#t.w.: swearing

[brunettemarionette]

𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 😈 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞.

💜femalemechanic!reader x sons of anarchy

🔮summary. When you first got hired at Teller-Morrow, you thought you'd just be turning wrenches and fixing bikes, but it quickly became obvious that you're the new favorite around here.

But when a customer gets too bold and puts hands on you, suddenly everyone is reminded you're untouchable when the guys step in.

🌙t.w. Sexual Harassment. Threats of Violence. Intimidation. Mild Language/Crude Remarks. Physical Confrontation

✨wc. 1.1k

This post is what inspired this little femalemechanic!reader series I'm going to do so reblogs, comments and feedback are very highly appreciated. Please feel free to send ideas my way or inbox me (even if just for anonymous feedback). Hope you all enjoy!

The sound of wrenches clinking and engines rumbling filled the air at Teller-Morrow, the familiar scent of oil and grease clinging to your skin like a second layer.

The shop had quickly become a second home to you, though you still didn't fully understand the club's inner workings. What you did understand, however, was that the Sons of Anarchy seemed to take an unusual interest in your presence.

At first, you chalked it up to them being friendly.

Jax, for instance, always seemed to be around when you needed something though, in hindsight, you never actually asked for help. "Need a hand with that, darlin'?" he'd offer, even if all you were doing was tightening a bolt. He'd lean against a nearby workbench, arms crossed, watching with an amused smirk.

It was nice that they were all so willing to help, even if it sometimes felt like you had too many supervisors at once.

Opie had a similar habit of being conveniently nearby. He never lingered as obviously as Jax, but he was always nearby. "Just grabbing this," he'd say, reaching for a tool, rag, or something completely unnecessary. He'd stick around longer than needed, watching with that unreadable expression of his.

Then there was Tig. He had no concept of personal space; that much was clear. "Damn, girl," he'd say, leaning way too close for someone who didn't need to be in your workspace. "You sure you weren't born to work on bikes? 'Cause I swear, watching you turn a wrench is the highlight of my day."

You'd roll your eyes, laughing it off. Tig was just like that with everyone.

Even Chibs and Juice had their own ways of hovering. Chibs would tease, calling you lass and finding ways to keep you engaged in conversation, while Juice, sweet but a little awkward tried to get your attention with random trivia or stupid bets with the other guys.

And then there was Happy, who'd just silently walk into your work area and take a seat, watching as you tinker, all while moving that toothpick around in his mouth before stalking off again wordlessly a while later.

It was all a little overwhelming, but you figured this was just how the Sons were—flirty, overprotective, and oddly competitive with each other. Besides, it was nice to feel included. You'd never had this kind of easy camaraderie before in this environment, and you weren't about to question it.

Gemma, on the other hand, saw right through them. She watched it all unfold with a knowing smirk, arms crossed like a mother watching her kids make fools of themselves.

Even Clay seemed amused by the way the guys found excuses to be around you. "Bunch of idiots," he muttered one afternoon, shaking his head as Jax and Juice argued over who got to hand you a wrench before Happy silently handed one to you.

Gemma chuckled. "Let 'em have their fun."

You, of course, remained blissfully unaware that you were the fun.

That all changed the day a customer got a little too comfortable.

You were at the front of the shop, wiping your hands on a rag as you explained the details of a tune-up to a man who had just brought in his car. He was middle-aged, maybe in his late forties, with a cocky smirk that immediately set off warning bells, not that you noticed.

Smiling politely, you handed him the clipboard, explaining the breakdown and keeping your tone professional. "So, with the labor and parts, you're looking at about—"

"You got a pretty face for a mechanic," He interrupted, looking you up and down.

You blinked partly in shock at his audacity and the other in surprise he was so bold in his words. "Uh, thanks?" You tried to steer the conversation back. You were used to men either hitting on you or speaking down to you. "So, if you're good with this, we can—"

"You sure you wanna be doing this?" He smirked, leaning in slightly. "Seems like a waste. A girl like you should be doing something... prettier. A pretty girl like yourself should have a guy taking care of her."

You felt your stomach twist, your grip tightening on the clipboard, trying not to yell at the customer. "I like what I do," you said, clearing your throat and trying to keep your voice even. "Now, if you're good with the estimate—"

He didn't let you finish as his hand slid to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your skin crawl. "Come on, sweetheart," he drawled. "maybe I could take you out sometime. Show you what it's like to be treated right. Show you how a real man—"

The hand was gone before you could react. One second, the guy was standing too close, and the next, he was stumbling backward, Jax's fist curled in his collar. The sound of the impact—fabric twisting, shoes scuffing against the concrete—was sharp, final.

Jax's voice was low, dangerous. "You touch her again, you're leavin' in a body bag."

The shop had gone silent. Tools were set down, and chairs scraped against the floor as Tig, Opie, and Juice moved in. Chibs cracked his knuckles, and Happy—who still hadn't said a word—was now staring the guy down with an intensity that made your stomach drop.

The customer, who had, up until now, been cocky and self-assured, realized too late that he had made a very big mistake. His hands shot up in surrender. "Hey, man, it was just a—"

"Get the hell out," Jax snapped, taking a step closer. "Now."

The man didn't hesitate. He turned and practically ran out of the shop, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, leaving his car behind without a second thought. The moment he was gone, the tension snapped like a rubber band.

It took you a second to realize you were still holding the clipboard in a death grip. You exhaled, forcing yourself to loosen your fingers. Opie was suddenly in front of you; his usual stoic expression softened. "You okay?"

You blinked at him, still processing what just happened. "Uh, yeah. I mean... that was a little intense."

Tig grinned, but there was still something dangerous in his expression. "Welcome to the family, sweetheart. No one touches what's ours."

You frowned at that. "Ours?"

Jax smirked, running a hand through his hair like he hadn't just threatened a man's life. "Don't think too hard about it, darlin'."

You did think about it. For about two seconds. And then you shrugged, figuring it was just their way of saying they had your back, but one thing was clear—this wasn't just a job anymore. These guys weren't just co-workers. They were family, and they had just made one thing very clear.

You are untouchable.

[honeybunnyale]

I'm Not In Love l B.B.

w.c.: 4k

t.w.: Dark Series, dub-con verging on non-con smut (Somnophilia, frottage), Slight Steve x Reader, Possessive Bucky, Obsessive Bucky, Stalker Bucky >:), Red Room/Hydra reader, unhealthy power dynamics, angst, I want both super soldiers pls :) 

a/n: Please read all warnings for all of my works before reading. 18+ only! I’m basing off of the titles from songs. This one’s I’m Not In Love by 10cc. ♥

Summary: Bucky is roaming New York. He watches and gets jealous. (Set after first part, Recognized)

New York

May, 9 2014

Your underwear is missing. Your window frame had also loosened. Somehow, you didn’t feel as anxious about it as any normal person should have. It brought you an odd sense of satisfaction. 

You were the first person he visited.

You leave leftovers in the fridge, some cash on the coffee table. Your Tupperware had a little less and your coffee table was cleaned, your two twenties gone. You’d scan the room as you entered, most of the time getting out of your apartment to give him time to explore your space. You’d admire a nearby park, sitting by the fountain as the breeze cooled your face. 

Judging by the way he left your laundry basket open, he may have explored for too long. 

He was like a ghost. A timid ghost that was too sheepish to make himself known. No scares, no malicious intentions, just a mediocre haunting. 

You haven’t told anyone about it yet, not even Steve. You’re sure he wouldn’t tell you if ‘Buck’ was visiting him every other day either. Given, he would have had the same amount of boxers in his drawers. 

He may not even notice. 

…

Brooklyn

July 4, 2014

Captain America liked nightclubs. The lively atmosphere and the beer, at the very least. Sam had gotten him a cake and with lack of coordination, Natasha had ordered one made too. It was a good thing that super soldiers could pack away a lot. Excess sugar could never hurt him. 

Sam was attempting to bribe the bar for free drinks and Nat was at the bakery nearby picking up a sheet cake and some candles. You were left alone with him, picking at the sprinkles from Sam’s cake and keeping Steve company. 

You sit next to him in a booth, sipping on your Tequila Sunrise. He was glancing at you every other moment, his ring finger tapping against the glass beer pint nervously. 

Your eyes glided over the crowd dancing, Daft Punk playing as drinks spilled and bodies rolled over each other. A dark figure walks through the crowd, moving through the synchrony of movement and parting it to reach the other end of the dancefloor.

Broad shoulders, large chest enveloped by leather, and shoulder length brown hair. Your breath hitches as you swear you saw glaring blues direct their stare in your direction. 

Steve notices you tense, throat bobbing as you take a large gulp out of your glass. Your eyes flicker between the table and your hands, He feels you stiffen beside him. 

He assumes you were uncomfortable with the loud noise and the awkward company he was. His shoulders square, he clears his throat as he directs a tight lipped smile at you. 

You raise your glass lightly, mimicking his gesture. You make yourself smaller into the cushion of the booth. You feel as if a wolf was staring at you, stalking and waiting. Your eyes widen as the figure appears again, much clearer now as disco lights illuminate his face. You swallow thickly as his eyes shift to Steve, now placing his hand on top of yours in worry.

Jame’s jaw tenses and his eyes narrow. As if he wanted to rip his hands off of you. 

You inhale sharply and grab Steve’s hand without warning. 

“Let’s dance, Steven.” 

It was uncomfortable, admittedly. He didn’t move from his spot in the booth as you stood, his cheeks turning a bright red as your hand gripped onto his forearm to pull him out. You almost forget about his super strength. He was as solid as a marble statue, but he didn’t make an effort to pull his hand away. He was gentle despite his clear refusal. 

A closer look, that was all you wanted. Maybe you were seeing things. You hoped so. You begged Steve with your eyes, smiling softly. 

You're almost surprised it worked. 

Steve’s hand grips onto yours firmly as you lead him into the crowd. His shoulders tense as bodies bump into him. He was the tallest one around, making him stand out. Your fingers tickle up his forearms, starting with a soft sway of your hips he could mimic. 

Your head sways side to side, arms moving to loosen him as Steve holds your hands tightly. Your eyes wander to your sides, searching to find him in the crowd, staring you down as you feel he is at that moment. 

Steve loosens, his hips start to find the beat as the song shifts into something a tad slower, the bass hitting a little deeper. People start to pair up, his fingers twitch as you pull him in closer, hands grazing over the muscles of his arms to meet his shoulders, then neck. 

He swallows thickly, he says your name, almost in a question. You couldn’t hear it from the loud music. 

“Relax,” you say softly, knowing his sensitive hearing could pick it up.

He was focused on you, the smell of your perfume, the way your hoop earrings glimmer from the lights. Your breasts press together as your wrists rest against the back of his neck. Your top was exposing, thin straps, and flowy and breezy fabric. 

His hands move to your hips, you bring yourself closer to him, pelvis meeting his. Your eyes scan behind Steve’s broad shoulders, eyes narrowing as you press your chest against his, bodies closer than ever. He wasn’t behind Steve. You sigh. 

You turn, facing away from him, your hips moving back and forth against his front. You guide him to the rhythm, he melts into the touch. 

He catches your eye again, moving from one side of the room to the other, at the edges of the crowd. He was a blur. You glance behind you, tilting your head up to catch Steve staring, lips parted in awe. 

He grinds against the swell of your ass, you feel him, thick and hard. His cock pulsing as it chubs up against the plush of your ass. His grip tightens and he has half a mind to start apologizing but you encourage it, pressing further against him and placing your hand on top of his. 

He groans lightly, feeling his stomach tighten and his heart quicken. You turn your head from side to side, in time with the slow tempo, pressing your back against his chest as you work him up further. 

He’s enjoying himself, you were too. You find him quickly, he was sitting at the bar now, nursing a beer as he stares with half lidded eyes at your display. You move erotically, staring back, licking your teeth as Steve leans down to your neck, your hand moving up to cup the back of his head. 

His metal fist clenches, covered in a leather glove. There’s your ghost. Not so shy and sheepish. He was staring daggers at you, at Steve. Finally, you see him. He keeps his head down as he takes his jacket roughly off the back of his seat and makes his exit through the crowded bar. 

…

He blows out his candles at a brooklyn pizza parlor, completely vacant at one in the morning. One cake had the number nine and the other six. It was very intimate. It was nice. 

You took a taxi home, looking out of the window. Maybe he was following closely behind. You think for a moment that he wouldn’t bother. He was upset, you might have gone too far. 

You think you were more desperate for a reaction from him than anything else. It was so unlike you. Cap couldn't even meet your eye the rest of the night. But you guess the departing hug meant it would be quickly forgotten. 

Dropping your keys and jacket onto the kitchen table, you start to take your shoes off. Your heart drops as you turn to lock your door and feel that something is off. 

You turn quickly to find the window open, just by a smidge. The curtains flail with the wind. You could smell the coming rain. 

Your breath stutters as you swallow thickly. It was nothing. 

Soft music hummed from your bedroom travelling all the way to your shower. You lathered your body in soap, rinsing it off gently. You relax. 

Then you hear a thunk, as if something had fallen to your carpeted floor outside the bathroom. You pause. 

You towel dry softly, reaching into the sink cabinet and blindly pawing at the corner to find your hidden pistol. 

You hum a tune as you dress. A song from the nightclub that would repeat every thirty minutes. Hanging your towel to dry and stepping up to turn the knob of the door, you inhale sharply. 

You step out with a gun in hand, you scan the room with your weapon raised. You pause. Your lips gloss had fallen off the vanity. 

You exhale. Placing the gun against your bedside table in irritation and stuffing your makeup in its bag. 

After a cup of tea, you start to fall asleep, feeling as if you were exhausted. Your eyes flutter closed, so unlike you. You didn't sleep well at all, it was a miracle your eyes closed for more than a minute at a time.

Wait. 

You wake up with the feel of his gaze from the corner of the room. You could hear his breathing. Soft and consistent. He shifts in his seat from the vanity table. You open your eyes slowly, groggy from whatever he had given you. 

Your eyes were blurry, you could barely move. His legs spread further, the small table lamp illuminating half of his face and the hand holding your gun against the table. You would scoff if you could, as if you could walk up and take it. 

You groan, willing your body to move from its side to lay on your back, your sheets shift as you attempt to sit up. You fail, slumping against the pillows in an awkward position. 

Your ghost just watches, face curious. You arch a brow as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. He inhales slowly and deeply, eyes never leaving yours, hands squeezing as they interlace together. 

He groans. The whole room smelled of you, he closed his eyes for a moment to take it in. He just couldn’t get you out of his damn head. He has dreams, sometimes nightmares with you in them. His hand cupping yours as you hold a revolver, pressing your finger against the trigger with his own as you aimed it at a faceless woman. He’d hold you afterward, hands intertwined as his lips peppered kisses over your forehead, leading down your cheek, your jaw, making your skin tingle as he licked a path with his tongue down your throat. 

He’d stuff your cunt with his cock, holding you from behind, your legs spreading as you moan into him, your head burying itself into the crook of his neck. 

He remembers these moments in his sleep, as if encouraging him to search for something. Maybe search for you. He knows who he is, on paper. James Buchanan Barnes. He knows who you are too. All that he’s done to you, all you’ve done to him.

Then there’s Steven Grant Rogers. He knows that he was important to him. But, he doesn’t think he would understand him as well as you did. He was stuck. 

Bucky, James, The Winter Soldier, Comrade, Soldat. He rubs his temple as he stands, pacing near the end of your bed. Your eyes track him. You fight sleep, your eyes starting to close. What did he want? Every time you blinked it was getting harder and harder to open them up again. 

He was wearing a jacket, a grey shirt, dark washed jeans, and thick boots. They didn’t fit him quite well, who knows where he could have gotten them from. A donation bin, a safehouse nearby. You hoped he had a warm place to stay at night.

You make a noise, a mumble tumbling from your lips, sounding like a moan. You close your eyes, they stay closed for ten seconds before lazily opening again. He’s made his way across the bedroom, sitting next to you. He cups your cheek, your eyes flutter. His hands were cold.  

You blink and you can't open your eyes anymore. 

…

Colmar, France

1986

He sits on the edge of the bed and watches. Your lungs burn with every breath. Tears drag down your cheeks, gathering near the back of your neck. Monitors beep, your fingers twitch from the sedative. 

He scared you to no end. It was one of the last training sessions of the week. The Red Room had come up with this idea. They could train widows, such as yourself, to become more efficient with the help of the deadliest assassin alive. 

The Winter Soldier was not kind to you. They expected you to die within the month. But you were always different, you weren’t trained from birth. They wanted to stretch the limits of molding the perfect weapon. 

Experiments, mithridatism, training, graduation. You survived it all as a relatively unskilled early adult. You were supposed to be proof that building a broader network could work as efficiently as raising it. 

His hand lays over yours gently, the same one that had struck you so hard you thought you had gone blind for a second. You glare at him. He lifts it, minding the wires. He holds your hand softly, knowing that the doctors would come to check on you in about ten minutes. 

He was offering you comfort. 

The softness peturbs you. A sorry couldn't heal broken bones, or ripped flesh. You exhale softly, it burns. It wasn’t his fault. You feel his pulse, fingers tightening over his wrist. 

Your glare softens. You close your eyes and rest against the stiff pillow. It wasn’t his fault.

…

4:00 A.M. 

New York

July 5, 2014 

He lifts your hand and presses his lips to your knuckles as you sleep. The back of your hands were soft, he rubs his cheek against them. Your breath was even, your chest rising and falling in your unconscious state.

He adjusts you in a comfortable position, fluffing your pillows as he lifts your head to his chest lightly. He trails his nose over your hairline as he cups the back of your head. He groans. Both in satisfaction and annoyance. 

His body was out of sorts. He couldn’t control himself very well. It was like it was trying to stabilize itself. He gets hard at the mere thought of you now. 

He tugs his boots off neatly, placing them together beside your bed frame. Your body melded into his as he laid you against him. His heart pounds rapidly, his throat was threatening to close as your weight was supported against him. 

He was going to ask you questions. That was the plan he promised himself he would keep. He thinks he upped the dosage too much. Oh well. Now all he wanted was to hold you, his hands run back and forth over your back, your head buried in his neck. 

He can feel your breath on his throat.

Your legs were spread over his hips. His cock was aching, he felt his boxers wet with his pre cum. He licks his lips. Your ass was peeking from your sleep shorts. His hand smooths over the plump flesh, you’ve gained some weight, healthy weight. He liked it. 

His hand tightens, your skin was like bread dough, spreading over his fingers. His hips twitch upward as he instinctively presses yours down, the seam of your shorts press against the zipper of his jeans. He moans as he feels your mound grind against his bulge. 

Sweat collects along his brow, he licks his lips as he hesitates. It wouldn’t hurt anyone, he’ll be quick. 

He pushes his jeans down, leaving him in his boxers. His cock was pulsing in his grip, his jerks becoming uncontrolled and sporadic. He pushes your shorts to the side, his tip purple with pressure, he leans his head back as he presses his cockhead against the seam of your panty covered pussy. 

He imagines sinking in, his cock too big for him to get balls deep at first. He’d work you open, holding you up by your hips, allowing you to take him inch by inch until your cunt meets his pelvis. 

You make a noise from the back of your throat as he presses against your clit. Heavy, hot, and wet puffs meet his neck as he continues to grind against you. His hips thrust upward, his metal hand holding your hip in place as you start to moan and shake against him too. 

He was so close, he felt his stomach tighten, his cock pulse in need. Fuck. He lifts the fabric of your underwear and slides his cock in between your lips, he consistently bumps up onto your clit as he bear hugs your upper torso and thrusts upwards. 

You shake softly against him, a garbled moan coming from your throat as he feels your opening pulse and gush. He loses himself. His head was buried in your hair, taking a deep breath as he came inside of your panties, his cum making a mess of your cunt and mound. 

He could feel your heart beat like a hummingbird’s, your breaths coming out in puffs. And yet your eyes are still closed, your breath calms as he smooths his palm over your back soothingly. 

He cleans you with a soft towel and warm water. He positions you to lay comfortably in your sleep and puts his boots back on. 

He leaves quickly after. 

…

New York

November 27, 2014

You take your gloves off, placing them on the coffee table. Thanksgiving was pleasant. Natasha had managed to get you into Avengers tower. Tony Stark had made a show of a holiday. It was an event full of loners without families. It made you chuckle. 

Steve dropped you off on his motorcycle. It seemed as if he was waiting for you to invite him up to your apartment, or at least he was gathering the courage to tell you something by the way he leaned against his bike with his hands in his pockets. 

You gave him a hug and shooed him away quickly when you had noted the window slightly ajar in your apartment. You never open your windows. The smog, you’d argue.

You sigh as you take off your shoes. You stride to the window and close it shut aggressively.  

“Have you eaten yet?” 

You get no response, you tense. If it wasn’t him, it could be someone else. And you had a lot of enemies. You make your way to the kitchen calmly and pull a handle from the knife block Sam had gifted you a month ago, seeing as you didn’t have any proper cooking utensils.  

You turn and are met with a solid wall of chest, you swipe before you could fully process the situation but a hand stops you. Metal. You dropped your knife as he turned your wrist roughly. A shot of electricity shoots up your arm. 

His eyes are apologetic as he steps back, and watches as you clutch your hand in slight pain. 

Habit. 

“Jesus…” you mutter, your thumb rubbing along your wrist soothingly. You glare at him with a glance as you cross over to the living room. You turn on your lamp, it illuminates the small area in a shade of orange. It was cheap, you didn’t mind it. 

He takes in the small apartment you call home, finally able to see it in proper lighting. He’s been reading up on the files. Your report said you originated from California. Your close relatives have long gone. You barely had any personal items in the small living room. As if you were ready to leave at a moment's notice. 

He steps towards you, you step back. You look at him inquisitively. He hasn't frequented your apartment since the time he drugged you to sleep. It was a nice sleep, you had to give it to him. Really nice. 

“I’m leaving.”

You say nothing, just giving him a slow nod. He should have left weeks ago. The government was looking for him, Hydra must be too. You at least had connections to the Avengers, they couldn’t outright kill you on a random tuesday anymore. 

“Come with me,” he says confidently, his blue eyes piercing. 

You stare at him. He steps closer, his hands fidget nervously at your silence. Clearly he thought it would go smoothly.

He swallows thickly and his hand cups your cheek, looking into your eyes sincerely. 

“Out of the U.-”

“He’s looking for you, Bucky,” you interrupt harshly. 

Something ferocious flashes in his eyes as you call him Bucky. It didn’t sound exactly right. It was familiar. It was foreign to your tongue though. He wasn’t Bucky to you. Although sometimes you wish he was. This person in front of you, it felt as if he didn’t belong with you. 

Steve talks about this Bucky all of the time. The dancer, the flirt, the soldier with morals. He was pure and bright. He was happy. Happier. 

“I don’t even know who that is. Who the hell is Bucky? I don’t even remember who Steve Rogers is.” 

You shake your head, he grabs your chin. 

“I remember you.”

Your face falls. You wished he didn’t. Sometimes you wish you could forget him. Turns out you were both haunting each other. You clear your throat and look away, your face and voice neutral as you speak.

“Steve will help you remember. He’s your friend.” 

He sighs. His hand drops down to his side. He takes that as a no to his offer. He looks to you desperately, he’s lost. He needed someone familiar. 

You bite your lip and sigh in defeat. You move towards him, as if he were a feral dog, slow and soft. 

Your gentle hand on his chest was warm, you stood in front of him, looking him over, your eyes rounded in concern. 

“You eating good?” you mutter. You knew the answer. His shirts have filled in. Even if you weren’t willing to go on the run with him now, you still cared. 

He snorts. You look up in surprise as he smiles down at you. Hydra was definitely not a five star restaurant. Your lips betray you and tilt upwards at his sarcastic gaze. Of course he was eating well. 

Both of your hands cup his face now, exploring this new version of him. He hasn’t shaved in a while, his hair was up in a bun. He looked well enough. His hand meets your waist and pulls you closer. He leans down. 

“I missed you.” 

You were gone for two years. Two years he’s had to endure alone. He rests his forehead against yours. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back. He smiles and shakes his head. You shouldn’t be sorry. You escaped. Now he did too. You were both free. He kisses your cheek and straightens up to pull you closer into a hug. 

You stay in place for a while, your hand wound tightly onto the back of his shirt, his pressing your head against his chest. Clinging to each other. 

You tilt your head up after a while. 

“I know a place you could go.” 

…

He opens the pack you had forced upon him. It included a pistol, a knife, some rope. Packs of old granola bars and plenty of cash.

The front pocket had something solid. He opens it up to find a burner phone. His hand turns the small brick phone as passengers board the train. 

The contact list included several names. Sam, Natasha, Barton, Steve. He makes it a point in his head to never call those numbers. 

He sees your name at the bottom, newly added. He smiles. He wonders how long you've been planning on giving him the bag.

Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom. I louve et yiessss. Let me know what ya'll think! Sending love.

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

-Alejandra 💋 🐇

Taglist 🫶:

@vxllys

[pricesgirl]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

10

(T.W sexual content)

Jinx

She tasted like berries.

Sweet, but not in a fake, sugary way—real, ripe, and just a little tart. Like she’d bitten into something moments before and I was just catching the aftertaste.

It’s been hours, but I swear I can still feel the ghost of her lips on mine, still hear that little hitch in her breath when I pressed closer.

Fuck.

I flop back onto my bed, arm draped over my eyes, trying to will away the ridiculous grin stretching across my face.

It’s stupid.

I’m being stupid.

But my brain keeps looping it—her fingers in my hair, the way she shivered when I kissed down her neck, the way she didn’t pull away.

I run my tongue over my lips absentmindedly, half-expecting to taste her again.

I don’t, obviously.

But damn, do I want to.

I roll over onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow, but I can’t seem to shake the feeling. That kiss—it keeps coming back, like a song stuck on repeat.

It’s like the air’s different now, charged in a way it wasn’t before. It’s heavier, thick with something I can’t name yet.

My mind spins with thoughts of her—Y/N, all quiet and measured and impossibly soft—yet when we kissed, she wasn’t like that at all.

She was there, fully present, her breath hot against my skin, her hands steady as they tugged at my hair.

I let out a frustrated sigh and punch the pillow beneath me. This isn’t helping. It’s just making me more wound up.

But the thought won’t leave me, won’t stop scratching at the back of my mind: What if she wants more? What if I want more?

I sit up and swing my legs off the bed, pacing back and forth. Fuck. What am I even supposed to do with this?

I know I’m a mess. I’m always a mess. But with her? I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt to have her close, to kiss her. It wasn’t just about the kiss itself, but everything around it—how she reacted, how her body moved, how I felt with her.

The problem is, I’m not sure if she feels the same.

I need to know.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

Y/N

It's pouring down. The sky is an endless wash of gray, with rain slashing against the windows like a thousand tiny blades.

The world outside feels muffled, like the storm’s swallowing everything whole, and inside, it’s just me, wrapped in the quiet of my room.

I’ve been staring at the books on my shelf, picking up one, setting it down, picking up another, but none of them seem to hold my attention. Not when my mind keeps drifting back to her.

To Jinx.

The way her lips felt, soft yet sure against mine. How everything inside me seemed to catch fire for just a second. I’ve been trying to tell myself it was nothing, just a moment, but it wasn’t just a moment. Not to me.

The sound of something scraping against my window shatters the silence, and my heart skips a beat. I stand up, instinctively moving toward the sound. When I reach the window and pull it open, I nearly stumble back in shock.

Jinx’s face peeks through the rain-soaked window, her eyes gleaming with that same wild energy I can never quite place.

Her lips curl into a mischievous grin, and without missing a beat, she launches into a dramatic, over-the-top quote. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. And none but fools do wear it, cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love!”

I blink, momentarily thrown off by her theatrical entrance. My pulse quickens, not just from the surprise but the way she’s looking at me, the intensity of her gaze almost too much to bear. “What… what are you doing?” I ask, trying to regain some semblance of composure, even as my heart hammers in my chest.

She just grins, that wide, almost-dangerous grin of hers, and without any hesitation, she climbs in through the window, her drenched clothes sticking to her like a second skin.

Water drips off her, splashing onto my floor, but she doesn’t seem to care.

"Jinx," I start, my voice tinged with concern, "You're going to freeze."

"Well, warm me up," she says, her voice playful, daring, and that's all it takes. Her lips are on mine again, sudden, hot, and desperate in a way that makes my breath catch.

It’s different this time—more urgent, more consuming. I don’t have time to think before her hands are pulling me closer, pushing me to match the intensity she’s giving. Her body presses against mine, the cold of the rain outside clashing with the heat building between us. The wetness of her hair still clings to her skin, but it’s all forgotten, lost in the wave of sensation that crashes through me.

I’m lost in the kiss, her taste, the way her lips mold to mine like we’ve done this a hundred times before, even though we haven’t. My pulse quickens, the tension in my chest tightening as her hand trails up to cup my face, her thumb grazing my cheekbone.

My hands slip beneath the drenched fabric clinging to her skin, slow, deliberate.

"You need to take these off," I murmur, feigning practicality. "You'll catch hypothermia."

I try to sound convincing. I really do. But she knows. I know.

I just want her bare.

A grin splits across her face, teasing and sharp. "You trying to get me naked, toots?"

Heat flares across my cheeks. "And what if I was?"

"Then I’d say—tit for tat."

I blink. "Pardon?"

"I’ll get naked if you do," she says, her dimples carving soft shadows into her cheeks.

Oh.

Oh.

I should hesitate. I normally would. I’ve never been bare before someone before. But it’s her. And like she said—tit for tat.

My hands abandon the hem of her soaked t-shirt and instead ghost over my own nightie. She watches, eyes heavy-lidded, something molten burning in their depths. My breath catches when the fabric pools at my feet.

"Tit for tat," I echo, waiting.

And she follows suit, peeling damp cloth from her skin, piece by piece, discarding them carelessly onto my carpet. There will be stains later. I don’t care.

I watch, entranced, as she strips away every obstruction—every piece of fabric separating us—until only her underwear remains.

Pink with blue stripes, painted onto her hips like a second skin.

I exhale sharply.

She tilts her head, lips curling into something feral. "You good, toots?"

I nod, unable to form words, and she laughs—soft, breathless—before stepping closer.

"Y/N—"

I look anywhere but at her. The floor. My hands. The storm outside. Anywhere but at her—

Her hips. Her thighs. Her waist. Her breasts—

"Y/N."

My name, insistent now, pulls my gaze up just in time for her hands to find my waist, for her lips to crash against mine.

I know what to do this time.

I part my lips, just slightly, and she takes the invitation without hesitation. Her tongue slips inside, and the sound that escapes between us—low, needy—is neither hers nor mine, but something we create together.

This is different.

Reading about this could never compare to living it.

I’ve read about moments like this, devoured words printed in delicate ink, tracing the whispered confessions of lovers between dog-eared pages. I know the rhythm of desire, the way books describe it—skin like fire, breath like smoke curling in the spaces between bodies, pleasure painted in prose so lush it drips like honey from the page.

But I had never truly understood it.

Not like this.

Not the way my pulse thrums in my throat, too loud, too fast. Not the way her lips press against mine with a hunger that words alone could never capture.

Stories told me what passion looked like—how it felt in theory. But they never prepared me for the way my body trembles beneath her touch, for the shiver that racks my spine when her fingers ghost over my skin.

They never spoke of how need coils in the gut like a living, breathing thing.

Or how lips taste different when they’re messy and desperate, when kisses are more than poetic metaphors—when they are real.

My knowledge of love, of lust, was shaped by carefully crafted scenes, lines of dialogue rehearsed in my head a thousand times over. But the script is gone now, torn from my hands, and all that remains is instinct.

Her.

Me.

My hands trace the curve of her spine, following the dip, the flare, until my fingers spread over the swell of her ass.

All her earlier bravado vanishes the second she whimpers against my mouth.

I drink in the sound, greedily, pulling her closer, deeper, until the need for air is secondary, insignificant compared to the press of her lips.

Then she shifts. Mimics my touch. Shoves me back—

My knees hit the edge of the bed, sending us toppling onto the sheets. She lands on top of me in a tangle of limbs, her body pressing into mine, and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up—light, unrestrained, joy in its purest form.

The sound is stolen by her kiss.

She keeps kissing me, as if my lips hold answers to all her unspoken questions.

Perhaps they do.

When I pull back to catch my breath, I notice the smudge of deep mauve staining her lips—her lipstick smeared, ruined, evidence of the control we’ve long since lost.

Then her lips leave mine, trailing lower—

"Oh, oh—Jinx—"

I hardly recognize my own voice, wrecked and shameless as she marks my skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my neck. Searching. Seeking. Until—

She finds it.

A sound—practically sinful—rips from my throat, unbidden.

She stills, lifting her head from the crook of my neck to look at me.

Smug.

So insufferably smug that I don’t know whether to roll my eyes or kiss her senseless.

I choose the latter.

She snickers against my lips, the sound reverberating through me, sinking into my bones like warmth on a cold night.

"Y/N," she murmurs, so soft, so uncharacteristically tender that I melt beneath the weight of it.

"Jinx," I try to mimic the tone, sultry and smooth, but it betrays me—awkward, inexperienced.

She doesn’t mind.

She only smiles before resuming her path downward, lips pressing, teeth grazing, leaving behind welts I’ll wear like a brand.

Lower, lower still.

Her mouth ghosts down my stomach, past my navel, until she reaches the last barrier between us.

She pauses.

Faltering.

I had assumed—assumed she had done this before. But her hesitation speaks volumes.

"Jinx—" Her name leaves my lips breathy, pleading. She knows what I’m asking.

And so, slowly, she hooks her fingers beneath the waistband of my underwear, painted nails dragging against my skin as she tugs.

I giggle, lifting my hips to help.

This is vulnerability like I’ve never known, like I’ve never allowed myself before.

But it’s Jinx.

It’s Powder.

My Powder.

The damp fabric is discarded, forgotten. She wraps her arms around my thighs, pulling me closer, breath shaky as it fans over my heat.

She’s nervous too.

Then—

A warm exhale. A flick of her tongue, tentative at first, an exploration, a slow unraveling.

Then—she finds it.

Finds me.

Her lips close around my clit, sucking, hard—

A yelp tears from my throat, unfiltered, obscene, and it only spurs her on.

Her nails dig crescents into my thighs as she devours me, hungrily, desperately.

She wants to consume me whole.

And god—

She’s succeeding.

She tugs me closer, impossibly closer, her mouth sealing over me, sending white-hot pleasure searing through my spine.

My back arches, fingers tightening in the damp strands of her hair as my body succumbs, as I surrender.

As she ruins me.

"Oh—fuck, Jinx!"

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

She tastes fantastic—sweet and sharp, a flavor I could drown in, a craving I’ll never shake.

I pull her closer, teasing her with the slow drag of my tongue over her clit, just to see. Just to feel.

She responds beautifully.

Y/N’s back arches, hips pressing into my mouth, her voice slipping into something uncharacteristically filthy. If she could hear herself now, she’d blush to hell and back.

I slide lower, tongue dipping to where she’s already soaked, drinking in the proof of her pleasure.

“Fuck,” I breathe against her, the vibration making her thighs twitch, her body offering itself to me in trembling anticipation.

My eyes flick up—locking onto hers as I push my tongue inside.

"Jinx—holy shit!"

Her voice is wrecked, needy, breaking apart as I move, tongue and lips working in tandem to unravel her. She tries to hold my gaze, but she can’t—her head falls back, mouth parting in a soundless plea.

My fingers replace my tongue on her clit, circling, coaxing, guiding her higher as I devour every reaction, every desperate sound spilling from her lips.

She writhes beneath me, pressing her face into the pillow as if she can contain the pleasure, and it’s intoxicating.

And then—

My name, her voice breaking around it, slipping between variations, between love and abandon.

"Jinx—fuck! Pow, Powder!"

Her body bows, hands clutching the sheets with a desperation that might tear them apart, and I don’t stop.

I drink her in like she’s the sweetest sin, the most potent drug, something sacred.

Eventually, trembling hands pull at me, urging me up, and though I want to keep tasting, I relent.

I pout, but one look at her—soft, glowing, utterly undone—and I’m undone too.

I shift beside her, fingers slipping between hers, holding her, grounding her.

"You okay, toots?" I tilt my head, waiting. But she’s still floating, lost in the aftermath.

I grin, waving a hand in front of her dazed expression.

"Earth to Y/N."

She giggles, hazy, dreamy, nodding as if the world makes sense in this moment and this moment only.

"I've never been better," she murmurs, voice still syrupy and sweet.

She tugs me closer, pressing a kiss to my lips, and fuck—

I could stay like this forever.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: they finally got 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, hope you liked it ;)

please like and reblog <3

[formulakracing]

xvi. interwoven - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smut, heavy smut, absolute filthy fucking on a yacht, penetration (i mean, must i say more?), slight daddy kink, some dominance on toto's end, cursing, oral (m! receiving!), poorly translated german, lots of soft moments, marijuana use, two idiots in love (and i mean down bad for one another), some loving n tender shit afterwards, yadayadayada

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“i love you.”

you blink, registering that he was hovering above you, gazing down at you. in that moment, you swear there are stars glimmering in those mocha depths, enticing you to fall even further. 

no, this wasn’t a dream. 

he was really here.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“you love me?”

“baby,” the word is shaky as he sucks in a breath, “you have no idea how much i fucking adore you. i need you in my life. i need your light in my life. you’re my sun. my moon. my stars. my everything.”

in the dim light, you catch the glitter of a tear as it streams down his cheek. reaching up, the pad of your thumb brushes it away, “toto, can i tell you something?”

“anything, my love.”

“i love you, torger christian wolff.”

in that moment, the world stood still.

the way his name dripped from your lips was oh so angelic. nothing would ever compare to that sound. no thunderous applause. no shouts of celebration from his crew. no roar of an engine. none of those could ever compare to that rich, smooth sound of your voice. 

and the best part was, it was yours and only yours. 

nothing would even come close to it, as it was one-of-one.

in his short, his cock throbs. 

fuck, just the sound of your voice was enough to send him spiraling, the blood coursing through his veins. 

he needed you. and fuck, did he need you now. 

he needed to prove to you how much he loved you. how he longed to worship every inch of your gorgeous figure. how he yearned to devour every part of you until there was nothing left. nothing but the sound of your heavenly moans ringing through the night, your back arched ever so slightly, begging for more and more until you reached your climax.

yet, he couldn’t give that to you. 

at least, not yet. 

he needed to ensure that he kept you on that precipice, hanging by a thread as he just fucked you senseless. 

“come here,” the words are nearly a growl as his hand palms the back of your skull, fingers coiling into your hair, pulling you in. 

his lips mold with yours, an open-mouthed, starving kiss. it’s fueled by pure lust, greedy and merciless as his tongue slips into your mouth, entwining with yours. he tilts your head back, cushioning it with his hand as he brings you to the rigid surface of the deck. 

there were no inhibitions left as your hips buck forward, brushing against the hardened outline of his cock through the thin fabric of his shorts. his mouth pulls away from yours, a strand of saliva following in suit. there was no time wasted, his lips reconnecting with your jawline, making their way down your neck. 

you squirm beneath him, wriggling your hips in attempts to soothe the throbbing sensation between your thighs. 

“not yet,” he pants, “you can’t have me yet, schatzi. you have to be a good girl and wait.”

“toto,” you exhale, “someone could see us.”

“and?” a hand delves underneath your crewneck, squeezing your breast, “i don’t give a fuck. if they happen to see us, then they can watch me make you cum over and over. the world deserves to know how good i make you feel.”

“can’t you get arrested for that sort of–”

“shut up,” a hand covers your mouth, swiftly cutting you off, “just let me make you feel good, schatzi. let me prove to you how good you deserve to feel.”

he rolls your nipple between nimble fingers, a moan escaping from your lips. 

“good girl. be as loud as you want. let everyone know how fucking good this feels.”

all around, the air is electric, buzzing with tension as he motions for you to sit up. carefully, his fingers hook the hem of your crewneck, tossing it to the side. the moment the mediterranean breeze hits your skin, your nipples harden, goosebumps littering your skin. his lips curl into a dazed grin, as if he was under some sort of trance. 

yet, he was under your spell, completely and utterly allured by your beauty.

“you’re stunning,” he shakes his head, bewildered by the sight of you under him, “i can’t keep it together when i’m around you.”

“well you’re really good at hiding it.”

“i have to be,” he leans in once again, “one of us has to keep it together. you’re a mess when you’re around me, you know that? you’re not very good at maintaining your composure either.”

heat flourishes into your cheeks, your hands instinctively shielding your face, “i-i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“you can’t hide from the man you love,” he coos, the warmth of his hands a relief from the cooler air as they glide along your torso, “it’s cute, really. i think it’s adorable that you melt into a little puddle whenever we’re together.”

“i can’t help it,” you protest, the words a whine.

“like i told you schatzi,” his hands are tugging at the waistband of your sweatpants, “you’re absolutely adorable. is this okay? can i finish undressing you and have my way with you?”

oh fuck. oh fuck. oh fuck. 

that question alone was enough to send the air around you spiking, the temperature elevated by a few degrees. fuck, did he leave you hot and bothered. a flustered, blubbering mess beneath him. 

“yes,” you nod, a little too enthusiastically, “please. have your way with me, toto wolff.”

although his composure was gone merely minutes ago, any last shred of sensibility was now completely lost, torn to shreds. 

he was going to fuck you. 

and he was going to fuck you right here, right now. 

where anyone and everyone could watch. 

quickly, he discards his own clothing, throwing it in the haphazard pile forming only a few feet away. he needed to feel your skin against his. more importantly, he needed to feel your walls squeeze around him, taking in every single inch. 

however, he was curious. 

how did that pretty little mouth feel?

“baby,” his pupils are dilated, glazed over from not only the weed, but from lust, “can you–”

he could barely finish before your lips were wrapped around his length, tongue swirling around the tip. 

oh jesus. 

oh fuck.

“fuck,” his jaw clenches as take in more of him, spit dribbling from your mouth as your eyes close, lashes fluttering. 

you were so fucking pretty like this, your head beginning to bob as your cheeks pucker, filthy noises filling the night air. 

a hand grips the crown of your skull, applying pressure. at first, he’s unsure of the action, unaware if this was something you enjoyed. 

after all, this wasn’t just about him. 

this was about you too. 

you deserved to enjoy this. to feel good. 

to catch a glimpse of heaven. 

yet, the groan that vibrates in the back of your throat lets him know that you were satisfied, the pace quickening. toto’s head almost rolls back, the muscles in his arm spasming as he props himself up, ensuring to memorize every detail of this moment. 

“take it baby,” he praises, the notes in his tone thready with need, “keep taking it like the good girl i know you are. you’re doing such a good fucking job.”

at the praise, you feel a pulse between your thighs, your hand wrapping around the base, starting a twisting motion as you continue sucking. 

he almost came right then and there, at the sight of you between his thighs, sucking him off like your life depended on it, fulfilling every aspect of his lewd and sinful fantasies. pressure was beginning to accumulate in his abdomen, the pleasure washing over like a tidal wave. 

he was going to cum.

and fuck, was he going to absolutely fill that little mouth of yours up. 

“y-you’re going to make me cum,” the words barely escape through his gritted teeth, “fuck baby.”

the tip of this throat reaches the base of your throat, the entire length of his cock in your mouth. your cheeks are hollow, and you manage to look up, batting your lashes ever so slightly. 

fuck, fuck, fuck. 

that sent him over the edge, threads of cum coating your throat as he released, the moans shaky, his voice brimmed with pure euphoria. 

“fuck baby, fuck,” he breathes, his chest heaving, “holy shit. holy fuck. holy fucking shit.”

two hands cup your cheeks, bringing you up. his mouth finds yours, his lips oh so plush and soft. the kisses are tender, arms wrapping around your frame. 

“come here.”

you nuzzle into his collarbone, catching your breath, “did i do good?”

“good?” he echoes, “baby, that was – wow. holy shit.”

“flabbergasted?” you stifle a giggle. 

“absolutely,” his chest vibrates against your face, “but i’m not finished with you.”

“oh?” you press, “is that so?”

his body shifts, pinning you down to the deck once again, “you deserve to cum too.”

“then make me cum.”

toto cocks his head, “is that how we’re feeling? has the weed helped us find our voice?”

from his taunt, you feel heat billow into your cheeks, “maybe.”

he hums, a hand spreading your thighs apart, “hmm, i like it. but you have to remember one thing.”

“and that is?”

“you’re not the one in control,” he slams into you without warning, your weeping cunt stretching at the sheer size, “i am. i’m the one in control.”

you mewl as his hips roll, absolutely pounding into you now, “holy fuck, toto–”

“say it baby,” fingers grasp your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, “say that i’m in control. that i own your pussy. be a good girl and tell daddy how i own this pussy of yours.” 

“y-you own this p-pussy,” you can barely form the words, let alone any coherent thought as waves of euphoria ripple throughout your being, “you own this pussy, toto wolff. it’s yours. it’s yours forever.”

“forever?” for just a second, he’s thrown off his game. 

“forever,” you affirm, nodding fervently, “i’m yours forever, toto wolff. i love you, and i’m not going anywhere.”

“oh baby,” he melts, collapsing against you, “fuck, i love you. i love you. i love you. you’re so fucking perfect. i’m yours forever. if you’ll have me.”

“of course i will,” your forehead presses against his, lips centimeters apart, “i want you forever.”

“you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me,” he murmurs, nothing but sincerity lacing his tone, “i mean that.”

“will you really make me a world champion?” the words tumble out, and shame burns throughout, completely taking a hold.

“i will,” toto nods. his hand finds your yours, intertwining your pinkies together, “i pinky promise i will. if it’s not next year, it will be the one after that. i will do everything in my power to help you succeed. like the little star you are, you deserve to shine so fucking brightly. i will make you a world champion, my love.”

there was nothing more that toto wolff wanted in this world.

and that was for this moment to last forever. 

“i love you, toto,” you whisper, “can we just say fuck it and get married?”

“don’t tempt me,” his cock twitches, reminding him that the two of you were still interwoven, “i would marry you in a heartbeat, my love. but there are some things we need to do first.”

“and that is?” your lower lip juts out, forming a pout.

there it was, that damn pout. 

the pout that got him every single fucking time. 

and if you happened to bat your lashes?

oh, toto wolff would be a dead man.

“well for one,” his hips thrust into you, picking up the pace, “i have to help you win a world championship. and two, i need to make you cum.”

“and after that?”

“we’ll figure that out when we get there,” his lips meet with yours, “i promise.”

your back arches, your walls tightening as he begins to fuck you senseless, hips slapping against yours. if it weren’t for the blanket he brought, you were sure there would be bruises by the afternoon. his brows furrow, knit together in concentration as one hand grips your pelvis, holding you in place while the other drifts downward, making its way between your thighs. 

“toto,” you whimper, “please.”

“i’ll make you cum princess, i promise.”

licking the pad of his thumb, it connects with your clit, going in slow, circular motions. your body tenses, your walls squeezing so tightly around him, coaxing him in even further. his tip rams into your g-spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through. 

“that’s it,” he murmurs, guiding you to that edge, “cum for me baby. be a good girl and cum for me.”

“i-i,” you stammer, eyes tightening shut, “i’m going to cum!”

crying out, your muscles spasm as euphoria grips you, inner thighs trembling as he remains inside, in complete awe of the sight of you coming undone. 

“good girl,” light kisses pepper all over your face, “you’re such a good girl, you know that?”

you try to speak, but the words can’t come out. his arms envelop your frame, bringing you in close as he lies beside you, “cat got your tongue?”

“maybe,” you fight a yawn, drowsiness beginning to settle in, “we need to do this more often.”

“i’m not so sure about the smoking part,” he chuckles, “but the other part? yes. we should do that all of the time, actually.”

“we should probably put on clothes on, huh?” you exhale, snuggling in closer as a breeze rolls through, “i wonder if anyone saw us.”

“more than likely,” he shrugs, “if they did, oh well.”

“could you imagine? minding your own business, probably cracking open a beer to watching the sunrise. and next thing you know, you see two people fucking on the sun deck of their yacht.”

“their yacht?” he teases, tilting your head towards him, “who said it was yours?”

you wriggle, squirming slightly as the embarrassment settles in, panicking just a little, “i-i – you know what i meant.”

“did i?” he prompts, arching a brow, “would you like to watch the sunrise? i think it’s due anytime now.”

“did we stay up all night?” although your body is wracked with exhaustion, you can’t help but fight it, keeping those lids open. 

“we did,” he responds, rising to his feet. he winces, wrinkling his nose, “fuck, i’m a little sore.”

“could we maybe light another one of those joints?”

“were you a little stoner back in the day?” rather than tossing your clothes at you, he crosses over, placing them in your hands. 

“not really,” you shrug, slipping your crewneck over your head, “i smoked every now and then. i couldn’t really, because of how strict arizona laws used to be. now, it’s legal there. i tend to hit the dispensary whenever i’m home, just for the fun of it.”

“i’ve noticed you don’t really drink either,” he slides his leg through his shorts, “well, except after your win in miami.”

a shudder courses through you at the mention of that night in miami, your stomach churning, “i would rather forget about that night.”

“oh yeah?” an airy chuckle floats through the dawn, “do you remember anything about that night?”

the truth was, you did not recall a single moment of that night. from what you could remember, it was fuzzy, with no clear distinction of time or place. 

however, there was one aspect you could remember clearly.

toto carrying you to your bed, laying you down oh so carefully. helping you take off your makeup, wiping your face tenderly with cotton pads and your trusty micellar water. tugging at your clothes, cursing under his breath because you weren’t cooperating. speaking to you oh so sweetly in german, brushing those unkempt strands of hair behind your ear. staying at your place when he knew he didn’t have to, simply because he wanted to ensure that you were feeling okay in the morning.

god, you really were so lucky.

the luckiest girl on earth. 

after dealing with boys all of your life, you were finally blessed with a man. a real man, who made it clear to you that you were the one thing he prioritized the most. a man who held your delicate heart in his strong hands, guarding it oh so fiercely these last few months. a man who loved you unconditionally, no matter your state or the turmoil thrown your way. 

and you didn’t even have to second guess that. gone were the days of overthinking, begging for even an ounce of reassurance. fuck, you didn’t even have to ask him if he loved you. 

just by the way he looked at you, you knew. 

“baby,” a voice, his voice snaps you out of your trance, “geht es dir gut?” 

blinking, you realize that tears were streaming down your cheeks, absolutely soaking them. you sniffle, pulling down your sleeves to wipe them away. yet, his hand darts out, his thumb stroking along your skin. 

“mir geht es gut,” your voice trembles, “i’m okay.” 

“are you sure?” his mouth presses against your temple, an arm wrapping around your shoulder, “i was worried for a second. i thought i hurt you or something.”

“no,” you shake your head, “it’s nothing you did.”

“do you want to talk about it? i have the other joint. we can light it, and watch the sunrise. and if you want, we can talk about it.”

there’s that lump in your throat again, “o-okay.”

“baby,” his hand drifts towards your back, kneading as you bury your head in his shoulder, sobs beginning to erupt from your lips, “was ist los mit dir? you can tell me.”

“i-i just love you so much. you take such good care of me and i just–”

“oh baby,” he can’t help but laugh, placing delicate kisses along the crown of your head, “i love you, more than you could probably imagine. i’m not sure when or how it happened, but i promise you that i do. you will never have to doubt or fret over that.”

“i don’t want to leave you,” your hands cling on to the fabric of his shirt, “i hate leaving you.”

“you don’t have to,” his voice is merely a whisper, “you don’t have to leave yet, schatzi. you can stay here for a few more days, then we’ll have to fly to canada.”

“can we fly in together?”

“you want to fly with me?” his heart swells at your request, lips curving into a broad grin, “i can make that happen, my love.”

“will you, please?”

“of course,” when it came to you, he was going to make damn sure all of your needs and wants were fulfilled, no matter the cost, “i’ll make it happen. i promise. now, let’s light this, and watch the beautiful sunrise. from the looks of it, it’s going to be absolutely breathtaking.”

as toto reached for the lighter, the sun peaking through the mountains, there was only one thing on his mind, nearly consuming him whole.

you wanted him, forever. 

and by god, he was more than determined to make that wish of yours come true. 

no matter what it took. 

now, the two of you were interwoven, your souls bound together by the promise of forever. 

he didn’t have that on paper.

your pinky interlocked with his was enough.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

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as always, thank you for all the continuous support! if i forgot to add you to the taglist, or if you would like to be added, please let me know! i love you all so much! <3

[adhdduckie]

cuz he's my best friend's brother!

my masterlist

pairing : choso kamo (my beloved) x reader.

on the radio : lunch by billie eilish.

word count : 11.1k

synopsis; he's your best friend's older brother- that's all he is to you. nothing more, nothing less. so why do you feel this way about him? and why are you so interested in the things that he does? he seems to have no interest in you at all. (no curses AU) turns out he's just as whipped as you. yuji being done with u n choso forever

or;

years of gradual buildup to a romantic relationship between your best friend's brother; choso kamo.

guys im so sorry this has been marinating in my drafts for months.

t.w; swearing, some angst? eventual fluff. reader is described as having a period and wears dresses. lmk if i forget anything else

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AGE 5 and AGE 7

You met Yuji at your day care. you'd been sitting on the grass field in the backyard of sunny smiles daycare, tears welling up in your eyes as you glared angrily at the ground. you didn't want to be here! you wanted to be at home with your mom and dad!

it was your first time being away from your parents for so long, and you'd stormed away from the sunny smiles worker as soon as your parents left.

so that brought you to where you were, sitting under a shady tree all alone, stabbing angrily at the ground with a stick. it's not that anyone was actively avoiding you, as a couple of other kids had approached you but you hissed at them like a feral cat, not particularly enjoying your emergence into society.

it all changed very quickly though, because just when you found a little stick bug, a little boy with bright pink hair and a bright smile came bounding up to you.

“Whatcha lookin at?” he asks, and you look up at him.

“Bug.” you respond shortly, and his smile brightens even further, if that was even possible. (you learn to know that his smile is blinding, and something he doesn’t reserve. He gives them to everyone as if it's as easy as breathing to him.)

That’s how you become best friends with Yuji, over some fascination over a stick bug, in the corner of a playing field.

You end up finding out that he lives on your street, a couple of houses down, with his big brother and his  dad.

Throughout the years, you spend countless hours over at the itadori/kamo household, and it becomes a second home to you quite easily, their father being kind and outgoing helps you become seamlessly integrated into their family of 3.

The first time you went over, you were sooo excited the night before, you couldn’t sleep! You’d known yuji for an entire 2 weeks, and could not wait to meet his older brother, and his parents.

The day of, you were so hyperactive, bouncing around while you whined to your mother when she took an entire 10 minutes to get ready to walk you to his house, running ahead of her on the pavement on the way there.

You race up the stairs to his door, pounding your little fists on the door, somewhat rudely and rather impatiently, but you get a pass for being a literal child.

Your mother pulls you by the hand away from the door and scolds you for being impolite and so impatient, but you’re too excited to care.

You can hear the door being unlocked on the other side of the door, and then next thing you know, there’s an angel opening the door and staring down at you with the prettiest purple eyes.

…record scratch.

The boy standing in front of you is not an angel, but he might as well be. Longish black hair thrown up in to two twin ponytails, with deep set eyes and a thousand yard stare, he’s gorgeous. He smiles at you, greeting you formally as if he’s an adult, and not just a 7 year old boy.

Your mom coos, ‘such an adorable little boy,’ and already responsible enough to be answering the door.

“Look at him, y/n. He’s so well behaved. You can learn from him.” your mother says, looking down at you with an affectionate smile.

You can’t even reply, you’re so taken with this boy. This must be choso, Yuuji's older brother by two years.

You look him up and down, and he smiles at you. You decide immediately that you love this boy, and he will be yours. (you’re 5, and he’s 7. He’s not going to be yours anytime soon.)

So obviously you do what any 5 year old would when presented with a cute guy. You grab onto him, and refuse to let go even when your mom is pulling you off him.

“Sorry, I don't know what’s gotten into her.” your mom apologises to the boy, trying to hold in her laughter.

“It’s alright.” choso replies with a smile.

At that time, Yuji seems to hear the commotion at the door, and comes bounding over, yelling your name excitedly.

“Yuuji!” You yell in response, letting go of his brother momentarily to hug him.

“Why didn’t cha tell me bout your brother?” you ask him, before immediately reverting back to choso’s side.

Your mother sighs, before bids you goodbye and heads to work, thinking to herself that the years to come will be interesting indeed.

“Whaddya mean?” yuji asks you, as he pries you off from his brother and pulls you into the house to give you a tour.

“.um, duh….he’s going to be my husband. You will be my brother in law!” you tell yuuji confidently, sure that you will win the heart and the affections of his older brother.

Yuuji stares at you with a concerned and open mouthed look, before he breaks into a smile.

“Will we be related?” he asks cheerfully.

“Yes! You can be my brother in law!” you tell him, already planning out your future, just considering the names of your children.

You forget that choso is behind you, trailing, and he lets out a soft chuckle, before he rubs the top of your head. He’s pretty tall for a 7 year old, but then again, he’s always been the tallest kid in his class.

“I’ll wait.” he tells you and you brighten, smile radiating like a thousand suns.

choso thinks it’s funny, and considers it just another childhood promise that is made by kids that aren’t kept.

But you’re convinced that he’s the one for you, and the one you will love forever. You’re convinced that this is who you’re meant to spend the rest of your life loving, and that he was made for you.

You and Yuji spend the day in the garden, playing with the sandpit they installed, frisking around in the pool, and on the set of the swings, all under the watchful eye of choso.

choso seems to be built for the role of protective older brother, because yuji and you aren’t allowed to be out of his watchful eyes for more than a minute.

He plays with you guys with a level of maturity you’ve never seen in a kid before, but he still is patient as he plays with you in the sandbox. In later years, you’ll look upon moments like these to realise just how serious he’s been, even as a child.

When you and yuuji had an argument over who should get the neon green shovel, he sighs, before telling you that you should take turns, an hour with you and an hour with yuuji. By the time yuuji’s hour is up, you’ve already forgotten about wanting it.

That would never stop him from being sweet and considerate to you, though. Time at the itadori household passes by quickly, and soon, hours have passed and it’s lunch.

You follow behind choso and yuji as they walk into the kitchen, to be greeted by jin, itadori’s father.

You smile at him, introducing yourself a little to him, while he talks to you as he cooks.

Yuji and choso jump onto the seats surrounding the island with some difficulty, but they’re still able to reach. Being 5 years old, you can’t reach, and struggle to clamber on, so choso gets off his chair to help you up to sit on it.

He’s so caring, it’s almost ridiculous.

Hours later, when you leave the itadori’s house only after the promise of many more visits to come, you’re still giddy from the high of the day, kicking your feet as your mom walks you back to your home. You wave to yuuji and choso, who are both staring out the window to see you leave.

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

AGE 7 and AGE 9

Two years after you meet yuji, you’re still spending so much time over at yuji and choso’s house.

it's safe to say that you enjoy their house more than your own, considering how you’re there almost every single waking moment. Your mother worries about intruding, but it’s not something that really crosses a 5 year old’s mind.

Jin laughs anytime your mother frets, and says there’s nothing to be worried about, and he doesn’t mind that you’re there a lot, as “both of the boys seem to love [you]”.

In later years, your mother will often comment on how you seemed to be so taken with choso, and yuuji, but both in different ways.

For yuji’s 8th birthday, he got a small house. Not literally, but one of those children houses that you would find in a walmart, for at most a hundred dollars. It was plasticy and shiny, with red (plastic) bricks, and a purple roof. It was just big enough to fit the three of you at one time, and suprisingly, at the age of 9, choso was still perfectly content to spend time with an 8 year old and a 7 year old.

You remember the day yuuji got that house. You were at sunny smiles daycare, playing on the seesaw set when he came bounding up to you with a big toothy smile.

“Guess wa i got for ma birthday!!'' Yuuji all but demands, looking somewhat smug despite having a massive gap in his teeth, where he’s missing his two front teeth. (all i want for christmas is my two front teeth, my two front teeth!)

“What?” you ask him, getting excited already. His energy is infectious, which makes you wonder why choso looks so tired all the time. The bags under his eyes are prominent, even though you know his schedule well enough to know that he sleeps about 10 hours, and somehow he still has them.

Genetics, you guess.

“No silly, you need to guess.” yuuji tells you, climbing up onto the opposite end of the seesaw, and you fly upwards.

You let out a giggle, and think for a second, before loudly exclaiming; “hmm, a parrot?”

“Nope! Try again.” yuuji responds.

“A new bike?” you try again, and he shakes his head. His face splits into a large grin, and he shakes his head.

“Wrong!” he exclaims, before sighing and yelling out loud; “a plastic house”

“Noo way! You’re so lucky, i’m so jealous.” you whine, your legs pumping the seesaw up and down as you move.

“You can come over after school, you know?” he tells you. Suddenly getting off the seesaw, which causes you to fall off and hit the floor.

That is what brings you to here, now. Playing in his kitchen when he decides he wants to take you outside to see the little house.

Choso follows behind the two of you quietly, making sure you both don’t injure yourself by tripping or some other funny way.

As yuuji opens the backyard door, you see it.

A plastic house, just big enough to fit three or four kids, with red plastic ‘bricks’ and a purple roof.

The purple is a shade you’ve seen before, and you realise almost immediately that it reminds you of choso’s eyes, so you voice that.

You turn behind just in time to see the pink on his face, and you let out a giggle, while yuuji pretends to be deaf.

That little house becomes a very important figure in the games you would play back in those days .

Like many 7 year olds,  you wanted to play house, and as a somewhat bossy 7 year old, you decided that you were gonna be the wife and choso was gonna be the husband.

Yuuji, forever the afterthought, was gonna be your dog.

And that was a game that was played for many years, until choso and yuuji both decided that they were too old to be playing house but that didn’t mean that your friendship had changed in the slightest.

AGE 12 and AGE 14

Just before choso left middle school to go to high school, he was widely well known in your shared middle school as Yuuji's cute older brother, and you agreed, of course, but he was choso. You may have been in love with him the first time you met him, but he was your best friend’s brother!

A massive figure in your life, something you had grown up with. Choso was the one who would patch your knee up if you fell, and sat up with you if you ever had trouble with your homework while yuuji waited by playing video games. All of this meant that choso was someone you worshipped, for the way he treated you and for the person he was.

It was one of your typical mall visits with choso and yuuji on a weekend, where jin had dropped the three of you off at the mall to have some fun and catch a movie.

Yuuji and you had decided to go with some horror movie, and had taken choso to pretend to be over 16 so you could see a slightly age inappropriate movie, since at that age, choso was almost taller than jin, towering over just about everyone you knew, so he was your master plan in catching that movie.

Jin, believing that you just went to hang out at the mall, drove you there. Choso in the front seat, and yuuji and you in the back. You were leaning with your back against the door, with your legs thrown over yuuji’s lap as you scrolled through your phones, sending videos to each other.

Jin stops as he pulls up to the mall, turning back to look at you in the back of the car as he smiles and tells you to be safe and have fun on this trip to the mall, and that he expects a call and update on everything that you do, so he knows when to come pick you up.

As you step out of the car, there’s a large cramp in your stomach which causes you to double over. It’s  nothing you’ve ever experienced before, in terms of pain, but it doesn’t last for long, so you play it off.

Yuuji gives you a strange look, but doesn’t say anything, as he knows that if it was serious enough you wouldn’t stop whining about it, so he turns to the front as he eagerly leads the way into the airconed mall.

It’s rather empty, seeing how it’s late afternoon on a Sunday when people would rather be at home spending time with their families.

The cramps are back, and they are slightly worse, making your eye twitch. It mostly goes unnoticed, but you do get a slightly concerned look from choso, who mouths the words; “are you alright?” at you, and you just nod, eyebrows furrowed, wondering what is making you so uncomfortable.

You pay for your popcorn and drinks at the cinema, opting to share two large popcorn buckets between you two, as yuuji always seems to finish the first one before you’ve even managed to get one.

The three of you sit in a row together, with yuuji on your left side, and choso on your right. You’re given the task of holding the popcorn, and the darkness of the theatre does well to mask the flush on your face from being so close to choso.

While the theatre is a bit cold, you feel nice and toasty, not just from the heat on your face, but from having choso’s warm body heat so close to you.

Human earthworm 2 begins to play, and yuuji eagerly dives into the popcorn, watching intently. The cramps suddenly come back again, and something feels really wrong. You try to play it off, but after a while, you completely give up, whispering a hush “i’ll be back.” as you climb over yuuji’s legs while you try to get to the bathroom.

As you walk out of the theatre, you’re stuck with an even larger feeling of dread, the pit of your stomach seems to burn, and you’re afraid of what you’re going to find in the bathroom.

In the privacy of the stall, you realise what’s wrong. Your period. You’ve gotten it for the first time. The timing could not be worse.

You sigh, thinking about how there might be some pads in the bathroom for any emergencies, and when you check, there isn't.You panic, a bit (not a bit, a lot), and check the clothes you’re wearing. There’s a bit of a blood stain on the bottoms, and you’re about to cry.

Not when you’re out! This is so mortifying, literally the worst thing that could happen to you.

You realise you won’t be able to cover up the stains, as you left your jacket in the cinema hall.

‘Fuck.’ you whisper out and slump down in defeat, not exactly knowing what you should do here.

Time passes really slowly, and a quick glance at the time tells you you’ve been here for over 20 minutes already. At that thought, your cheeks heat up, as you’re afraid what the boys will think you’re doing in here.

You sigh, before realising you have no choice but to ask them to help you, but the idea of texting and mentioning your…predicament is enough to make you tear up a little in embarrassment.

At that moment, you hear a ping from your phone, so you pick it up to check, and what you see makes you stop crying immediately.

Choso; are u ok?? We’re a little worried abt u

y/n; …

Choso; ???

y/n: i need ur help pls

Choso : ofc what do u need?

Ten minutes later, you hear a call of your name from the entrance of the bathroom, and you unlock the door, walking to the entrance of the bathroom to come face to face with choso, who has a new pair of shorts slung over his arm, and a bag of period products for you.

He gives you a worried smile, before he asks if you’re okay.

You nod in response, too embarrassed to actually look at him in the eyes, and you whisper out a rushed thank you before you grab the stuff and use them.

He returns back to the movie, sitting next to a confused yuuji, who asks where he went.

“The bathroom.” he whispers in response, before turning back to the movie. Yuuji looks at him funny but doesn’t say anything, and just turns back to it too.

Later on, when you sit down next to them again, you whisper out another hushed thanks to choso, before wrapping the hoodie around your waist, just in case, and paying attention to the movie.

This incident isn’t ever spoken about again, but you always remember how he was eager to help you, while you know yuuji would have been so freaked out.

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AGE 16 AND AGE 18.

School’s let out, and it’s summer time. You know what that means, right? Pool days at the itadori household!

Last summer, jin itadori arranged a surprise for the boys- a pool, and for the last three weeks, you’ve been there almost every day, with yuuji.

You’d play in the water together, or sit by the side of the pool with a cold drink in your hand, reading, playing games (in yuuji’s case) or by napping.

But most of all, you’d talk.

Yuuji and your friendship was centred around there being no secrets, and how you’d trust each other with your life.

So, he basically knew everything about your life, except for one tiny…miniscule and unimportant detail.

The crush you had on his brother.

Somehow you had managed to be less obvious with it than the ones you had had in school for some ungodly reason, but your luck with boys had never been that great, considering that none of those other crushes could even hold a flame to the one you had on choso.

But you couldn’t, because of this.

“Oh, how’s choso doing at uni?” you asked yuuji at the beginning of summer break,  with a fake air of uninterest to seem suave (you’re just fooling yourself and yuuji, everyone else knows)

He blinked at you, wondering why you seemed so uninterested.  shouldn’t you care? Choso  is your friend after all.

“Don’t you talk to him?” he asked, and you shrugged

“A bit, but not a lot.” you responded, pushing up your shades and reclining in the chair. you usually just get messages from him asking how it’s going and if you’re doing alright, but nothing really deep, since he’s so busy with school.

“Oh. Well, he said he’s got a new girlfriend, and his studies are going well.” yuuji responds, splaying out on the pool chair, turning his face up to the blinding sun.

Your heart drops down to your stomach, and it stings much more than it actually should.

“Oh. really?” you ask, trying to keep a steady voice.

“Mhm.” He hums, completely oblivious to the internal strife you are so very obviously facing. “You know, I actually spoke to her over the phone. She’s really sweet. Her name’s yuki.” he continues, eating chips out of the bowl so casually as if he hasn’t just torn out your heart.

You know yuuji means it when he says that choso’s new girlfriend is sweet. Yuuji is an exceptional judge of character, and was always, even from a young age. He may have been oblivious sometimes, but he really did know how to make excellent friends.

An example is the friends you made in freshman year, nobara kugisaki and megumi fushiguro. You were close with both of them, but you hadn’t known them as long as you had known yuuji, so you would always be closer to him than them, but that didn’t mean you didn’t love them.

And because you trust yuuji’s sense of her, you decide that maybe it isn’t worth getting upset over, since he sounds happy with a girl that is sweet. And all in all, you have no right to be getting upset, he’s not yours and he never will be. (haha. Haha. hahahhahahaha.)

You realise you’ve been quiet for too long, and social formalities deem that you respond now, or yuuji will actually start to get suspicious, which is not what you want.

“Oh, that’s great! Do you have any pictures of her?” you ask, before realising you really really shouldn’t have asked, because you don’t want to know.

Luckily, yuuji shakes his head. “Nah. but she will visit in a couple weeks to meet dad.”

Your finger twitches slightly, and you groan internally. Oh well.

So that brings you to the predicament you are currently in. three weeks later after you find out that choso actually has a girlfriend.

It’s about 3 in the afternoon, and as usual, you’re parked next to the pool with Yuuji and megumi, but not with nobara, since she’s away shopping in france (she’s living the life, is she not?)

But the thing that’s actually bothering you, is right in front of you. In its hot, muscly glory.

Choso.

He’s been back from university for over a week now. When he came back, he had greeted you with a big hug, and a ruffle of your hair, telling you that you had grown up a lot since he had last seen you.

Oh, how the turn tables.

He’s changed, too.

Because, when he was in highschool, he had been a tall and skinny guy, but now, he’s not so skinny anymore.

He seems to have put on loads of muscle in the months  he’s been away, and it almost changes the way you completely perceive him.

But god, does he look good.

Especially with the way he’s pulling himself out of the water, muscles tensing in his back, straining in his arms.

Thank you for this view. You pray to whatever kind god has presented this view to you.

And then you remember. He’s got a girl.

You practically growl in annoyance, and megumi sends you the weirdest look you’ve ever seen.

He knows too much to live.

You practically drag your eyes away from him, feeling wrong and unfair to be ogling someone else’s boyfriend, even if you have known him for much longer.

As choso walks past you to walk back into their kitchen to grab a drink, he flicks some water at you, which makes you flinch and drop the book you’ve been pretending to read.

Yuuji’s preoccupied with his phone and megumi snickers, which causes you to drag your eyes away from his back (when did you even start looking at it, my god?)

“You know, you’ve been on that page for the last twenty minutes” megumi oh so helpfully supplies, whispering just low enough that yuuji can’t hear. He leans forward towards you with a leer on his face that makes you want to slap it off his face

“I dunno what you’re talking about” you respond, picking up your book again, bringing it up to hide the flush that’s taking over your face from megumi.

You can hear him laughing.

When choso comes back from the kitchen, he’s got two glasses of iced tea in his hands. He walks back past you and you fight to keep your eyes trained on his face. Which allows you to catch the easy going smile he gives you as he passes you a glass, before settling into  his pool chair which is right next to yours.

“Where’s mine?” Yuuji whines, forgetting about his game for a moment to complain.

“Yeah, what about us?” megumi chimes in with a snort.

“If you wanna drink some, get it yourself.” choso replies

This becomes a game for you and megumi. You, who tries to look at choso and admire him without anyone noticing, and megumi catching you and teasing you about it like you’re both 11.

When you do meet yuki, a couple weeks later, you realise that you can’t even hate her. She’s sweet, although she is a bit strange.

You’re all gathered around the dinner table, in the yuuji household.

Yuuji to your side, as always. Jin at the head of the table, and choso and yuki sitting opposite.

You’re directly opposite yuki, and you immediately grow to like her. She’s sweet and funny, and has a strange sense of humour.

“So, how did you guys meet?” you ask them, watching the way they seem to lean into each other. Your heart squeezes, but you hold your love for choso above your romantic interest, and if he’s truly happy, that’s all that matters to you.

She smiles, and turns to her side to look at him. There’s so much love in her eyes for a relationship that is relatively new.

“I actually met yuki in the cafe that I work in.” choso responds, smiling at you as he picks up the plate of chicken.

You smile while taking a sip of your drink, swallowing hard before you speak; “that’s cute. You write your number on her cup?” you tease, which is a lot easier than you think, because even if you love choso, his happiness means more.

“Yes, actually. She seemed so sweet and she was gorgeous and I knew I had to know her, and the next thing I know, I'm in love.” He responds with a happy smile.

Suddenly, you’re 5 again, walking down the itadori household for the first time, with your arm wrapped around choso’s as you refuse to leave him. He smiles at you and promises to wait for you.

You’re 11 and he’s sitting out of spending time with his friends to help you with your homework.

You’re 12 and he’s helping you conceal your period. You’re 12 and a half and you’re sitting on their couch, playing games with him.

You’re 16 and he’s bringing out cups of a drink for you and only you. You’re 16, and when you’ve gotten wasted from a party he asked you not to go to, he sits up with you in the bathroom, holding your hair back as you throw up, because he promised that he’ll always wait for you, and that means that he’ll always take care of you.

You’re 16, and you’re helping him get ready for his senior prom, with a girl that doesn’t deserve him, but it’s not like you think you deserve him either. You’re standing in his room, watching him throw on his black jacket, and you look at the sorry excuse of a tie he has on, and you slap his hands away as you try to fix it. He sits down for you, without you having to say something, and you walk closer to him. With his legs pressed together, it’s hard for you to reach his tie, and he realises, so he lets you step in between them. You’re focusing as hard as you can on his tie, just so your heart doesn’t speed up too much and he can hear it. He watches you intently with a smile on his face, and you feel your cheek heat up. When you finish straightening the tie up, you pat him on the shoulder, and he lets you go. You don’t want to see him walk out with the girl on his arm, so you go home early, but not before you wish him to have fun.

And you realise that as you think this, none of this will actually matter to him, because he loves her.

And that kills you, but there’s nothing you can do.

You spend the rest of dinner rather quiet, not really talking much, but also subtle enough that nobody asks you what’s wrong.

choso’s 7 and he’s opening the door to see you, in your little pigtails and your yellow dress. He’s seven and he’s promising to wait for you.

He’s 9 and he’s playing house with you even though he hates that little house that his father bought him. He’s 9 and he’s your husband in that little plastic kitchen, watching you cook with a smile on his face.

He’s 13, and while he’d rather be playing football with his friends, but he’s sitting at their dinner table helping you understand your homework, since you’re scared of getting it wrong at school.

He’s 14 and he’s worried when you spend too much time in the bathroom, texting you to ask if you’re alright. He’s 14 and he’s buying pads and new clothes for you to change into to make sure you’re comfortable.

. He’s 18 and he’s letting you fix his tie for him, even though he knows how to tie his tie, but he lets you fix it anyway. He’s got a smile on his face and he’s aware that he probably looks like an idiot, but he likes how concentrated you are on this meagre task. Once you’re done, you pat him on the shoulder and he’s confused. He wants you to see how dapper he looks with the corsage pinned to his chest, him with his tie, the way his hair is done and his suit, but when he asks yuuji where you are, yuuji tells him with a confused look on his face that you’ve already gone home. He’s 18 and he’s unable to stop watching you with a smile on his face as you yell at his brother for eating your dessert, even though he’s got a girlfriend, and that you’ve always just been his little brother’s best friend

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

AGE 20 and 22

You’re finally at uni, somewhere you’ve always waited for. You haven’t deliberately chosen the same place that choso is going to, but you’ve been joined by nobara and megumi and yuuji together, so that you are always together.

( a year or so ago) When you found out that you had gotten in, you had raced out of your house, to yuuji’s during the summer holidays, rushing through their door with the envelope.

You run past the kitchen where choso’s standing as he sips a cup of coffee, and you yell a good morning to him. All he does is laugh, a twinkle in his eye as he sips again.

You don’t pay too much attention to him because right now, something else is much more important. You stampede your way into yuuji’s room, where yuuji is on his bed, still sleeping.

You jump onto the bed, slapping yuuji awake.

“Yuuji, yuuji, yuuji yuuji” you yell loudly from excitement.

“WHAT” he groans, throwing his pillow at you, which you duck, due to your epic skills.

“I got in!” you scream happily, throwing the big fat envelope in his face.

It smacks him in the face with a loud thump and he groans in pain, looking at the envelope, before he says “congrats” and promptly turns back onto his side and goes back to sleep.

You kick him on the side, lightly, not enough to hurt, and huff angrily as you jump up from his bed, and pick up your big envelope again, tucking it into the waistband of your sweats, having not bothered to change out of your pyjamas, and walk down the stairs to the kitchen.

As you walk into the kitchen, choso looks up from his cup of coffee, and he gives you a bright smile.

“I heard from a little birdy that you got in?” he asks you, and you grin.

“Yes! I did, i’m so excited.” you tell him. “And hopefully yuuji, megumi, and nobara did too.” you continue, happy that you might be with them.

Just then, you get a message on your phone, and you pull it out.

You let out a squeal of excitement as you shove your phone under choso’s nose, showing him megumi’s text that he too, got accepted into this university.

“I take it you’re excited?” he asks you, feeling a slight pang of uneasiness when he sees how excited you are that megumi had also gotten in, but he doesn’t really know why.

“Yeah! Hopefully yuuji and nobara can also join so we won’t be without them, and then We’d also be able to see you more, as well!” you say, trying to play it off as you’re not the one who’d probably be the most excited that you could see him more.

Despite yuuji and choso being siblings, and choso caring a lot for him, they are pretty nonchalant when they haven’t seen each other for a while, but you guess that’s just sibling dynamics.

Choso feels his heart speed up in his chest, and he smiles.

“That’d be nice, for sure.” he responds, humming as he sips his coffee again.

Just then you really look at him. This is his second cup of coffee and it’s barely 9 am.

“How long have you been awake? And are you even sleeping?” you ask him, because you’re worried. Your brows furrow, and he leans in to show you, and you notice that the dark purple circles under his eyes that have always been there, are a bit darker than normal.

He sighs, and rubs his forehead before he explains; “i’ve got a paper due soon, so i’ve been working pretty hard on that.”

You frown, worried about his lack of sleep, and you push him towards getting more, because he looks tired.

Just like he promised to always look after you, you promise the same.

Just then, yuuji comes bouncing down the stairs, and he runs out to the mailbox. You realise what he’s going for so you follow, excited to see the results.

He rips open the mailbox, and sees a big envelope and he grins. You’re bouncing on your feet beside him, eager for him to open it.

But yuuji wants to open it with his big brother, so you go back in. When inside, he tears up the envelope cover and pulls out his acceptance letter, and you all celebrate.

That was over a year ago now, and you’re in your second year of college.

2 months after you joined choso’s university with megumi, nobara and yuuji, you met Ander.

He was sweet at first, and he provided a good distraction from a love you had for choso that seemed to fade the more you spent time with ander. It was really useful, because choso and yuki were everywhere you looked.

But after awhile, you were desensitised to it, so whenever you would see choso, your heart wouldn’t fill up with so much excitement anymore, but more of a, i used to like this guy.

Present tense became past tense when you thought you just didn’t love him like that anymore (lol as if), so you started treating choso a little differently, you started treating him more like you should have from the beginning, your best friend’s brother.

I mean, he noticed, but like he never ended up saying anything to you, in case of hurting your feelings or disrupting the peace he sometimes was able to make with yuki.

They were still together, but it was getting difficult. They were constantly arguing over the littlest things, and he just grew to realise he didn’t love her as much as he thought he did. But you didn’t know this for a while.

But that’s not important just now.

Ander, who you had met in your psych 101 class, had sat down next to you during the first lesson on your 3rd day at college.

You didn’t talk much for the first couple of lessons, but after a while, he was easy and simple, just what you needed at that time.

Someone that was attainable, and totally not your best friend’s brother.

Slowly, you began to get to know each other better, and in the last class of your first week, he came into class with a cup of coffee that he gave to you with his name and his number, asking for a date.

Your relationship was simple, at first. Dates were enjoyable, and you got along well enough. He was an alright kisser compared to your previous experiences.

obviously, that stuff didn’t last.

or else, this wouldn’t be about you and choso.

conflict started occuring during your fourth month together.

not physical, thankfully, you wouldn’t have stayed with him, but arguments were very common.

he wanted to go a party, but you had an exam the next day, or you weren’t feeling like it.

he never forced you to do things you didn’t want to, but he did get annoyed, and also got petty.

you don’t want to go to a party with him? he’ll talk about it none stop, and about the amount of people that came up to him asking where you were.

you can’t go out cuz you have to study? he’ll tell you about the number of girls that hit on him, before he’d say, ‘obviously, i told them i was taken’. and you’d stare at him, like, do you want a reward for remaining loyal?

but you thought you loved him, and that was what was important to you.

nobara hated him, and she told you multiple times that he was a pig.

and megumi got into arguments with him all the time, about the dumbest thing. for example, ander would want you to wear flashier, nicer and more revealing, but megumi would cut in, telling him that you could dress how you pleased, and there was nothing. he could do about it.

and yuuji? yuuji couldn’t even bear to stay in the same room as him, which was why you didn’t end up spending a lot of time with yuuji. it was some of the worst time of your life.

choso, who had met him, thought he seemed alright, but he had heard about what yuuji said about him, so he was wary.

the first time they met, you noticed how opposite they were. choso was taller, more attractive to you, and he just made ander pale in comparison.

you worried about the way it may have seemed like you were using ander, but you really didn’t have any feelings for choso, and ander was who you liked. When they first met, choso shook his hand hard, smacking his hand down on ander’s shoulder like a father would do to his daughter’s boyfriend, and he stared him right in the eye.

ander, slightly intimated, leaned backwards as choso whispered, just loud enough for all of you to hear; “you better take care of her.”

you roll your eyes, having seen this protective older brother routine before, and you step in, pushing choso’s hand off his shoulder and breaking his grip on ander’s hand, pushing him away from ander.

“that’s enough.” you’d said, pushing ander into the next room before you turned back to choso, who shakes his head at you.

“i don’t like him.” he tells you, and you get annoyed at him, for the first time.

“you don’t have to like him.” you snap back, “it doesn’t matter.”

choso and you never talk about his distate for ander again.

You’ve ended up at some frat party that nobara’s dragged all of you to.

you were originally supposed to go with ander, but considering how he had a last minute study group meeting, you told him that you didn’t mind, and he could go ahead to his study group while you would stay home.

nobara somehow caught wind of this, burst into your room while you were sititng at your desk with a frown on her face.

“thought you had date night with ander?” she asks, throwing herself onto your bed.

“something wtih his study group came up”. You respond, pushing away from your desk to turn and look at her on your bed.

“…at 9 pm on a friday?” she asks, her frown etching deeper into her face.

“i guess so.” you respond, knowing how weird that might sound to her, but you don’t want to bring it up.

“well,” she slaps her knees like an old grandma, pushing herself up to her feet. “I’ll be right back. we’re going to that party anyway.”

you sigh, knowing better than try to convince nobara to change her mind once she’s gotten her mind hooked onto something.

you watched, bemused as nobara sprints out the room, laughing to yourself when you hear her footsteps sprint down the hall of the dorms.

soon enough, nobara’s back. Dressed in a short red dress, she throws a gold fabric at your face, which, because you don’t expect it, smacks you right in the face with it. you pull it away from your face to have a proper look at it.

standing up, you push past to go change into it, giving her an annoyed look.

it’s a gold dress with spaghetti straps that stops right below the middle of your thigh. it’s a pretty little dress, and you sigh when you see yourself in the mirror. because this will forever be your favourite look.

nobara is dragging you through the crowds of a party in a frat house, towards the center, where you can easily spot megumi’s glowery face and yuuji’s beam from the opposite side of the room. the contrast between the two really stands out, with people avoiding megumi, keeping a circle of space around him, while they crowd around yuuji.

nobara goes to yuuji, while you stand next to megumi.

“he drag you here?” you ask megumi, taking the drink he passes you. you take a sniff. no alcohol, just how you wanted it.

“yea. Is that nobara’s dress?” megs asks you, gesturing vaguely to the gold fabric on your skin.

you nod in response as you scan the room, to see who’s there. you see friends from classes that you take, and previous classmates from old lessons.

and then you notice him.

there’s the sound of a plastic cup crunching, and it’s only when you feel a cold substance running down your hand, you realise it’s yours.

ander has his hand on a girl’s waist, and they’re walking up the stairs to someone’s bedroom. They’re close enough to not look innocent, and your suspicions are confirmed when he leans in to kiss her with a familiarity that tells you that this is not the first time.

you don’t even say anything, and you just stare.

megumi trails off in the middle of something he was saying and he turns to look at you, his eyes following your line of sight.

it takes him a second, but he gets there. “..what the fuck.” he growls, throwing his drink to the side as he marches forward.

your arm shoots out to stop him, and he pauses, looking at you with confusion.

you shake your head, just turning around to sit down.

megumi follows you, and yuuji and nobara finally seem to notice something is wrong.

they crowd around you, nobara taking the drink out of your hand as she follows your line of sight, just in time to see the back of ander’s head and a girl as they walk into the bedroom.

“oh that bitch.” nobara all but grumbles, miming pushing up her sleeves before she sets off on his direction.

“no.” you say, rather quietly, before you seem to crumble, tears coming to your eyes as you rest your head in your hands, curled up on the sofa.

there’s a dip in the couch as yuji sits next to you, bringing you close to him, and resting your head on his shoulder.

they all crowd around you, telling you how much of an asshole he is , and nobara tells you she can fuck up his car if you wanted.

that gets a laugh out of you, and you manage to smile at them, while still shaking your head. he’s not worth it, you think, and it makes you feel better already.

the rest of the night is a big blur, as you struggle to make sense of things. Ander, cheating?

it makes sense, in some way, but at the same time it doesn’t. what had gone wrong? (Arguments, disagreements)

you don’t even want to think about him anymore, so with a quick text of “don’t ever talk to me again, we’re done”, and you were a free lady.

you wake up the next day with a pounding headache, not from alcohol but from tears and a stressful evening, to a knock on your door.

you groan, throwing your blankets off of your body as you stumble to the door with a grimace on your face.

forgetting that you’re still wearing last night’s clothes, save for your makeup, you open the door to see choso.

it’s been a while since you last saw him, the two year school difference has made him so busy in preparation for his graduation, he’s been working so hard with his part time job and his studying.

he looks..different, in some way. Tired but happy. You’ve seen him around on campus, and you have texted him a lot, just messaging about school and work and life.

“yuuji told me.” he says in form of a greeting, shaking his head while you step back to let him in. he looks you up and down in your tight gold dress and he averts his eyes, which is what makes you realise that you’re still wearing the same thing from yesterday night.

“he moves fast.” you say in response, as a way to stop yourself from worrying too much about how you look. there’s not much that you can do now.

“I should have known.” he says. you look up at him, confused, before he sighs and continues; “about ander, i mean. I didn’t like him when I first met him.”

“well, you weren’t the only one.” you say, pulling out an oversized shirt out from your drawer, putting it over the gold dress.

he steps over to your desk, setting something down you haven’t noticed before, a pack of food. the scent wafts over to your nose, and you let out a happy squeal when you realise it’s your favourite food.

he smiles, glad to see that you’re not too upset, but it quickly drops off his face as soon as he remembers why you should be upset in the first place.

“thanks.” you mumble out through a mouthful of food. he waves you off, telling you not to worry about it.

“are you sure you’re alright? I can have a word with him if you need.” He raises his eyebrows when he mentions having ‘a word’ with ander, and you get what he means.

“no, it’s alright. he’s not worth it.” you say, swallowing the food.

“thanks for being here.” you say.

“anytime. I’m always here if you need me.” he says, ruffling the hair on your head in endearment.

sitting down at your desk, he takes a bite from a bowl he’s bought for himself.

“is there anything that you need from me?” choso asks, still looking really worried for you.

“i promise, I’ll be alright.” you respond.

there’s a silence, but it’s not uncomfortable, but rather it’s quite enjoyable, and feels right.

Leaning back in your chair when you're done, you turn to look at CHOSO, surprised to notice that he'd already been staring at you before hand

He gives you a tentative smile that looks like he's relieved that you're alright.

"Thanks for checking up on me." You say again, standing up to throw away the trash of the food he'd brought for you, and when you're about to reach for his plate, your arm reaching past him, he grabs ahold of you softly, standing up as he does so while he hugs you.

Your arms immediately wrap around his waist, and his chin rests upon your head. He's got a firm hold of you, but you feel content to be there.

You let out a sigh, and you can feel the tears beginning to prick at the corner of your eyes. You needed this. Not from choso specifically, but you just needed this.

after awhile, he lets go, his hands gripping your forearms as he stares at you, realising that you've almost cried again. One hand cupping your jaw, and the other hand reaches up, and he uses a thumb wipes away a stray tear that you didn't realise had escaped.

"Don't cry" he tells you, brushing back some of your hair. "He's not good enough for you." He tells you again, echoing the words that he had told you the first time he met ander.

You let out a wet chuckle, glad to have his support.

you step back from his embrace, and the hand that was cupping your jaw falls limply to his side.

you end up just staring at each other, his deep set, purple eyes meeting your eyes.

unable to stop yourself, you frown at the familiar twinge in your chest.

‘no, no no no’ you think, this isn’t good at all. you can’t do this again, and not so quickly, either.

but the heart wants what the heart wants. at least it’s building up slowly and not all at once.

Suddenly, you’re 5 again, walking down the itadori household for the first time, with your arm wrapped around choso’s as you refuse to leave him. He smiles at you and promises to wait for you.

You’re 11 and he’s sitting out of spending time with his friends to help you with your homework.

You’re 12 and he’s helping you conceal your period. You’re 12 and a half and you’re sitting on their couch, playing games with him.

You’re 16 and he’s bringing out cups of a drink for you and only you. You’re 16, and when you’ve gotten wasted from a party he asked you not to go to, he sits up with you in the bathroom, holding your hair back as you throw up, because he promised that he’ll always wait for you, and that means that he’ll always take care of you.

You’re 16, and you’re helping him get ready for his senior prom, with a girl that doesn’t deserve him, but it’s not like you think you deserve him either. You’re standing in his room, watching him throw on his black jacket, and you look at the sorry excuse of a tie he has on, and you slap his hands away as you try to fix it. He sits down for you, without you having to say something, and you walk closer to him. With his legs pressed together, it’s hard for you to reach his tie, and he realises, so he lets you step in between them. You’re focusing as hard as you can on his tie, just so your heart doesn’t speed up too much and he can hear it. He watches you intently with a smile on his face, and you feel your cheek heat up. When you finish straightening the tie up, you pat him on the shoulder, and he lets you go. You don’t want to see him walk out with the girl on his arm, so you go home early, but not before you wish him to have fun.

you’re 20, crying over a stupid ex boyfriend that cheated on you, when choso is the one there to support you. at the word of a friend, he’s ready to be there for you, and knows how to make sure you’re feeling better and understanding your worth. he’s there for physical comfort, and for anything that you may possibly need. it’s the most calm you’ve felt in months, in his arms. He makes sure that you’re as alright as you can possibly be.

choso’s at a party he doesn’t want to be at.

some of his friends had dragged him out of his room, after he had apparently spent too much time studying for his finals soon.

in the middle of a conversation with a girl that’s come up to him to try to hit on him. he’s pretty absentmindly talking to her, as he doesn’t want to be mean, because he knows her well enough that she’s super sweet, he’s just not interested in her.

for some reason, he looks away from the girl for a moment, to the door. the sight that greets him makes him freeze in the middle of his sentence.

it’s you.

he feels like there’s no more breath in his lungs, because you look absolutely gorgeous. he hasn’t felt like this looking at any girl since he broke up with yuki.

you’re wearing a gold dress that compliments you so well, he might just cry. it’s not like he hasn’t seen you for awhile, but something’s just more obviously different now.

he’s standing there with his mouth gaped wide open, long enough for the girl he’s talking to to notice what’s going on.

she lets out a little laugh, a little disappointed, pats him on the shoulder, and walks away.

he only jolts out of his reverie when he feels her pat his shoulder, and he manages to straighten up.

he’s just about to come and talk to you when he sees you crumble, and he’s filled with confusion. he sees your friends support you and take you away. he stands in the middle of the party for ages, torn between wanting to go support you and wanting to give you space.

he understands soon though, why you’re so upset.

ander’s just come out of a bedroom upstairs by himself, with his hair messed up, and a dopey look on his face.

choso knows immediately what he’s been doing, so he marches through the throng of the party to go confront him.

ander’s up against the wall before he can even realise what’s happening.

“what-what-” ander splutters pathetically.

choso’s mad. he’s mad, mad.

“what the fuck have you done?” choso snarls, all up in ander’s personal space. the party quiets down as all eyes are on choso and ander.

“wha are you talking about??” ander tears up, scared for his own safety.

“you know what.”

“she- she doesn’t give me what i want” ander answers. choso slams his hand above ander’s head, which causes ander to flinch.

“you don’t deserve her. you never did. If i ever hear you go near her again, you’re going to regret it.” choso says, before he pushes away from the wall, not even waiting to hear ander’s response.

that is what brings him be standing outside your room the next morning, before he knocks carefully.

he’s got your favourite food in a way to make you feel better, and he’s ready to give you as much support as you may need.

he hears a groan, and the rustling of bed covers, and then the sound of steps on carpet, before he hears the door unlocking, and he’s greeted with you.

you look gorgeous, having just woken up. he notices that you’re still in your golden dress from last night.

“yuuji told me” he says in a form of greeting, in a way to pretend that he didn’t see everything that happened last night.

he sees your initial confusion, but then he sees how you seem to shrink in on yourself.

he walks in and you both talk, and he asks multiple times if you’re sure that you’re okay.

after you finish eating, you reach over him to get his bowl to throw away, but before he even knows it, he’s standing and he’s got you in his arms, and everything feels so unbelievably right.

there’s nowhere else he wants to be now, because he has you in his arms, with his chin on your head, he can smell the perfume you were wearing from last night.

and it makes him think back;

choso’s 7 and he’s opening the door to see you, in your little pigtails and your yellow dress. you shine so bright, he’s reminded of the sun. He’s seven and he’s promising to wait for you.

He’s 9 and he’s playing house with you even though he hates that little house that his father bought him. He’s 9 and he’s your husband in that little plastic kitchen, watching you cook with a smile on his face.

He’s 13, and while he’d rather be playing football with his friends, but he’s sitting at their dinner table helping you understand your homework, since you’re scared of getting it wrong at school.

He’s 14 and he’s worried when you spend too much time in the bathroom, texting you to ask if you’re alright. He’s 14 and he’s buying pads and new clothes for you to change into to make sure you’re comfortable.

. He’s 18 and he’s letting you fix his tie for him, even though he knows how to tie his tie, but he lets you fix it anyway. He’s got a smile on his face and he’s aware that he probably looks like an idiot, but he likes how concentrated you are on this meagre task. Once you’re done, you pat him on the shoulder and he’s confused. He wants you to see how dapper he looks with the corsage pinned to his chest, him with his tie, the way his hair is done and his suit, but when he asks yuuji where you are, yuuji tells him with a confused look on his face that you’ve already gone home. He’s 18 and he’s unable to stop watching you with a smile on his face as you yell at his brother for eating your dessert, even though he’s got a girlfriend, and that you’ve always just been his little brother’s best friend.

but now, choso’s 22. and you’re 20. and he is finally starting to realise that he’s always seen you differently than to how he’s seen, say nobara. as yuuji’s best friend, and younger than him by two years, he understands that there will be more of a difficulty to be having the two of you together, as a couple. Not because of the age gap, which isn’t too much, but because of yuuji’s reaction, and the history that you’ve had between the two of you already. but he’s willing to try.

months later, you’re finally over the betrayal of ander.

with the support of your friends, and choso, you’ve managed to be better than you ever were.

choso has been great, recently.

he’s been spending loads of time with you, whether just hanging out and watching some of your favourite childhood movies again together, or studying together.

and you’ve finally realised, that you love choso again. well, to be more accurate, you never stopped, and it was more of a hiatus, but you are getting better in accepting it.

sometimes, when you’re a little bored, you dream of the idea of choso loving you too. you read too much into actions, and you blush when he does something sweet. and suddenly, the idea of him loving you back, doesn’t seem so farfetched. (THATS BECAUSE IT ISNT????)

it’s during a holiday of your second year of university, when it happens.

you’d woken up that morning with a strong desire to go lie by the pool, and by deciding to do so, you decide to go over to the itadori/kamo household to go enjoy the sun with yuuji.

you’re dressed up in your swimwear, and you’ve decided to put on a yellow dress, before you’re ready to go over to yuuji’s.

for once, the door’s locked for some reason, so you result to knocking and ringing the door bell. you stand there, waiting for someone to come open the door, when you hear choso yell out “hold on!” as there is a sound of someone sliding over to the door.

the door unlocks with a click, and he opens it to see you, and you can see the immediate change in his face.

at first he had an easygoing smile, the one he usually looks at you with, but for some reason, this time it dropped away to a dumbfounded look, where he seemed to be a little out of breath.

after a minute of him just staring at you, and looking you up and down, you ask him; “…choso…are you okay?” you ask him, a little worried. do you look weird? does whatever you’re wearing not suit you?

he seems to be having some sort of internal struggle, you just stand there awkwardly, a little worried, when he reaches for you and pulls you into his embrace, closing the door behind you. you stand in his arms, hands resting on his chest as he just stares at you.

“you’re beautiful, you know?” he tells you, pushing back a strand of your hair behind your ear.

the words make you freeze, and your heart is thumping in your chest like the rhythm of the tango.

"what?" you say, which is super suave and sooo slick and it makes him laugh a little, which makes you feel like you're glowing, just because you managed to make him laugh. it's always been like this. making him laugh or smile was a little victory in itself, and you could feel good for an entire day alone just from making him laugh.

his hand moves to rest on your waist, and he lets out a little sigh.

"this yellow dress." he sighs, with happiness , you think. he is toying with the fabric, rolling it over and over in between his fingers.

you look at him in confusion, trying to ignore the hammering in your chest. something similar is going on in choso's heart, but you don't know that.

"it's the same color as the one you wore on the first day we met." he finishes, letting out a small smile as he reminisces.

you try to think back to when you were 5, but you're unable to remember much, just remembering that you just basically pounced on choso. you can trace your admiration for him all the way back to then, and it makes you cringe. you should have been more nonchalant, but maybe being nonchalant really isn't your strong suit.

"oh. you remember?" you breathe out, rather raggedly as he stares into your eyes.

"i remember everything." he says, and you notice his eyes flicker to your lips, and then back up to your eyes. almost subconsciously, you lick your lips, wetting them, and his eyes flicker back down again. "i remember everything that you do." he continues, his voice low.

The house is quiet all around you, but if a bomb went off nearby, you probably wouldn't even notice, because all that matters right now, is choso. he is what is surrounding you, and he is what matters.

you feel some sort of dopamine rush that only ever appears when you're with choso, because he always just knows what you need, and that means right now, that he knows that you really, really need him to kiss you.

and so he does, because he's always ready to give you anything you need. the kiss is hot and heavy, and breathing isn't even on your mind right now, because choso completely occupies all your thoughts. he crushes you to his chest, his hand resting on the dip of your back, and your hands are clutching onto his shirt, scrunching it tightly.

his fingers grip on your jaw, not painfully, but enough to keep you firmly in place where he wants you. You're feeling like everything that has happened in all the years that you've known him has lead to this moment, because god, this is more than anything you've imagined before, because it's so much better.

his lips are soft, but they are still firm on your own, and you're kissing back with so much vigour, and your hands are in his hair and he's supporting you while you melt.

somewhere in the distance, you hear a door open and close, and some part of your brain is telling you that maybe you should break apart so you can breathe, but he's just pushed you up against the wall, and it feels way too good.

which is a bad decision, because the next thing you know you're hearing a loud "WHAT THE FUCK." from yuuji.

oh well. what better way to tell him?

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

a/n: guys wtf this took so long im so sorry. i said i would have it out ages ago. help me. anyway here it is sorry it took so long! likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!! hope you enjoyed.

[stvrnioloslvt-inactive]

stripes and polo's pt.2 - Matt Sturniolo

genre: fluff / t.w: none / pt.1 here

—★—

previously... "what are you talking about, that's my best friend..." but even as he tried to hide his blush, it was clear that behind his hand there was a big smile plastered on his face.

matt paced restless around his room, nervously gnawing at his nails as he waited for you to come back. just an hour before, right as the stream ended, he had blurted out to chris how he wanted to ask you out, but also how he was afraid to fuck everything up. was it worth to lose a friend if it meant he could gain a lover? what if it all failed miserably, would he be left with nothing in his hands?

he sighed as he shot a glance at the clock: you had been out for hours with your friend, and as much as he was glad that you had someone else outside of the triplets, he was also growing more and more impatient by the second. and, even though he was trying to push it down, jealousy was also starting to become a problem. were you not happy anymore with spending time with him?

"matt, dude, stop. y're going to draw a hole if you keep walking back and forth like a fuckin' maniac." matt whipped his head around, his blue eyes meeting chris's. his brother stood there, leaning lazily on the door, looking at him sympathetically.

"i feel like i'm going insane."

"yeah. cause you are. just go do somethin' else, you've got nothing to worry about."

"i can't-"

the noise of the lock turning caught both of the boys' attention. matt stopped mid-sentence, glancing back at chris with a look of terror in his eyes. as your footsteps grew closer, chris mouthed a quick "you've got this", then flew up the stairs. matt felt his heart racing, beating furiously in his ribcage. a shaky breath escaped his mouth as he heard you knocking on his door.

"matt? you up?"

"yeah, come in." your hands grabbed the knob, twisting lightly and entering the room.

matt sat at his desk, apparently looking for some random file on his computer. his leg bounced up and down in a quick rhythm, his back tense as a trunk. your gaze fell on the hand holding the mouse, observing how his pinky was shaking. no matter how hard he tried to cover it up, it was clear as the day that anxiety was eating him alive.

you went up to him, your hands falling gently on his shoulders, massaging him softly. "matt, what's wrong?"

chills ran down his body at your soft tone of voice, your words leaking with worry. he took one last breath, finally turning around to face you. his eyes darted quickly between your face and his polo, brows furrowed lightly as he thought of something.

"matt, love, what's wrong? you're scaring me." he sighed one last time, running his hand through his hair and on his face, finally pushing himself up. you waited patiently for him to speak, to mutter even so just a word, anything.

"how was the hangout? you had fun?"

confused by the sudden question, you replied with a whispered "yeah". what was happening? why was he being so weird? did you do something wrong?

"matt please just tell me what's wron-"

"i'm in trouble."

your heart dropped at his sentence, breath catching in your throat. "what do you mean? just tell me please, i can't stand watching you like this. swear i'll help you out, whatever it is-"

"i love you."

you stopped in your tracks, speechless. did you hear that wrong?

"i'm sorry i don't think i heard it right, what did you just say?"

"i love you. i'm so sorry, i tried so hard to hold it back but i can't anymore, and i totally understand if you don't want to keep being my friend cause things would be awkward and shit but-"

"i love you too."

matt's mouth hanged open, forming a funny "o" shape. with shaky hands, you slowly wrapped your hands around his neck, resting there. you giggled nervously, shifting your weight from one leg to another.

"i also held it back all this time. if only i knew sooner..."

"wait, you're serious? like, you actually like me? for real?"

instead of replying, you inched closer to him, your lips brushing together briefly. you heard matt inhaling harshly, holding his breath. you stopped there for a moment, lips barely touching. then, you kissed him.

matt's arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you closer. your hands dipped in his hair, swimming in his soft locks.

you pulled back, resting your forehead against his as you both caught your breath; you both laughed as euphoria run through your veins.

"well, that was crazy. told you there was nothing to worry about." both your heads whipped towards the door, where chris was holding up his phone and taking pictures of you. "see? now we have the pictures of your first kiss for the wedding. i should become a professional wingman, would totally rock it."

you looked at him with the same look of someone who just saw an alien, then exclaimed: "chris what the actual fuck."

"nah but i can actually see it: do you, matt sturniolo, pinky promise to love and cherish your girlfriend till the end of times?"

"fuck off chris-"

"pinky promise."

© stvrnioloslvt

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓

hello everyone! hope you liked it, I'm sorry if it feels too rushed but I've been super fucking occupied for the last weeks. currently surviving on caffeine (definitely do not recommend btw).

thinking about writing a couple more fics (both for matt and chris, both smut) before introducing an au I've been thinking about lately... stay tuned!

pictures © pinterest

taglist: @matthewsroses <3

(if you wanna be added to the taglist just comment down below, please also specify if you wanna be tagged just for that particular fic or if you want to be part of a general taglist. thank you!)

love you all,

- bree <3

[jimmy-johns5382]

Uber Driver for the Dead

Creepypasta x Reader

Part 1?? Maybe?

T.W. : Swearing, Blood, Gore, Folks are dead, kinda sad?, it’s a creepypasta fic, lowkey a crack fic but whatever

Written in 2nd person P.O.V

As a broke college kid, you only wanted to make a quick buck. To have enough money for drinks, or DoorDashing Taco Bell, or even a new set of headphones. Living outside a large city, Uber seemed like a perfect option. A massive international airport meant tons of people would need rides, and it was a goldmine for Ubers.

So, you signed up. The first few jobs were normal. Some were picking up people and taking them to the airport, some were driving people home from bars in the early morning hours, and others were business men going to important meeting. Nonetheless, it paid decent money.

A few weeks ago, however, you got a strange ride. It was someone who needed to be picked up and dropped off at the airport. As you drove, the world around you seemed different. The trees, no matter how green, seemed lifeless. The world felt drained, as if it wasn’t filled with life. You slowed to a stop near an old house, a man stood on the side of the road.

You rolled down your window, but before you could speak the man wordlessly climbed into the backseat. He wore all black, a Cubs baseball cap, and a black mask over his lower face. You went to speak again, but the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He offered it to you, and when you accepted and counted it, you couldn’t believe it.

$500.00.

You shut up and drove. It was a silent ride to the airport, only the sounds of your breathing and the faint noise of the radio filled the air. As you were pulling into the airport, the man moved his mask for a moment. You caught his movement in the rear view mirror and stopped.

The man was missing the lower part of his face. His lower jaw was gone, the only visible indication of teeth were the empty gums on the top portion. You could make out where the hinge of the jaw used to be, but the back of his throat made it difficult to tell if he even still had the jaw part of his skull. As quickly as he took it off, he put it back on.

You pulled to a stop and the man got out. He didn’t say a word, but entered the airport and disappeared. You sat for a moment, unable to comprehend what you had just seen. It wasn’t until the whistle of the traffic guard pulled you out of your daze. You moved and pulled off, immediately heading home. Unfortunately, this would not be the first Uber drive for the dead.

A few nights later, you picked up an elderly women. She was sweet, offering you a handful of Dum-Dum suckers. The women, as sweet as she was, was partly see through. That was the give away that she was already gone. You cried a lot that night, after hearing that she was going to watch over her daughter and grandchildren. When you dropped her off at a house in a large suburban neighborhood, she disappeared in front of your eyes.

It continued like that for weeks. You no longer picked up regular passengers, but the dead and paranormal. From war veterans to demons, you drove them around the large city and smaller towns surrounding it. You quickly learned that those rides paid much more than any living person.

One night, you found a job on the app. It seemed easy enough. Pick up this guy simply named “Jeff” and drop him off at another spot. So you drove quickly and arrived in a neighborhood. You pulled up to the house that was given to you, fear wracking your body. It was lit ablaze, screaming coming from within. Before you knew it, a man was sitting in your passenger seat and yelling at you to drive. You don’t know why, but you listened.

You sped away from the burning building, taking back roads and gravel paths. It wasn’t long before you ended up driving on a barely paved road lined by trees. You glanced at the man, taking in his odd features. Pasty white skin, dark circles hung around his eyes, black hair painted on his face. And the most noticeable, the large, joker like smile carved into his cheeks. He spoke first, breaking the tense silence.

“So it is true? There really is a chick driving around dead people?” He looked like he could barely contain his laughter.

“Huh-? Oh, I guess?” You quietly responded.

“Ben was right! Oh damn- that’s funny,” he chuckled, it was dark and ominous. “How the hell did you even get into this?”

“Great question. One second I’m driving around normal people and the next? A dead dude is sitting in my backseat,” you tried to explain.

“Oh damn,” he laughed loudly, “that’s actually too good! What shit luck,” he threw his head back in laughter. A few minutes went by as he controlled himself, the dense trees surrounding you both.

“So what’s your deal? Typically I only pick up dead people?” You looked at him again. He was breathing.

“I’m special- and cool as fuck,” he sure was special all right. You rolled your eyes before he spoke again. “Here, drop me off. This is close enough.”

You pulled to a stop, leaning the car off the shoulder of the road. He quickly hoped out, looking back at you with a large grin on his face. He waved, a large kitchen knife in his hand.

“I’ll tell Ben you’re actually real- he’s gonna’ loose his shit. Thanks for the ride,” and with that, he walked away. You sat for a moment, watching as he disappeared into the thick forest. As quickly as you stopped, you pulled away and began the drive back to your apartment.

It was strange. You didn’t pick up living people, so why him? Who was he? And who was Ben? Questions swirled through your mind as you entered your apartment and got ready for bed. It was late, nearing 2:00 A.M. The entire world seemed so still and you couldn’t help but feel watched. As you sat in bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, you got a message.

“thanks for the ride I’ll be using ur services again”

You could only assume it was from whoever Jeff was. How did he get your number? You put your phone away, deciding that you needed sleep. As you slept, a number of new contacts appeared in your phone.

[bluefairyhere]

I think I'm in love (with you)|| Colby Brock

¬Colby meets a girl at a coffee shop. ¬Pairing->f!reader x f!reader ¬w.c 2.3k ¬t.w. SMUT, swearing, Colby being a little agressive, y/n being silly, edging, rough play, unprotected sex.

You can't do it. No. You can't do it. No. No. NO! Was all that ever crossed your mind when you were with your friend Colby. He's a fuckboy, he has no real feelings for you. Giving in will only get you hurt.

You'd had a crush on him for as long as you could remember and lately he'd been giving you mixed signals. Flirting with you in a way he never had before, but then he'd show up and say he had a date with some other girl. At the beginning you didn't think much of it since you figured it was only some friendly, playful banter. But then it started getting more and more serious in a sexually tense way. Right now, Kat, Kris, Sam, Celina, Colby and you were hanging out. You had just finished recording a long video at one of the haunted locations and decided to come hang out for a little bit since you finished way earlier than expected. For now, you were watching a horror movie.

When you'd first gotten there, you sat on the corner on the couch and covered your legs with a blanket. Colby hadn't taken long to sit right next to you while everybody was getting on their sits to watch the already preestablished movie: Sinister. It was a solid re-watch and apparently Kris had never watched it before, so you guys agreed to watch it on your way home. You were on your phone, trying not to pay attention to the fact that Colby deliberately decided to sit next to you even though at the time most of the seats were not taken. Sam and Kat took care of bringing snacks for everyone, and the movie began.

At first, everything was cool. The movie was rolling, Kris and Kat were gasping and you were giggling at how edgy the whole thing was. By the time you reached the half, Colby also got his legs under the blanket and placed a hand on your thigh. You bit your lip, instantly overthinking it and feeling nervous, but you decided to brush it off. The movie went on but you were more distracted with the guys' banter than the movie itself, trying not to focus on Colby right next to you--who was also bantering. And it was working until his hand, which had never left your thigh, suddenly squeezed it hard but not enough to hurt you, however still provoking for you to open your eyes widely. You instantly looked at him, who was casually staring at the movie on the screen while eating some popcorn with his other hand. This. THIS. This you could simply not put yourself through. "Hey Colby, help me make more popcorn in the kitchen?" You asked as you stood up suddenly. The dark haired boy looked confused but nodded and added a "sure" to the gesture. You headed to the kitchen right away---which was a considerable distance away from the rest of the guys---and stood besides the counter, your arms crossed. "What's up?" He asked unceremoniously. Your eyes went wide again in disbelief. "´Whats up'?" you replied angrily. "Listen Colby, I'm fed up with this. I'm not just another one of your girls that you can play and confuse, okay? So drop it."

Colby looked fazed now. He certainly seemed like he wasn't expecting such an outburst.

"Listen, if this was about the couch-" but you didn't let him finish.

"This isn't just about the couch thing, Colby. This is about everything that's been happening lately. The looks you give me, the things you say. Everything! I'm fed up, I don't understand you! You hook up with so many girls, why must you bother me?" Colby looked at you as if you were speaking some sort of different language. "I think I'm in love with you." Was his reply. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Him? In love with you? Imposible. Unthinkable. This had to be some sort of elaborate joke.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked in return, no longer angry but deeply confused as you crossed your arms and looked up and down to him, not recognizing what was in front of you.

"It's just-" Colby seemed frustrated, almost as if he couldn't find the right words, or translate his feelings into coherent thoughts. "It's been a few months since I started thinking this. If you weren't around, I'd miss you. I'd always want to tell you everything about out investigations before anyone, or anything good really. I've been with other girls, I know, but only to try and get you out of my head... which obviously hasn't worked."

"And you expect me to believe this is why you've been all flirty and touchy? because you're 'in love'? C'mon Colby!" You mumble exasperated, so much information overloading you. "That makes no sense, I mean, why did you never tell me if you're so madly in love?"

Now Colby seemed to be the upset one. "Just like you’re doing now, I didn't think you'd take me seriously."

"So you decided touching me just now was a better course of action? Bravo." You were starting to get mad again, you really thought he was not being for real. But what was this then? A prank of some sort?

"I couldn't help it okay?! It's like my body can't help it, I wanna touch your skin... not even in a perverted way. I just... want to be near you, feel the heat of your body."

Okay. Maybe he was serious. There's no way he'd say something like that just because. But then, what did all of this mean? His words left you completely speechless, so you did what any human being would've done---leave the room in complete silence. You went up the stairs and got into the first room you found. You turned on the lights and realized it was actually Colby's. You were about to retrace your steps when Colby came in too and closed the door after himself, looking at you with a dark gaze. "Did you just run away from me?" he asked, visibly hurt "I'm not gonna bite you, I just confessed my feelings for you for fuck's sake."

"I didn't run away, Colby, I just... need to think. Digest everything."

"What's there to digest? I've seen the way you look at me, Y/N. I know you feel the same way, I can feel it." As he said this, he came closer and closer to you, making your body shiver and the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Cole." You, however, stuttered. You'd no idea why were you being so stubborn. If he was telling the truth, which it seemed like he was, this was the best case scenario you had always wished for.

"I think you do, Y/N. You're doing it just now." Right after saying that, he leaned in for a kiss.

But he didn't kiss you right away, moreso he waited for you to lean in too. And oh boy did you. You leaned in right away, waisting no more time. Your hands were cupping his cheeks desperately, and one of them passed to grasp his dark black hair, in need of more. His hands were on your waist, bringing you closer to him, your breasts pressing against his chest. You could feel his hardness inimical to your lower belly. You stopped the kiss and looked up at him, your faces only an inch away.

"What are we doing..?" You whispered.

"What we should have done months ago" After saying that he kissed you again, this time more passionately, more instenely. He moved to his front, making you move as well, until you fell onto the bed. "Do you want to do this?"

Did you? That was a good question. You definitely did, but was it wise? Everyone was just downstairs, probably wondering what was taking so long. Plus, what would this mean? Would this make you a couple? You meant, after everything he'd said this couldn't possibly be just sex. But you really wanted to do this... just the thought of his terse pale porcelain skin against yours, his growls and whimpers, his member inside you...

"What does this mean, Colby?" You asked, unable to let your worries go for the heat of the moment. He seemed to think about it a few seconds before answering.

"All I know is you mean everything to me." He replied simply. Did he mean it? You'd known Colby for years, he wasn't the type of person to say things he didn't mean, he was actually known for being very upfront and honest about everything. Okay then, that decided it.

"I wanna do this, Colby. I want to do this so bad, but I don't want it to be meaningless."

Without any other single word, Colby got on top of you and started kissing you again, roughly. You did know he liked his sex rough, which was good because so did you. You could feel his hands going up and down your body, one of them reaching under your shirt and grabbing firmly one of your breasts, pinching your nipple. You moaned against his lips.

Eagerly, Colby broke the kiss and looked at you with lustful eyes. He reached the border of your jeans with his hands and unbottoned them, taking them off swiftly. Now you were only on your panties and top, since you decided to not wear a bra under your hoodie today. You gulped, almost unable to contain your ardour for his skin. But it felt different, it felt... special. This wasn't just any guy about to fuck your brains out, this was Colby. Your friend for years. Your closest comrade. You were a bit scared, sure, but it felt real. And you had a hunch he was feeling the same.

Colby got off the bed and kneeled in front of you, looking at your blushed face from in bewteen your thighs. "May I taste you?" He asked, taking your panties off. You nodded but he shook his head. "I need for you to say it outloud so I know you're sure, I don't want you to regret any of the things we're about to do." 'Everything we're about to do? What on earth is he planning?' you thought. You also loved the fact he was looking for enthusiastic consent, which you immidiately gave. "I do want you to, Colby."

Right away, he buried his face in your pussy and started licking your clit, drawing circles around it with his tongue slowly at first, hightening the velocity by the second, making you moan moderately loudly. With two of his long fingers he started to finger yourself, hitting you with the most magical combo you could've ever dreamt of. You could feel his fingers deep inside of you, and that alone was driving you crazy, but his tongue too? Your moans were getting louder and you were quick to whimper "I'm getting close."

But then he stopped. You instantly opened your eyes and looked at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?" You asked him reluctantly.

"We can't have you finishing so fast, can we?"

He whooped out his enormous cock and pressed his tip against your entrance while he looked at you, silently asking for consent. You nodded your head yes and he pushed. Now his tip was pressed against your entrance and he groaned. "Are you ready?" to which you whimpered a 'yes'.

Without further ado, he pushed his big lenght inside of you, slowly but fully, and you moaned loudly once again. He started thrusting at a slow pace but eventually reaching a faster one, all of his dick coming in and out, his balls creating a noise when they hit your ass. It was all so lewd yet it felt so... romantic. It felt special, real, meaningul. Colby leaned in and kissed you, your tongues sparrings with one another. His hand cupped your cheek lovingly as he fucked you fast and rough. He then stopped and turned you around, which you took as an indication to get on doggy-style and so you did. He started thrusting you from behind and gave you a very light slap on your right cheek. You loved it.

"Harder." You whimpered. And harder he went. He gave you another spank, but this one was loud and hard. You gasped. He then gave you another one and another one. With your hand, you reached to your crotch and started stimulating your clit while he fucked you. You could feel the orgasm building up. "Colby, I'm close." You moaned. Colby's reply was stopping, again, and turning you around.

"I wanna look into your eyes when I make you finish, baby." And now he started fucking you again, but this time it was slower, deeper. He caressed the skin og your breast as if you were going to break, which had an incredible difference with the previous moments. But you liked it... no. You loved it. "Y/N. I'm in love with you."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your body started to shake in a very well known climax sensation. Your moans were incontrollable and you could feel Colby's body tensing and shaking as well. You felt new warmess inside of you, liquid and thick. He was filling you up. Finally, he let himself fall on top of you, softly, and cuddle you.

"Colby."

"Yeah?"

"I'm in love with you too."

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something when the door suddenly opened. It was Sam. As he saw you he seemed to be confused for a few seconds, but then his face turned from that to surprise, and very quickly to understanding, as if he had just connected some dots. He turned around and closed the door, through which you could hear him yell "Found them guys! They're busy."

Everyone downstairs burts into laughter and you blushed violently. Colby just smiled and looked at you. "Totally worth it."

[kylawashere22]

T.W: Cursing/swearing + bit of yelling

Sproing

[brunettemarionette]

Heat of the Moment

💜carmen berzatto x female reader

🔮summary. Carmy’s got no time for games—until you walk into his kitchen.

🌙t.w. sexual tension. explicit sexual content. swearing. workplace tension. mild power dynamics. semi-public space.

✨wc. 1.4k

The kitchen at The Bear was a battlefield tonight—tickets stacking up like a deck of cards about to topple, pans hissing with oil, and Carmy’s voice slashing through the clamor like a serrated knife.

“Hands, Syd, now! Where’s the fucking garnish?” he snapped, his blue eyes electric with that manic edge, curls plastered to his forehead with sweat under the flickering overhead lights.

You lingered against the counter, not on the clock tonight—just here to grab something from your locker and, if you were honest, to poke at the ticking time bomb that was Carmen Berzatto.

He moved with a feral precision that never failed to set your pulse racing, all coiled energy and quiet fury.

You’d been itching to unravel him since the last time he’d pinned you with that stare, half rage, half something else. Something that simmered like a pot about to boil over, daring you to imagine what might happen if he ever let it spill.

“Hey, Chef,” you called, your voice a low, playful drawl that sliced through the shouting match between him and Richie over by expo. “You gonna keep yelling, or you gonna come over here and say hi to me?”

He froze mid-plating, spatula hovering over a glistening piece of seabass, and shot you a look—sharp as a blade, dangerous as a live wire. It was the kind of glare that said he was two seconds from either chewing you out or dragging you somewhere private to work out the tension another way. “Not now,” he growled, turning back to the stove, his shoulders hunched like he could block you out. “Busy.”

“Busy, huh?” You pushed off the counter, sauntering closer, your shoes clicking a deliberate rhythm against the worn tile. The kitchen smelled like heaven and hell combined, but all you could do was zero in on the way his biceps flexed under that tight white jacket, the way his jaw ticked with every chop of his knife. “You’ve been busy for weeks, Carm. When’s the last time you took a damn break?”

He didn’t look up; he just kept searing whatever was spitting in that pan, his knuckles whitening around the handle. “Don’t need a break. Need you to stop distracting me.”

“Distracting?” You smirked, leaning a hip against the edge of his station, close enough that your elbow brushed his arm. The heat radiating off him was intoxicating, mingling with the faint musk of his cologne—something woodsy and worn like he’d been marinating in it all day. “What’s distracting is you sweating over here like you’re filming a fuckin’ porno. Relax a little, would you?”

That did it.

His head snapped up, those piercing eyes locking onto yours, and for a split second, the chaos of the kitchen melted away—the clatter of pots, the hiss of steam, the barked orders.

Just him, staring at you like you’d just tossed a lit match into a barrel of gasoline. “You’re fuckin’ impossible,” he muttered, voice rough as gravel, but he didn’t step back—he didn’t even flinch.

“Yeah?” You tilted your head, letting your gaze dip to his lips—chapped, parted, begging to be kissed—before flicking back up to meet his stare. “And you like it.”

He exhaled hard through his nose, slamming the pan down with a metallic clang that made Tina jump two stations over. “You’re gonna get me fucked on expo, you know that?”

“Only if you’re lucky, Chef.” You grinned, reaching out to swipe a smudge of sauce off his cheek with your thumb, letting it linger just a second too long. His breath hitched—barely audible, but you caught it—and before you could pull back, his hand shot up, wrapping around your wrist.

His grip was firm, calloused fingers searing into your skin, and the contact sent a jolt straight through you, heat pooling low in your belly. “Don’t,” he said, low and warning, but his eyes told a different story—dark, dilated, ravenous.

“Don’t what?” you murmured, stepping closer until your chest grazed his, the air between you buzzing like a live current. “Tell me to stop, Carm.”

He didn’t. Instead, his grip tightened, and in one fluid, furious motion, he yanked you toward the walk-in, shoving the heavy door open with his shoulder. The blast of cold air hit you like a slap, but the heat rolling off him was a goddamn inferno, his body crowding yours as he backed you against the steel shelving. The door slammed shut with a hollow thud, muffling the chaos outside.

“Fuckin’ trouble,” he rasped, hands slamming onto the shelf on either side of your head, boxing you in. His face was inches from yours, breath hot against your lips, and you could see the war raging in his eyes—control battling a hunger so raw it made your thighs clench.

“You gonna do something about it, Chef?” you challenged, arching into him, your breasts brushing his chest through the thin fabric of your top. His whole body tensed, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

That snapped whatever leash he’d been clinging to. His mouth crashed into yours—hard, messy, tasting of smoke and salt and the faintest hint of the coffee he’d been chugging all night.

You met him with equal fire, fingers diving into his damp curls, tugging hard enough to make him groan into your mouth. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping bruisingly tight, yanking you flush against him until you could feel every hard inch of him pressing into you.

The cold steel at your back was a shock against your overheated skin, but his heat was overwhelming, his lips breaking from yours to trail down your jaw, stubble scraping deliciously as he found the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Carmy,” you gasped, and he growled against your throat, one hand slipping under your shirt, his rough palm skimming the bare skin of your waist, then higher, thumb grazing the edge of your bra.

“Say it again,” he muttered, voice wrecked, his mouth hovering over yours now, teasing, daring you to give in completely.

“Carmy,” you purred, dragging your nails down his back through his jacket, feeling the muscles bunch under your touch. That was it—he was gone. His mouth claimed yours again, hungrier, filthier, all teeth, tongue, and pent-up need. His hips rocked into yours, the shelves rattling as he pressed himself harder against you, the friction igniting a fire that had you moaning into his kiss.

His hand slid lower, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans, teasing the skin just above your panties. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he panted against your lips, his other hand cupping your ass, squeezing as he ground into you, the bulge in his pants unmistakable now. You arched into his touch, head tipping back against the shelf as his mouth found your neck again, sucking a mark that’d be hell to explain later.

“Worth it,” you breathed, hands roaming under his jacket, tugging his shirt up to get at the hot, taut skin beneath. Your fingers traced the lines of his abs, dipping lower, teasing the trail of hair disappearing into his waistband. He shuddered, a curse slipping out as he caught your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, his other sliding fully into your jeans now, cupping you through the damp fabric of your underwear.

“Jesus, you’re soaked,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged as he stroked you, slow and deliberate, watching your face twist with pleasure. “This what you wanted? Me losing my shit over you?”

“Always,” you managed, voice breaking as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finding you slick and ready. He cursed again, sliding one finger inside you, then two, curling them just right as his thumb circled your clit. Your knees buckled, but he held you up, his body pinning you to the shelf as he worked you with a rhythm that had you gasping his name.

The walk-in door banged open suddenly—Syd’s voice cutting through like a gunshot, “Chef, we’re fucking drowning out here!”—and you both froze, chests heaving, his fingers still buried inside you. His eyes met yours, wild and blazing, a promise simmering there as he slowly slid his hand free, leaving you aching.

“Later,” he rasped, voice low and wrecked, licking his fingers clean with a smirk that made your core clench. “Gonna finish what you started, trouble. Count on it.”

You grinned, adjusting your shirt as he stepped back, already barking orders at Syd like nothing had happened. But the heat in his glance as he left told you later was gonna be a hell of a lot more than you’d bargained for—and you couldn’t fucking wait.

[honeybunnyale]

Sweet Pea l J. M.

w.c : 6k

t.w. : Dark Fic, Smut, Breeding Kink, Manipulation, Implied Age Gap, reader is short (like me 🙈) brief descriptions of Joel being possessive and violent towards others

a/n : Please read warnings for all of my works before reading. 18+ only!

Summary : Joel’s the one. He's known since the moment he laid his eyes on you.

His hands were on your hips, moving past you and out of the horse stalls. It was a couple hours past mid-day, the sun was low and it was getting dark. You happened to be leaning against the only opened doorway, staring at the horizon from afar.

“Pardon, ma'am.”

He glances behind him as he apologizes, then his eyes widen.

You were a gorgeous little thing, even with a ratty shirt and jeans that seemed a size too big, it was like you glowed, even in the dimming golden yellow sun.

You smile shyly as he turned. It made his heart flutter. 

“No problem,” you respond softly, reserved and a little intimidated by the way he had brushed past you seconds before.

He opens his mouth, taking an instinctive step forward with his hand stretched outward, about to introduce himself.

“Hey, big brother,” Tommy greets sarcastically. He claps him on the shoulder, giving it a shake. Joel’s eyes keep themselves on you, making you look down at your shirt trying to find a stain that wasn’t there.

“Look who you found,” Tommy says slyly.

He introduces you to him. You only ever come out of the house every so often, helping around, keeping track of supplies, the like. Tommy gives your shoulder a friendly pat. 

“Recluse, this one.”

You shake your head, chuckling along. You really were, you still weren't used to it, people, especially this many at a time. But you knew your manners, you were personable when you did decide to make your appearance.

“She’s new here. You should show her around.”

Joel watches how your lips slightly part to take a sharp breath in and a long breath out, clearly a little nervous by the proposal. His stomach flips.  

You roll your eyes at Tommy. Then, you turn to Joel, waving your hand in dismissal. He was the most serious man here, he already had a reputation as one of the best patrolmen Jackson had, you didn’t want to bother and be faced with the same stern eyes others have dealt with.

“Really, no nee-“ you start.

“I’d love to.”

Tommy looks as surprised as you. “Alright then. It’s settled.”

You arch your brow, and Joel attempts a warm smile. A few seconds passed in an almost awkward silence but Tommy was slowly inching away, dragging along his brother so that they could discuss ‘things’ elsewhere. Most likely on the topic of scouting.

He pats Joel’s shoulder, turning his attention away, making him start walking, but he continues to look back at you. You look down shyly and he swears he heard angels sing.

You had to be his wife.

…

It didn’t take long to charm you. He was practically everything anyone would want in the post-apocalyptic world.

Strong, smart, quick witted and most of all possessive. It wasn’t really a demeaning quality nowadays. It was either lose what belonged to you or defend it with your life, no in between.

Everything was a constant battle to keep.

Now, you didn’t really have much outside of Jackson, you just happened to stumble upon the large walls, were almost threatened to be shot down by Maria herself, all with a pack and a pistol to your name.

She liked the way you responded to her questions respectfully, only requesting a meal and a bottle of water to be thrown for you to then be on your way.

You didn’t like trouble and you didn’t want it around you, so she let you stay.

To be wanted by someone like him was something you’ve never experienced before. You were alone most of the time in your journey across the states, you’ve never had companions of such serious nature before, none to stick around anyway.

You didn’t realize how good it felt knowing someone liked you enough to threaten to break someone’s fingers one by one just because of a passing remark they made about you, or the fact that he choked someone because they didn’t heed his warning of not pursuing you when you were clearly in discomfort.

Sure, you were a little worried his violence would then be used against you but with every taint of blood on his soul, he came back to your door, his eyes soft, his hands delicately pulling you to his chest and with the sweetest words he could muster falling from his lips.

——————————

"Stay close."

Your knees almost buckle from the clumsy way you land off his horse. You steady yourself on the saddle as you find your footing on the ground. Joel lands next to you.

You give him a look, glancing up at him as he smirks. 

"I always stay close," you retort. 

He squeezes your shoulder in passing, you follow after him.

You were one of the many patrollers in Jackson, with the task of lessening the thickening population of infected around the area.  The hoards have been tough, it was beginning to become too much at this point. 

Joel happened to be the one in charge of everyone patrolling, which also meant you had to follow everything he said.  And for the day, he asked Maria if it could only be the two of you.  He's been seeing less infected, it's summer, they usually start to increase during winter. She agreed but not before giving you both a knowing look.

You face heated at the implication she gave when she told you to not stay out too late. 

It was starting to become well known that you both were in a relationship, you'd get the comments, the vulgar ones especially, but the truth was, you haven't gotten that far, just kisses and rather handsy hugs at the most. 

"We're alone..." he says, glancing back at you from the corner of his eye.

You look around, you've strayed a little away from the main path, the designated path patrols were always supposed to take. You were always overly cautious. You liked following rules and guidelines. Your stomach was beginning to swirl in anxiety. 

"We are," you responded back, slightly distracted by your instinct to be on high alert. 

His arms wound themselves around your waist, his back hunching over until his head rests against your shoulder. You feel his warm breath against your neck making you shiver and freeze.

"Which is why we have to get back soon..."

He ignores you. He nips at your neck, pushing back the collar of the buttoned-up shirt he gave to you, exposing your bare shoulder.

"It's getting dark," you mumble. He nods and hums.

His tongue slides past his lips, over your collarbone. You swallow thickly.

"Let me fuck you, baby."

You step away quickly and turn, your brows raised to your hairline. Your eyes are widened like a scared deer’s. He steps closer and you step back. His face flickers in hurt and concern.

Your shoulders slump at his disappointment, you clear your throat.

"Sorry, I didn't - I just-“

He steps in front of you, his hands start to cradle your head. 

"Hey, what happened?"

You start to sweat, your whole body hot with embarrassment.  Would it affect how he saw you?  Most men were not so understanding of your decisions, they soon left, not caring enough to pursue you anymore.

Your head swirls with worry, questions of if he would become uninterested because of your choices. You purse your lips. You weren't willing to compromise, not even for him.

"I'm waiting."

His brows furrow. 

"Waiting," he nods as if he understood you but confusion still swirled in his eyes. "For what... exactly?"

You emphasize your point with your body, hunching your shoulders and gesturing with your hands in circular motions.

"I want my first time to be special, and with someone I'm with..."

You struggle to find your words.

"for life..."

His eyes widen, his head tilts slightly.

That was usually the turn off.  They told you how childish it was to wait for someone that might never come around or stick around for that matter. You start to inch away, your dreams crumbling and burning in your chest.

You really liked Joel, you thought he would be the one, it was too bad you couldn't exactly skip town to never see him again after this-

His grip on your shoulder tightens when you try to step back. He leans down, his eyes soft and flickering over your face full of shock.

"I'll wait. I'll wait as long as you need me to."

He sees your disbelief but with a nod and a kiss to your cheek, your face filled with relief, you smile widely and your eyes fill with tears. 

"Oh honey. Don't cry." 

He pulls you to his chest, massaging your back and pressing his lips atop your head.

"Sorry," you chuckle in between wiping your tears.  He chuckles back.

…

You bury your head in his back, closing your eyes tightly and sighing when his hand intertwined with yours on his stomach, the other gripping onto the reins.

Jackson was so beautiful; you often wonder how you got so lucky. 

You nuzzle your head further into his jacket. It smelled so much like him and you couldn't get enough. You could bury yourself in his scent.

He walks you home, which you share with an old woman and her dog. It was always awkward coming home, she was always in the living room, rocking in her chair sometimes just staring into the wall.

He's offered his house to you, there was room to spare and with Ellie on the loose, doing god knows what teenagers do now, it felt emptier than usual. 

You refused and now he finally understands. Partially. 

He figured if he kept on showing you how good he could be you'd let him in quicker.  He kissed you on the porch to your home messily.  He made you moan, though you tried to hide how good it felt to have his tongue lapping over yours.

He was planning on gradually building you up until you inevitably had to give in completely. 

He left you with your lips swollen, your chest heaving and your pupils dilated that night, his hand at your neck as he gave you a final peck good night. 

You pulled his jacket tighter around yourself.  He had given it to you as you walked over to your side of town, you were shivering, he said.

He couldn't let a woman freeze to death if he could help it, he whispered into your ear.

Now you lay in bed, his jacket strewn over your pillows as you were restless.  You were seeping between your legs. 

Shakily, you tilt your head to the side, your nose pressing against the worn leather and you moan. 

Then your hand reaches down, groping at your thighs teasingly. You bite your lip, reaching under your underwear, your fingers starting to circle over your clit. 

He's always so gentle with you, his hands so large when they press against your back or hold onto your waist. You gasp, spreading your legs under the sheets, swirling over your hood faster.

You close your eyes tightly, letting your imagination run wild.

Your chest heaves when you're done, your drool was pooling on his jacket, your cunt was twitching uncontrollably. You stare at the ceiling. That was one of the best orgasms you've had in a while. 

You flip to be on your stomach, throwing the rag you used to clean yourself off on the floor. You hug your pillows to you, the soft fabric of the inner lining of his jacket against your cheek as you sleep.

…

He invites you over to dinner at his house.  He had just refurbished his kitchen, he said he wanted to show it off.

Ellie opens the door, purses her lips and steps back, letting you in.  Before you could say anything, she walked away. You stand there with your plate of cake for a couple of seconds, watching as she walks up the stairs, probably going to Joel's small corner of records and his collection of music.

At least that was what you were telling yourself. 

You force yourself not to think about it too hard, she's always been distant with you for some reason. You thought she was just being protective of Joel.

You couldn't see Joel when you weren't around. You didn't see the way he bashed someone's head in because they spoke of how they would have liked you to give them a blowjob after a patrol.

She was young, she didn't understand most things about relationships. She was barely starting to get into that aspect of her life with Cat. But she knew that beating someone almost to death was going too far for a partner's dignity.

She didn't like the Joel you made him to be. So she didn't like you.

A hand at your waist startles you, Joel kisses the side of your head and you get on the tips of your toes so that he could kiss your cheek. 

"She's just trying to get used to it, she'll come around."

You hug him from the side, pecking his shoulder, your thumb massaging into his lower back. 

"Yeah..."

Dinner was pleasant at least, Tommy and Maria came over as well, bringing their own food.  You didn't have to watch your tongue around them; they didn't narrow their eyes at you whenever you showed any ounce of affection to Joel or inquired about their own lives.

You were in the living room, both brothers manning the sink and talking. Ellie already left to your disappointment.

Maria, sitting next to you near the fireplace, hushes you quickly, her hand at your thighs her eyes narrow inquisitively. She saw you as a sister already, especially since Joel wouldn't shut up about you and you were a great help in Jackson. Skilled with a gun too.

You look around in confusion, but she just slaps your shoulder. She ticks her head to the door leading to the dining room.

"So... When are you gonna ask?" you hear Tommy's muffled voice from the kitchen. 

Your eyes widen.

"Tommy."

"You've had that damn ring for months-"

You slam your glass on the coffee table and you clear your throat. They instantly quiet. Maria eyes you worriedly. 

They come out, Tommy patting Joel's back.  Maria and Tommy leave quickly thereafter, leaving you both on the couch.

…

"Did you-"

"I didn't."

You lean your head against his shoulder, his hands tugging yours on his lap.

"Would you?" he asks, leaning his head against yours. 

Your eyes flutter at the thought, you glance at your hand, enveloped in his hands. You imagine a glint on your ring finger. You bite your lip.

Would you? You didn't exactly know, you were young, you wanted a couple more years, but he's older, and there was always a threat of danger around.

You sit up, ignoring his question. His mouth opens to say more but you shush him, kissing him gently.

He almost immediately turns his body to you, gripping your waist and lifting you when you don't let up.

He has you on his lap, his hands at the back of your neck keeping you in place. He groans with his mouth open, his tongue sliding against yours, squelching as he enters your mouth desperately.

“So good, honey,” he mumbles, moving down your jaw, his eyes glancing above to see your eyes closed in bliss. His hand was large, he could almost wrap it around your throat.

You moan as he sucks on your neck.

You avoided the question. Why? Was it because you weren't sure about him? He didn’t like how the other men were eyeing you, how much you talk to them and give them attention.

You were leading them on, how could they not get that you belonged with him?

He kisses you harder, you yelp in surprise before reciprocating his vigor.

You liked kissing, you liked kissing Joel, your man, so he says he is. He jokingly calls the other men in Jackson boys, something about not being able to please you properly.

Of course they were all jokes, you laughed as he went on and on about the flaws of the youth and how they treat their partners nowadays.

You’ve kissed before, kissed plenty of your past ‘lovers’, but it felt different with Joel, he made you feel something else and you’ve never wanted it to get more heated than this.

It was special and passionate. Made you want to tear his clothes off. You refrain from it ever going that far, your hand tightening over his shirts and jackets, gripping so tightly your palms hurt. And he noticed, he always did.

He lays you on his couch, your head positioned on one of his cushions. He starts unbuttoning your shirt, you stop his hands.

"I just want to make you feel good, I'm not gonna take my pants off," he chuckles.

You glance down at his crotch, he was straining against the denim of his jeans, you bite your lip in contemplation. It must hurt.

You nod, trying to relax as you sink further into the couch. He undoes your button shirt, exposing your breasts, and mouthing along them towards your stomach, unbuckling your belt slowly. 

He pushes his head between your thighs, licking a stripe up your cunt. You grab onto his head, threading your fingers through his soft brown and grey tufts. 

You get lost in the feelings around you, biting your lip, and moving your hips into his mouth kissing and licking around your folds. 

His thick fingers plunge into you, he stares up at you, your hands moving to cup your breasts, your own fingers teasing around your nipple. 

He starts thrusting his digits into you and you gasp. Your fingers were much smaller than his. You imagined his cock instead, his body looming over you as he starts pounding into you.

"Fuck, sweet pea," he groans, you were clenching down on his pointer and middle fingers so hard, your legs tremble so harshly as you release.

He pulls out, his hand covered in you as you try to catch your breath. You sit up slowly, dazed. He stares at you, smiling. Then he presses his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste.

He could tell your mind was numbed, you lifted your forearm to cover your face as you panted heavily. Your pussy glistened and he could feel himself throb harder than ever in his pants, his boxers were probably left with wet spots of pre. 

But suddenly, you clear your throat, pulling your pants up and buttoning your shirt quickly.

"I should go," you say quietly.

Something felt wrong. You didn't quite know what yet.  He thought you were just embarrassed, flustered.

He follows you out the door, stopping you from going down the steps with a tight grip on your bicep. You chuckle awkwardly when he lifts his brow in question.

He leans in for a kiss, you reach from the tips of your toes, gripping onto his collar as his lips meet yours.

It sent a shocking feeling down your spine, you had to hold in a noise of pleasure and slap him on the shoulder teasingly, stepping back away from his porch and onto the steps of his house.

He eyes you, once more pecking your lips before letting you go. He watches from a distance, his elbows on the porch, making sure you got home safely.

You were so shy, it made him smile.

You didn't know the first thing about this. You think things were going too fast. The fact that he already had a ring months ago. It has barely been a year since you've met, less than that when he asked you on a date.

And then he fingered you on his couch, in his house. 

You just had sex with Joel Miller. And it wasn't how you expected it to be at all. At least, there was no tender and fairytale-like feeling to it like you've imagined.  It was heated, messy and desperate.

You got hot thinking about it, unbearably so, so much that you had to try to replicate his 'actions' on yourself almost every night, yearning for the time of day you could at least just touch his hand and be sent back to his fingers working you in and out repeatedly. 

You avoid him the next few days in your inner confusion, always seeming to be busy, always needing to do something, alone.

You only had time for small chats, kisses and the like. Then something else would happened and you started avoiding even those small moments. His anxiousness was slowly building up every day, and the fact that you started avoiding him like the plague made him come to a final decision.

His hand stops you, pulling your shoulder back so that you could face him directly.

“Where you goin?” he asks, with a little humor behind his voice.

You purse your lips avoiding his gaze.

“Gonna discuss some things with Maria.”

He hums.

“I’m making your favorite tonight.”

It was awkward, the silence makes you want to run and hide. His brows furrow, he looks over you worriedly.

“I’m sure Ellie will love it just as much as I do,” you murmur. 

He frowns. His eyes suddenly stern and glaring.

“I asked Maria if you could have a night off.”

You don’t respond. His grip on your shoulder tightens.

“Ellie has to leave after, most of it will be just the two of us.”

He thinks you don’t want to go because of Ellie. He must believe that because of the last communal event hosted by Maria that led to your early departure. 

It was partially true, she’s been downright mean, purposefully ignoring you when you call for her or wave hello, making sure she never patrols with you around, even going as far as to tell you Joel could do much better and that you were just a distraction, temporary. 

All in front of people you knew and people who you grew to see as friends and family. 

You hated that night, you just stood there and took it as she went on about your every flaw. Joel was none the wiser though, he was out patrolling with the rookies, and for that you’re grateful. It would have been even more embarrassing to have her father figure scold her for you. 

You didn't want to be seen as an evil stepmother, so you left quickly after, waving off the worried looks, and the pointed glares at Ellie. 

"It's fine. Teenagers," you had said. Right?

But you mainly didn't want to go because of what started the topic of your relationship in the first place. 

“D’you know he sent someone to medical?”

You stop chewing your food. She was staring directly at you. Of all of the things Ellie starts with to finally talk to you.

“What?” you ask, failing to understand the sudden topic change.

She glances up at you. The rest of the table quiets down.  You were out in the open, almost everyone from the community at a small gathering to celebrate another year of living.

Joel decided he wanted to go out and scavenge around and bring Jesse with him since it was safer than usual.

“One of his eyes is useless now, he can barely walk.”

She continues to spoon mouthfuls of food in her mouth, talking to you from the other side of the table to your left.  It started off with teasing remarks about you and Joel, how he's practically stuck to your side at this point, how much younger he looks since Tommy introduced you both.

"Ellie…" Tommy warns.

Everyone heard about that. Joel went haywire on one of the newly received members of Jackson. The story was that he was going to steal some weapons and trade them off to nearby bandits.

"Y'know why?"

"Ellie."

"He asked if you were single."

You stare at your hands now tightening over your utensils. Your stomach was pinching and you felt your legs start to bounce in nerves. You weren’t used to so many eyes on you. 

You've talked with him a couple times, he was your age which you quickly bonded over, he was shy and at times very bashful.  It was shocking to hear that he was planning on betraying everyone, that he was planning an attack.

"He said you were very kind and that he was looking to settle down," she emphasizes.

Your face fell. Joel wouldn't do that. He had a good reason, he had to. But the look on Tommy's face threw you off. It was sullen, shaking his head as if he were embarrassed for Joel.

"Don't act like you didn’t know."

She puts her fork down aggressively. You want to puke.

"Ever since you came around, he's been different. It's all your fault."

Truth was he's always been like this.  He's always been overprotective to a fault, possessive. Ellie was taking on the same effects, his actions of 'care' and 'love' influencing her to react more aggressively.  

All she's been taught is to fight for the people you care about, shedding blood and ending lives.

Your breath caught in your throat when she stood, holding her utensil like a weapon, her body about to lean over the table. For a few regrettable seconds, you were scared of her. 

You wince when she’s immediately being pulled down by a friend, Dina, at her side.  She was soft on her you noticed, always has been, and now she sits down complacently. 

You stare slightly half amazed, half mortified at the way you had, for a brief moment, compared yourself to them, you and Joel, Dina and Ellie.

The rest of the night felt like a blur and Joel had asked you the next day why you didn't wait for him to come back before leaving. 

You just felt sick to your stomach and that wasn't exactly a lie.

…

“Marry me.”

It was posed as a command, a hint of a question giving you a semblance of choice. The dinner he had practically forced upon you was meticulously planned. He was with you all day, he sent you home to change into something nice, a dress that was a little too tight but the only dress you had nonetheless. 

He picked you up thirty minutes later, waiting outside your door with flowers to lead you to his home. 

It wasn't surprising, the whole set up was very romantic, Ellie was nowhere in sight, he trimmed his beard a little. 

You stare at your plate.

"Sweet pea,"

It started off as a joke, you were so small compared to him. His little sweet pea. His little flower. 

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to have children with you."

Children. You've discussed it maybe once or twice. It started off as a comment on how adorable you'd look with a baby bump. Your face had heated at that so much you had to force yourself to stop thinking about it further.

It slowly evolved to his hand running over your stomach in circles, finding him in the living room reading baby books and ultimately finding a newly built crib which he quickly explained was for someone else who was about to have a baby. 

It was still kept in the garage, you saw some of the parts scattered along his workshop. He always ignored the look you gave him when you lifted a piece, hidden in a corner of the room.

It was sweet, and then others started commenting on the fact that you were still young and that protection is hard to come by nowadays and that getting pregnant by accident was always a possibility. 

You didn't have to worry about it, but you thought of it. The idea of Joel accidentally finishing inside of you made you squirm. You were so conflicted. On one hand it was alarming.

But sometimes, when you were alone and thinking of Joel you imagined your slick being his cum, dripping down your folds as you laid in bed. You wanted him to pump you full.

You stare wide eyed as he kneels in front of you.

“We’d raise ‘em right,” he chuckles.

His knees were starting to hurt, his hands trembling at your lack of response.

You were spacing out, your head a mess with possibilities. Would he turn more violent if you refused? Would he if you accepted?

But at least then you could ease him. Might even be able to get him to stop threatening people entirely.

If you were his, who else would he have to compete with?

“Okay.”

He smiles, you smile back.

“Yeah?” he asks breathlessly.

You nod.

“Yeah.”

…

The bed creaks loudly, you fear it might snap in half. He was on his knees, thrusting sharply. Your legs are spread wide open.

He had taken you upstairs the second he slid the ring on your finger. It glinted when you gripped onto his shoulder, grinding against his erection.

He was mouthing your neck, his fingers prodding over your cunt under your dress.

“I wanna be stuffed full of your cum, Joel.”

His heart stuttered, his erection pulsing at your whine. You yelp when he pushes you on your back, desperately trying to take his clothes off his body, palming at your breast under the soft fabric of your sundress.

He tsks you now, shushing your incessant whines and moans, soothing his palm over your soft belly.

“You can barely fit me inside of you darlin’. Gonna have your belly swell with just my cum.”

Lifting your legs, he bends you in half, the backs of your knees now on top of his shoulders.

“How are you going to carry a baby for me when your body is so small?”

The bed creaks, you fear the frame might snap in half. He pushes into you as much as he could, pulling out and doing it all over again. You had tears running down your eyes, drool dripping down the side of your mouth. 

He was building you up for what felt like hours, stressing the fact that he didn't want you to get hurt from his oh so thick cock. First, he used his mouth, then his fingers. 

And when he pushed himself into you, spreading your legs wide and looking at you as if you were the most unbelievable thing to have happened in his life you almost choked a scream. 

It was so warm, hard but his skin was so soft.  His balls pressed against your ass when he bottomed out with a groan.  It was an adjustment to get used to, it was a pressure you squirmed to and winced at whenever you shifted your hips, but his hand held you in place, your hands finding themselves on his shoulders when he thrust shallowly. 

You let out such pretty moans when his cock was in you, he noticed.  It was breathy, it was more natural than your self contained ones, or at least the ones you tried to contain to a minimal level of sound.

When he had started moving, his hands on either side of your waist you lost it.

"Joel-" you choke out. 

You press your head against his pillows, they smelled like him, they smelled so good.  You moan as if you hummed, as if you had just smelled the most exquisite sweet in the world.

His thumb presses against you, you arch your back at the sting. You were overstimulated, your clit already swollen and throbbing from the past times he's made you cum.

You grab his hand, almost pushing him away.

"I need to feel you-please."

He releases your legs from his shoulders, wrapping them around his waist, before you could utter a word.

"I want to fill you up darlin'."

You squirm, his hands go back to your cunt, prodding back at your clit. 

"Wanna make your belly swell, mama."

You squeeze around his cock.

"See you want me to. Just one more and I'll fill you up just like you need."

You sink further into the mattress, your body feeling as if it weighed a ton, your limbs tingling and your back at a permanent arch.

You let him rut into your pussy, his fingers play with your clit. Animalistic groans and grunts fill the room, your half moan and whimpers accompany it.

Your nerves shoot, it feels as if a current of electricity passes through your body. He leans forward, holding onto you as you convulse, your throat closing and threatening to let out a scream.

You hold onto him after, limbs achy, worn out. Backs and chests sweaty, his cum shifting inside you when he adjusts his position in bed.

He liked being on top of you, as if he could stop you from leaving by his sheer size. He also liked to keep his breaths with yours, as if he could make your heartbeats sync.

You smile into the side of his head, running your fingers in his hair and lightly scratching at his scalp. He moans exaggeratedly, kissing your neck then briefly lifting himself up so that he could see your face.

Your hands rub down his chest, rubbing circles, all while smiling. He could tell he tired you out, your eyes were droopy, almost closing by themselves.

“Was it all you imagined, sweet pea?”

It felt good, he felt really good. He hooked you on it, the feeling of impassioned euphoria. Deep and carnal love and possession of a partner’s body and mind.

You chuckle in wonderment, as if you couldn’t believe what had happened. Your lips were soft against his. Delicate in the way you pulled them apart to slide your tongue next to his.

He liked the fact that he was your first and with the glint of your ring, prominent on your finger, he was most definitely your last.

He tears up, his head buried in your shoulder. He whispers his gratitude like prayers, and you eventually slump from fatigue.

His hand rubs up and down on your stomach, his mind racing with thoughts of you already showing by your wedding day.

——————————

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think! Comments, reblogs and asks are so very much appreciated!

Asks and requests are open as well!

-Alejandra 💋🐇

[pricesgirl]

Mary Janes - college life

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

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(T.W sexual content)

Y/N

Our dorm room is small, cluttered with the familiar debris of our lives—my neatly stacked textbooks beside Jinx’s half-finished sketches, paint-streaked papers curling at the edges, her combat boots kicked off haphazardly near the door.

The scent of simmering tomatoes, garlic, and basil thickens the air, warm and rich, curling into every corner of the space as I stir the sauce with slow, deliberate movements.

Cooking is one of the few things that calms me, that makes sense, each step precise, leading to something tangible, something good.

Jinx, of course, has no patience for it.

“Baaabe,” she drawls from behind me, her voice laced with mischief. Before I can react, I feel her arms snake around my waist, her chin resting on my shoulder. “Gimme a kiss.”

I huff out a laugh, amused but not surprised. “Jinx, I’m cooking.”

“And I’m suffering,” she whines dramatically, squeezing me tighter. “I’ve been left to starve and wither away while my beautiful, heartless girlfriend ignores me.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “You ate an entire bag of chips fifteen minutes ago.”

“That was merely an appetizer,” she says, pressing an exaggeratedly loud smooch to my cheek. “Now c’mon, let me kiss you properly.”

I shake my head, trying to suppress my laughter as I stir the sauce. “Jinx, if you want dinner to be edible, you need to let me focus.”

She groans but doesn’t let go. If anything, she presses closer, her hands slipping under my sweater, palms warm against my stomach. “Multitask, toots.”

I sigh, feigning exasperation, but I tilt my head slightly, allowing her to press a kiss just below my ear. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I swear she grins against my skin, knowing exactly what she’s doing.

“Jinx,” I warn, voice softer now.

“Mmm?” She kisses along my jaw, working her way to my lips, teasing.

I finally turn my head and give in, capturing her mouth in a lingering kiss. She hums in satisfaction, deepening it slightly, her fingers flexing against my skin as if she wants to pull me away from the stove entirely.

The sauce bubbles behind me, and I force myself to pull away with a small gasp. “If I burn this, you’re eating plain pasta.”

Jinx pouts but lets me go, flopping onto the counter instead, swinging her legs. “Fine. But only because I love you. And also because I want this pasta.”

I shake my head, stirring the sauce as I steal a glance at her. She’s watching me, chin resting in her palm, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“You’re impossible,” I mutter, but there’s no bite to it.

Jinx just grins, reaching over to steal a cherry tomato from the cutting board, popping it into her mouth with an exaggerated moan. “Mmm. Damn, babe, you should cook for me all the time.”

I arch a brow. “I already do.”

“Exactly,” she says through a mouthful of tomato, kicking her legs lazily. “And that’s why I’m so obsessed with you. You feed me, you’re hot, and you kiss me even when you pretend you don’t wanna. What more could a girl ask for?”

I huff a laugh, turning back to the stove. The sauce is thickening just the way I like it, the scent of garlic and herbs filling the room. Domesticity was never something I thought I’d crave, but standing here with Jinx whining at me from the counter, stealing kisses while I cook, it feels like the safest place in the world.

She watches me for a moment longer before suddenly sliding off the counter and wrapping herself around me again, arms slung around my shoulders this time, chin hooked over my other side.

“I do love you, though,” she murmurs, quieter now, and something about the way she says it makes my breath catch.

I press my lips together, stirring the sauce slower, grounding myself in the warmth of her body against mine. “I know,” I say, softer. “I love you too.”

She exhales against my neck, squeezing me just a little tighter before she rocks back on her heels, grinning again. “Okay, now feed me.”

I snort. “Set the table.”

She groans but listens, moving to grab the plates, grumbling under her breath about free labor and how a hot girlfriend should come with unlimited benefits, but I catch the small, satisfied smile on her lips.

And as I drain the pasta, I can’t help but think: this—this tiny dorm, this sauce bubbling on the stove, Jinx making a mess of everything she touches—this is happiness.

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The classroom hums with the quiet symphony of academia—pages turning, pens scratching, the low murmur of discussion. Sunlight drapes itself lazily across the wooden desks, golden and warm, as if the whole world outside has slowed to a gentle lull. It’s the kind of environment I could lose myself in, let the weight of words settle over me like a well-worn blanket.

But then there’s Jinx.

My beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend who may thrive in other settings, but does not belong in this one.

She lounges beside me with all the restless energy of a storm trapped in a bottle, her chair tipped back on two legs, defying balance like she defies everything else. Her book lies abandoned, open but upside down, as if the mere suggestion of engagement is an insult. A pen spins between her fingers, flicking dangerously fast, like she’s moments from launching it across the room just to see what happens.

I nudge her thigh under the desk. A silent command: Behave.

She exhales, long and suffering, before dipping her head toward me, voice a whisper that still manages to curl around my spine like smoke.

"I'm dying here, toots."

I suppress a sigh, keeping my eyes locked on the professor. "Maybe if you actually read—"

"I did." The words brush against the shell of my ear, featherlight, teasing. "It sucked."

I fight the shiver that threatens to betray me. "It’s a classic."

"It’s dull," she counters, tilting her chair back further, balancing on pure arrogance. "Tell me again why I’m here?"

I glance at her, unimpressed.

She grins. "Right. Because you wanted to take it."

I shake my head and turn back to my notes, hoping she’ll settle, but Jinx is not the kind of girl who settles.

She finds her own amusements. Her fingers drum against the desk, and then she’s reaching for my notebook, scrawling something in the margins—little stick figures with swords, mid-duel, one of them inevitably losing a limb.

I don’t stop her.

It's cute.

She’s cute.

The way her nose scrunches in concentration, the tip of her tongue peeking out just slightly as she perfects the expression on a doomed stick figure’s face—absolute agony, an exaggerated X for eyes.

I press my lips together, hiding my smile.

Jinx notices anyway. Of course she does.

“You’re cute,” she murmurs, voice dipping just for me, low and teasing. I don’t have to look to know she’s watching me, chin propped in her palm, eyes half-lidded, brimming with that lazy sort of affection she never bothers to hide.

I shake my head, pretending to focus on the lecture, but it’s useless. She’s in my orbit, in my veins, pulling me toward her like gravity, inevitable.

Her foot nudges mine under the desk. A silent request. A test.

I nudge back.

Jinx hums, pleased, and my heart stutters at the sound. It should be embarrassing how easily she affects me, how a single touch, a single glance, can turn my carefully built composure into something fragile, pliant, hers.

But I don’t mind.

Her pinkie brushes against my wrist where my hand rests on the desk, featherlight, deliberate.

I exhale slowly, my body betraying me, leaning just slightly into the warmth of her touch.

She grins like she’s won something. Maybe she has.

“God, you like me,” she whispers, smug as anything.

I roll my eyes, flipping to a new page in my notes just to not look at her. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” she singsongs, her pinkie hooking around mine now, holding it there, gentle but insistent.

I let her.

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Jinx

The water is hot—almost scalding—but I like it that way.

Makes my skin tingle, makes me feel alive.

Not that I need much help with that right now, because Y/N is right there, all slick and soft and just—fuck.

I’m trying to behave. I am.

But she’s standing under the spray like some goddess carved outta marble, all curves and warm skin, water dripping from her hair, rolling down her tits in a way that should be illegal.

My hands twitch. My brain short-circuits.

“You’re staring,” she says, like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing to me.

“No shit,” I shoot back, voice rough. “You look like something outta my wet dreams.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s color creeping up her neck, and oh, I love that.

I grin, stepping in closer, eating up the space between us until my tits brush hers and my hands find her waist.

Wet, warm, mine.

“Jinx,” she warns, but her voice is all breath and anticipation, and yeah, I know that tone.

“What?” I purr, innocent as hell. “Just trying to get clean, babe.”

She scoffs. “You’re not even using soap.”

“Oh? You want me to lather up?” I grab the body wash off the shelf, pop the cap, and let the gel drip between us, sliding down our stomachs, over our thighs. Then I press closer, smearing it between us with a slow, deliberate grind of my hips.

Y/N gasps. I smirk.

She sways, just a little, like she’s caught between telling me off and giving in.

I know that hesitation, the way her breath hitches, the way her fingers curl slightly against my skin like she’s thinking about pulling me closer.

I don’t give her the chance to decide.

I press forward, slow and deliberate, letting the slick heat of our bodies slip together under the water.

My hands skate up her ribs, thumbs grazing the soft underside of her tits, teasing, not quite touching. She shivers.

“You’re insufferable,” she mutters, but her hands betray her, trailing down my waist, gripping my hips. Holding me there.

“Mmhmm.” I tilt my head, letting my lips graze her neck. “And yet, here we are.”

She exhales sharply as I nip at her pulse, just enough to make her whimper, just enough to make her squirm.

My fingers trail lower, over the curve of her ass, digging in just enough to make her press forward.

I groan at the friction, the slip of her against me, so fucking warm, so fucking perfect.

I drag my lips lower, over the delicate curve of her throat, tasting the heat of her skin under the rush of steam.

She shudders, her fingers twitching against my hips like she’s trying to hold herself back—like she could.

“Jinx—” she breathes, my name slipping from her lips, half a warning, half a plea.

I grin against her collarbone, biting down just enough to make her gasp before I soothe the mark with my tongue.

Fuck, she’s sensitive. I can feel her pulse thrumming, quick and desperate, and it makes something inside me ache.

“Relax, toots,” I murmur, dragging my mouth lower, trailing kisses down the slope of her chest. “I’ll make it good for you.”

She exhales sharply as my lips wrap around her nipple, sucking just hard enough to make her arch.

Her hands fly to my hair, fingers tangling, tugging—not pushing me away, pulling me closer.

“Jinx,” she whimpers, and fuck, I could die happy hearing her like this.

I lap at her, slow, teasing, my free hand sliding down her stomach, fingers slipping lower, between her thighs. The heat of her makes me dizzy, and I groan against her skin, pressing my thigh between hers, feeling the way she instinctively grinds down against me.

“So needy,” I tease, my voice wrecked, my fingers already slick as I drag them over her clit, feeling the way she jolts, melts under me. “I should make you beg, huh?”

Her hips jerk, chasing the friction, and my smirk turns feral.

“Or,” I murmur, nipping at the sensitive skin of her ribs, lowering myself to my knees, hands gripping her thighs, spreading her open—

“I could just eat you up.”

I tilt my head back, grinning up at her, drinking in the way she looks above me—lips parted, chest rising and falling, pupils blown wide with need.

"Jinx," she whimpers, like she’s caught between resistance and surrender, and I grin, slow and wicked.

"Yeah, babe?" I tease, breath ghosting against the soft heat between her thighs.

My fingers dig into her hips, pulling her forward, making sure she feels everything—the anticipation, the need, the way my mouth hovers just shy of where she wants me.

She makes a frustrated noise, but when I finally lick into her—long and slow, savoring the way she pulses against my tongue—it cuts off into a sharp, shaking moan.

My tongue finds her clit, flicking quick and mean just to hear the sound she makes—half gasp, half moan, her body jolting against the shower wall.

I grin, satisfaction curling through me, and then I really go in, lips wrapping around the swollen bud, sucking, devouring her like I’ve been starving.

Y/N shatters.

Her whole body jerks, hips rolling forward, desperate, needy. “Jinx,” she sobs, voice breaking, and I groan against her, the sound vibrating through her as I push her further, further—

I drag my tongue through her folds, fucking tasting her, feeling how slick, how warm, how perfect she is.

I can barely hold her still, her hands yanking at my hair, her thighs trembling around my head, but I wouldn’t stop for anything.

Not when she sounds this good. Not when she’s fucking falling apart for me.

I slip two fingers inside her, curling up, pressing just right as I suck on her clit, and fuck, that’s it—she cries out, voice breaking as she crashes, pulsing around my fingers, hips stuttering as pleasure rips through her, her whole body shaking against my tongue.

I don’t stop.

Not until she’s gasping, overstimulated, trying to push me away—but even then, I give one last slow lick, savoring the way she shudders, the way she whines—

Then I pull back, licking my lips, grinning up at her.

“Damn, toots.” My voice is wrecked. “You taste so fucking good.”

Y/N is still trembling when she grabs at me, hands desperate, pulling me up—her breath still uneven, her lips parted, her body still shivering from what I just did to her.

But she’s hungry now, I can see it in her eyes, that sharp focus, that little bit of determination that always drives me wild.

"Your turn," she breathes, voice wrecked, needy.

Oh, fuck yes.

Her hands find my waist, dragging me against her, her mouth crashing onto mine, all teeth and heat, her tongue sliding against mine, tasting herself on my lips.

I groan into it, letting her push me back, letting her take what she wants.

She doesn’t waste time.

God, I love her.

Her fingers trail down, over the slick curve of my ass, gripping hard enough to make my hips jolt against hers. “Turn around,” she murmurs against my lips, and holy shit, she’s serious.

I smirk, cocky, teasing. “Bossy, huh?”

She just gives me a look, that sweet little thing she does when she’s pretending to be innocent but is actually planning to ruin me.

And fuck, I let her, because yes please.

I spin, pressing my hands against the cool tile, arching just a little because I know she loves it.

She hums, satisfied, her hands smoothing over my back, down to my hips, then—

Her mouth is everywhere.

A sharp bite to my shoulder, a soothing lick down my spine. Her nails dragging slow, teasing down my sides.

Then she kneels, hands gripping my thighs, spreading me, her breath hot against my skin.

“Y/N—” My voice cracks, cuts off when I feel her tongue, soft and teasing, a slow, lazy flick over my clit.

Oh, fuck.

I jerk against the wall, my legs already shaky, but she holds me steady, her grip firm as she does it again, slower, deeper.

“Shit,” I gasp, my forehead pressing against the tile, melting under her mouth.

She’s thorough, so fucking precise, her tongue moving in long, torturous strokes, her lips wrapping around my clit with a soft, maddening suck.

I whimper.

And she moans against me, like she’s savoring it, like she loves this, loves tasting me, making me fall apart.

My knees almost buckle. “F-Fuck, babe, keep going—”

She does.

I don’t last long. Of course, I don’t.

Not with her, not with her tongue and her mouth and her fucking perfect fingers sliding inside me, curling just right, stroking that spot that has me choking on a moan, gripping at the shower wall like it’s the only thing keeping me standing.

The pressure coils tight, burning, growing, my whole body tightening—

“Y/N, I’m—”

I shatter.

Pleasure crashes through me like an electric shock, sharp, overwhelming, my whole body trembling as I cry out, my back arching, hips jerking, grinding against her tongue as she drags me through it.

It’s too much—perfect, ruinous.

I gasp, fingers clawing uselessly at the tile, my legs weak, my mind blank, only sensation left. Only her left.

Y/N hums against me, slow and satisfied, kissing the inside of my thigh like she owns me. Like she knows I’m hers.

And fuck, I am.

Y/N presses one last, smug kiss to my thigh before finally—finally—pulling back, looking up at me with that maddeningly sweet expression, like she hasn’t just wrecked me against the shower wall.

Her lips are kiss-swollen, her cheeks flushed, and I want her again already.

But then she straightens, reaching past me for the shampoo like we’re actually here to bathe and not just fuck against every possible surface.

“C’mere,” she murmurs, and I barely have time to process before she’s lathering up her hands and running them through my hair, her fingers massaging slow, soothing circles against my scalp.

It sends a different kind of shiver through me—one that has nothing to do with heat and everything to do with the way she touches me, like she actually gives a damn.

I sigh, leaning into her, letting my forehead rest against her shoulder as her nails rake gently over my scalp. It’s quiet now, save for the patter of water and the occasional deep breath, and I can feel myself softening into it.

“You good?” she asks after a while, voice quiet, careful.

I hum, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Yeah. Just—like this.”

She smiles against my temple, rinsing the suds from my hair. “Me too.”

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The first thing I feel is warmth, the kind that clings to sleep-heavy limbs and tangled sheets. I stir only because I have to—because the sun creeps in through the blinds, because Y/N shifts beside me, stretching with a soft, content sigh.

I crack an eye open. She’s still mostly asleep, curled on her side, face half-buried in the pillow, hair a mess. Gorgeous. Unfair. Mine.

Her lashes flutter slightly, catching the gold of the morning light, casting delicate shadows over her cheeks.

Her lips, soft and a little swollen from last night, part slightly with each slow, steady breath. She looks untouched by the world—just warmth and sleep, all wrapped up in the sheets we twisted together.

The curve of her bare shoulder peeks from beneath the blankets, smooth and inviting, the kind of sight that makes my stomach clench in ways I don’t fully understand.

My fingers itch to trace the slope of her spine, to map out every inch of her skin again like it’s something sacred.

She’s always beautiful, but like this—relaxed, unguarded, so completely mine—it does something to me.

Something deep, something dizzying. My chest tightens, and I can’t stop myself from leaning in, pressing the lightest kiss to her shoulder.

She stirs, murmuring something incoherent, and instinctively reaches for me, fingers curling against my side, warm and seeking.

I grin against her skin, something stupidly soft blooming in my chest. Even asleep, she reaches for me—like it’s instinct, like I’m supposed to be here.

Her body shifts, stretching again, and the sheets slip lower, revealing more of her back, the gentle curve of her waist.

My fingers trail over her skin, barely there, just enough to feel the warmth of her, the steady rise and fall of her breathing. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this—to her, like this.

The morning light spills over her, catching in her hair, making it glow. Strands stick up in odd directions, a little wild, a little perfect.

Her brow twitches like she’s about to wake fully, and I watch, transfixed, waiting for those eyes to flutter open, for that sleepy, slow smile she always gives me first thing in the morning.

And then it happens—she blinks, groggy, lashes fluttering as she focuses on me, and for a moment, it’s like she’s still caught in the dream. Then she smiles, soft and small and just for me.

“Morning,” she whispers, voice thick with sleep.

I smirk, running my fingers along her ribs, making her squirm. “Mornin’, gorgeous.”

She groans, burying her face in the pillow. “Too early for your bullshit.”

I laugh, hooking my leg over hers, pressing my face into the crook of her neck. “Too bad, babe. You signed up for this.”

She sighs, but I can feel her grinning. “Yeah,” she mutters, letting her fingers trace idle circles against my side. “I did.”

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Y/N

The sun spills through our dorm window, casting a golden hue over the scattered textbooks and papers that clutter the small desk. I sit cross-legged on the bed, the pages of a history book open in front of me, but my thoughts drift inevitably drawn to Jinx.

She reclines against the wall, one leg draped casually over the other, chin resting on her knee as she scrolls through her phone, her expression a blend of mischief and effortless charm.

“Y/N, this is literally the most boring thing ever,” she declares, her voice laced with playful teasing. I glance up, and my breath catches at the sight of her—wild blue hair framing her face, those bright eyes sparkling with a challenge.

“It’s important,” I reply, trying to keep my tone serious, but a smile dances on my lips. “We need to be prepared for the exam next week.”

Jinx rolls her eyes dramatically, a mock pout forming on her lips. “But it’s so much more fun to get distracted by me.” She stretches, arms reaching high above her head, her tank top riding up just enough to expose a sliver of her soft skin, and my heart races in response.

“Just a little break?” she presses, tilting her head in that way that makes my heart flutter.

“Just a little longer,” I say, trying to keep my resolve, but the playful glint in her eyes is hard to resist.

She leans closer, propping her chin on her hand, the corners of her mouth curving up mischievously. “C’mon, Y/N. You know I’m way more interesting than whatever this is.” Her fingers dance across the table, teasingly brushing against my arm, and the warmth of her touch sends a shiver down my spine.

I clear my throat, attempting to refocus. “We have to at least make some progress.” But I can feel my resolve wavering as her presence envelops me, intoxicating and electric.

“Progress can wait,” she whispers, her voice sultry and low. “What’s the point of studying if I can’t have a little fun with my beautiful girlfriend?”

That does it. I can’t hold back the laughter that bubbles up, escaping my lips before I can catch it. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Only because you love it,” she replies, her tone teasing yet earnest. The confidence she exudes is magnetic, drawing me closer.

I finally set my notes aside, heart racing as I lean into her, our faces mere inches apart. “Okay, fine. A quick break.”

Jinx’s eyes light up like I just handed her a victory. “Yes! That’s the spirit!” She closes the distance between us, and before I can blink, her lips are on mine, warm and inviting.

The kiss starts off slow, an exploration of warmth and softness. I can feel the tension of the day slipping away as we sink into each other, the world outside fading into a distant hum. Her hands find their way to my waist, pulling me closer, and I melt into her, feeling the familiar rush of desire mixed with affection.

My fingers tangle in her hair, and I tilt my head, deepening the kiss as she responds with a soft hum, her lips moving against mine with a sweet urgency. It’s a delicious distraction, and I know I should pull back, but the way she kisses me—fierce yet tender—makes it impossible to think of anything else.

Time becomes irrelevant as we lose ourselves in this moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth. The outside world melts away, leaving just the two of us, lost in the rhythm of our hearts and the dance of our lips. Her hands slide up my back, fingers tracing lazy patterns, igniting a warmth that spreads through me, making every part of my being hum with desire.

Eventually, we pull away, breathless, foreheads resting together, the air between us crackling with unspoken affection. I can’t help but smile at her, my heart full, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

“I guess we should actually study now,” I whisper, teasingly.

Jinx smirks, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or we could just keep kissing. I mean, it’s a valid form of study, right?”

I laugh softly, shaking my head, knowing that in this moment, we’re exactly where we’re meant to be—wrapped up in our little bubble of love and light.

“Maybe just one more kiss,” I concede, and she beams, leaning in to press her lips against mine once more. It’s soft and lingering, a promise of everything that lies ahead for us.

As we finally pull apart, I feel a warmth settle in my chest, a reassurance that no matter how chaotic life may get, we’ll always find our way back to each other. With a last playful nudge, Jinx steals a quick kiss before she leans back, a satisfied grin plastered on her face.

“Okay, now we can study,” she declares, and I can’t help but chuckle at her playful defiance.

With our hearts still racing and smiles lingering, we turn back to the books, ready to face whatever comes next together, knowing that even in the mundane, we’ll always have each other.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: hiii, so this is just a small one shot (if it does well i may continue) but i hope you like the small college life and domestic love they have <3

please like and reblog!

Oh and hi If you've made it to the end and like timebomb as a ship go check out my fic Are we Still friends?

[lancercreates]

THE PSYCHOLOGY IN F1 [T.W. 11]

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Psychologist Reader.

Summary: Y/n (a young psychologist, religion teacher, an inspiring person Toto thought he could find only in utopia) working in Mercedes AMG Petronas Formula 1 Team. What can possibly go wrong?

Warnings: none

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Y/n's Apartment – ​​8:41 PM Tuesday.

Y/n is in comfy pajamas, hair washed, and holding a cup of coffe. Just sat down on the couch when the phone rings. It's a text, guess whose?

Toto

"Do I mind if I come by for a moment? I just wanted to see how your hand is

Although I'd like to see you too, if I'm honest''

You smile. Sigh... And answer, without thinking twice:

Y/n

"You're not bothering me. Come in. I'm home, looking like I'm supposed to and wearing ugly clothes. Let me know when you arrive."

Toto

"There's no such thing as ugly clothes if you're wearing them. I'm on my way."

.

.

Twenty minutes later. Doorbell.

You open the door. Toto is there, holding a small bag and looking like, "I promised myself I'd only come for a little while… but I don't want to leave." You look at him amused, leaning against the doorframe.

''Were you here to check my hand or to make up an excuse to have dinner with me?''

Toto is entering with a delighted smile.

''Both. But I brought ice cream… in case you need some emotional anesthesia.''

.

.

A While Later, at the Kitchen.

The table is simple: carbonara pasta, two glasses of wine, soft laughter. You move naturally; Toto looks at you as if he's seeing his whole world. He gently strokes your healed hand.

''I don't know if you realize how good this feels. To be like this. No engine noise. No pressure. Just… you.''

''I like when you let your guard down. Not like a boss, but like this Toto who breathes deeply and smiles like a child.''

''With you, it feels easy. As if armor weren't necessary.''

Silence. Comfortable. Intense. The kind of silence that says more than words. Then, he looks at his watch and slowly gets up.

''I have to go. Tomorrow is long… but first I want to make something clear.''

He approaches the door, looks at her with firm tenderness and speaks.

''I want you to come to my house for dinner soon. Nothing formal. Just you and me. And if you don't know how to cook, it doesn't matter. We'll order something. But I'd like you to fill that space too.''

You cant help but look at him with a tender little smile.

''I accept. Only one condition.''

Toto, surprised, raises his eyebrows with a mischievous smile. ''Which one?''

''May it not be the only time.''

Toto cant help but move a little closer, lowering his voice.

''It'll be the first of many, I swear.''

They say goodbye with one of those hugs that lasts a little longer than usual, but neither of them wants to let go. And when he leaves, Y/n closes the door slowly, with a smile that comes from her heart. Because sometimes, love begins with a message that sounds like an excuse… and ends with a promise that feels like home.

PART 12

[adhdduckie]

CATS AND WITCHES; sam winchester x fem!witch!reader

my masterlist

irl moots pls dni, i'll actually die if you mention this irl.

SOULMATESSSS

on the radio; at last by etta james

word count: 7.4k

synopsis; early seasons sam and dean were passing through a small town, where they see an ad about an unnatural disappearance of a girl, there were reports of large feline mammals around the victim's house before the disappearance, and the girl who disappeared mentioned having strange visions. sam and dean decide to check it out because of the large reward for any information. SOULMATESSSS

t.w; swearing, violence, supernatural stuff

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sam has spent the last 3 days in the car, and he's bored out of his mind. the Winchester brothers had just finished a vampire hunt the week before, and were travelling around north of texas to find their father.

they were sitting in a small diner booth, going through some newspapers to see if there were any supernatural reports. sam was sipping a mug of some pretty bad coffee, but he had no other alternatives.

"here's one." dean says, turning around the newspaper he was looking at. sam sets down his coffee, picking it up and his eyes are caught by the red circle around the missing advert.

"the disappearance of a girl." sam reads aloud. he looks up from the paper, looking at dean with a raised eyebrow.

"keep reading." dean replies, nodding his head.

"reward of twelve thousand dollars if you can find her, and bring her home. come to * address, **** town, north texas for more information, regarding before her disappearance." he finishes.

dean whistles. "that's a lot of money. is she special or something? or is her family just rich?"

"how do we know it's a supernatural disappearance and not a kidnapping or something like that?" sam asks, setting the paper down as he speaks to dean.

"well, they wouldn't be offering such a large sum if it was a kidnapping. but it's probably worth checking out anyway, with that large of a sum. plus, i checked the map, it's only an hour's drive from here." dean replies, swallowing the rest of his breakfast.

"we could use the money anyway." dean says, as a way to convince sam.

"fine." is sam's response, and they both get up from their breakfast, throwing cash onto the table, before heading back to baby.

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sam steps out of the car, looking up at the large mansion before him.

"damn." dean whistles, shutting baby's door.

"this better be worth our time." sam says as they stride towards the large mahogany door.

Sam noticed that the closer they got to your house, there was a pull at his stomach. Something seemed so familiar but so alienating at the same time. The closer he got, the stronger the pull in his stomach got as well. maybe it was something bad he had at the diner. he knew it looked way too suspicious for such a cheap meal.

Sam’s knocked out of his reverie, his hand clutching his abdomen as dean knocks quite aggressively, and a "coming!" is heard from the other side of the door.

seconds later, a small woman stands in front of the door, and dean and sam both have to crane their necks down to look at her properly. she's wearing a pair of old jeans and a large shirt, and she looks like your typical old auntie that you'd find at a market, bartering for cheaper prices.

"how can i help you?" she asks them.

dean holds up the newspaper advert, showing it to her. "we're here to hear more about the disappearance of a girl? we think we might be able to help." he responds.

the old auntie looks them up and down, sizing them up. she huffs, and opens the door further for both of them to come in. "My name is Miss jones. Would you like tea or coffee? Mrs. L/N will see you soon."

"coffee would be good, thanks." sam responds, and dean chimes the same. miss jones gestures towards one of the pristine white couches, as she goes to make the coffee, with a teeter in her step.

"mrs l/n! there's someone at the door who thinks they can help with Miss Y/n's disappearance." miss jones yells up the large swirling stairs, which are both dark and elegant.

"alright alright. I'll be down soon, make sure they're comfortable!" is the response from the top of the spiral staircase. The seemingly disembodied voice is regal and smooth, sounding as if it seems to curl around the brain.

the couch is plush and comfortable, the room is majestic and comforting, some soft classical music seems to slither into the room from a study, and there are loads of what they assume to be family pictures everywhere.

heels clack against marble staircases as a woman walks down the stairs, her eyes seeming to dim when they look at sam and dean.

"hello, my name is mrs l/n. I do hope that you're comfortable." she asks them, reaching out to sam and dean in a handshake. her hand is soft to the touch, but it's a very firm handshake.

mrs l/n sits in front of them both, her legs crossed over the other at the thigh. She's dressed in a smart suit and pants, as if she's ready for a photoshoot. ms jones comes in from the kitchen, placing down two hot mugs of the best smelling coffee in front of the boys, with a wide assortment of finger sandwiches.

sam and dean share a look, picking up a small sandwich each.

"we're sam and dean. we saw your advert in the paper, mrs. we thought we might be able to help. you see, we specialise in a sort of detective work." dean says, instantly switching on the charisma.

Mrs. L/N sighs. "at this point, i would accept anyone's help for this. the best P.Is we hired were unable to find anything." she pulls out a handkerchief from her suit front pocket, dabbing at her wet eyes, ever the picture of regality.

"i suppose you'd like to hear more about it, right?" She asks.

the boys both nod, picking up some more of the sandwiches. ms jones takes the already empty plate back to the kitchen, filling it up with more assortments for the boys.

"it started last month. my daughter, who i believe is about your age, maybe a couple years younger, she's twenty. a wonderful soul." she sobs, her regal and composed demeanour cracking before them.

the boys wait for her to compose herself before continuing.

"she came home from university, and she was so shaken up. it was easter break, so i was very excited to see her again. she only visits every school break, you know? she seemed so off. i asked her what was wrong, but she kept saying that she was fine, and she was just upset about not obtaining 100% on her end of term exam. i didn't believe her, of course, i could tell it was something more than that."

the boys lean forward, only subconsciously reaching for the delicious small finger sandwiches. mrs l/n cracks a small smile at that, and continues on.

"I persisted, and she finally told me that it was because she kept seeing things. she told me that one night when walking back to her apartment after a late class, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She didn't think too much of it at first, before she realised it was a large feline. she said she didn't really react, as she was with a large group of her friends, and it was unlikely that it would attack. but every night that week, she said she saw it again.”

“on the final night before she came home, she saw it again while she was getting out of a cab after a night out with friends. she finally saw it properly. she described it as a dark hulking mass that seemed to be made entirely of shadows and horrors. she said she couldn't sleep that night."

at this, the brothers share an interesting look, like a demon or something. or perhaps a familiar of a witch that she had angered.

"She chalked it up to her inebriated state, but it kept eating at her. after she told me, she broke down in tears. i told her she was fine, and she didn't have to worry about it. she was safe in our house. you know, we've always believed in the paranormal, as her father was a very cautious man. we have salt and iron rock brigades in the walls of the house and the marble floors."

sam and dean look surprised at this, having a quick glance around the room. mrs l/n laughs. "i know. i found it silly at first, but my husband has had this house in his family for generations."

"that night when she finally came home, after telling me everything, she retired to her room. the next morning i had gone into her bedroom to look for her to tell her breakfast was ready, and she-" mrs l/n sobs.

"she?" sam supplies. dean's too busy stuffing his face with the plate of cakes that were just set in front of him.

"she wasn't there! there were scratch marks, so deep and etched as if there was something trying to ruin the walls." mrs l/n wails. flailing her arms about. "i'm so-" she hiccups. "i'm so sorry. i'm not usually like this. i miss my daughter, i'm so worried about her."

"we understand. we'll do everything we can to help you. is it possible for us to inspect the scratch marks, and also check out ms y/n's room?"

"of course." is mrs' l/n's response. "you both look so hungry, you must need a lot of food to help you. take up the cake plates with you. and if you want anything else, just yell for either miss jones or i. her room is the one on the third floor, with the flowers and vines on the door." she gives them a watery smile, picking up the plates from the table, holding it up to them.

"thank you mrs. l/n." sam and dean respond, taking the plates, standing up from the couch, as ms jones shows them the way.

'be careful. there's a dark energy in that room." Ms jones whispers to them, as they follow behind her teetering form as she hobbles up the stairs.

"oh don't worry, we're used to it." dean responds, as she points out the room to them, before hobbling back down the stairs to mrs. l/n.

"i hope the winchester brothers are careful." mrs l/n says to ms jones. "I wouldn't want john to get mad at me if they're horribly injured." she turns to the small woman beside her.

"they've grown quite big. especially sam. he's so much bigger now." mrs l/n states.

"why didn't you tell them you know them?" ms jones responds.

"they would probably ask me to tell them where john is, and i can't do that." mrs l/n sighs.

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

"mrs l/n is not as snobby as i expected her to be. she's quite nice." dean says to sam, as they stand outside of your room's door.

"i know. what do you think happened to her daughter?" sam asks as he pushes open your door.

dean takes in a deep breath at the sight before him.

"shit." he whispers out. "what happened here?"

your (normally) tidy room is in shambles. cupboards are on the floor, clothes spilling out of them. there's money strewn across the floor, making it look like a robbery scene. there's glass shards on the floor of your room, meaning your room has been broken into. which is strange, considering your room is on the third floor.

the only thing that makes it not look like a robbery and a kidnapping, is the deep scratches on the marble floor, in the solid walls, and in your bed bannisters.

"fuck, man." dean muffles out through a large bite of cake. "that's some really awesome cake." he says.

"seriously? shouldn't we focus on this instead?" sam says, rolling his eyes.

"i can eat cake at the same time."

sam sets down his plates, shrugging off his heavy bag full of iron salt and iron chains.

it seems as if your mother had left it the way she found it, to help with any investigations made into your disappearance.

sam walks closer to the large claw marks on your bed bannisters. the sheets are intact, and it seems like whatever took you woke you up from the glass shattering.

the sheets are a mess, and your pillow is on the floor. there's a bat beside your bed, which seems to be smeared with some blood on the handle.

"shit. what kind of princess has a bat beside her bed?" dean says, noticing Sam's gaze.

"her mom told us she was really freaked out. she probably put it there for her own protection." sam responds, rolling his eyes.

sam runs his fingers over the deep etches in the bedframe, pausing when he feels a pulse of energy.

"that's weird." he states absentmindedly to himself, not noticing dean standing behind him, still holding onto what must be his third plate of chocolate cake.

"what?" He mumbles around the cake.

sam turns his head, still crouching low as he runs his fingers to the next deep scratch. there's something pulling at him, so he follows it, but he stoops low to pick up his bag, beckoning dean behind him.

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

sam's followed it into a deep, dark forest. it's a couple of miles from your house, a large secluded forest.

dean complains about the temperature as he walks, but the deeper they go into the forest, the more they realise that something is wrong.

well, not wrong, but it feels, heavy. not temperature wise, but an aura that seems lonely and sad. it settles on the shoulders, causing the walk to get harder and slower.

dean's lugging the bags, complaining of the weight as he hobbles. He's still injured from their last hunt, and he's been slow and in pain recently.

a couple of branches snaps in the distance, and they both pause. It's not an animal. they're silent there on out, and walk towards the sound. The pull is getting stronger.

there's a figure hooded in the dark, and sam and dean share a look. what is it this time, a demon, a cold maiden or a wailing banshee?

the closer they get, they realise it's not any of the aforementioned. the figure is small, human-like. their hands are corporeal, foraging in the grass for herbs. the pull he feels is getting stronger. in sam's haste to get closer, to see what they're looking at, he steps on a branch, and it cracks loudly.

In the forest, you’ve been foraging, the entire day, you had been feeling a light tug on your stomach, and you just thought it was because your familiar had been away. You had been feeling a pull in your stomach, but just as the branch cracks, it gets stronger. your head shoots up, and you freeze.

what you first think you see is a moose, but the longer you look, it's a pair of two boys. the one who's startled you is taller than the other, and he's the one that you thought was a moose. but what scares you the most is the fact they're both carrying two large heavy bags, not knowing what they might hold inside. so you do the first thing that comes to your mind, you run.

sam recognizes you from the images, and just as he realises the look in your eyes is fear, it's too late. you're already running.

sam sprints after you, wanting to talk and understand why you've seemed to stage your own abduction, but when dean catches up to sam, he tells him to stop, and the more he chases, the more likely you're to run.

"why is she here? why is she okay?" sam asks dean. dean just shrugs, and thinks for a second.

"she was probably sick of her home life or something." dean finally responds, picking up the bags that sam had dropped. dean frowns before finishing. "but you said that you felt a pulse of dark energy, right?"

sam nods in response. curiosity gets the best of him, and he wants to know why you were running. and for the large bounty, they have to bring you back.

they follow the pull that sam feels, the force pulling him closer to you.

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"what. the fuck." you're thinking as you sprint through the forest. you're wondering how they found you, and what were they going to do to you?

you make it back to the small cottage you found in the woods years ago, having made it more habitable as time had passed.

slamming the door behind you, you lean against it, sliding down until you're sitting.

"fuck. who were they?" you ask yourself, praying that they won't be coming after you.

you stand, setting down the basket you had used to collect the mushrooms on the sink, petting the maine coon that sits next to you, he purrs, rubbing his head against your hand, you’re glad that he’s back.

suddenly, you hear the front door creak open, and the moose boy and what seems to be his brother now that you have had a proper look, are standing there.

you freeze, standing up and immediately picking up the large knife on the counter. "what do you want?" you demand, brandishing it at them.

the moose boy, who's broad and tall, drops the bags they were carrying on the threshold of your house. his hands, which are large like the rest of him, are held up in a sign of surrender, a sign that they weren't going to hurt you.

"we don't wanna hurt you. we just wanna talk." he says to you. his voice is deep, and if he wasn't a total stranger who barged into your house, you'd describe it as soothing.

"the fuck you mean you wanna talk? who are you? how did you find me?" you grumble, whirring the knife around and around your hand.

dean laughs, scoffing a little. "she's not as princess as I thought. How is she mrs. l/n's daughter?" he says to sam.

you overhear him, pausing. "what do you mean? how do you know my mother?" you demand, holding the knife further up.

"she's the one who hired us to find you. she thinks you've been taken." sam states slowly, approaching you as if you're an easily startled deer.

you lower your knife, setting it down. you'll trust these boys for now. they don't seem so bad. your maine coon, ares, however, disagrees. he snarls, shifting into his larger form. he's the size of a tiger in that form. the whiteness of his fur melting into a dark, staticky one.

dean lets out a yell in surprise, and hits sam in the face. the whisps of darkness of ares's fur are tinted with a red, and they float towards you.

"no! ares. stop." you demand, and he turns his head to your side, baring his teeth. "it's fine for now." you state.

dean and sam know what you are now. a witch, with a rare familiar. "fuck." sam whispers. "yeah." dean agrees.

ares snarls again, before shifting back into his original form.

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a few minutes later, your door is closed, and the three of you are settled around your small kitchen, steaming cups of herbal tea set up in all of their hands.

your mug is small in sam's hand, and it would be funny how out of place he looks in the small hut if you weren't so worried. he really does remind you of a moose.

"okay, moose. tell me everything." you state, pointing at sam.

"first of all, moose? what the hell is that?" he asks, bewildered. dean laughs, smacking him on the back.

"i dunno. you remind me of one." you shrug, but you point at him again.

"okay, your mom hired us to look for you since she's super worried. you just up and disappeared. " dean interjects.

"but the real question is, what the hell are you doing?" sam finishes.

you let out a deep sigh. In the last couple of days, you've felt so stressed about this. whatever these powers are, they're so annoying. what have you done to deserve this?

"the cat you saw, ares, he's supposed to be my familiar." you tell them everything, about how your powers manifested, how ares had found you to help you control your powers better, how you ran away because you were scared of hurting your friends and your loved ones.

"ares did the scratching for me, in the wood. he broke the glass for me, to make it look like a burglary. i did my best." you finish, and you're feeling tears well up in your eyes.

"hey." sam soothes you, resting a hand on your shoulder. his palm is warm and heavy, and you briefly wonder what it would be like to hold it.

"i'm learning to control my powers too, we should work together." he suggest and dean sends him a funny look.

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your mom cries and hugs when she sees you, and gives the money that was promised to the two boys.

"why did you leave?" she begs you for answer, her arms still wrapped around you.

dean and sam, you now know their names, are sat on your couch again, eating some food.

"i was scared. I didn't want to hurt you." you tell her, mumbling into her hair.

"you could never. I should have warned you that it was coming." your mom tells you, patting your head softly. this gets everyone's attention.

"you knew?" sam, dean and you all say at the same time. you catch the eyes of sam, and he smiles at you supportively. Is it weird that it's supportive, even though you've only known him a couple hours?

"yeah. it's been passed down through generations, but it skipped me." she shrugs, telling everyone. "it's funny, because when we were younger, john-" she slaps a hand over her own mouth.

"fuck." she whispers out, but it's muffled.

"you knew our father?" sam asks your mum, standing up from his seat. she sighs, and shakes her head.

"i knew him, but i don't know where he is." she says sadly.

your mom tells you all of how she grew up with him, and that they were neighbours. Her father and john’s, were good friends. You even spent some time with sam and dean when you were younger, but just didn’t remember as you were too young.

Everyone nods in understanding, and you finally feel better.

“Mom?” you ask quietly, dragging her to the side. Unknown to you, sam’s watching you with a small smile, but dean notices.

“You whipped already, moose?” dean teases sam. “What-? No.” sam responds, but he feels his face heat up.

“I’m just wondering what led me to her before.” he says, trying to change the topic.

“Who knows. You could be soulmates.” dean jokes, thinking about their shared demon blood.

“Maybe.” he mumbles halfheartedly, not really listening.

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“Mum?” you ask as you pull your mom to the side to talk to her.

“Yes, sweetheart?” she responds.

“Uhm, i want to go with them.” you say.

“What?” your mom panics. “Are you sure? It’s not going to be safe.” she says.

“I know. But i want to learn how to control the powers properly. There are some things I want to learn, some things i need to see that if i don’t leave, i’ll never see.” you tell her, trying your best to convince her.

“I see.” she responds. She’s got her poker face on, the one that won her 10 thousand dollars at a casino in las vegas when you were 11. You don’t know what she’s going to say, but you hope that she’ll let you go. “What’s something you want to learn?” she finally asks you.

You stare at her in bewilderment, your ears reddening before you speak. “Before sam and dean found me, i felt this pull in my stomach. I feel it now, and it only seems to be slacker when i’m with the two of them. I want to learn what that is.”

Your mom laughs so hard, she ends up wiping tears from her eyes. “I see.” she wheezes.

“What?” you ask her.

“Nothing, nothing. You’ll figure it out eventually.” she says, giggling to herself again.

You groan, “but can i go? I want your blessing.” you beg.

“Yes you can. But you must be safe, and remember to call me at least once a week, so that i know you’re still alive and safe. I’ll kill the both of them if they even let you get hurt.” she says, threatening loud enough that sam and dean stop whispering between themselves enough to look up at you both.

Sam’s got a sheepish grin on his face, and dean’s got a smirk, as if he’s saying that he knows something you don’t.

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The next year is a mess.

You spend all of your time with the boys, getting close enough to both of them to consider them both your best friends.

Dean’s like a brother to you. And Sam, well sam-… he’s different.

Everytime you see him, you can’t help but smile. Every room he’s in with you seems brighter than it was before he went in, and you love every single second of your life that you spend with him.

The bond isn’t so strong when you’re together, but it’s only quiet when you’re touching him. If it’s hands pressed together, his arm resting on your shoulder, you tucked into his side, as long as you’re touching, it’s restful.

It’s hard sometimes, the life of a hunter. Your witch abilities help them on the hunt, and the added protection of ares is really good too.

You’re in a pickle, a couple of times. The work is dangerous, and not many make it to an older age.

This last hunting trip is going to kill you, you decide as soon as dean describes what’s going on.

A small rickety sports bar has been popping up all over the country, a popular couple’s bar named ‘hearts aligned.’ the story is that everytime a couple walks in, the chances are that the couples don’t come back out.

It seems to be this strangeness that is attracting all these couples to keep coming anyway. It’s ridiculous how people think that it’s cool because of that, and instead of staying away, they keep coming back.

So this is what leads you to now. Your smaller hand wrapped around sam’s larger one, as you entered the bar. you swear you can hear dean sniggering miles away back at the hotel rooms at the mere thought of your forced proximity with his baby brother.

Of course, dean found out that you liked sam, he became annoying to the point where he found numerous excuses for why he couldn’t do hunts, preferring to stay at the bunker than go out.

“Oh, my back hurts. Since you’re younger, you and moose can go do this one.” he’ll say, as he pushes you and sam out the door. He always sends you a wink.

Moose has now become a nickname for sam. It wasn’t on purpose, no matter how many times sam accuses you of finding the least suitable nickname for him.

Sam and you, wrapped up together as you wait in the lobby of the bar. The smell of sweat and love hangs heavy in the air, sticking to your skin like honey.

You don’t like it. You don’t like how natural it feels to be tucked into sam’s side, his hand resting on your waist. You don’t like how it feels so natural that he’s pressing light kisses to your hairline, like you’re something precious that he’s afraid to be away from for even a second.

You really hate how he’s playing the role of an affectionate boyfriend so well, and you know as soon as this is over, you’re never going to be able to get over it. You’re gonna get addicted if this keeps going on.

Not to mention, you hate how because of your short dress, you're cold, and somehow without you even saying anything, Sam's noticed. You didn’t even say anything, and he wrapped himself around you with the sole goal to warm you up.

And it works, he does. The body heat he emits is more than enough to warm you up, without being too warm. His hand, resting on your hip, is warm even through the fabric of your dress.

And most of all, you hate how the pull that you’ve felt in the pit of your stomach that’s been there since you’ve met the brothers, isn’t tight, for once. It feels as if that the closer you are to him, the more relaxed you feel.

“You okay?” sam whispers into your ear, playing the role of the beloved concerned boyfriend well. You shiver slightly, the warmth of his voice does that to you. It’s impressive how as soon as you feel the slightest bit off, that he notices. It’s as if he’s fine tuned himself into all the subtle shifts of your moods.

“Yeah.” you whisper in response. He does notice the shiver, but he chalks it up to the aircon vent blowing cold air at your back. He moves so that he’s in the way of the aircon’s cold blast, his warm front pressing into your back.

You let out a small huff of air, comfortable with his proximity and his warmth. “How long do you think this’ll take, moose? I’m getting tired.” You whisper to him, the music strangely quiet for a bar. To make sure he hears you better, you turn your face to him, bringing your lips closer to his ear.

He fights a difficult battle, trying everything in his willpower not to blush. That damn nickname, you… Everything, it’s killing him. “Dunno, shouldn’t be that much longer.” he responds in what he hopes is a confident, strong tone.

The longer you stay at the bar, the quieter it gets. Some couples leave giggling and laughing, dragging their partner’s hand with a mischievous smile.

You feel the bar getting colder, and a quick glance at the thermostat proves you right. “Anytime now.” he whispers again.

Suddenly, there’s a guttural screech, and the rest of the bar goers flee the premises, leaving you and sam alone in the bar. He steps away from you, pulling out the revolver supplied with rock salt, and bares it at the source of the screech.

As you unclasp the thigh guard, you pull out your own gun, similar to his. It was a gift from him on your birthday, engraved with your initials and a small cat.

You point it where sam is pointing his gun. You feel goosebumps raising on your arms, the hairs standing up as you hear a little scuttle. If you weren’t so fine tuned into sam, you wouldn’t have noticed how the hairs on the back on his neck stick up as well.

You want to smooth them down, but it really isn’t the time for that.

The scuttling gets louder, the sound of nails on a blackboard screeches through the bar as the music abruptly stops. The screeching gets louder, scuttling like a beetle as it gets closer, so loud that you think it’s right next to you, but you can’t see anything at all.

You pause, feeling your heart momentarily stop. Slowly craning your neck up to the ceiling, you almost scream. A year into the business, and you’re still not prepared.

▷ —-------------------- (crack)

The sound of the chair being knocked over as you scramble away from- from- whatever that thing is.

It’s got long dark hair, which is dangling. A feminine shape, with a covered face, but you can feel eyes staring at you with a glowering menace even without seeing it. Even no longer directly below it, you can feel it staring at you.

Sam gets in a protective stance, blocking its view of you by stepping in front of it.

‘Well…what have we click click here?” it rasps, voice disoriented and deep, clicking, sounding at the back of its dry throat, reminding you of the sounds the velociraptors in Jurassic world made.

You raise the gun, pointing it right between where the eyes would be on a normal person. Sam reaches out behind him, just checking to see if you’re behind him still, making sure you’re still safe.

“awww. such a cute hunter couple.” it snarls, dropping from the ceiling. its bones crack as it moves, body bending backwards as it stalks towards you.

suddenly it pauses. “you don't see that often, anymore.” it mumbles to itself, one grotesque finger drawing a line connecting the two of you, and the next thing you know, you're thrown together against the wall as it stalks closer.

“fuck.” sam groans as his back hits the wall, and you let out a hiss of pain, tied to his chest as you flail around, trying to move.

something invisible is pinning you in place. you're embarrassed to say that even in such a dangerous position, your heart is thumping aggressively in your chest, practically bursting out.

the thing is drawing close, and it's enough to get you to snap out of your reverie, and you remember that it's neither the time nor the place for this.

“Hmm. soulmates? So rare. You both can’t be human then.” it grumbles, its finger bending back with an unnatural crack.

‘What the fuck.’ you’re thinking as you both are struggling. Using your powers, you send a blast, making the thing fall back, scuttling its old bones as it regains its stance, prowling towards you.

In the time that it loses its balance, you and sam find yours. He pulls you up to his feet quickly, retrieving both of your guns as he points it at the thing, his other hand behind him, ensuring that you’re behind him.

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

In the end, you end up taking it out, sending it back to a demon dimension, and dragging your sorry asses back to your hotel rooms, where dean, is lying comfortably on the bed, with a beer in his hand.

You glare at him, beaten up and bloody, cuts all over your face from falling face first into a window. You’ve healed all the serious injuries, but don’t have enough energy to do the rest.

“I take it went well?” dean asks smugly, stretching out his limbs as if he’s done anything remotely productive. (spoiler alert. He hasn’t. He’s just gotten back from the bar)

“She was an elder-being. Thanks for the warning, dean.” sam growls, eyebrows furrowed as he hobbles over to lie on the bed.

“Hey! Don’t get the bedsheets bloody, we’ll be charged more.” you say, hitting him lightly, wincing when you hear him let out a hiss of pain.

“Shit.” sam whimpers, holding his arm, slightly above the slash in his arm. It’s not bleeding heavily anymore, but you bet it’s painful as hell, especially with those long ass nails raking at him.

“I’m sorry!! I didn’t mean to. Wait, I'll help patch you up. ” you tell him pushing him down so he sits on the edge of his bed in dean and his’ room.

Dean lets out a grunt as he jumps to his feet, already having enough of whatever flirting will happen soon.

“Right, i’m heading down to the bar, gonna check out the ladies.” he says, striding over to the door.

“Weren’t you just at the bar?” you ask him with a raised brow.

“Yeah, but they’re probably already missing me.” he responds, winking at ya. You can hear sam groaning slightly from the pain, turning your eyes away from dean to watch sam, you hear the door click closed behind you

You roll your eyes, pulling out the medical kit to pay attention to how injured sam might be.

“That was really stupid of you, moose. Jumping out a window?” you chastise him, a worried furrow in your brows as you pull out the necessary ointments.

Sam stares at you, his fingers itching at his side, wanting to smooth out the furrow in your brows. He thinks about what the demon thing said, and wants to talk about it, but he wants you to be comfortable first.

“Are you injured anywhere?” he asks, his hand reaching up and doing what he wants. His touch is gentle and soft, and even as he smooths the furrow out of your brow, his thumb lingers, before he pulls back. You miss his touch instantly, skin tingling where his thumb rested.

“Just a couple of scratches. Nothing as serious as your arm.” you respond, grimacing slightly as you really look at his cut.

“Yeah, but i’m still worried about you.” he responds, frowning.

“Don’t. Be more worried about yourself, since you’re the one in pain right now.” you chastise him, trying to pull the edges of his shirt away from the cut, letting out a sigh when he

“You gotta take off your overshirt, sam. I don’t wanna have the fabric sticking to the cut, or infecting it.” you tell him, stepping back while you wait for him to do as you ask.

He winces as he pulls it over his head, his white undershirt stained from the blood only on one side.

“You see? And you’re still telling me that you’re worried about me.” you say, pointing to the cut.

As you end up cleaning it up first, you’re in a comfortable silence. You keep thinking about the eldritch woman, and what she said about a soulmate bond. It would make a lot of sense, how for all this time, you’ve always been drawn to him.

Not just physically, but what seems to be mentally too, you notice all of his quirks, his hobbies, his preferences, and what he would deem his faults. They’re not faults to you, they’re just him, and you love him.

Unknown to you, he’s thinking the same. Maybe not to the same extent of what you're thinking, but to a similar extent. He’s curious about what happened, and he wants to know more, to know if you feel the same pull he does.

You end up stitching the rest of his cut up, and when you’re done, you collapse onto the bed in exhaustion. Letting out a deep, tired sigh, you throw your arm over your eyes, blocking out the light.

Sam’s still sitting on the edge of his bed, but he’s turned to stare at you. He watches the way your chest rises and falls with each breath you take, and even with the sound of music drifting into the room from the bar downstairs, he can hear the little puffs of air you let out.

He calls your name, and you shift your arm upwards, resting against your forehead as you stare down at him.

“Yeah?” you ask.

“..what do you think she meant about the soulmate bond?” sam asks. He’s probably the most nervous he’s ever been right now, but it’s a kind of nervousness that is elating, making his heart race in his chest.

You blink at him, just assuming that that was just going to be something else swept under the carpet of your friendship if you didn’t bring it up. Like lingering stares, touches that are wayyyy too long to just be friendly, and the way he’s just too fine tuned into you.

“Uh. Maybe what it quite literally means?” You finish, trying not to show just exactly how terrified you are right now, since this is a topic you thought you’d never talk about. Like how dean really really needs a love life, not just one night stands.

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes, and he feels slightly less stressed about bringing this topic up now, since you sound to him as if you’ve been thinking about it too.

You really want to talk about it, but you really don’t want to sound too desperate.

“You know that’s not what I mean, y/n.” he tells you, shifting so that his legs are no longer hanging off the edge of the bed, and he��s looking right at you. His arm is tender, and the little movement is enough to make him wince.

Sitting up to look at him properly, you sigh. You don’t know what to say, really.

“Do you feel it?” he asks, shyly. “The soulmate bond?” He thinks of all the times he’s even thought that you might have reciprocate his feelings, and he thinks he has a solid chance right now.

You don’t think you’re gonna get rejected, but it’s still slightly unnerving to bring something as serious as this up, because if it doesn’t work out, your entire dynamic will be destroyed, and you will not only lose the love of your life, but your best friend, and in the process, you could lose dean, too.

“Yeah. i just didn’t know what it was before.” you tell him, scratching the back of your neck nervously, wincing when you scratch at a injury you didn’t notice before.

Sam lightens up obviously, the physical embodiment of puppy eyes. He looks at you now, and he laughs.

“What?” you ask him, slightly nervous.

“I feel it too, you know?” he tells you. “I felt it that day in the woods, i felt it when you left my side for even a moment, I felt it when we were together. I just thought it was some kind of overattachment to you.”

This makes you laugh, and he pulls you closer by your arm.

“I felt it in the woods, that day when I thought you were a moose, I felt it when I sat in the passenger seat of baby, I felt it when you were injured in the hospital.” you respond, thinking of all the times where the bond vexed you, and made you happy.

Sam stares down at you, pulling you into his side properly. You’re tucked into under his arm as he presses a chaste kiss to the tips of your fingers, to the palm of your hand, your forearm, as he slowly makes his way up to your face.

In between each kiss, he whispers out to you; “I've felt you everywhere in my life since the first day I met you. In my head, my lungs, in my space. You are the air I breathe, and without you, I'm scared I’ll die.”

he pauses when he reaches your jaw, pausing, giving you time to push him away if you don’t want this.

“yeah? “ you respond smugly, gloating now that you’re aware of just how much you affect him. You’re breathless, waiting for the kiss that you feel you’ve been missing your entire life.

This is the only moment that matters, the part where you finally come together. With that, he kisses you. The kiss is sweet and soft, a promise of more to come.

He pulls back, forehead resting against yours and your breaths mingle together, but it isn’t enough. You need more for all the times you’ve been afraid he’s hurt or worse, dead.

You pull him closer by the collar of his undershirt, and kiss him. You kiss him like crazy, and he reciprocates, kissing you harder. This kiss is everything you’ve lost, come back to you.

When you finally pull apart, you’re giggling, and he chuckles, pressing another chaste kiss to your forehead, whispering how much he loves you.

You fall asleep entangled together, ankles crossed over his as he rests his arm over your waist, your head tucked between his neck and his shoulder.

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

Dean comes back from the bar, switching on the light of the room, and he quite literally does a double take when he sees the two of you entangled together, even in sleep.

He does everything in his power not to wake you up with screams of “i knew it” and “it’s about damn time”. He’s happy to see his brother so content, even in sleep, there’s a smile on sam’s face.

Dean pulls out his phone, sending a quick text to mrs l/n; who’s number he got to stay in touch with updates of his father.

‘You owe me ten bucks.’ he types out.

The screen lights up with a response from mrs l/n.

‘What!? Already? I thought it would be later.’ is the reply, and he laughs at that.

[darin-nidk]

Prev. | Interlude |

「 Radiosilence (QPR Reader and Alastor) 」

Content: Mostly angst; t.w.: panic attack, anxiety attack, swearing, fear of abandonement, Charlie doesn't get paid to be a therapist.

"God fucking damn it", they turned on their heels as they kept walking, grunting and cussing. Their eyes focused on a chair as they kicked it across the room, effectively breaking it. Hands gripping their hair and lightly tugging at it. "How could he do this to me?!".

"I, ah, what if we take deep breaths..?", Charlie stuttered, the princess of Hell looking anxious at how this particular room was an absolute wreck, even the windows were broken — maybe she needed a hotel manager or someone with more experience than her and uhh, maybe let Vaggie pick who gets to stay in through an interview process..? The demon before her simply stared at her with a sharp glare that made her feel small.

"You have to excuse me, Charlie but, I can't take a deep breath when I feel like suffocating", such words were accompanied by them scratching the skin from their neck all the way down to their collarbone with their claws that were poking out, slightly tearing the skin and bleeding. Somehow that helped to ground them and not spiral out of control. "I can expect betrayal from everyone but him, we are waaay past that stage, we grew up together, aged together, and he disappears?! What the Hell am I supposed to expect? To feel? It's like my metaphorical heart has been ripped apart and torn into pieces, my ribcage hurts when I breath, fucking Hell!", grabbing a book from the small bookshelf, the demon named (Y/N) growled and tossed it against the wall, denting it. They were breathing heavily as they tried to calm down, usually Alastor would know how to calm them down but he was the cause.

"Charlie, you don't understand, he and I... I can feel he made a poor choice because he was cornered and not knowing what he did is driving me insane, I have a deep connection with him. Hell, if he breathes the wrong way I know what the fuck is up—". Explaining their relationship was complex, usually they got misunderstood because apparently someone couldn't care about another without having romantic feelings or whatever.

This feeling was far more complex, they were more than family and friends, soulmates was a bit of a stretch... perhaps a mirror of one another in some fancy manner of speech? And ocasionally engaged in exchanges that could be interpreted in a different light, but romance wasn't it. They had a mutual connection but no carnal desires, their company was an anchor to ground them, it was a comforting bond.

Whatever social need they required, they could satisfy with each other without any misunderstanding or, at least, if there was one then it could be easily fixed with a conversation over a hot beverage with jazz playing on the background.

But Alastor broke their bond without any fucking explanation.

"Fuck, fuck!", (Y/N) cried as they held their face, falling onto their knees. Their vision blurry due to tears rolling down their cheeks, they were having trouble breathing.

[jimmy-johns5382]

can I ask Dad!Tim with a reader with anorexia? I've been struggling these past few weeks and it would really be a comfort to read something like that

ignore this if you don't feel comfortable ❤️

I’m so sorry to hear that, please take care of yourself and I wish the absolute best for you 🥰

Dad! Masky x daughter with an ED

T.W. - Eating Disorder, little bit of swearing, it’s Tim and creepypasta sooooo

At first, Tim doesn’t think very much of it

Sure, you’re not eating, but it just kinda goes right over his head

I mean

You guys are murders working for some eldritch being in the middle of the woods

He just assumes you just hadn’t eaten that day

But after DAYS of you not eating, he says something

Tim is the confrontational type of dad, if he notices something then he speaks up

“Hey, kiddo, can I talk to ya’?” Tim’s voice was quiet. It was the middle of the night, you all had just gotten back from some mission. Brian was already in the bed, snoring loudly, and Toby had gone to take a shower.

“Shoot,” you replied, yawning. All you wanted was to take a shower and head to bed.

“When’s the last time you ate?” His voice was stern, yet laced with concern. You eyes snapped to him, examining him and watching his every move. You only shook your head, a silent “no.”

“Ok- why?” Tim asked. He almost sounded frustrated. “You can’t preform well if your not eating,” he tried to reason with you.

You took in a shaky breath before responding. “I mean- I know that. Just cant eat?” You didn’t really want to talk about it.

“Why?” It was firm.

“Eating disorder,” was the only response you gave.

It shut Tim up, and he simply watched as you tried to compose yourself. You sat in silence for a few minutes, the only noises being Toby’s obnoxious singing and the sounds of the Rake wondering around outside the cabin. He took a few calculated steps toward you and put his arm on your shoulder.

“You still gotta’ eat kid, it’s not healthy,” his thick southern accent was showing. He sounded like a concerned mother, not a murderous masked man.

“I try,” you shrugged his arm off and bolted. You weren’t interested in talking about it, and that was final in your eyes. Tim didn’t chase after you.

After this, your relationship changed

Occasionally, Tim would ask if you’ve eaten anything that day

If you had, wonderful!

If not, there would always be some kind of meal outside your room door

Sometimes it was a grilled cheese, sometimes ramen noodles

But it was a silent “I’ve got you.”

There was no direct pressure to eat, but just stay alive and healthy

He didn’t bring it up, but he always was there for you