasing fervor.

Otto could feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, his climax approaching rapidly. The sight of his innocent stepdaughter, her cheeks bulging obscenely as he used her mouth, was almost too much to bear. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself to the hilt and paint her throat white with his seed.

But he held back, wanting to drag out this moment for as long as possible. Instead, he pulled out abruptly, his slick shaft slapping wetly agains her cheek, leaving a smear of saliva and precum on her soft skin.

"Enough," Otto said, his voice ragged and rough with barely controlled lust. "I need to be inside your other tight little hole now. I need to feel your pussy squeezing me as I fuck you."

He grabbed my wrists and pushed me down on the bed. In a flash, he had ripped my nightgown off over my head and tossed it aside, leaving me bare and exposed beneath him. His hungry gaze raked over my nubile body, taking in every dip and curve.

"Spread your legs for me, princess," Otto commanded, settling himself between her thighs. The thick head of his cock nudged against her dripping slit, smearing her juices along her folds. "I'm going to fill you up now, going to claim this sweet little hole as mine."

I gasped as Otto manhandled me, a thrill of fear and excitement shooting through my as he exposed me completely naked body to his ravenous gaze. I had never felt so vulnerable, so utterly at the mercy of another person. But as Otto loomed over me,I couldn't deny the heat pooling between my thighs, the aching emptiness that craved to be filled.

With shaking hands, I reached down to spread my legs, opening myself completely to him. I could feel the cool air of the chamber kissing my most intimate places, making me shiver. The slick, swollen lips of my hole glistened in the candlelight, dripping withmy arousal.

"Please, Otto," i whimpered, my voice small and breathy with need. "I've never... I mean, I don't know if I can take something so big inside me."

Despite my nervousness, I arched my hips up slightly, seeking more of that delicious friction against my aching core. I could feel the thick head of Otto's cock nudging against my entrance, the heat of it searing me even as it made me quiver with anticipation.

Otto growled low in his throat at the sight of her pristine, untouched hole laid bare before him. He could see her rosebud fluttering nervously, her dewy petals quivering with each shallow breath she took. The knowledge that he would be the first, the only man to ever claim this sweet prize, only inflamed his lust.

"Shh, don't worry, my dove ," Otto soothed, even as his hips rocked forward to notch the broad crown of his shaft inside her tight entrance. "I'll be gentle... at first. Tell me when it’s to much okay? my perfect dove” ."

With that, Otto began to push forward, the thick head of his cock stretching my virgin passage. Her slick walls clung to him desperately, fluttering and rippling as they struggled to accommodate his girth. Inch by excruciating inch, he sank deeper into her hot, silky depths.

I cried out, my back arching off the bed as I was stretched wider than j ever thought possible. Pain and pleasure warred within me. My cries of pain and pleasure intermingled as Otto slowly, inexorably pushed himself deeper into me. My slick inner walls strained and stretched around his thick, pulsing shaft, the wet heat enveloping him like a velvet vise.

"That's it, princess," Otto grunted, sweat beading on his brow from the effort of holding back, of not simply rutting into her tight little hole with wild abandon. "Take my cock. Let it reshape you, mold you to fit me perfectly."

He could feel every quiver and clench of her untried walls, could feel the way her body fought to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely for the first time. The knowledge that he was the one to take her innocence, to claim her so thoroughly, only spurred on his lust.

Otto paused when he felt the thin barrier of her hymen stretching taut against the ridge of his cockhead. He looked down at her flushed, panting face, saw the way her eyes were clenched shut in concentration and slight pain. With a swift, sharp thrust of his hips, he breached her, tearing through the fragile membrane and burying himself to the hilt in one stroke.

I screamed, my voice echoing off the chamber walls as searing agony exploded through my lower body. Tears sprang to my eyes, leaking down my temples as i thrashed beneath Otto, trying to escape the overwhelming pain and pressure. Her hands scrabbled at his back, nails digging into his skin, but Otto was unmoving, pinning her down as he waited for her to adjust.

"Shh, it's done," Otto murmured, his voice a dark rumble in his chest. "You're mine now, princess. My little virgin dove, claimed and deflowered" He rolled his hips, grinding his pelvis against hers as he savored the feel of her impossibly tight sheath gripping him like a fist. "No man will ever fill you like I can. No one will ever make you feel as good as I will."

I whimpered and trembled beneath Otto, my body wracked with a maelstrom of sensations too intense and overwhelming for me inexperienced nerves to process. The pain of my lost innocence slowly began to ebb, morphing into a strange, aching emptiness that craved to be filled once more. My walls fluttered weakly around the thick intruder stretching me open, still trying to adjust to the foreign sensation of being so utterly claimed.

Tears streaked down my flushed cheeks as I gazed up at Otto with wide, trusting eyes. Despite the pain and the sheer size of him inside me,I couldn't deny the flickers of pleasure sparking through my as he ground against my most sensitive places.my breath hitched as a particularly firm roll of his hips sent a jolt of heat straight to my core.

"I... I feel so full," I whimpered "So big and hard inside me. I never knew it would be like this."

I could feel every throb and twitch of Otto's shaft as it pulsed within me , could feel the weight of his heavy balls pressing against my bottom. The knowledge that he had taken me , claimed me , branded her as his own sent a dark thrill through me.

I would hear daemon fuck his whores though they were never as loud as I was

I felt better knowing the difference between them

I took a shuddering breath, my slick inner muscles clenching reflexively around Otto's thick length. "Please... please don't stop," i whispered, my voice ragged with need. "I want to feel more. I want you to... to fuck me, Otto. Make me yours completely."

As I spoke those bold words, I wrapped my legs around Otto's waist, locking my ankles at the small of his back. The movement caused ny hips to tilt up, taking him impossibly deeper into my tight, grasping sheath. I could feel him in her belly, could feel the head of his cock kissing my womb with each twitch and throb.

"Ruin me for any other man- ruin me like my husband should have done,"I breathed, my eyes burning into Otto's with a newfound hunger. "I'm yours, Otto. My body is yours to use for your pleasure. Please... please fuck me hard and fill me up until I can't take anymore."

A dark, feral grin split Otto's face, his eyes glinting with triumph and unbridled lust. He had waited so long to hear those words from her sweet lips, to know that she was finally his to claim and take as he pleased. And now, with her legs wrapped around him and her tight little hole gripping his cock like a silken vise, Otto knew he would not hold back any longer.

"As my dove commands," Otto growled, his voice a low, approving rumble. He leaned down to capture her l. ips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to stake his claim on her once more. At the same time, he drew back his hips until only the tip of his shaft remained inside her, before slamming forward to bury himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

I cried out into the kiss, my scream of pained pleasure muffled by Otto's demanding mouth. My back arched sharply off the bed as he began to move, each powerful thrust of his hips driving the air from my lungs and sending shockwaves of sensation crashing through me. The wet, obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the chamber as Otto pistoned into me , fucking me with deep, relentless strokes that shook the very bed beneath them.

"That's it" Otto panted against her lips, his breath hot and ragged. "Take my cock. Feel it splitting you open, stretching this greedy little hole around my thick shaft." He punctuated each word with a sharp, driving thrust, grinding his pelvis against hers as he hit her cervix dead on.

I could only cling to Otto, my fingers scrabbling at his sweat-slicked back as he used my with wild abandon. Each drag of his cock against my sensitive walls sent bolts of searing pleasure shooting through her, stoking the heat building rapidly in her core. I could feel my body beginning to tense, my muscles drawing taut as a bowstring as my climax approached.

"Yes, yes, yes!" I chanted mindlessly, too lost in sensation to care how wanton i sounded. "Don't stop, Otto! Harder, please! I'm... I'm going to...” my words dissolved into a wordless scream as my orgasm crashed over me, my whole clamping down around Otto's

My scream of ecstasy echoed through the chamber as my climax finally overtook me, my untouched body convulsing wildly beneath Otto's relentless onslaught. My slick inner walls clamped down around his plunging shaft like a vice, rippling and milking his length as if trying to draw him even deeper into my core. The sensation was almost too much for Otto to bear, the feel of her virgin pussy squeezing him so tightly, as if her very body was trying to keep him inside her forever.

"That's it, princess," Otto grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Come on my cock. Let me feel this sweet little hole spasming around me as you find your pleasure."

He pistoned into her harder, each thrust shaking the headboard and rattling the very frame of the bed. One hand reached down to grasp her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he yanked her into each savage thrust, while the other hand delved between their sweat-slicked bodies to find her swollen little clit.

Otto rubbed the sensitive nub in tight circles, feeling it throb against his fingertips as she shuddered and bucked beneath him. The added stimulation sent her hurtling into a second, even more intense climax, her scream of rapture piercing the air.

"That's my good girl," Otto praised, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. "You're going to come for me again and again until I fill this hungry little cunt with my seed."

He could feel his own release fast approaching, the coil of heat in his loins tightening to an unbearable degree. But Otto was determined to make her come one last time on his cock before he allowed himself the sweet relief of emptying his heavy balls inside her.

Leaning down, Otto captured one of her bouncing nipples between his teeth, sucking and biting at the sensitive bud as he pounded into her. His fingers moved from her clit to plunge into her dripping sex alongside his cock, pumping in and out of her fluttering channel as he fucked her through her peak.

My body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure as Otto drove my relentlessly towards yet another shattering climax.my mind was hazy, thoughts scattered to the wind, coherent only in the present moment - the feeling of Otto's thick shaft pistoning in and out of my dripping hole, his fingers toying with my sensitive clit, his teeth and tongue lavishing attention on my aching nipples.Each powerful thrust of his hips sent fresh waves of ecstasy crashing over me, my untouched body struggling to process the overwhelming onslaught of sensation.

As Otto's fingers plunged into her fluttering channel alongside his cock, she felt the coil of heat in her core tighten to an unbearable degree. Her inner muscles clamped down around the dual intrusions, gripping them like a silken vise as her climax built to a crescendo. She could feel every ridge and vein of Otto's shaft dragging against her sensitive walls, could feel the rough calluses of his fingers rubbing against her swollen, throbbing clit.

"I... I can't... too much..." i whimpered, even as my hips bucked feverishly to meet Otto's thrusts. Tears of rapture streamed down my face. I had never known pleasure could be this intense, this all-consuming. It was almost too much for her inexperienced body to bear.

Yet even as I teetered on the brink of her third climax, I found herself craving more. I wanted to feel Otto's hot seed flooding her depths, wanted to be marked and claimed and owned by him completely. With a final, keening cry, I came undone, my hole convulsing almost violently around Otto's pistoning length as my orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave.

"Otto!" I screamed, my voice raw and ragged with ecstasy. "Fill me, please! I want to feel your seed inside me. I want it, please!"

With a roar of triumph, Otto slammed into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt as her pussy clamped down around him like a molten vise. The sensation of her velvet walls rippling and milking his shaft was too much for the battle-hardened knight to withstand. With a guttural groan, Otto let his climax overtake him, his heavy balls drawing up tight as they unleashed a torrent of hot, thick seed directly into her waiting womb.

I could feel the scalding heat of Otto's release flooding my insides, painting my untouched depths with his essence. Jet after jet of potent cum pumped into her, filling me so completely that I could feel it sloshing heavily in her belly as Otto ground against me , working his shaft to ensure every last drop took root inside her

"Fuck" Otto growled, his weight pressing down on her as he shuddered through the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. "Take my seed, my dove. Let it sink into your womb and take hold. You'll carry my child, I know it."

He captured her lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his lust and dark satisfaction into the embrace. One large hand slid down to possessively cup her mound, fingers delving between her dripping folds to feel the way her abused flesh fluttered around his softening shaft.

"You're mine now, my dove," Otto murmured against her lips, his voice a low, possessive rumble. "Mine to fuck, mine to breed. I'll fill this sweet cunt with my seed again and again until your belly swells with my child."

He rolled his hips lazily, stirring the mixture of their juices inside her as he slowly softened inside her clutching heat. Even as the haze of lust began to recede, Otto made no move to pull out of her instead settling his weight more fully on top of her as he savored the intimate connection.

“If daemon can please his lady wife then I shall take his place- you’ll be mine my darling dove all mine”

There is probably to much to edit so I’ll do it in the morning I’m to stubborn lol

ANYWHOO more stores lined up for This coming weeks,

Under the moonlight( Valentine’s special, fluff, aemond)

Return home (cregan x Jace, fluff)

Cherry baby( Tywin, nsfw)

And unnamed daemon x Rhaenyra x reader UH HUH poly guys lol I’m like In the middle of this one so it’ll take a while for this one to be out

ANDDDD aegon x Rhaenyra

[prodagustd]

the road not taken | myg

part one: back home

Summary: To have the job you’ve always wanted and the life you’ve always dreamt of you had to break a few hearts, including your own. Four years later after running away from your home, your family and friends, you realized that maybe you fucked up; you’ve been a bad daughter, a bad sister and a bad friend. Getting your shit together seemed difficult enough, you didn’t expect that it included facing the first man who ever broke your heart: your brother’s best friend.

part two>

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension? lmao, slow burn, flashbacks, ANGST!! Btw english is not my first language !!

—words: 12k

—a/note: literally finding the courage to post this rn because yesterday i had an identity crisis and i wanted to delete everything!!! but i hope you like it more than me <3 feedback is very much appreciated, if you want to be on the taglist pls let me know!!

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Four years ago.

In your almost twenty one years of life, you never had to spend the holidays without your eldest brother, you were never prepared for that. All the attention of your family was fixed on you now, making you feel like you were an only child for the first time. It felt weird, but nostalgic, like you were waiting for him to enter through the door at any moment. You supposed it was going to happen at some point, opening the gifts with just your mom, sitting on the front seat of the car for the first time while listening to christmas songs on the radio, only to arrive to your grandparents’ home and attempt to survive the questions of your future alone, that didn’t sound fun at all. 

Simon, your eldest brother, didn’t die, by the way, he just got a girlfriend. A girlfriend? Yes, a girlfriend, that word wasn’t part of his vocabulary, or at least it wasn’t a few years ago when he left for college, but now all of a sudden he had a serious one, the kind who invited their boyfriends to spend the holidays with their families. Now Simon wore knitted sweaters, drank black coffee and listened to all the bands your uncle liked, he grew up, or something like that, but you didn’t think he grew up enough to get a girlfriend, to fall in love. Well, you hoped he was in love, you didn’t meet the girl yet but you hoped he was, at least that was what he said. 

Yes, Christmas without your brother sounded a bit sad, but New Year’s eve on the other hand… didn’t sound so bad. 

If your brother’s absence would’ve happened years ago, you would’ve planned this the same way as always, getting drunk with your highschool friends at the only decent party that there was in your hometown around that time, only this time he wasn’t going to be around to tell you to stop drinking or to take the joint off your mouth when you failed to hide from him to smoke weed. But this year you got sick of all that, you got sick of the same faces from highschool and all the girls who approached you just because they wanted to fuck your brother, or all the girls who fucked your brother’s best friend, maybe you got sick of the same music, the same party, the same people. This year you felt like you were seventeen again, too afraid to wish that something different could happen, maybe this time you weren’t coming home alone after watching Yoongi giving the first kiss of the year to some random girl, maybe this time your heart wasn’t going to hurt that much. 

Yoongi, your brother’s best friend, was painfully always there in your life, you didn’t know how the mess that was your brother was able to have such a good friend, they knew each other even before you were born, when they were only four and met each other at basketball practice. Yoongi was always like your brother’s conscience, the voice of reason, the calm one, the designated driver ever since he was sixteen, the smart one, the boy every mother wanted as their son. Yoongi was the boy who helped you with your math homework when you were eleven, he was the boy who defended you when your brother made fun of you, the boy who gave you his joystick so you would stop crying when you found out your brother was making you play with the one that didn’t work. He was sweet and kind with everybody, you wished you knew that when you were twelve so you could save yourself the eternal heartache that came along with being in love with a man who only saw you as your brother’s little sister.

Yoongi was always mature, always wiser, always older. And you were always immature, always stubborn, always younger. Just a brat who couldn’t stand the fact that he was the only one you wanted, but the only one you couldn’t have.

Maybe forgetting about him when he went away to college was the best thing that happened to you, you pretended he didn’t exist during the school year and made yourself believe you got over it, that your heart didn’t jump every time you called your brother and you heard his voice in the background, that you didn’t read every birthday message he sent you since you were sixteen until you memorized them, that you didn’t compare every guy to him and that you weren’t annoyed when you realized that none of them was half as intelligent as him. You were obligated to pretend you weren’t condemned to look for his face in every crowd ever since you were a teenager. All that mental effort was wasted away when you came back home for the holidays and saw him sitting on your couch again. 

You repeated the cycle every year as you pretended that your heart wasn’t tired of it, like seeing him that morning in your kitchen didn’t make your heart drop like you were twelve years old again. 

It began when you heard voices coming from the second floor, an outburst of laughter, your mother’s laughter, and then the laugh that echoed so many times in your dreams, were you still in a dream? You thought you might be in one when you entered the kitchen and saw the long figure of the man, the long figure of Yoongi, sitting on a stool as he peeled a tangerine and listened to your mother talk, but the minute they noticed your presence they fell silent. 

Two pairs of eyes landed on your sleepy face, making you aware that you were wearing your old pajamas, the one that was pink and had a bunny pattern all over it. You locked eyes with him and it felt like it hadn't passed a day since the last time you saw him.

“What are you two gossiping about so early?” You wondered out loud, slowly approaching the aisle of the kitchen, slowly approaching Yoongi, whose hair was slightly shorter from the last time you saw him and whose cheeks were still red from the cold outside. You arrived three days ago, confidently thinking that even if your mind was a mess at least you didn't have to see your brother's best friend's face.

In your mind, you cursed your mom for always telling him that he will be forever welcomed in her house. 

“Why do you care?” He spat at you, following your figure with his eyes as you sat in one of the stools beside him. “That’s between your mom and me.”

“Dude,” You said under your breath, grabbing a tangerine from the bowl of fruits in front of you “You have to get a fucking girlfriend.” 

Your mother frowned, annoyed, but Yoongi is too used to you to do anything else but  laugh.

“God, darling, you barely open your eyes and you’re already cursing.” She complained, shaking her head in disapproval. You shrugged, pretending to pay full attention to the tangerine in your hands. 

“It’s fine, Lila. I can handle her.” He said, carefree as ever.

You scoffed, “Yeah, sure.” You played it cool, as if that didn’t make your heart jump a little.  “What are you doing here, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to come back for christmas?”

“Why?” He asked, “You want me gone?”

You saw a stupid smirk appear in his face, the same one you’ve seen countless times in the past. It seemed to be the only thing that could put out your cocky attitude.

“Don’t be stupid.” You managed to answer, running away from his eyes. 

You heard him sigh “I finished early, I arrived last night.” He answered the question, reaching his hand under the counter to pinch your thigh, as if that could shake off your bad attitude, plot twist: it only made it worse. “That’s what I was talking about with your mom, I left Simon behind while he was still dealing with exams.”

“Such a good friend.” You joked. 

“Maybe… But hey, he’s the one who ditched me for a girl after all.”

“Well, if it’s a pretty girl you can’t blame him so much.” 

“If you say so…” He hissed, rolling his eyes “What about you, huh?” He changed the topic “What are you doing here two weeks early?”

“You see, this is my house.” You quickly replied, putting the first tangerine segment between your lips to avoid saying the truth. He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head.

Of course there was a coherent reason for why you weren’t in school right now, but since you arrived you couldn’t seem to quit the bad attitude, especially in the mornings, it was driving you crazy. 

“You shouldn’t ask, dear.” Your mom intervened, turning around to wash her mug previously filled with coffee  “Sensitive topic.”

Yoongi’s eyes shifted to you again, as well as his whole body, curiously raising his eyebrows. 

“Sensitive topic.” You mocked your mother, annoyed that she used such words. She was quick to disappear from the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone. You wondered if she was already tired of hearing you whine. 

“Don’t think I won’t ask you about it.” He smirked, stealing a segment of your tangerine just to annoy you. 

Oh, you were sure he would want all the details. 

“Whatever.” You gritted your teeth. “You only came to see Lila? I bet she would love to switch you with me.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Yoongi smugly said, ignoring the sudden annoyed look on your face, he was too used to it to be bothered by it. “But as much as I love your mom, I came to see you.”

You blinked, not sure what to say next. Now your angry expression turned into a surprised one, cursing yourself for feeling excited to hear that. You knew Yoongi finished early and was coming back home, you asked your brother about it last time he called you, you were just playing dumb when you asked, but when Simon told you he was going to be in town you didn’t expect to see him in your house the next day he arrived. 

“Me?” You tried to confirm.

“Yeah, you.” He said, booping the tip of your nose “Simon told me you’ve been having trouble with your car, I thought I could help.”

You nodded, that made more sense than him just coming to see you. 

“Simon is such a snitch.” You murmured.

“I can’t deny that…” He laughed, looking at you tearing apart your tangerine and putting another segment between your lips, “Do you… want me to help?” 

“Maybe…” You murmured “Do I have to pay you?”

“Maybe…” Yoongi answered, imitating your tone “Or you can just tell me why are you here before the break, I don’t know.”

You squinted at him, knowing it was just a matter of time until everybody found out you dropped out of college, but there was certain relief in delivering the news to Yoongi, something inside you told you he would understand.

“Bold of you to blackmail me when I know you won’t fix my car properly.” You accused him, mentioning that time he tried to fix your brand new car when something happened to it and you had to take it to his uncle’s garage when he made it worse. 

“C’mon, that was only once.”

“Let’s not make it twice, then.” You clapped your hands, getting off the stool to walk towards the stairs to your room again “Let me change first. And don’t try to seduce my mom while I’m gone, it won’t work.”

You heard his laugh from behind, and even if you thought about it, you didn’t dare to look back.

Not even five minutes later, you found yourself with him in your cold garage under the dim old light that provided you the tiny room. You supposed it was easier to open the garage door but you didn’t want your fingers to be frozen. 

You sat on the old desk in the corner of your garage as you watched Yoongi open the hood of your car, trying not to stare when pulled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows. 

He was wearing a beige sweater that tightened around his shoulders and his waist, Simon told you that he and Yoongi started going to gym lately and you could tell, his back was wider than you remember and you hated how different he looked from the last time you saw him. 

You hated to think there were people who saw him everyday and couldn’t tell the difference. 

You looked at your feet hanging in the air, hearing him suck his breath just to let you know he was just about to start throwing questions at you. 

“So?” He asked, persistent as always. 

“So what?” You played dumb. 

“So?” He emphasized, not willing to give up. 

So? You didn’t know how to start. Serious talks weren’t your thing, and even if you knew that Yoongi wasn’t expecting that from you, you still felt a rush of nervousness when the absence of his voice filled the room, your cue to start talking. 

“Mmm… It’s difficult to explain.” You trailed off. “I’m starting to think that I might be the black sheep of the family.” 

Your words made him turn his head at you, curious to hear more. 

“The black sheep?” He repeated. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You confirmed, without saying anything else.

“Fine…” Yoongi scratched the back of his head, a bit confused, something that was normal when he was with you.  “You’re not giving me a lot of context.” 

You knew this, but making a joke was easier than telling the whole truth. You wished you could tell him jokes until he forgot what your mother told him. But no, your mother already opened her mouth and now you had to explain your life crisis to the man in front of you. 

 “Let’s just say.. I dropped out of the semester…” You mumbled, unsure of your own voice “but I’m thinking that it is not just the semester, maybe it’s the whole thing.”

Yoongi turned his whole body to you, paying full attention to your words “Really?” He asked, just in case you were joking, but by the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice he could tell that you weren’t playing. You just nodded “Why, though?”

“That’s something I’ve been asking myself.”

“You don’t know?” He chuckled, making you roll your eyes. 

“Maybe I don’t know.” You tried to admit, but that was a lie. 

“Mmm, but I think you do know, though.” He contradicted you, turning around to keep checking your car. 

“Well, kind of… Do you want me to tell you half of the truth or a lie?” You offered him, leaving him without many options. 

 “Well, you are not very democratic, Pinky.” He scoffed, using the not-so-funny nickname he’s been calling you ever since you were kids. Only Yoongi could still be calling you like some character from an old cartoon that aired twenty years ago. “But I choose the half truth.” 

“Wise decision, as always.” You commented, clicking your tongue. “The half truth is… that being a nurse is not my thing, I don’t want to be that predictable, being the bitch in highschool that ended up being a nurse. At least I want to be the bitch in high school who ended up being something else. And I was not happy at college, not even a bit. I don’t think that’s who I am” 

Yoongi frowned, trying to process all the words you just vomited. If that was half the truth, what was the whole truth? 

“Wait, wait. Let’s go for parts.” He stopped you. “So, now you were a bitch in high school?” 

“You know I was.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Bitch was a strong word to call yourself, but to be fair you weren't being the nicest with yourself these past weeks. You stared at him, waiting for him to admit that yes, you were a bitch when you were seventeen years old, but that would be a lie. Yoongi would never have called you a bitch, you did have an attitude, you weren’t the friendliest in the mornings, you weren’t friends with everyone, you treated boys like shit, but you weren’t a bitch to him. 

“Isn’t that too… harsh?” He asked softly. 

“Isn’t it the truth?” You kept pushing it, but you were crazy if you think he was going to agree with you. 

Yoongi shook his head, taking a long step to break the small distance that was between the two of you so he could be in front of you. As a gentle gesture, he put his cold hands on your knees, it was not an unusual gesture, but it had been so long since you had him that close that you couldn’t help but shiver. “I know you don’t like me getting all sappy, but I hope you know that only you get to decide who you are, and if you don’t think that is a nurse, then it’s not.” He rubbed his palms on your clothed skin, searching for his last words. “But, I must say, I don’t think a bitch is who you are either.” 

The cold room suddenly turned warm under his gaze, catching you with your guard down once again. You hated when he turned conversations into something like this, and worse, you hated when you bumped into the ugly reality that surrounded you when his eyes stopped looking at yours. This was not easier than last year, you wondered if it will ever be easy. 

“Well, the boys in my class might disagree.” You said, looking straight into his eyes. 

He laughed. “Boys at that age are dumb.”

“Boys are always dumb.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Even me?” He asked, batting his eyelashes at you like he was a little girl. 

“Especially you, I bet you don’t know what the hell you are doing right now with my car.” 

Yoongi reached out to try to pinch your knees, but you escaped from his fingers. “God, you’re so mean.” He complained 

“So mean?” You questioned, moving closer to him and pretending to be annoyed.

“Yeah, so mean” He repeated “But not a bitch.” 

You rolled your eyes, watching him turn around again to come back to your car. You can’t help but feel disappointed when he moved away. “So… If you are not a nurse, what are you?” 

You tilted your head, thinking about it. What were you? Well, in your room you were a dancer and in your dreams a mermaid, but in reality you were too embarrassed and too afraid, too insecure to admit what “you were”.

“I don’t know.” You hesitated to answer. You loved Yoongi, in more ways that you could ever allow yourself to love him, but you could not tell him all your dreams just like that. 

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” He sang, mocking you, but from your position you could only resist pushing him into your car. “You don’t have to say it, I already know.” 

You quirked an eyebrow, curious. “Do you?” A smirk appeared on your face, but he couldn’t see it, he was still working on God knows what. 

“Kind of…” He laughed “I don’t know exactly, but I do know that you are too bright to just be a nurse, with all due respect to the nurses, of course.”

You stared at his back until he turned his head to find your eyes, offering you a soft smile. You mentally cursed him, if he hadn’t turned around you could blush like a teenager without care, but now your cheeks were red and your heart was jumping, the only thing you could hope for was that he couldn’t hear it from where he was standing.

“That isn’t very respectful to nurses.” You simply said, and he shook his head, laughing. 

“Maybe, but I still stand by what I said.” 

“Well, whatever I might be,” You started saying, trying to keep talking with all your feelings still swirling around inside your chest, “I still don’t want to disappoint any more people by making the wrong decision and coming back to live with my mom in six months.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh, not because he was mocking you, but because he couldn’t believe how you couldn’t be at least a little positive, how you were only twenty one and you felt like there was no turning back. 

“Who don't you want to disappoint?” He chuckled, “I really thought you didn’t care about that stuff.”

“I thought so too!” You exclaimed, just as surprised as him. “But I already disappointed my mom, Simon will be disappointed too when he finds out, I’m sure.” 

“God, you’re so wrong, I don’t even know who I’m talking to right now.” He tried to joke, but the feeling of emptiness that had been living in your stomach for the past months didn’t go away just like that. “Do you really think that about your mom?”

“I don’t know!” You said, throwing your arms in the air to be just a little more dramatic that you were already being “But when I told her she made that face that she does when she’s annoyed or upset, now she wants to talk to me about the future every time we sit down to eat, she looks at me like that all the time, like she’s mad with me or something.”

For the past few days you tried to understand your mom, but you failed when you tried to understand yourself. After Simon followed Yoongi to law school, your mom expected you to do something similar, and when you decided to be a nurse she was content enough, both of her kids were off to college now, nothing could go wrong. 

Your mom always bragged that she knew you like the palm of her hand, the only conclusion she could reach when you appeared at your house with the news was that you were never happy with what you had, you always had to have something else, something you couldn’t have. And even if you were about to be mature enough to admit she was right, you knew she wasn’t completely. Yes, you were a brat, but you felt in your heart this time was different. 

 “C’mon, Pinky. I don’t think your mom is disappointed, I’m sure she is just confused. You were two years into college, she must think this came out of nowhere, she’ll have time to understand that it didn’t.” He turned around a pointed a tool hanging on the wall, you didn’t knew the name of it, or what the fuck he was doing with your car, but you handed it to him anyway. “And, she’ll have even more time to understand that you’re not Simon and that her children are two completely different people.”

“Do you think?” You murmured.

“Yes, dummy. And you’re crazy if you think your brother would ever be disappointed in you for something like that, he is the first person that supports you no matter what, he’ll understand that dropping out of college is not the end of the world.” 

You stayed in silence, not daring to say a single word after what he said. You wanted to say that you were tired of all of that, how predictable Yoongi was, how terribly annoying it was for him to always be right. How was it that he always knew what to say? Was it so hard for him to be wrong at least once so you could argue with him? So you could correct him and tell him that he was saying nonsense? Yes, it was. You just rolled your eyes, even if he wasn’t watching you. 

“You’re insufferable.” You said, when what you really wanted to say was just “thank you”, but he understood. 

“Maybe I am.” He laughed, “But at least I’m not the one trying to find excuses to be miserable.” 

You watched him put the tools aside and closed the hood of your car, but you were too focused on something else to ask if your car was okay or not. He grabbed a piece of cloth lying next to you and wiped his hands, “What about my grandma?”  You wondered out loud, like he knew what to do about that as well. 

“You’re seriously not thinking about your grandma right now.”  He leaned on your car, with his arms crossed over his chest while shaking his head disapprovingly. If it was any other guy doing that, you would have told him to get the fuck away from your car, but Yoongi still had his sleeves rolled up, which made you think it was okay for now.

“But I am.” You answered “I can already picture her face when she finds out, I can already hear the comments about her neighbor’s daughter, about how she’s on her fourth year of medicine and I’m going back to square one again or some shit like that. The worst thing is that Simon is not here, so I’ll have to endure all of that alone.” 

Yoongi was run by logic most of the time, so it was hard for him to understand how fast your imagination flew, but he knew that was part of your very theatrical self. It wouldn’t hurt him to become a little more like you, maybe being a rational person made him more intelligent, but sometimes made him more of a fool. 

“And since when do you care about what your grandma thinks?” He laughed, “She will always have something to complain about, to impress her you would have to die and born again, but this time blonde and with blue eyes. Do I need to remind you again? That woman doesn’t have a loving bone in her body.”

“God, stop.” You sighed, fully knowing he was right. 

“You stop.” He laughed, “Stop trying to make everyone happy but yourself.” 

“Well, maybe that’s the hardest thing to do.” You murmured. 

“Getting your shit together is the hardest thing to do, but I’m sure you’ll get there.” 

Believing Yoongi surely was not the hardest thing to do for you, but when it came to believing in yourself it was a whole different thing. 

“Says the man who always has his shit together.” You snorted “Difficult to believe you.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, moving away from your car to sit next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk “That’s not true.” He tried to deny it.

“Yeah, sure.” You bumped his shoulder “Name one time you couldn’t balance your personal life with your academic life.”

Yoongi straightened his back, crossing his arms over his chest and pretending to think about it.

“Mmm… Right now?” He murmured.

“Right now?” You repeated, raising your eyebrows in disbelief.

“Yeah, look at me.” He pointed at himself. “I don’t think I have a personal life at this point, all I could think about was finishing early to come home to my mom so I could take care of her, and guess what?”

“What?” You asked, curiously. 

“She told me she already planned a trip with my aunt for both Christmas and new years. She ditched me, and now? I’m alone, I’m starting to think my personal life was just my mom.”

You covered your mouth, not being able to hold yourself back before bursting in laughter. “She ditched you?” You laughed, but he nodded, annoyed that you’re laughing at him. “Oh my God, she got rid of you.”

“She got rid of me.” He affirmed. 

“Lucky her, honestly.” You teased him “Isn’t that proof enough that you have to relax with her? You’re in college worrying about her health and she’s here organizing trips with her sister.”

Yoongi shook his head, still in denial, “Maybe, but she can’t do things like this without letting me know first.” 

“Why not?” You scoffed “She’s an adult, isn’t she?”

“She’s an adult, but I’m her son.” He huffed “And that’s all I’ve ever known to do, care for her.”

“Well, you can take care of her at the same time you take care of yourself.” You reminded him “I’m sure that’s what your mom wants as well, she would be pissed to know you’re forgetting about your own life being busy worrying about her.”

Yoongi knew you were right, he knew that more than anyone but still couldn’t help but worry about his mom. She had her siblings, who always knew how to take care of her, but he always felt like it was his responsibility as her son to do it, no one could take that thought off his mind. The only reason he brought it up was because you asked, but it was not a thing he wanted to discuss right now, he could put his social life on pause if that meant his mom was going to be okay. 

He turned his head at you, offering you an amused grin as he ruffled your hair with his hand, willing to change the topic. “Why are you scolding me? I’m supposed to scold you.”

You pushed his hand off you, “I don’t need you to scold me, I have enough with my mom.” You sighed “Besides, if it were a competition, I would win. At least you have a future, I’m more fucked than you.”

“No, yeah. I’m sure of that.” He teased you back “You just have to make up your mind, I know it’s a mess inside there but I believe you can do it.”

“I hope so.” You said, and this time your words were sincere. “But for now the plan is to survive the holidays, then I can get my shit together.” 

Yoongi laughed, sitting next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk. “Sounds like a good plan to me.” He agreed.  “And you know, about christmas…”

“What about christmas?” You asked, at the risk of looking so visibly lost in his eyes. 

“I was thinking… Since I don’t have any plans for Christmas…” He hesitated to say, lengthening the syllables of his words. “I was thinking… If you want to, I can go with you in place of your brother. You know, so you won’t be alone.”

The offering took you off guard, among all the things Yoongi could tell you, (the realistic ones, not the ones that only happened in your dreams) that was the most surprising. You had spent Christmas with Yoongi in the past, but your heart jumped at the thought of him spending Christmas with you, and not with your brother. Was he serious?

“Really?” You asked, afraid that he could see the excitement in your eyes  “Would you do that?”

“Of course.” He smiled, “We can talk shit about your grandma together.” 

You could hardly hide the smile on your face, you had to suppress the immense urge you have to hug him. “In that case, I would love if you come.” You dared to admit “I mean, you owe me that for fucking up my car again.” You pointed at your car, already knowing that he couldn’t fix it. 

He closed his eyes shut, throwing his head back “God, I’m sorry.”

Present

You had been wishing to sleep in your childhood bedroom for the past two months. You had been wishing to lay under the baby blue covers, have your mom kiss you goodnight and sleep a nap long enough to heal your heart. 

You had been feeling like you were thirteen again for the whole year, thirteen and completely clueless, thirteen and scared, running home because you just saw your brother’s best friend kissing a girl at the bus stop, hiding under the covers and trying to forget that you were thirteen and there was no way he could ever see you the same way as that girl. 

The last time that you visited your mom’s house was a year ago. You texted her every week, sent her and your brother gifts and tickets so they could see you in the current play you were in, but visiting her house was harder than it looked for you. You managed to come once every few years for thanksgiving, telling your mom that you were busy and that theater life was like that, but the truth was that after so many years you still couldn’t find the courage to spend more than two days in the town you grew up in, not after everything, not after Yoongi. 

After so long, you were back where you started, running home after hitting a wall. The life you built with your own hands, the life that was supposed to be your dream turned out to be a lie, the boyfriend of three years you thought you loved was now gone, and the only person who ended up breaking your heart was yourself. 

When was the moment you stopped calling you brother every three days? Or when you stopped showing up at every birthday? When was the moment you got so far from the person you used to be? You weren’t thirteen anymore, you were twenty five and just now you realized that no matter how many shiny people you have around, you are still alone and far from home. 

Now you were headed home, with a bag full of clothes in the trunk of your car, prepared to install yourself in your mom’s house for the rest of the winter, determined to get your shit together, just like you thought you did a few years ago. Oh, how you wished you didn’t have to do this, how you wished you weren’t a complete mess. You wished you could enter your mother’s home and ignore the fact that you didn’t remember when was the last time you told her I love you, but to be fair with yourself, you didn’t remember the last time someone told you I love you either. 

Your mom knew you were coming, she was the first one who knew about your break up with Ian, your boyfriend, so she was assuming that you were sad and heart broken, and even if that was true, it wasn’t because of the break up, you were the one who left him. 

You didn’t know why, but you assumed that Ian understood what your relationship was, a sad pact that benefited both of your acting careers, a good image for the media, both of the most successful young actors being allegedly in love, and for you, just an arrangement to avoid being alone. How surprised you were when he got down on one knee and proposed, with his mom’s ring on one hand and a bunch of your so-called friends hiding in the distance, preparing to celebrate when you were supposed to say ‘yes’. He had a smile on his face, convinced that wasn’t the worst idea that ever crossed his mind. You thought it was clear that you never wanted to marry him, you believed you found someone who loved you enough not to leave you alone but not enough to marry you. God, you sounded crazy, but that was what you became, a superficial celebrity whose whole life was calculated enough so people thought it was perfect.

You felt like shit when you had to say no to Ian, but you had no other option. Everything was so fake it made you want to throw up, and on top of that, he was the asshole who didn’t even bother to invite your family to, what was supposed to be, your engagement party. If you were to say yes, where was your mom to hug you? Or to tell you that you were being mental for marrying someone you didn’t love? That was the moment when you knew you were about to lose it, that’s when you knew that if you stayed there you would’ve lost your mind, and you were so close to doing it, the only thing that finally woke you up was a marriage proposal. 

You turned right, immediately recognizing you were close to home. You had to start doing things right, but where do you begin?

Four years ago

When you arrived home, the realization that almost every person in your life had found someone except you hit you. It started when all of your friends suddenly got boyfriends, and it followed with your brother spending the holidays with his new girlfriend, and now, to your complete surprise, you had to find out that even your mother was seeing someone for the first time in years. 

Yes, at first you thought it was going be to weird to see your mother leaving you every afternoon to have dinner with her new boyfriend, -whom she refused to present to you just yet-, but after the first week of cooking for yourself to sit in the kitchen island and eating while watching a random youtube video, you realized it was not weird, but it was making you feel extremely lonely. Love seemed to be everywhere around you, but not for you.

That afternoon you helped her do the groceries, but she had already warned you that, once again, you were going to have to cook for yourself since she was not going to be around tonight. 

All your friends from home were still away and they weren’t coming back for another two weeks, so you were almost completely alone in your hometown. And without you wanting it, only one particular name swirled in your mind, wondering if he was as lonely as you were, which he probably was, but you didn’t want any part of it. You were still trying not to look around too much in the grocery line hoping to see a familiar face, forcing yourself not to look up when you knew you were passing his street. You promised that you weren’t going to wait to see him again, as if that way you could prove something to yourself.  

You expected Yoongi to disappear only to see him again the day before Christmas, you were sure he wasn’t going to appear at your doorstep like that morning, it wasn’t going to happen, you convinced yourself of it. Because of that, on the way home when you were riding in your mom’s car as you came back from the store, you thought that maybe you were just hallucinating when you saw him waiting in your driveway.  

Your mom got down from the car first, you watched her giving him a hug and then observed them talking, you were sure he was going to offer to help with the bags and you were sure your mom was going to smile and accept his help. Your mom loved Yoongi, and Yoongi loved your mom, you could see it. When Yoongi was a kid and his mother had to spend long days at the hospital your mom always opened the doors of your house so he wouldn’t be alone. Like you, Yoongi grew up without a dad, so his mom was lucky to have your mom to look out for him when she wasn’t around. 

You mustered courage and got down, surrounding the car to get to the trunk where the bags were and finding him with his arms already busy. 

“Hi, Pinky.” He let out and in the cold you could see his breath. His nose was red and his eyes crystallized from the weather. 

You barely got to open your mouth to greet him before your mom spoke. “Yoongi was looking for you.” She told you as she headed to the porch.

“Really?” You wanted to know, just in case your mom was lying, for some reason.

“Yeah, really.” He answered, watching you grab the last two bags and closing the trunk of the car. “Do you have any plans tonight?” 

Your heels suddenly dug into the ground, making you stop dead to check if you heard that right. Yoongi didn’t notice, he started to walk backwards, heading towards the door as he looked at you and invited you to follow him. You took the first step, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to react. Did you have any plans tonight? For a second your mind went blank, completely forgetting you had a date with Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen in Breaking Dawn at nine pm. 

You avoid his gaze, trying to come up with an answer. “Do you have any friends?” You asked. Classic you, insulting him in case he noticed your face was two seconds away from burning red. You heard your mom grunt as she entered through the door, but Yoongi just laughed. 

“Do you?” He attacked back, smirking “Going to the store with your mom on a friday night, I thought you were popular in high school.” 

“I was not, you must have confused me with my brother, we have the same nose.” You scoffed, walking with him to your house “And I do have friends, they’re just not around.” 

“So you don’t have plans.” Yoongi confirmed for himself, letting you enter through the door first. 

“No, not really.” You admitted, leading him to the kitchen to leave the bags on the counter. “Why? Did you want to take me out?”

The question was intended to come out as a joke, but it burned on your tongue. You often tortured yourself with those kinds of comments, but his answer was worse than any kind of cruel joke you could’ve made to yourself.

“Yes.” He said, leaving his bags next to yours. “That’s what I was thinking before you made fun of me for not having friends.”

You stayed quiet, pretending to look for something in the bags, pretending you weren’t screaming in your mind. Why on earth was he here? Why was he torturing you this way? You were enough of a mess, the last thing you needed was this, bringing you more torment than you already had. 

You sighed, quickly coming up with another answer “Sorry I can’t retract myself.” You said. “But what were you thinking that was so important for you to come to my house instead of texting?”

“I was afraid that if I texted you would’ve said no.” He admitted.

You arched an eyebrow “Why?” You questioned. 

“Because… I saw that the theater is doing a Christmas special, and they’re showing Home Alone tonight.” 

“Which theater?” You asked, but you were fully aware which one was. 

“You know, the one near the park with the weird fountains.” He said, confirming what you were thinking. 

You wondered what to say next. There you had Yoongi, inviting you to watch a movie with him, ‒your favorite movie to be more specific‒ but at the place you used to secretly go to theater classes when you were thirteen until you finished highschool. You knew the place had those kinds of events where they showed old movies following a theme, as Christmas approached they never failed to show Home Alone as many times as they could. 

Would it be so bad for him to find out that you used to be obsessed, maybe still were, with musicals? You never told him about that, let alone about the classes, that was something you used to keep to yourself and no one else, so going out with him meant to out yourself to him. It was inevitable for people to recognize you there, you knew a lot of your friends from back then were still very attached to the place, unlike you, who decided to leave everything behind once you left for college to be someone you didn’t want to be. 

“I don’t know, I allow myself to watch Home Alone only once a year.” You tried to excuse yourself.

“I know that, that’s why I came here instead of texting” He said, “But I’ve come up with a solution, I tell you this, we can go and watch Home Alone tonight, and on Christmas we watch Home Alone 2.” He offered, but you felt offended he even dared to mention Home Alone 2. 

“I don’t like Home Alone 2.” You reminded him. “I think it’s un-”

“Unrealistic that they lose Kevin twice, yeah, yeah, I know!” He interrupted you, stealing the words from your mouth. “But I like Home Alone 2, I think it’s still a good Christmas movie.” You stared at him with narrowed eyes, pretending to think about it, as if your heart was strong enough to even try to say no to him, even if that meant you had to go back to the place where you used to be a completely different person from who you were in school, and most importantly, even if that meant you would have to watch Home Alone 2. It was painful to admit that you already knew your answer when you saw him in your driveway. “Don’t be boring, Pinky. I’ve already got tickets.”

Just for a moment, while the dim lights of your kitchen lighted up his eyes as they begged you to go with him, you wished you had plans that evening already. You took a second to imagine a scenario where you told him that you weren’t free that night, that someone was going to pick you up later. You tried to imagine his face when you told him that you were in fact going out on a date with some other dude and pictured him heartbroken because you rejected him. But of course that wasn’t the case, your friends from college used to joke around and say that men ran away from you and only the brave ones were capable of asking you out, there was no way you were going out with someone who knew you in high school. And even if that were true, you lived in a reality where Yoongi wouldn’t flinch if you told him you were going out with someone else, a reality where you could never reject him. There was a part of you who enjoyed the pain of coming back to him, of being around him and living with the knowledge that at some point you'll have to get over him.

“Fine.” You finally gave in “I guess I could watch Home Alone 2 on Christmas” 

He smiled victoriously, raising his fists in the air like he won some trophy.

You didn’t know what was worse, whether to have him around or not see him at all, you knew that the safest option was not seeing him, but your poor heart didn’t seem to understand that it was for the best. 

Present

When you parked your car, you realized you didn’t have the keys to your house anymore. You were sure they were somewhere in your apartment back in the city, but even if you had remembered to look for them, you wouldn’t have found them, you had no idea where they were. It has been a long time since you thought about putting foot in your home, your real home, not the one back in the city, with countless empty rooms you had never used. They keys to your home, where were they? You bitterly laughed as you walked towards the porch, with your bags in your hands and your heart on your sleeve, that was how disconnected to the place where you grew up in you were. 

The little pumpkins your mom put on the porch reminded you that the last time you were home was also october. The play you were in last fall was just about to end and you visited home for a weekend just to ask your mom to go and see you for your final performance. You remembered how angry you felt when she told you she and Phil, her boyfriend, had already planned a trip to Scotland for that same weekend. It took you a whole year ‒or even more‒ to realize that while you were busy living your life, your family was doing the same thing, you disappeared for months and they had no other choice but to keep going without you. 

You stood in front of the big wood door for a few seconds, feeling like some prodigal daughter, until you decided to finally ring the bell. 

As soon as your mom opened the door and you caught the surprised look on her face, you knew you weren’t supposed to be there, at least not yet. 

“Darling! What…?” She breathed out as if she had seen a ghost, but to be fair you weren't far from looking like one, you didn’t remember the last time you had a proper sleep. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, not knowing if she was joking “I called you on the phone last month, don’t you remember?” You asked. The surprise on your mom’s face morphed into confusion, and for some reason it made your chest hurt a little. 

“You told me you were coming Friday the 5th.” She said, but she didn’t move from the door, as if you were about to turn around, leave and come back for the date she thought you were coming.

“That’s… today.” You reminded her.

She frowned, raising her left arm to check the apple watch on her wrist, the one you gave her as a present for mother’s day a few months ago, immediately realizing that you were right. “God, where’s my mind?” She exclaimed, cleaning her hands on the apron she was wearing to grab one of your bags from your hand, finally leaning back to let you in. “Sorry darling, I don’t know what I was thinking when you called me.” 

“It’s okay.” You said, more to yourself than to her, closing the door behind you “These days my mind is nowhere near, either.”

“No, it’s not okay. I can’t believe it flew over my head like that.” She kept complaining, taking off your coat for you to hang it on the coat rack “Do you have any more bags?”

You nodded “In the car.” 

“Okay, let’s go grab them later.” She said, turning around to head towards the kitchen with a quick pace. “Follow me darling, I’m about to finish cooking, you arrived just in time for lunch.” 

Well, your mom always seemed to be in a hurry, she was like every other mom after all, but today she looked more rushed than usual, making you wonder if your arrival was that unexpected, did you suddenly ruin her Friday just by appearing at her doorstep? The answer wasn’t clear to you, when she turned around you lost the chance to say that she shouldn’t worry since you were planning to spend the whole weekend in your room.. Now you were just trying not to look disappointed when she didn’t give you a hug as she disappeared into the kitchen.

You followed her, taking off your converse and throwing them somewhere in the hall. Your mom had enough energy for you both, it was like she forgot that you had been driving all morning to get there, maybe she thought you arrived on a jet, you didn’t know. You thought your tired face was sign enough that all you needed was a hot shower and a long nap. 

“What am I gonna do?” She murmured to herself, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that you were there earlier. “Your room isn’t ready yet!” 

You scowled, sitting on one of the kitchen stools. “What do you mean my room isn’t ready?” 

“We’ve been using it as a storage room lately, until Phil adjusts himself.” She told you, but you didn’t understand a word she said. Storage room? Why was your mom’s boyfriend using your bedroom as a storage room? 

“Mom, what are you talking about?” 

“I’m sure I told you!” 

You shook your head “Tell me what?”

She tilted her head with her mouth hanging open. You visibly saw her trying to remember something, filling the room with silence. Then, it hit her, her silence suddenly broke into laughter, she realized that, whatever was she was talking about, she didn’t tell you, you just didn’t know what. “Darling, Phil moved in september, how come we didn’t talk about this?” She let out, wondering out loud. “We are still getting the hang of it, he still has a lot of boxes, we decided to put it in your room for now.” She explained, like it was nothing, but you knew it wasn’t. It took her a long time before she introduced you to Phil, she always made it clear to him that her priority was her kids, so it was a big step for her to let Phil move in. 

You shook your head, immediately avoiding her gaze when you felt a sudden rush of guilt washing over your body when you tried to remember when was the last time you spoke with your mom on the phone apart from last month, when you told her you were coming today. 

“Oh, mom, I had no idea.” You said as if you were apologizing, you kinda were. “I’m gonna start looking for somewhere else to crash, I still don’t know for how long I’m staying.” 

She waved her hands, rushing to interrupt you “My God, sweetie, no! You know you can stay here for as long as you want, this is your house!” She said, but you struggled to believe her “But I really thought you were coming next Friday! When was your last show?”

God, the last thing you wanted to think about now was work.

“Just last week.” You replied, hoping that she wouldn't want to comment too much about it. 

“How was it?” She continued to ask, going against your wishes.

Terrible, you wanted to say, you couldn’t wait to get off the stage. You did your job and you left, all your partners begged you to stay for the after party but you were exhausted, you left as soon as you could. That was supposed to be an important moment for you, the wrap up of your first main role, a clear achievement of your short career. After you did the first show of the season you went to bed wishing it could last forever, but last week you were just relieved that it finally ended. 

You wouldn’t tell that to your mom, you didn’t want to worry her, so you just told her a little white lie. 

“Oh, it was great.” You smiled, hoping that in that way it would be more believable. “I had a great time, but I needed to come back home for a while.”

“Well, you worked hard, now you deserve to rest” She said “And besides that… how have you been, huh?” She asked with a soft voice, making you raise your gaze to find her warm eyes and a warm smile. You failed to remember that you couldn’t lie to your mom, she always saw through you, and to be honest she would be a fool not to notice the tired look on your face. It bothered you just a bit that the main reason why she was asking about it was because of the breakup.

“Why, because of Ian?” You asked. 

“No just because of him, just… how have you been about everything?” 

“Well, fine, I think so.” You kept lying “Me and him… I don’t know, I don’t think I felt the same way about him anymore, I had to end it, I’m sure he deserves someone who feels the same, right?”

She hummed, not really convinced. “You deserve someone like that, too, don’t you think?” 

“Maybe.” You sighed “But that topic gives me headaches.” 

Your mother snorted, “Well, don’t expect me to be satisfied with that answer, after you take a nap I’m gonna ask you all about that.” 

“How nosy.” You chuckled. “You just want to talk shit about your ex son in law.”

“Of course, don’t act like you don’t want to do that too, I know you too well.” You rolled your eyes, but of course she was right. “Anyway, since I thought you were coming next week I planned a dinner for tonight with everyone, they’ll be so happy to see you, but you know, I understand if you want to skip it with everything that’s happening, I’m sure no one will ask about it, but still. You came here to be alone so I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed around a lot of people.”

“Ask about what? The news isn’t out yet” You asked, confused. 

Your mom turned around again, looking as confused as you. “Haven’t you checked your phone today?” She asked cautiously.

“No, it died a few hours ago. I haven't had the chance to charge it in the car.” Your words made her confused expression fade into a concerned one.

“Darling, you might want to check it now.” She pointed to the charger that was connected next to the fridge. The look on her face could only mean that something wasn’t okay.

You slowly got off the stool, heading towards the other side of the room as you took your phone from your pocket to connect it to the charger. You knew it was just a matter of time until people found out that you and Ian broke up, but you thought the news would’ve be handled the same way as always, a statement from both you, the only reason why you didn’t do it yet was because you and Ian weren’t talking since the proposal happened. 

When your phone finally turned on, a rush of anxiety ran down your body when a thousand notifications began to appear on the screen, including fifty missed calls from both your manager and publicist, you had a feeling that maybe the situation was worse than you thought. “What the fuck happened?” You murmured to yourself, looking at your mother in search for answers. “Did Sally call you?” You asked her, fully knowing that Sally, your manager, had strict orders not to bother anyone in your family with calls about anything related to work. 

The room suddenly fell in silence, your mom hesitated to answer, you knew she didn’t want to be the one to give you bad news.

“No, but a friend of mine sent me an article.” She explained, her voice suddenly sounding small. “I didn’t read it, you know, I didn’t even open it, I don’t like gossip.”

Your mind tried to put two and two together; missed calls from your manager, an article about you, gossip, that didn’t sound fucking right. 

“Fuck, I have to call her.” You gritted your teeth, wasting no time marking her number. You felt your head swirling just by imagining the sound of her voice yelling at you for not answering her calls. 

Less than five seconds later, like she was waiting by the phone, she picked up. “Fucking finally.” Was the first thing you heard, “Where the fuck were you?”

The irritated tone on her voice took you by surprise, making you jump in you place “Driving, for four fucking hours.” You rushed to say “My phone was dead, what is going on?” 

You heard her inhale, trying to keep her calm “Every single person in the world is trying to reach me right now except you. It’s a mess.”

“What?” You try not to yell “I just got home, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Honey, it got leaked, has no one told you yet?”

Then, a beat of silence. The stress on her voice is enough to make you believe her, you didn’t have to think twice. Of course something like this was going to happen to you, you couldn’t run away from the city and pretend everything behind was going to stay as it was, your life from six hours ago was still there, and it was still a fucking mess.  

“What part?” Was the only thing you could say. You felt yourself entering a cloud of uncertainty, your fist clenched on your lap and while you listened to her sighing, preparing you for the answer, you held your breath as if that way you could stop time.

“Everything.” She spat. “Listen, I didn’t want to freak you out with this, I tried to keep this situation on the low but it happened anyway. The story’s out, pictures are out, every fucking thing is out.”

You suddenly tense, feeling your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach

“What? What do you-?” You stuttered. 

“I know you didn’t want anyone to find out about the proposal but it's the main headline, sweetie.”

Sally is not someone who’s known for sugarcoating her words, she was straightforward and didn’t mind being the person who delivered bad news, but today you could tell she was especially stressed, you were sure she was trying to handle this issue alone with you being gone for hours. 

“Fuck.” You hissed “What about him, have you called his manager?”

“Of course I called his manager, but all of a sudden that prick doesn’t want to collaborate with me on this, apparently Ian doesn’t fucking care, how about that?”

“How come he doesn’t care?” You asked exasperatedly.

“That’s the idea that I got when his manager told me to manage this issue myself.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath as you took a moment to think about it. You knew Ian well enough, but you always held onto a kind version of him, the version of him who made you stay for so long, the version of him you chose to remember so your memories weren't all bad, but that version made you felt guilty for the question that was rotting on your mouth, waiting to be spat. 

“Do you think it was him?” You asked her, but her bitter laugh on the other line made you realize it wasn’t a difficult question to answer. 

“I mean, would that be so crazy?” She said “You and I are pretty sure who called the people to take those pictures. He's not happy, honey, to him this is just payback for what you did.”

That word echoed in your mind for longer than you would’ve wanted to, was that the way he decided to put this to an end? Payback? 

Four weeks ago, you thought that was it. When you were at the backyard of the house of Ian’s grandparents and you saw him on his knees, asking you to marry him, you thought that was the moment when every bad decision you ever made caught up to you, when everything exploded in your face. Now you realized it didn’t end there, everything you’ve done still has consequences.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore your mom’s eyes in the back of your neck. You left the room, coming back to the hall so you could be alone. You couldn’t just hang the phone and pretend none of that happened, as tempting as it sounded, you had to take care of it. “Okay, now what? Can you clean it?” 

“I’ve been trying, but it can’t disappear, you know? It’s been up for a few hours.” She replied. 

You nodded, as if she could see you “Okay, listen, it doesn’t matter. I can’t deal with this right now, I don’t care where it came from, I don’t care how the pictures look, what people are saying, I don’t want to know any of it. If people saw it, I don’t give a fuck, it’s me who doesn’t want to see it.” You firmly said “If the story’s out, fine, but I don’t want any major media posting the pictures, can you do that?” 

You heard her humming “Mmm, are you sure you want to handle it in that way? No statement to the media? No post on instagram? Just radio silence?”

The thought of making a statement about your relationship in public made you want to throw up, “Are you kidding?” You laughed “There’s no way I’m making a statement about this if you can’t even get Ian’s manager on the phone for him to do the same. If I say anything about this and he stays quiet I’m going to look worse of a villain than I already am for rejecting him.”

“Honey, I don’t think you understand this.” She stopped you, “This isn’t just news that you broke up, this is news that he proposed to his girlfriend of three years and she said fucking no, a.k.a a scandal.”

You rolled your eyes, wanting to curse her for treating you like a five year old child. “No, hear me out, I’m not playing his game anymore.”

“You’re not the one who’s playing his game, he’s the one playing in yours.” She emphasized, “Let me be clear with this, and I’m trying to be nice even though I’ve been working all morning to get this to disappear just for you. You were the one who decided that the relationship was going to have this kind of publicity, you can’t back down now. This could harm your image, you need to make a statement whether he does the same or not.”

You stopped for a second, hating how right she was. Every bit of your relationship with Ian was out to the public, that was the whole point of it from the beginning. Your image as an actress wasn’t entirely constructed by your work,  you took charge into making every piece of your private life part of it too, you sold it of your life to the public. After so many years of sharing everything with the media and fans, you knew it would be strange to stay in silence now, but in a matter of seconds the words piled up in your mind, making you see how ridiculously soulless a statement like that would look, lying about how much love and respect you held for Ian but at the end it didn’t work out, that you decided to stay as friends since you still loved each other so much, when the truth was that he was the one who leaked the pictures in the first place. 

You were once again reminded to face the consequences, and that was what you were about to do. 

“Sorry, Sally, but I'm not making a statement.” You let out, nervously tapping your foot against the floor “I started it, you’re right, but now I’ve decided to end this here. This is my private life we’re talking about, let me keep this thing to myself. The only thing that they need to know is that we’re no longer together, and from now on the only information they’ll get of me is about my work, are we clear?”

Your whole body shook in anticipation, expecting her to yell at you and tell you to do whatever she said, because you knew she knew better. You hoped she somehow didn’t see through your mask, you weren’t as hard as you wanted to sound, you weren’t as confident as you wanted to be. For years working with her you trusted her advice against all odds, and you knew she always meant well, she was just doing her job, but at this exact moment in your life you needed to stay silent.

She hesitated to answer, battling with herself and the love she had for you. “Look kid,” She said “I’m going to let you do what you want, but if this doesn’t end well I’m going to look for you in whatever farm you’re staying in right now and I’m going to strangle you, now are we clear?” She asked, repeating your last words. 

It took you a second to understand what she just said, you felt so anxious you didn’t understand if she was giving you a green light or not. When you snapped out of it, you realized it was the closest you’ve felt to be relieved. 

 “We are clear.” You confirmed. 

“I sure hope so.” You heard her sighing once again “I’ll make it disappear and you make sure to keep your phone close in case something happens. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s fine.” She brushed it off “At least you’re not dead, I would’ve felt guilty for cursing you so much.”

“God, maybe the news of my death would make the news about the proposal disappear.” You tried to joke, fighting against the horrible feeling you still had on your stomach. 

“Okay, kid. I’m hanging up before you get more morbid. Take care, okay?”

You chuckled quietly, “Thank you, Sally” You said before she hung up “Really, I appreciate it.” 

The call ended, leaving your ears ringing and your heart hammering against your chest. You stayed in the hall, sitting on the first steps of the stairs and trying to make sense of what just happened. 

You were aware that Ian was angry at you, you couldn’t tell if you broke his heart but you knew that you hurt his ego, and somehow that was worse. You had to admit that your ego was as big as his, so you understood he had to do the same thing to you. Sally was right, you led yourself to this, you managed the circus that was your public life and you were the one who chose him to cover up how miserable you felt. You still felt your blood boiling just by thinking how cruel it was what he did, and at the same time you couldn’t allow yourself to be angry at him because you thought you had it coming.

You thought you were so stupid for thinking that once you got here you were going to be okay, as if you could run away from yourself, as this house was a bunker, protecting you from everything you ever did. Suddenly, you felt all your emotions stacking up your throat, you felt your eyes burning before your whole face was soaked with hot tears of regret, you didn’t even remember when was the last time you cried, that’s how fucked up you were. 

You covered your face, sobbing against your palms as you tried to calm yourself, remembering your mom was waiting for you in the kitchen and you had to come back to be a functioning person, but before you could, you heard her steps approaching you, gasping when she found you crying. 

“Darling, what happened?” She asked, the concern in her voice made your heart hurt.

You quickly wiped your tears with the sleeves of your sweater as you watched her kneel beside you. “Nothing, just…” You tried to lie, but what was the use of that? She would know, and you were still going to continue carrying the pain on your chest for the rest of the day. You shook your head, feeling her thumbs wiping your tears from your face.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” She whispered, like it was a secret between the two of you. “It’s about the article, right?” You nodded. 

“It’s…” You inhaled, trying to catch your breath. “It’s about more than that.” 

And then, the truth. As if you were a criminal caught in the scene of the crime, you had to tell the truth. 

After you spent the whole afternoon trying to explain to your mom what was going on with your life, nothing could erase the worried look on her face, looking at you like you were thirteen and you had the flu, wanting to take care of you until it went away. 

You felt ashamed, but you couldn’t keep lying to her, not completely at least. You had to tell her that you were never really in love but you felt so alone back in the city, you didn’t have anyone else. Most of your friends were fake, you were tired and sometimes overworked, not even your job was making up for the miserable life you were living anymore. You knew Ian was seeing other women and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to confront him about it, terrified that he’ll leave you in your big apartment alone. Your mom listened with a frown on her face, confused, asking why you never told her, asking why you never called, and you felt so embarrassed, so guilty for disappearing for so long. 

“I’m sorry” was the only thing you could say, and even though she waved it off and said that you didn’t have to apologize for anything, you knew that wasn’t real. You had a bunch of this to apologize for, you didn’t even know where to begin.

After a shower, she offered her room for you to take a nap, and as you got into her bed, she sat next to you, hugging you for the first time in months. 

You breathed out against her chest, feeling like a kid again around her arms. It was like she was trying to extract the sadness out of your body, and maybe it worked for now. 

“You’re still invited to join us for dinner tonight, you know?” She murmured “I know you’re sad but it’s just us, maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

You nodded, “I’ll think about it, is that okay?”

“Of course, darling.” She smiled, kissing your forehead before getting up to leave.

Before she opened the door, you stopped her.  

“Wait mom, who’s coming?” You asked before she disappeared from your sight.

She turned to you again, smiling. “Your brother, of course.” She said “He’s bringing Yoongi and his mom, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.”

You snapped your eyes open, but before your mom could see your reaction she disappeared through the door, leaving you alone and with your heart clenched in your fist. 

@kingofbodyrolls @tea4sykes @overtherainbow35 @namin13 @p34rluv @moonchild1 @oukya @yoongisoftface @namgihours @honsoolgloss @idkjustlovingbts @loviyunki @yoongisducky @bangtansmauyeondan @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @hopefulchick @heroinanne

[dark-and-kawaii]

Damaged

Rolan x F!Reader/Tav

⋆˙⟡♡ 18+ Dark Content

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary/Request: So could I request some Rolan noncon? Like maybe reader is a human Fem tav who is also under apprentice ship. Rolan is getting abused and he's getting where he needs to take his rustrations out on something and there is sweet little reader always so nice and helpful to him.

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: I really enjoyed receiving this request and I’m so sorry it took forever to post!!! I hope you’re still here and end up loving it xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Noncon/Dubcom | Hurt/Comfort | Angst | Ao3

It was supposed to be just another day for you, organize the books in the tower, test some potions, doing as Lorrokan says. But today, unbeknownst to you, barriers are to be shattered, and boundaries would cease to exist…

Rolan watched as you diligently put away books and tidied up the shelves. The weight of his frustrations bore down upon him, fueled by the abuse he endured from both his and your mentor, Lorroakan. His bruised eyes fixated on you, your innocent demeanor and kind nature serving as a stark contrast to the darkness that began to consume him…

You were much smaller than he, probably weaker too. No, he knew you were weak, the only reason you were even here was simply because Lorroakan liked the way your clothing hugged your hips… And you were so eager to please him, Rolan thought. But that is what made you weak. And Rolan was tired of feeling weak.

As the clock ticked closer to night's embrace, the tower grew eerily quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustling of pages and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards from you both staying late. Rolan's mind raced with conflicting thoughts, torn between the wanting of releasing the anger inside him and the guilt that gnawed at his conscience.

Unable to resist any longer, Rolan approached you, "Pardon, if you don’t mind. I need your assistance with something," he said, his voice soft yet commanding. His eyes bore into yours, and it did nothing but make you feel uneasy.

"O-oh? Rolan, I- uhm, what is it you need help with?” you stammered, taken back by his sudden close proximity.

"Lorroakan, he's been a bit rough with me lately, and I could really use a healing scroll..." his words filled with deceit unbeknownst to you.

You smiled and nodded, "Oh, of course! There’s plenty of those scrolls to spare! Lorroakan must be training you hard-," and so, you raised your hand to cast the spell, but before you could utter a word, Rolan's hands grabbed a hold of your wrists and pushed you against the bookcase, knocking over stacks of books and parchments.

"Rolan!? What are you-!"

He hovered over you, a crazed look in his eye as he held your arms firmly above your head, "You're so much weaker than I." His knee pushed against your inner thigh, “and yet-“ spreading them apart and giving him room to move closer to you, “he never raises his hands to you.”

"P-please, stop," you begged, but it fell on deaf ears as Rolan ignored your pleas.

"I’m so sick," his hands began to roam over your chest, “So sick of being the outcast-“ squeezing your breasts, tweaking your nipples through the embroidered fabric, “sick of being the only one he treats this way."

You whimpered and struggled beneath him, trying to get away, but your efforts proved futile, he was so much stronger than you.

"Wh-why only me?!" Rolan’s voice cracked, the dam holding his emotions at bay finally broke. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his body quivering with rage and sorrow, his eyes brimming with tears, "Why only me?!" He began to press himself into you further, his hardened member pressing against your groin…

"You're so much better than I am... You're not broken like me." Rolan whispered, his tears falling and hitting your cheeks. He was shaking now, his breaths came out short and fast. He couldn't control himself anymore, all the years of pent-up frustration came pouring out as his anger and pain fueled his actions.

"I can't take it anymore. I can't. I can't..." He repeated over and over, his grip on you tightening just before he tossed you to the ground with him

"Please, please don't do this," you cried, "I-I don't want this. P-please, Rolan! Y-you’re so much better than he or-“

Rolan pulled your sorceress robe up, exposing your lower half, "Hush!" he growled.

His eyes trailed over your golden laced panties. "Does he see these? Is that why he doesn’t abuse you with his vile hands?"

"Wh- what!?" Your body shook as his hand snaked underneath the delicate fabric, “n’ this- this isn’t like you!”

"Nothing is wrong with me. You just don't understand," his fingers pressed against your clit, slowly rubbing in circular motions. Your body responded involuntarily, betraying you. A small whimper escaping from your lips.

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Rolan insisted as he pushed you his fingers inside you, "There's nothing wrong with me." he repeated.

"P-please, Rolan... D-don't-" You gasped as you felt a rush of pleasure. You tried to push him away but the sudden feeling was so overwhelming as he began to curl his sharp talons inside you. Despite it all, the tiefling was careful enough not to damage your insides.

You felt a rush of hot pleasure coursing through you. "S-stop," you breathed. He slipped yet another finger inside, pumping them in and out, curling and uncurling them. Your breath hitched and you moaned, your back arching into his touch. "P-please! Please s-s-top! Ah!"

Your mind was swimming with pleasure, drowning out your common sense. This was wrong! This wasn't like him! Your eyes began to water, unable to comprehend the situation. He was mad, driven to the brink of insanity, and now he was taking it out on you.

Rolan removed his fingers from your slippery pussy, a trail of your fluids clinging to them and a thin string connecting the two.

You were panting your hand covering your flushed face. Tears streaming down your face as you shook. You hear him free himself from his confines and could feel him tear away your panties, the only barrier between his cock and your innocence. His stomach churned, he hated himself for this but he couldn’t stop. His breathing quickened as he pressed himself against your entrance, his hand gripping his cock tightly...

"St-stop… please… Y-you don’t want t-to do this, R-Rolan…” You pleaded again, your voice cracking as tears tainted your visage, but it was no use, his mind was made up.

"I can't. I can't, I can't, I’m so sorry-,” Rolan muttered, his voice barely audible as his cock forced its way into you, stretching you beyond your limits. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered how a tieflings cock would feel, you just didn’t expect it to be so long and girthy… It was even ribbed and had a slight curve to it.

Rolan pulled his cock back until your pussy gripped it tightly by the head, he waited for a second and then put all his weight behind the next thrust. He gripped your throat tightly, forcing your back to arch and pushing his cock as deep as it would go. He didn't wait for you to adjust to him, instead, he began to pound his cock deep into your womb, his balls slapping against your ass.

He grunted and moaned as his body took over, his primal urges controlling him. You screamed and sobbed, clawing at his hand around your throat.

"Ngh! Rolan!!! Plea- ahh! St-stop," you cried, tears streaming down your face.

But Rolan was unrelenting, he fucked you mercilessly, “Gh’ Tell me- Tell me I’m not worthless!” his thrusts gaining in speed as he slammed into you again and again.

He pulled out at an agonizing slow face, making sure you could feel every bump and ridge on his thick cock before pushing back in, hard enough that it knocked the wind out of your lungs

"I-I-, Rolan, ple-pleeaseee- Ahh~" You screams began to twist into reluctant moans as his cock rubbed against your inner walls. Your eyes fluttered open to look at the monster that had you pinned in the tower's library, but what you saw tore at your very being. Rolan's eyes were glazed over, his pupils shrunken as he stared blankly at you, tears fell from his cheeks onto yours as he continued his assault.

"R-Rolan?” You whispered, trying to get his attention, but to no avail. He was gone, his body moving on its own accord, his mind somewhere else entirely. You reached up and cupped his cheek, brushing away his tears, "I-im so sorr- ngh’!”

Rolan grabbed your wrists, pulling your arms up above your head, his grip tight enough to leave marks.

"Don't touch me!" he spat, "I'm not worth any pity."

Your mind raced with all the possible things you could say, but what came out was a choked sob. He had endured so much… You only wish you knew sooner… Wrapping your legs around him, you brought his body closer to yours…

Rolan's body shuddered, his breathing labored as his cock twitched inside you, "I-I'm so close- I'm so close, please," his thrusts becoming erratic as his cock plunged into you.

Your mind began to focus on the pleasure that crept upon you, your eyes tightly shutting as you came, squirting on his cock, the tiniest puddle pooling beneath you...

"N-not inside!” You tried to wiggle free from him, but his weight pinned you to the ground, his nails digging into your skin.

But it was too late, the moment your eyes locked with his, the floodgates opened and your womb was filled with his seed. His hips stilled and his cock pulsed with each new burst. Your body convulsed with pleasure as his cock emptied inside of you. You hated yourself for cumming, hated that he was the one to bring you to your climax like this, hated that he made you feel this way in this moment… But a twisted part of you was glad it was you who was the one…

Rolan was kind, gentle, even considerate at times… You felt guilty that you sowed Lorroakan to corrupt and break such a soul…

“Oh Gods," he groaned, his voice thick with shame.

Rolan's hands stayed firm on you, his body pressing into you as his head rested on your shoulder, his breathing ragged, his eyes closed as his tears soaked your shirt.

"I-I'm sorry, (y/n)," he whimpered, "I am so sorry."

His words stung, and yet despite what transpired, your arms reached up to wrap around him, pulling him even closer.

"Shh, Rolan, please- just, just stop."

Rolan's eyes went wide and his body tensed up, his arms and legs trembling. "Oh Gods, what have I done?”

"You’re not worthless, I promise…” You whispered.

The tower was silent once more, the only sounds that could be heard were Rolan’s sobs. His tears running down your neck, his cock still buried inside you…

[sumiye-draws-sometimes]

So, thoughts about Wind Breaker season 1:

Firstly, where is everyone's parents?? And this isn't a highschool, it's a gang, so idk why they're treated it like highschool when literally no learning is being done and there's no teachers. Also, is there no police or anything?? Why are all the townspeople and adults letting kids protect them like police 🫠

Also, so if it's like a "3 year highschool" then does Umemiya just graduate normally even though he's like the "leader" of this "school"?? How're you gonna get a job after you graduate if theres no adults or school staff to hand out diplomas or anything... Like I'm VERY confused on the school aspect.

Anyways, Sakura is a pretty fun protagonist. Like, he's already strong but also super traumatized and shy, which leads to some funny scenes. Him being kinda dumb and not understanding social situations is super relatable, too. And I love his name, it's super cute which is the exact opposite impression he goes for lol

The anime was fun, but there were like way too many emotional deep conversations that just kinda dragged on a bit for me. It was okay, but not amazing 10/10 y'know?

Soo screenshot time:

Choji was an awesome villain, I loved it so much. And how he acted like Luck from Black Clover was super entertaining. His whole redemption thing was weird, like him just suddenly decided not to be psycho and sadistic cause he got talk-no-jutsu from Gojo? Kinda wack... I don't think mental illness and depression can get solved that easily

And this was tragic, but Togame was so gay for him, I swear. It was like toxic one-sided love until the switcheroo where Choji suddenly grew a conscience.

Loyal like a dog characters are so freaking funny to me, I love Sugishita. And Umemiya scolding him was hilarious

This line was funny, I had to screenshot it. Suo is a menace.

I feel like Nirei saying all these out of pocket things and blushing every time he looks at Sakura is super overlooked. Everyone else just doesn't care lol

Like by the end my boy Sakura has a male harem, and I love that for him

And finally, they ain't never seen Naruto, I swear. This show is like talk-no-jutsu Tokyo Revengers (but automatically way better because I DID NOT care for Tokyo Revengers)

Hope there's more fighting and action in season 2... And trauma... Cause the friendship is magic bit gets a bit overdone, y'know. I love it, but when most of the episode is inspirational and stuff I get a bit bored 😅

Omg, I forgot to mention that the OST is awesome