#this is like...barely edited but it felt SO GOOD to be able to write something

[pigeontheoneandonly]

exit criteria

ETA: Now with AO3 link! Link

For once, I was actually feeling writerly, so I did a little time loop fic tonight about the run to the beam at the end of ME3:

The mortar struck the tank, flipped it, and in one single motion smeared Kaidan and Garrus into paste.

Shock took Shepard first, and the bullet took her second.

* * *

This time, Shepard threw her arm out and kept Kaidan from running ahead.  So the bullet got him instead.

* * *

She had figured out far more complex problems than this, many times over.  Failing twice was annoying.  A blemish on her record, even if nobody else would ever know.  So Shepard took half a beat before charging down the London rubble once again, used it to draw her own heavy weapon, and simply blasted the tank out of the way.

Garrus spared a moment none of them had to toss her a confused glance.  Her answering smirk had just reached peak smugness when the airborne reaper unit, alerted by the explosion, sighted and fired, briefly illuminating each of their three outlines in its plasma beam before they atomized.

* * *

Her squad balked at running down the right side of the field when the center was clearly optimal.  But they’d followed her to hell, and there was no time to argue.

Kaidan didn’t say I told you so when the banshee lifted him by his hair to her fetid mouth.  He was too preoccupied with screaming, suddenly cut off.

* * *

Think, Shepard.  She stared across the battlefield.  Twenty seconds, then a minute, then five—an eternity in these conditions.  The profligate waste didn’t concern her.  Clearly, she’d have as many attempts as necessary to get this right.

(You hope, whispered a poisonous thought.  You assume.  You need.)

Beyond the beam that led to the Citadel, Harbinger crouched.

“I need to go further back,” she said aloud, abrupt, just before the reaper’s cherry red beam shot out through the dark with unerring precision.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Hackett told her, on the med evac shuttle more than a day after she left Garrus and Liara dead under the tank.  “The Crucible firing disabled most of the fleet, but stopped short of outright destroying it.  Cerberus put too much reaper technology into the Normandy’s redesign.  We found no survivors.”

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Shepard said, as Kaidan broke their goodbye kiss, eyes wide.  A hypodermic needle was small but still noticeable when it pricked the delicate skin of the neck.  “I need you to live.”

Her arms caught him as he folded up, gentle.  Forgive me. 

A bombed-out building had few good or secure hiding spots the size of an adult human male.  Someone found him and brought him back to the Normandy.  To the impromptu field hospital.  To the personal care of an inexperienced and self-trained civilian medic whose misdiagnosis led to organ failure.

After the fourth attempt, Shepard abandoned the approach in exasperation.

* * *

Her squad charged down the left side.  Killing a brute wasn’t unprecedented at this point in the war, but doing so with barely twenty feet of maneuvering room proved impossible.  She should know.  She tried ten times.

* * *

Shepard sat down at the top of hill, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring down the beam with real anger.

“Shouldn’t we charge?” Kaidan asked.

“You’d think so,” she grumbled.

* * *

The tank flipped.

The tank flipped.

The tank flipped.

The tank flipped—

* * *

Once, she went to the hill alone and screamed with every last ounce of frustration in her body.  “What do you want from me?!”

Harbinger did not deign to reply.  It did not even deign to slap her aside itself.  Instead, it left her to be overrun, eventually, by various husks.

* * *

It merited further consideration, however: What did Harbinger (or the universe, or fate, or or or) want from her? 

Her eyes narrowed over the London apocalypse.  The galaxy can burn.  There is no version of this mission where I let Kaidan die. 

* * *

I won’t, she said, as a marauder broke through his armor.

I won’t, she said, while Kaidan flew thirty feet into the air and hit the ground with terrible finality.

I won’t, she said, as the tank flipped over him.

* * *

Kaidan found her in starboard observation, Earth growing ever larger in the port.  Her hand pushed against the glass as if she could, by force, prevent it coming any closer.

She knew his footsteps.  She knew the way the air stirred around his shape, the faint rustle of his clothes and the even fainter whiff of soap.  Every line, tick, and habit.

Her shoulders hunched.

He asked her what was wrong, because he knew her, too, every mood and every flinch.

So Shepard did something she’d never done before, in any iteration: she told him.

It took a bit of time, and then they were both quiet for a long while.  Kaidan held her curled in his arms.  His breath in her hair.  Her fingers digging into his forearm. 

“I need you to do something for me,” he said, at last, sounding as tired as she felt.

Shepard knew Kaidan.  Her grip tightens another fraction.  “Don’t you dare say it.”

Quietly, inexorably, gently.  “You need to let me go.”

The only answer she could bear was to shake her head, her throat stopped up.

* * *

Shepard never made that mistake again.  But yet.

He kissed her in London, his hand lingering, cupped around her cheek.  You need to let me go.

His gloved hand scooped up hers, just for a few paces, a stolen moment on a quiet street between packs of roaming reaper forces on their way to the beam, an ounce of warmth amid terror and despair.  You need to let me go.

His breath woofed out, relief and new tension all at once, as they crested the hill and stared down at the frighteningly open terrain teeming with endless enemies, glowing with gunfire, the last stand, the last fight.  You need to let me go.

* * *

She sat beside the tank a long while.  Kaidan, his meat, was somewhere under it.  In point of fact, this was the longest she’d ever lasted, any time she’d paused during the run to the beam.  Nothing cared about her.  Not here in the shadow of a ruined vehicle, no gun drawn, no fight left in the lines of her body.  They all saw instinctively that she was no true threat.

There wasn’t a name for this sort of grief.  How could anyone grieve a person who was dead thirty or forty or a hundred times over?  He’d been dead the first time the mortar struck the tank and he was still dead now and there was absolutely nothing, nothing, to be done about it. 

After a time, other reapers landed, legions of them making mountains on the horizon with their long, raised thoraxes.  Systemically, they scoured London clean in a shower of particle beams and sonorous booms. 

Shepard fell asleep not long after dawn and died without knowing it.

* * *

Kaidan tore his gaze away from the beam when he felt the pressure of Shepard looking at him.  He cocked his head.  “What are you doing?”

She took him in.  Not long, not nearly long enough, but she took what she could get of him, always.  Almost too quiet to hear, she sighed out, “Letting go.”

His brow creased.  Then Garrus yelled, as the first of the enemy took notice of them, and they were flying down the field, Shepard chasing Kaidan chasing Garrus.

The mortar arced downward. 

The tank flipped up into the air.

Shepard ran.  The bullet whizzed past her shoulder, where she stood not a fraction of a second earlier. 

The airborne reaper, passing overhead, took note of the human, and fired a plasma beam.  The angle was not optimal.  Even perfect machines bow to physics.

The beam flashed by her at near light-speed, hot enough to scorch her cheek.

It met the tank in the midair. 

The tank glowed, and then exploded, knocking Kaidan and Garrus to the ground under a hot shrapnel rain. 

The stab in her chest never lost its edge, no matter how many dozens of times he died.  But her step didn’t falter.  Her arms pumped, her legs flying, moving so fast, in fact, that the tears leaking out of her eyes flowed back into her hair—

Until, as she flashed by the tank’s remains, something new:

Kaidan sat up. 

[softsunnyy]

WAIT WAIT BC I HAVE A REQUEST and i think its a good one too

so yk how there's that Halsey song (bad at love??) when it says

Got a boy back home in Michigan And he tastes like Jack when I'm kissing him

u could write one where reader isn't with Jack anymore and is fucking someone else (could literally be anyone tbh) but she keeps thinking abt how jack does it better, and comparing the two 🥺🥺

so… you should know about the thousand Jack edits i've downloaded with that song. My gosh.

🚨 emotional and physical cheating, you never really loved the poor guy, Jack is a bit of a stalker; mentions of sex with your ex. 🚨

this feels a bit like a part one

you moaned against his ear, feeling his cock slide in and out of you at a slow, patient, and gentle pace. You can feel his love, his devotion, his need to please you…

and those are some of the many things that makes him so... different.

you closed your eyes, trying not to see his face, because you knew it would turn you off, that when you opened them you'd find brown eyes, straight, light hair, skin that was too soft, and a sparkle in his eyes that was too innocent for you. And you knew it would eat you up with guilt, that it'd feel bad, so you preferred not to see it, to let yourself be guided by the sensations and imagining…

imagining other hands touching you.

because nothing had been the same since Jack and you broke up, since you parted ways, vowing to maintain respect, contact, and a good relationship. It makes it worse knowing that you broke up not because you fell out of love with each other, or because something felt wrong, but because his future is bright, and you didn't want to interfere when his life was just starting. I mean, how could you do that to him?

and so much time has passed, you've tried to rebuild your life, meet new people, change your appearance and the people you choose to have sex with. That's how you ended up with Matt, a guy who doesn't even like hockey to begin with. He´s... short, less muscular, and has friends who look at you like you're their next meal. He's not your type, you're not even sure you like him, but you'd already gotten yourself into it too much, and it was the only thing that kept your mind off things at times.

the problem is, his magic started to wear off this summer, when you took him to Michigan to meet your family, not knowing he'd be there before the regular season ended, in a sling, since he'd apparently injured his shoulder. When you saw him, your breath caught in your throat; it's like you'd gone back to your late teens, letting go of the love of your life. And your memories came flooding back, as did the feelings you thought you'd buried deep in your heart.

now looking at Matt feels like a reminder, like a constant call to wake up and realize what you're doing with your life. And you try to ignore it, to not feel this way, but when Matt slides his cock into your walls, you realize it's not working.

and you remember those big, not-so-soft hands that traveled over your body and touched you possessively, leaving bruises on your sides, and touching your tits like a toy. His cock, hammering inside you, bruising your cervix, expanding your walls, while your hands scratched his back.

you remember his head between your legs, and how his eyes were tattooed on your soul, consuming you. And his lips, his chest, his arms, his thighs.

your mind goes back to Jack, and you moan, you whimper; Your body reacts like he´s there with you, and it's when you cum that your mind betrays you, your mouth works before your conscience, and then you say his name.

Matt stops moving, perplexed, confused, offended. You don't realize it yet, but when you open your eyes and see him, you understand.

his name is Matt, not Jack.

and of course, the fun was soon over, and he had questions, valid and charged with emotion.

you´re not proud to say you lied, that you looked him in the eye and, barely able to breathe, told him "Jack" doesn't exist, that you'd made a mistake, that your mind was confused by the pleasure you were feeling. And to continue your lie, you offered him to look at your phone, to check your messages, whatever would make him feel confident that there was no Jack in your life. You´re not proud to say you breathed again when his expression relaxed, when his eyes softened and his hand touched yours once more.

and you had to pretend, letting the weeks pass, and wishing Jack had left Michigan. Sadly, your thoughts won't leave you alone, and you can't concentrate anymore, not even during sex, so you have to fake it, clenching your walls around Matt´s cock to make it look like you've come; moaning in a more pornographic way; doing it in positions where he couldn't see your face properly.

by the third week, you decide to go out, go to a bar, and try to enjoy yourselves. He knows you'd normally like the idea, and continuing to reject him would only raise suspicions again. So you get ready, put on some nice clothes, and try to remember what security feels like when you go out.

when you arrive, the place is packed, and you see many familiar faces, who greet you, hug you, and some look at you curiously, asking you about the new guy, while you just pray they don't ask about him.

the hours begin to pass, Matt has a couple of drinks under his belt, and you're still on your first drink, feeling your blood run cold. There's a pair of eyes following you, you know it, and you can't even pretend to laugh at the things Matt says to you anymore.

you know who's watching you.

because even though you haven't turned around, you know Jack is behind you, probably a couple of tables away, watching as Matt gets a little more touchy, with his hands on your waist every so often, leaving little kisses on your shoulder, and saying stupid comments that you no longer find funny.

and you know, you know he's upset, that he doesn't like what he sees, but he doesn't come closer, doesn't intervene, and the longer this passes, the more tense he makes you feel. You don't know what he wants, and you try to get away from Matt, to reclaim your space, your sanity, and your courage, but it doesn't work, and you feel heat in your curves, in your ass, in your legs, because you know he's looking at you, analyzing what has become of you.

and you wonder if he likes it, if you look pretty to him, if he still feels fucking hot when he sees your thighs.

Matt's hands return to you, and you want to throw up, you feel guilty, dirty, like you've betrayed him, letting someone else try to take you over. You feel paranoid, and you don't have the strength to look at him.

and Jack? he wants to laugh, to scream, to push you away from that guy and hit his face for thinking he can touch you. He doesn't even feel betrayed; rather, he's... almost amused.

he's just so... different, and he knows you don't like Matt. God, he even wants to correct the guy, tell him to be rougher, to put his hands in the right places, to make sure he has your attention.

does he even know what he's doing? because it seems like he doesn't know you. Not like he does.

so he watches, like you were his prey, analyzing every move so he can choose the perfect moment to attack and devour you. He's more patient than ever, enduring the tension in his body, the sweat, the heavy breathing, and the strength in his body that makes him want to get up and walk over to you.

then Matt kisses you, and it's like time stops. You try to kiss him back, but you close your eyes and all you can see is him, putting one hand on your neck so you can't pull away, while the other caresses your hip, slowly moving up to reach under your tits. It's what Jack would do, and you try to focus on that, but it's impossible. It's not him.

so you pull away, abruptly, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, trying to make your way through the sea of ​​people, feeling cold sweats, your hands trembling, your lips burning, and you struggling to breathe. When you see the bathroom door, you try to walk faster, but a hand grabs your waist, pulling you back, causing your body to crash into the wall.

in front of you, you see him, the man of your dreams, nightmares, and deepest desires, looking at you with a cocky smile, like in these few hours he's learned everything he needed to.

your mind clouds, and you try to get closer to him unconsciously, almost instinctively, which makes his smile grow bigger.

"what are you doing?" you hear him say, and you want to cry, jump into his arms, and kiss him. You've missed him so much, and having him in front of you has brought back all your feelings, all your memories. You can't even answer what he asked because you haven't processed his words. You feel dazed, overwhelmed, and your mouth opens and closes, but you don't say anything.

he raises an eyebrow, amused, and with his good hand, he caresses your waist, as if nothing has changed, as if he hadn't acted on impulse after spending hours restraining himself from doing this.

"i asked you something. What are you doing?" he said it again, looking you up and down, taking his time, enjoying your reaction.

“what do you mean?” you asked, stunned, not knowing where to put your hands, and trying to tear your gaze away from his eyes.

“you’re letting him touch you in a way you don’t like,” he commented, like admitting he’d been watching you wasn’t important, and that slowly brought your awareness back to you.

“how do you know it’s not what i like? time has passed,” you responded defensively, trying to create some distance, though the wall made it difficult.

damn, you hadn’t seen Jack in so long, and this is the first thing he says to you?

“you never liked being touched like that.” his hand remained firm, making it impossible for you to move too far away, applying just the right amount of pressure.

and it frustrates you to know that he remembers, that he knows where to touch, in what tone to speak, what to say, and how to look at you. It’s like you’re an open book to him, because he took all the time in the world to get to know you, to learn so much about you that nothing would take him by surprise, so that you’d never have a complaint, so that he could make you happy.

“people change, Jack.” His name fell from your lips smoothly, and you saw how he hesitated for a moment, like that had been his weakness. However, soon the smile returned to his lips.

“yeah... but i doubt you’ve forgotten what you really like” his hand moved up slowly, passing over your tits, down your chest, to your neck, applying pressure near your jaw, making you look at him, unable to lower your head. “Tell me, did you miss me?”

Jack doesn’t even know what he’s doing. It wasn’t his plan. It’s not what he’s thought for weeks since he saw you when you arrived in Michigan.

it wasn’t supposed to happen this way, but now he can’t pull away. Not when his breath hits yours, and you’re so close that your eyelashes will soon brush his skin. Not when he’s drunk on your perfume again. Not when your eyes look at him in that same way they always do.

like you’re silently begging him to fuck you right there.

and his question distracts you, and you wanna lie, tell him no, but the hesitation in your voice is enough to give him the real answer, which makes him feel confident, smug, like he just won.

“well, i did miss you… and i never thought that when i saw you again it would be with… him.” The last part was said with a disgust you couldn't ignore.

and deep down… your chest felt warm knowing he doesn't like this.

“Jack…”

“are you satisfied?”

three words, three that took your breath away once again, because you know he's referring to everything. He's not just asking you about sex. His eyes don't lie. And you wanna lie, for him and for you, but you can't, you can't form a false sentence in your mind.

so you stay silent for a couple of minutes, not even hearing the music, the conversations, the people. Under his gaze, you feel small, and like it was just the two of you, like old times.

your silence might be answer enough, but he wants to hear you say it, wants to know that you wanna join your lips with his, that you too want to sneak into the bathroom behind your back and remember who you belong to.

“he's not you, Jack,” you whispered, ashamed, guilty. And he took it as a green light, attaching his mouth to yours like a magnet, like it was the sign he'd been waiting for.

and that night, when you find yourself back at home, without Matt, with Jack, and with no regrets… you know your life is about to turn upside down once again.

but you don't regret it. Not when you feel his hands on your body again, and his cock being welcomed home, forcing its way into your soaked, tight pussy.

and you're sensitive, you cry, you whimper. You feel him everywhere, and you know the night is just beginning now.

he makes you feel alive, like you're a teenager again, and you wouldn't change that for anything.

all that's left is to apologize to Matt, if Jack doesn't do something about it first.

[mingi-s-dimples]

「 A Glimpse of Us - Wooyoung 」 - 'a valentine's day special'

“Be good and let me touch what’s mine.”

pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth, romantic

summary: just a valentine’s night filled with forbidden touches, teasing glances, and a mirror that reveals everything.

wc: 7.4k

warnings: dom!woooyoung, cocky and teasy!wooyoung, slightly bratty and teasy!reader, public touching, dom/sub dynamic, bondage\restraints (ribbon), oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, deepthroating, overstim, orgasm control (slightly), multiple orgasms (+squirting), spanking/slapping, marking, teasing, dirty talk, choking, breath play, voyeurism (mirror sex), mirror sex, literal public fingering for like some seconds under the table, biting, manhandling, missionary and doggy, mating press, slight power play, hair pulling, gagging, cum eating, possessiveness, unprotected (booo use protection irl!!!), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: I went a little overboard, lmao.. but I love risky/public interactions so damn much.. and mirror sex is a MUSTTT (i'm a virgin i ain't having no mirror sex but writing and reading about it... sounds so nice and hot). i haddd to combine some of my lil kink (and now i'm gonna expose myself, tmi: breath play/restraints/public interactions/choking/missionary/mirror sex/biting/hair pulling - again i ain't had no sex 🧍‍♀️ i'm creative and one of my attributes is being able to visualise things so-. anywayssss new wooyoung fic we cheered yayyyy 🤗🤗 love you guys !! (i expect y'all to show me love in the commemts 😋)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The restaurant glowed under dim chandelier lights, the air thick with expensive perfume and the low murmur of hushed conversations. Couples sat close, fingers entwined, eyes filled with whispered promises of what would come after dessert.

But none of them—none of them—burned like he did.

Wooyoung barely touched his wine, his fingers toying idly with the stem of his glass, but his focus? Unwavering. All on you.

His stare was suffocating—dark, heavy, ravenous. You felt it lingering on your skin, drinking you in, stripping you bare.

The dress you wore was sin incarnate. Red. Silk. Dangerous. It hugged your body like temptation itself, slipping just far enough off your shoulder to make his fingers twitch with the urge to drag it down further. His gaze traveled lower, to the delicate dip of your collarbones, to the way the fabric stretched over your thighs when you crossed them.

Your lips curled, slow and teasing. “Like what you see?”

His jaw flexed, his fingers gripping the stem of his glass a little too tightly. “You know I do.”

You had him wrapped around your little finger, but tonight? Tonight, he wasn’t playing your game.

A waiter approached, refilling his glass. Wooyoung thanked them—too politely, considering the way his hand had just landed on your thigh under the table.

Your breath hitched.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t react. Just kept swirling his wine, pretending like his fingers weren’t already pushing the fabric of your dress higher, higher—

Your pulse raced. “Wooyoung—”

“Shh,” he murmured, voice velvety soft. “Don’t make a scene, sweetheart.”

The pad of his thumb dragged over the inside of your thigh, a ghost of a touch, barely there. The cool bite of his rings against your overheated skin made you shudder, made you ache.

Your thighs clenched together instinctively. His fingers flexed.

“Open.”

Not a request. A command.

Your stomach tightened. “Wooyoung, we’re in public—”

“And?”

Finally, finally, he turned his head. Dark eyes met yours—molten, unreadable, heavy with intent. His fingers inched higher, teasing at the lace of your underwear.

“No one can see under this table,” he murmured, voice thick with promise, with danger. His fingers traced delicate circles just beside where you needed him. “Be good and let me touch what’s mine.”

Fuck.

Your knees parted—just enough for him to slide his fingers further.

His breath stuttered. Barely noticeable. But you caught it.

“Fuck, baby…” His voice dropped, deeper, rougher. “You’re already wet for me.”

A smirk played at your lips. “And?”

His gaze snapped up to yours. Something in him shifted.

“Want me to spell it out for you, sweetheart?”

Before you could respond, he pushed the lace to the side and slid two fingers in—slow, deep.

Your breath hitched violently.

They stretched you just enough to make your thighs tremble, your grip tightening around your wine glass. His rings were cold against your heat, a delicious contrast to how filthy this was.

He didn’t move—just kept them there, buried inside, letting you feel every inch.

Your lips parted on a silent gasp.

Wooyoung’s smirk grew, his other hand curling into a fist against his thigh. He was enjoying this. Enjoying your struggle to stay composed.

“You like that?” he murmured, his voice pure sin. “Like having my fingers stuffed inside you while you pretend nothing’s happening?”

You could barely breathe. Your walls clenched around his fingers in protest as he slowly—too slowly—pulled them out.

A frustrated whimper caught in your throat. The loss was unbearable.

Wooyoung just chuckled, low, smug, devastating. He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum. Tasting you. Right there. At the table. You nearly shattered.

Your voice came out shakier than you intended. “You didn't just-”

Wooyoung’s smirk deepened. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, eyes flicking over your parted lips, your dazed expression. “You don’t know me at all, do you?”

The bill arrived. Wooyoung didn’t even look at it. Just slid his card onto the tray, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Let’s go.”

Your stomach clenched. The real Valentine’s night was just about to begin.

The second you slipped into the car, Wooyoung’s hand was on your thigh again.

He hadn’t said a word since leaving the restaurant, but he didn’t have to. His grip spoke volumes—fingers pressing just a little too hard, like he was barely reining himself in.

You were soaked. Still aching from what he had done at the table, still needing more. But instead of letting him have full control like you usually did, you decided to push back. Be bold.

So, as soon as he started the engine, you reached over.

Your fingers glided over his thigh, teasing. Innocent at first. But then they slid lower, over the firm muscle, over the sharp lines of his pants, until— There.

Your hand pressed lightly against his already hard cock.

Wooyoung’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t make a sound. But you felt it—the way his muscles tensed, the way his jaw ticked as he exhaled slowly through his nose.

Oh, he was holding back. Good.

You let your fingers trace the shape of him through his slacks, nails just barely scraping, feeling the heat of him.

His voice was dangerously calm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You shrugged, rubbing your palm against the length of him in slow, lazy strokes. “Returning the favor.”

He chuckled, low and dark. “Oh, baby.” His head tilted slightly, eyes still trained on the road. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”

You grinned, pressing down a little harder. “Don’t I?”

His fingers flexed against the wheel, a quiet curse slipping past his lips. But still, he didn’t stop you.

And for the next few minutes, you played. Your fingers moved with no real intention—just teasing, just testing. Every now and then, you squeezed just a little, felt him twitch beneath your touch, felt the way he shifted in his seat like he was seconds away from snapping.

You loved this. Loved seeing him struggle. But then, just when you thought you had him on edge— He laughed. A deep, amused sound, dangerous in a way that sent a chill down your spine.

“Nice try,” he mused, finally grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away. He brought it to his lips, pressing a mockingly soft kiss against your knuckles. “But you’re not getting fucked in the car tonight.”

Your stomach flipped.

He smirked at your frustration. “Don’t pout, sweetheart. I have something much better waiting at home.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you—”

“You’ll see.”

And with that, he pressed down on the gas pedal, eager to get you home.

—

The moment you stepped through the door, you noticed it.

A massive bouquet of deep red roses sat in the center of the room. The petals were lush, velvety, perfect—tied together with long, silk ribbons that cascaded down like waterfalls.

Your lips parted in surprise. “Wooyoung…”

“You like them?” His voice was smooth as he stepped behind you, hands landing on your waist. “Had them delivered while we were out.”

“They’re beautiful,” you breathed, fingertips grazing over a silk ribbon. “But… this wasn’t the gift you were talking about, was it?”

His chuckle was pure sin. “No, baby.”

Then his hands turned you gently. Your eyes followed the motion, scanning the room—until they landed on it.

Oh. A mirror. Huge. Tall. Leaned against the wall, perfectly positioned to face the bed.

Your breath caught. He had set it up on purpose. For you. For this.

Wooyoung stepped closer, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, “Now, let’s play a little game, shall we?”

Fuck. The mirror loomed in front of you. Massive. Clear. Unforgiving. And behind you? Wooyoung.

He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread just enough to let you settle between them, his hands resting dangerously low on your waist. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, voice a velvet purr as he whispered, “You know why I got this, don’t you?”

Your pulse skipped. His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, ghosting over the silky fabric as he slowly—so slowly— inched it up your thighs.

You swallowed hard, lips parting. “To… see me?”

Wooyoung hummed, the sound low and approving.

“To see you,” he murmured. “To see how fucking gorgeous you look when I touch you.”

His fingers slid higher, teasing the soft skin beneath the fabric, fingertips grazing where you wanted him most—but never quite touching. You shivered.

“You look so good in this dress, baby,” he continued, voice thick with praise, thick with hunger. “But I bet you look even better underneath it.”

And then— He lifted it. Higher. Higher. Until the fabric pooled at your waist, revealing the matching lace underneath. Red. Delicate and intricate—so perfectly sinful that the moment Wooyoung saw it, his breath hitched.

“Fuck.”

A curse. Barely a whisper, but thick with pure, unfiltered want.

His hands tightened on your hips, his chest rising and falling a little too fast as he took in the sight of you—flushed, needy, sitting so pretty in his lap.

“You wore this for me?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded. “I thought you’d like it.”

Wooyoung chuckled, dark and low. “Like it?” His teeth grazed your shoulder, a teasing nip. “Sweetheart, I think I might just lose my mind.”

And then—he moved you. Just a little. Just enough to shift you forward. Just enough to give him room.

You felt it before you saw it—the sound of his belt unbuckling, the soft rustle of fabric as he undid his slacks.

Your breath caught. Then—he freed himself.

His cock sprang forward, thick, flushed, heavy against his stomach, the tip already glistening. But he didn’t take his pants off.

Didn’t need to. He just leaned back slightly, smirking at your stunned expression in the mirror.

“See what you do to me?” His fingers dragged slowly up your spine, making you shiver. “Now, be a good girl… and watch.”

The heat between your thighs was unbearable.

Every brush of Wooyoung’s fingertips against your skin sent electric shivers down your spine. His touch was slow, torturous, deliberate. Like he was taking his time unwrapping his gift.

And that’s exactly what you were to him right now—a present, waiting to be ruined.

His voice was a whisper against your neck, hot and teasing. “You look so pretty like this, you know?”

You swallowed hard, breath unsteady. “Like what?”

His lips curled. “Like you’re waiting to be touched.”

A deep flush crept up your skin, spreading down your chest. You wanted to deny it, to act unaffected—but you couldn’t. Not when his hands were already slipping beneath the hem of your dress.

He let out a soft, amused sigh as his fingertips grazed the lace of your panties. “Red,” he murmured, dragging the fabric between his fingers. “Just like your dress.”

The approval in his voice sent a new wave of heat through you. “I should’ve known,” he continued, voice lower now, smoother, filthier. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband, tugging it down just enough to tease. “You’re always so good at making yourself look fuckable.”

Your stomach twisted.

Before you could even think to respond, he started sliding them down—agonizingly slow. The silk dragged along your skin, soft and barely there, and yet you felt everything. You felt the way his fingers brushed your thighs as he pushed them lower. You felt the way his breath fanned against your neck, warm, smug, hungry. You felt the sharp edge of arousal tighten in your gut, because— Fuck.

Wooyoung wasn’t just taking them off. He was watching. His eyes flickered to the mirror, watching your reflection, watching the way your bare skin was slowly revealed. Watching you squirm.

“You’re so shy all of a sudden,” he mused, his tone dripping with amusement. “A few minutes ago, you were rubbing your thighs together at dinner, desperate for my fingers.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But Wooyoung knew you. He knew every little thing that made you weak. And right now? That weakness was the way he took his time.

Your panties finally pooled around your ankles. Wooyoung let them stay there, his focus shifting to the mess you’d made of yourself.

His breath hitched. A low groan rumbled through his chest, his grip on your thighs tightening.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

You didn’t have to look. You knew what he was seeing. Glistening arousal. Dripping, pooling, slick. And worst of all? You knew exactly what he was about to say.

“Look at you,” he murmured, fingers tracing your inner thighs. “Fucking soaked.”

Your breath hitched. You tried to turn away—tried to hide, but his hand flew up. Fingers curled around your jaw, firm and commanding, tilting your chin forward—forcing your gaze onto the mirror.

“Eyes. On. Yourself.”

Your pulse stuttered.

"You’re gonna watch how pretty you look when I touch you."

And then— He touched you.

A slow, teasing drag of his fingers, tracing your folds, spreading your slick. The wet sound filled the space between you. Your thighs tensed, a whimper slipping past your lips.

“You’re dripping all over my lap, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with pure sin. “Such a messy girl.”

Your chest rose and fell, your breath ragged, but then— He pushed two fingers inside. Deep, slow, stretching you open.

Your body jerked, a sharp moan spilling past your lips, and Wooyoung groaned, curling his fingers as he drank it in. Your sounds. Your reflection. Your body trembling in his lap. All of it—all of you.

"That's my good girl," he purred, lips grazing your ear. "Now… let’s make you come apart just like this."

His fingers moved with cruel precision, curling deep, pressing into that spot that had you tensing, trembling in his lap. Each movement was slow but deliberate, dragging slick arousal out of you, spreading it with each stroke. The wet, sinful sounds filled the dimly lit bedroom, mixing with the low rasp of Wooyoung’s voice against your ear.

"Look at yourself."

You tried—God, you tried—but the heat burning through you made it hard to keep your eyes open, hard to focus on the reflection in front of you. The mirror framed everything—the way you writhed in his lap, the way his veined hand disappeared between your thighs, working you open like he had all the time in the world.

But Wooyoung wasn’t having it. His free hand—strong, commanding—gripped your chin, tilting your head back up. His rings were cool against your flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heat consuming you.

"I said, look." His voice dipped lower, dangerously soft. "Watch how pretty you are when you fall apart for me."

Your breath hitched as he curled his fingers deeper, pushing them in knuckle-deep before withdrawing just enough to tease your entrance again. The drag was torturous, making you whimper, making you squirm in his hold, but he held you steady with an arm firm around your waist.

"That’s it," he praised, voice thick with hunger. "You feel that, baby? Feel how wet you are for me?"

You could barely speak, barely breathe, drowning in the pleasure he was dragging out of you so effortlessly.

"You're making a mess," he murmured, licking his lips as he spread you open wider, his fingers moving faster now, thrusting into you with obscene, wet sounds. His thumb pressed against your clit, circling just right, and your whole body tensed, toes curling, thighs shaking—

"That's it, come on, let me feel you," he coaxed, his grip tightening around your jaw as he forced you to look at yourself unraveling in the mirror.

The sight was too much. His hand between your thighs. The way your body arched. The raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes as he watched you fall apart in his lap.

One last stroke—one last deep, perfect curl of his fingers—and you shattered.

Your moan broke into a gasp, your whole body trembling, muscles tightening as pleasure crashed through you. You clenched around his fingers, gripping his wrist, but he didn’t stop—not yet. He fucked you through it, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit as aftershocks wracked your body.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, completely wrecked by the sight of you coming undone in his lap. "That’s my girl."

Your body slumped against his chest, completely boneless, completely wrecked. But Wooyoung wasn’t done yet.

He brought his glistening fingers up between you, spreading them apart to watch your slick string between them. Then—slow, deliberate—he licked them clean, groaning deep in his chest.

"Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted."

Your stomach tightened, your heart pounding, because you knew—that look in his eyes promised he was nowhere near finished with you.

And the mirror? It was about to capture every second of it.

Wooyoung’s fingers ghosted over your bare, trembling thighs, his touch barely there—just enough to remind you of what he could do, what he was about to do. But then, suddenly, he pulled away.

Your dazed eyes fluttered open, confusion flickering across your flushed features as he stepped back.

"Wait here, baby," he murmured, something dark, teasing flickering in his gaze. "Don't move."

Your stomach tightened.

He disappeared into the hall, leaving you perched on the edge of the bed, legs still weak from your last orgasm. Your breath was uneven, your body still buzzing, but the anticipation? That was worse.

When he came back, your eyes zeroed in on what he held between his fingers.

A silk ribbon. Red. The same one that had been tied so beautifully around the rose bouquet he had gotten you. Your breath hitched.

Wooyoung’s smirk deepened. He knew exactly what he was doing. He reached for you, fingers tilting your chin up, eyes burning into yours. "Give me your hands, baby."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. Slowly—so, so slowly—you lifted your wrists, and Wooyoung took his time, his deft, knowing fingers looping the silk around them, tying the knot with deliberate care. Not too tight. But just tight enough.

"Beautiful," he muttered under his breath, running his fingers over the delicate bow, as if admiring his own handiwork. His eyes flicked up to yours, something dangerous, something hungry lurking in them. "You trust me?"

You swallowed hard. "Yes."

His lips parted, his breath hitching at your easy surrender. "Good girl." Then, still standing at the edge of the bed, he turned you around.

And you froze. Because when you faced him again, your wide, ruined gaze was greeted by the sight of his cock—hard, leaking, heavy, straining out of his unbuckled pants. Waiting for you.

"You know what to do," Wooyoung rasped, voice thick with barely-contained need. His fingers flexed at his sides as if he was holding himself back, but God, you could tell his patience was hanging by a thread.

The silk around your wrists tightened as you shifted forward, your hands bound but still able to reach for him. You let your breath ghost over his aching length, let your tongue flick out just barely, teasing the tip—

Wooyoung groaned. His hips jerked forward, instinctive, desperate.

"Don't—" His voice caught, rough with restraint. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. "Don't fucking tease me, sweetheart. Not now."

But you only smirked, slow and sinful. Daring. Your lips barely grazed his tip—featherlight, barely there—but it was enough. Enough to make his thighs tense beneath you, enough to have him watching your every move like a predator about to pounce.

Your lips parted just slightly as you let your warm breath fan over him. He twitched, his cock aching, throbbing, and you could tell—he was on the edge already.

But you? You weren’t done playing.

You let the very tip of your tongue flick out, just barely tracing along the slit before pulling back again, watching the way his jaw clenched. His fingers flexed at his sides, veins popping along his forearms, muscles tense, strained.

“Baby,” Wooyoung exhaled, voice low, rough, warning. “You’re testing me.”

You hummed, eyes full of mischief as you dipped lower, just barely wrapping your lips around the head, sucking so lightly it was nothing but a whisper of pressure. Then—the softest bite. Just a tiny scrape of your teeth against the sensitive tip.

His entire body locked up. The air shifted.

You barely had time to react before his hand shot out, gripping the silk ribbon binding your wrists, tugging you forward hard enough to make you gasp.

His other hand tangled into your hair, tight, unyielding.

“My darling,” he murmured, voice dark and deceptively calm. His grip in your hair tightened, just enough to make your scalp sting. “You know what happens when you play with me.”

Your breath hitched. Then—he snapped.

With a single, fluid motion, he guided you down, his hips jerking up, stuffing your mouth full, inch by inch, deeper—deeper— until your nose brushed against his pelvis.

Your throat constricted.

Wooyoung groaned, guttural and raw, head tipping back as your warmth enveloped him, your throat tight and perfect around him.

“Fuck—” His voice was wrecked, hands fisting in your hair. He pulled back just a little, letting you gasp for air, only to sink back in, deeper this time, until he could feel himself bulging in your throat.

Tears pricked your eyes.

“That’s it,” he praised, voice shaking. “Take it all, baby. Let me see how good you look like this.”

Wooyoung’s grip in your hair tightened, his fingers fisting the strands as he took control. You were completely at his mercy, hands tied prettily in front of you, lips stretched around his cock as he used your mouth exactly how he wanted.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his other hand sliding over your cheek, feeling the way his cock was stuffed deep in your throat. “So fucking pretty like this. Letting me ruin that bratty mouth.”

Ruined. You were completely ruined. Drool dripped from the corners of your lips, smearing down your chin, mixing with the tears pooling in your lashes as he fucked into your throat, relentless and unyielding, making you gag.

His breath turned ragged. “You’re gonna swallow every last drop, yeah?”

You whimpered, your throat tightening around him in response. That was all it took.

His head snapped back, a broken, wrecked moan tearing from his throat as he came—hot, thick, deep inside your mouth.

“Swallow it.” His voice was hoarse, demanding, desperate.

You did. You swallowed every drop.

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath, watching your throat work around it, watching the way you obeyed so perfectly. He finally pulled back, his cock slipping from your lips with a sinful pop, a thin strand of spit still connecting you.

His thumb traced over your swollen lips, glistening, wrecked, perfect. “Good girl.” His voice was pure sin.

Wooyoung runs his fingers along the silk ribbon still binding your wrists, humming as if considering something. Then, without a word, he unties them—just to flip you over and retie them behind your back instead.

Your stomach presses into the mattress, your arms useless behind you, bound tight with the soft silk. The position makes your back arch naturally, your hips lifting just enough for him to drag his cock through your slick folds.

"Mm, fuck—look at you, baby. All tied up, ready for me." His voice is thick, dark, filled with mocking praise as his palm glides over the swell of your ass, squeezing, spreading you apart just to watch how wet you are.

He doesn’t push in immediately. No, Wooyoung’s cruel like that—he lets his cock press, slide, tease your entrance without fully giving it to you. The tip breaches, stretches you slightly, only to pull away before he can really sink in.

Your breath hitches. “Wooyoung—”

A sharp slap lands on your ass, making you gasp. "Patience, sweetheart. I want you to feel every. Single. Inch."

And then, finally, he thrusts in. The stretch is blinding, hot, deep—forcing the breath from your lungs as he buries himself to the hilt. Your bound hands flex behind you, fingers curling, nails pressing into your own palms as Wooyoung lets you feel the full weight of him inside.

"Fuck," he groans, gripping your hips, dragging you back against him until there’s no space between your bodies. "You’re squeezing me so damn tight."

Then, he moves. Slow at first, dragging himself out halfway just to slam back in, knocking the air from your lungs. His pace quickly builds—deep, punishing thrusts, driving you forward into the mattress.

You can’t even think, can’t even form words, only gasping as the pleasure rips through you. Wooyoung, however, is relentless.

"So pretty, taking me like this." His voice is a low rasp, dripping hunger, and then he’s grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking your head up.

Your eyes meet the mirror in front of you. And fuck. The sight alone nearly sends you over the edge. Your body is completely on display—your back arched, your skin flushed, the way his cock pounds into you mercilessly. Wooyoung’s jaw is clenched, his own eyes locked on the reflection.

"Look at yourself, baby," he growls, hips snapping forward, hitting so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach. "Look at how good you take me. Look at how wrecked you are."

Your thighs shake. The pleasure is too much, too intense, each thrust pressing into your most sensitive spot, building that coil deep inside you.

"Woo—"

He doesn’t let you hide, doesn’t let you turn away. His hand tightens in your hair, his other palm slipping between your legs, rubbing messy, desperate circles against your clit.

"I wanna see you come, baby. Wanna see that pretty face when I ruin you."

And fuck, you do. The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave—body tightening, legs trembling, moans muffled by the mattress as you fall apart.

Wooyoung groans at the feeling of you squeezing him tight, pulsating around his cock. "Shit—just like that, baby. Just like that."

But he’s not done.

He keeps going, fucking you through your orgasm, drawing out every last aftershock until you’re a trembling, overstimulated mess in his hands.

And still, he doesn’t stop.

"One more," he mutters, dark and breathless against your ear. "You can give me one more, can’t you?" But he gets an idea.

"For the next one," Wooyoung murmurs, his voice thick with lust, "I want to see you."

He pulls out—slowly, just to make you feel it leave you completely, leaving you empty, aching. Before you can even catch your breath, his hands are on your waist, flipping you over onto your back.

Your bound wrists press into the sheets beneath you, the silk ribbon digging into your skin just slightly, a reminder of just how helpless you are for him.

And fuck, the way he looks at you—utterly ravenous, devouring every inch of your wrecked body sprawled beneath him. His hands glide down your thighs, spreading them apart as he settles between them, cock heavy and leaking against your folds.

He doesn't push in yet.

No, instead, he leans down—capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow, deep, messy. Tongue sliding against yours, breath hot and uneven as his hands roam your body. One grips your waist, the other palming your breast, squeezing, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers until you're arching into him.

Then, without warning—he thrusts back inside in one sharp motion, burying himself to the hilt.

You gasp, moaning into his mouth, thighs twitching as he stretches you open all over again.

"Fuck—" His breath shudders, his forehead pressing against yours as he stills, just for a second, just to feel how perfectly tight you are around him. "God, baby… you feel so fucking good."

Then, he starts moving. And this time? There’s no teasing. No slow, testing thrusts. Just him, pounding into you relentlessly. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, loud, sinful, filthy. Each thrust pushes you deeper into the mattress, pressing the breath from your lungs, forcing your body to take everything he gives.

Wooyoung leans in, mouth tracing down your jaw, your throat— then, his teeth sink into your collarbone, leaving a mark that has you whimpering, tightening around him.

He groans, hips snapping forward harder. "Gonna mark you up, baby. Gonna make sure everyone knows who you fucking belong to."

The mirror behind him reflects everything. The way his body moves over you, the flex of his muscles, the desperate way your thighs tremble, the mess between your legs from how wet you are. And then, his hand wraps around your throat, tilting your head back to make you look at it.

"Look at yourself," he pants, his grip firm, controlling. "Look at how good you fucking take it."

Your own reflection stares back at you—eyes glassy, lips parted, body bouncing with every deep thrust. The sight alone has your stomach tightening, that familiar coil winding so tight you swear you're about to break.

Wooyoung sees it. Feels it.

His free hand slides down between your bodies, fingers rubbing fast circles against your clit, forcing you higher, harder.

"Come for me," he growls against your ear, his pace brutal, unrelenting. "Come on, baby. I wanna see you fall apart."

And fuck, you do. It crashes over you all at once— your whole body tensing, a moan ripping from your throat as your walls tighten around his cock, milking him, dragging him to his own release.

Wooyoung groans, hips stuttering as he buries himself deep one last time—then he’s spilling inside you, warmth flooding your core.

He stills, breath ragged, forehead dropping to yours as he rides out every last wave.

For a moment, all you can hear is the sound of your uneven breaths, the echoes of everything you just did still lingering in the air.

Then, Wooyoung finally moves—pulling out just slightly, letting his release drip from you before pushing it back in with two fingers, groaning at the sight. "Not wasting a drop, sweetheart."

His grip on your thighs tightened, fingers digging into your heated skin as he pulled out, only to shove himself back inside with one slow, deep thrust. Your body trembled against his chest, knees digging into the mattress as you whined, overwhelmed, ruined—

And yet, it still wasn’t enough for him.

His hands spread your ass apart, watching the mess he had made, his cum already starting to drip out of you. Wooyoung cursed under his breath, the sight alone enough to make his cock throb inside you.

"Look at that, baby. My cum dripping right out of you…" His voice was raw, wrecked with pure lust. "Guess I’ll just have to fuck it back in, huh?"

His words made your body clench around him, the need to be filled, taken, owned consuming every inch of you. But just as he rolled his hips again, slow and deep, stretching you all over again, something in his head clicked.

No. He wanted more. He needed to see you fall apart for him. He pulled out suddenly, leaving you gasping, aching, empty, needy— only to flip you onto his lap, your tied wrists falling between you both.

"Ride me."

Your eyes widened, but before you could process his words, he was already guiding you onto him, his cock stretching you open all over again, sinking into your heat inch by inch until he was buried deep inside.

His head fell back, a deep, guttural groan ripping from his throat. His hands—one gripping your hip, the other tugging at your tied wrists behind your back—held you still, letting him savor the way you clenched around him.

"Fuck," he hissed, voice strained. "You feel so good. So tight around me—"

You shifted slightly, testing him, rolling your hips just a little. His reaction was instant. A sharp gasp, his fingers digging in harder, his cock twitching deep inside you.

You did it again. And again.

Until you were bouncing, your thighs burning from the effort, the obscene sound of your bodies meeting filling the room.

Wooyoung lifted his head, dark, heated gaze locking onto the mirror behind you. His breath hitched, his jaw clenching, his cock twitching inside you.

"Fuck," he groaned, his grip tightening on your wrists. "I could cum just from seeing your pretty ass bounce on me like that."

His hand flew to your ass, delivering a sharp slap that had you crying out, your walls fluttering around him.

"Yeah? You like that?" he rasped, voice dripping with hunger. His other hand grabbed your breasts, squeezing, marking, claiming—

Then, with no warning, he shoved you down onto him, forcing you to take him to the hilt, making you feel every inch, every vein, every twitch.

"Take it, sweetheart," he growled, holding you down, rolling his hips up into you. "Take all of it."

His pace was relentless, unforgiving, ruinous. He kept you pressed flush against him, forcing you to feel him, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror—

And you loved every second of it.

Wooyoung’s fingers tightened on your wrists, the silk ribbon straining against your skin as he dragged you down onto him over and over again. Your thighs burned, your body trembling as you tried to keep up, but he wasn’t having it.

"Oh, you’re tired, baby?" His voice was mocking, filthy, dripping with dark amusement. "Too bad. I’m not done with you yet."

Before you could whimper a protest, he hooked his arms under your thighs, lifted you effortlessly, and pushed you onto your back—never once slipping out of you.

The mirror loomed on your side, forcing you to watch.

He folded you in half, pressing your knees to your chest and placing your legs in his shoulders, locking you in place beneath him. His cock slammed back inside, deep, unrelenting, raw—

"There she is," he groaned, watching your face twist, watching the way you gasped, helpless beneath him. "Look at you, baby. Look at how fucking wrecked you are."

You turned your face away, embarrassed, overwhelmed— But he wasn’t having that, either. His fingers shot out, gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Nuh-uh," he growled, pinning you with his stare, his pace punishing. "You wanted this. You wanted me to ruin you. So fucking take it. Take it and watch yourself be my little slut in that mirror."

His hand slid down, down, down, until his fingers found your aching, throbbing clit. The first touch had you jerking under him, whining, breathless.

"Oh, you’re so fucking sensitive," he cooed, mocking, eating up the way you squirmed, the way you clenched around him. "What is it, baby? Can’t handle it?"

You sobbed, your body on fire, pleasure ripping through every nerve. Your answer was incoherent, a mess of whimpers and gasps, your nails digging into the silk ribbon binding your wrists.

Wooyoung laughed, a dark, wicked sound.

"Poor baby," he murmured, fingertips flicking, circling, pressing— fucking destroying you. "Come for me. Come all over my cock like the perfect little mess you are." he said as he pounded into you relentlessly, as deep as possiblez hitting that spot over and over again until you couldn't hold back anymore.

Pleasure slammed into you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless, mindless, utterly shattered. Your back arched, your thighs shaking, your walls pulsing and fluttering around him.

"Oh, fuck yes," he groaned, voice wrecked, needy. "That's it, baby. Give it to me.”

Wooyoung didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. If anything, he fucked you through it harder, deeper, as if he wanted to burn the feeling into your body, into your very soul.

"One more," he muttered, voice dark, coaxing, hips snapping against you, fingers merciless on your clit. "You can give me one more, baby. I know you can."

Your entire body trembled, your thighs locking around his shoulders in a feeble attempt to push him away, to escape. But Wooyoung just laughed, dark and wrecked, catching both of your bound wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

"Oh, you’re running? Cute," he murmured, lips dragging down your throat, nipping, soothing, marking. "But you know better, don’t you? You know I’ll get what I want."

You sobbed, breathless, completely wrecked, the aftershocks of your first orgasm still rippling through you as his fingers tormented your clit, his cock plunging deep.

"Too much—fuck, Wooyoung, I—"

"Too much?" His voice dripped mock sympathy, but his eyes—those fucking eyes—held nothing but pure hunger, pure possession. "Then why’s your pretty little cunt still squeezing me so fucking tight, huh?"

A sob caught in your throat, your body trapped between running from the pleasure and diving headfirst into it.

"That’s it, baby," he purred, fucking into you deeper, sharper, his fingers never relenting, never stopping. "Give it to me. Let me feel you come apart all over me."

You tried to hold on, tried to fight it, but the pleasure was relentless, brutal, all-consuming. And then—

A strangled, shattered cry tore from your lips as your body snapped, back arching, legs trembling, pleasure crashing over you so violently it left you mindless.

And then—it happened.

Your orgasm hit so hard, so deep, that you had no control. Your walls clenched around him with impossible force, and then—

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, his entire body tensing as a glistening wave of arousal splashed against his abs, coating his skin, soaking the sheets.

A moment of stunned silence. Then—his groan was filthy, ruined, desperate.

"Fuck—baby, you just—"

Yep, you squirted all over.

But his words cut off into a broken growl, his head dropping back, hips stuttering as the sight of you—trembling, soaking him, eyes glazed with pleasure—pushed him over the edge.

With a harsh, shuddering thrust, he buried himself deep, moaning deep in his chest as he came hard, spilling every last drop inside you.

For a moment, neither of you could move. Could breathe.

Wooyoung let out a wrecked, breathless laugh, running a shaky hand through his damp, sweaty hair, before looking down at you.

"You’re fucking unreal, baby," he rasped, a cocky, absolutely ruined smirk curling his lips. He dragged a lazy hand over his abs, collecting your release on his fingers and bringing them up to his lips, licking them clean, tasting you.

"Mmm," he mused, grinning down at your still-trembling body. "Happy fucking Valentine’s Day, baby."

—

The room was thick with heat, the scent of roses and sweat and sex lingering in the air. The bed beneath you was an absolute mess—sheets damp, bodies trembling, breaths unsteady.

Wooyoung let out a wrecked, satisfied sigh, his body boneless as he collapsed beside you, spent but still buzzing from what had just happened. His hand immediately found yours, fingers lacing together, warm, grounding.

"Damn.. fucking hell," he muttered, voice deep, gravelly, almost dazed. He turned his head, looking at you with a hazy, fucked-out grin. "You good, baby?"

You let out a soft hum, cheeks flushed, body still tingling. Your muscles felt like jelly, pleasure still simmering under your skin.

But you weren’t done. Not yet.

Your leg slid over his thighs, slow and deliberate, your body shifting as you straddled him, pressing your bare chest against his.

Wooyoung huffed out a breathless laugh, his hands immediately gripping your ass, fingers squeezing, kneading, holding you close. "Clingy thing," he teased, voice still lazy, wrecked. "Wanna be close, huh?"

You nuzzled into his neck, lips brushing over his pulse. "Mhm."

And then— Your hand slid down, slow, teasing, fingers brushing over his cock. Wooyoung’s body tensed.

"Baby," he muttered, a warning, but also intrigued. His grip on your ass tightened, almost possessive. "What are you doing?"

You pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his jaw, then whispered, "One more, Wooyoung."

His breath hitched. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark, still-hungry eyes searching yours. Then— His lips curled into the filthiest, cockiest smirk.

"That’s my fucking girl," he murmured, voice drenched in approval, in pride.

His hands slid up your spine, warm, slow, soothing, before tangling into your hair and pulling you in for a deep, lazy, absolutely ruinous kiss.

You sighed into his mouth, completely lost in him, while your fingers wrapped around his still-sensitive cock, stroking so slowly, so gently.

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath, hips twitching, torn between restraint and the overwhelming need to keep going.

"Fucking tease," he muttered against your lips, groaning when you gave him a gentle squeeze, thumb pressing against the tip.

"Shh," you murmured, your lips ghosting over his, barely touching. Your hand continued its slow, torturous strokes, slicking him up, feeling every twitch, every pulse.

Wooyoung let out a low, wrecked groan, his hands gripping your hips, his fingertips pressing into your skin as he let you do whatever the hell you wanted to him.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered, tilting his head to capture your mouth again, kissing you slow, deep, messy. His tongue slid against yours, matching the rhythm of your strokes, of your teasing squeezes.

His cock twitched against your palm, aching, leaking, desperate. But he didn’t rush you. He let you play.

Because this was your moment. Your little… ruined aftercare session.

And Wooyoung? He’d give you whatever you wanted.

Your strokes were slow, teasing, just enough to keep Wooyoung on the edge of pleasure without throwing him over. His hands trembled against your hips, his breath coming out in shuddering exhales between the deep, languid kisses you kept pressing against his lips.

"You're killing me, sweetheart," he muttered, voice huskier than ever, wrecked.

You smiled against his mouth, stroking him just a little tighter, a little slower, letting your thumb circle the tip. His abs flexed under you, thighs tensing, his grip tightening on your waist.

"Am I?" you murmured, dragging your lips down his jaw, down his throat, pressing delicate, teasing kisses.

His head tilted back against the pillows, exposing more of his marked-up, flushed skin. His breaths came out sharp, broken, needy.

"Fuck, baby, you are—" His voice cut off into a groan as you tightened your grip just enough, just perfectly.

His fingers dug into your skin, barely holding himself back from flipping you over and pounding into you all over again. But no—this wasn’t about that.

This was about you ruining him, slowly.

You kissed your way down his chest, his stomach, tasting the sweat and heat of him, letting your lips ghost over every ridge of muscle, every little tremor of his body.

"Shit—" His voice broke, hips jerking up into your touch. He was so close, so sensitive, so overwhelmed.

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, like a plea.

You stroked him through it, drawing out every pulse, every twitch, every last bit of blissful ruin until he finally came, his release spilling, painting his abs, his breath hitching, his whole body trembling beneath you.

He let out a wrecked, low groan, his head tilting back, throat exposed, completely undone for you.

You didn’t hesitate. You lowered your head, pressing soft, reverent kisses to his abs, to the mess he’d made.

And then—your tongue flicked out, slowly licking up his release, cleaning him up with the most delicate, sensual licks, savoring the taste of him, the feeling of him, the way he fucking shivered beneath you.

Wooyoung’s breath hitched, his half-lidded, fucked-out eyes staring down at you in pure disbelief. His fingers tangled into your hair, not pulling, just holding you, grounding himself, worshiping you in his own way.

You kissed over his stomach, up his chest, pressing slow, warm kisses to his skin, whispering against him, "Thank you, Woo."

He swallowed hard, his grip on you tightening. "For what, baby?" he rasped.

You nuzzled into his neck, your lips brushing his jawline as you whispered, "For everything."

Then, softer—so soft it almost got lost in the haze of the moment—"I love you."

Wooyoung’s heart fucking stopped. His arms wrapped around you in an instant, flipping you both so he could cradle you against his chest. His lips found your temple, his warmth enveloping you, his voice low, thick, utterly devoted.

"I love you more, baby."

And just like that, the night faded into soft whispers and tangled limbs, into slow, lazy touches and warm sheets, into nothing but each other.

Because this—this was the real Valentine’s gift.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

First off your writing is incredible. I was in literal tears reading your Daryl fic.

But I thought I'd send in a request, a jealous Daryl. Doesnt have to be established reader, pretty easy. I just like it when he's all riled up. 😂 Please and thank you

Jealousy

Summary: He could have just told her, couldn’t he? That would have been simple. He’d had to yell at her instead though, because Daryl can never do things the usual way round. Hand down her skirt and about to run away for the second time really was more his style.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Nervous!Daryl. Angst. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Alexandria era. Vague, very short smut.

A/N: Thank you for this request and the beautiful compliment! I may have rushed the editing a little so if you notice any errors please tell me!

It’s not that she’s been avoiding him, it’s the complete opposite, she’s absolutely, inarguably, infuriatingly normal. He’s clawing at the walls of his own brain and she’s acting as if everything is fine. Maybe it is, he thinks, maybe she’s over it, maybe she’s been over it since the second he screwed it up and he’s the only one still hanging on to whatever it was in the first place. He can’t even claim he’s hanging on to much, they’d barely even kissed and it was months ago, but he hadn’t exactly been good at this kind of thing before the world threw a damn apocalypse into the mix.

He’d loved her since the moment he’d heard her laugh. He’d found her in a cabin in the woods on a run, just after Woodbury had fallen, back when the prison was still strong. He didn’t want to bring her back, one more mouth to feed, one more person to keep an eye on, but she’d saved him from a rogue walker he hadn’t seen coming, shrugged like it was nothing, like she’d have done it for anyone. She’d offered him food and water, a rundown but relatively safe place to lay low for a few hours, she was kind. The words were tumbling from his lips before he’d really thought about them.

He’d avoided her for a good while, despite her efforts to befriend him, he’d lost so much already he didn’t want to let her in. But then he’d said something sarcastic, something snappy and prissy and she’d laughed; an honest to goodness belly laugh that had her head throwing back and him smiling from the side of his mouth despite himself and something deep in his chest felt warm.

So he’d loved her, quietly and from a distance. Safe. Until she’d kissed him.

He watches as she laughs, the same laugh, big and warm and real. It’s not aimed at him, and he hates it. After he’d run away from her, he worried he wouldn’t hear it again, but he’d been wrong, and this was worse. He taps his fingers against his thigh, trying to keep a scowl from his face. Failing. He thinks steam would come out of his ears if it were within the realm of possibility.

He’s always too late. Always takes too long to get comfortable. Always spends so long waiting that he misses out on the thing he wanted, and she’s not a thing but his blood is fucking boiling. At the man she’s talking to, at himself, at her too if he’s a little honest.

The man, who’s name he doesn’t know and now never wants to, is handsome. If you’re into that suburban, well groomed, boring kind of thing. He has a punchable face. Daryl is not allowed to punch people unless its necessary anymore, Rick has told him that explicitly but surely flirting with his…flirting with the woman he’s in lo…flirting with her makes it necessary.

He can’t stand the thought that he might not be the last person to kiss her lips. He can’t stand looking any longer, but he doesn’t mean for his knife to clatter loudly on the floor as he tries to flee. He doesn’t dare turn around, but he’d be able to tell she was looking at him even in pitch black. Knows she’s watching the solid, tense set of his shoulders as he retreats.

-

She startles at the sight of him sitting on her porch, quickly schooling her face into the nonchalance she’s been practicing around him since they arrived. It was easy enough, on the road, to pretend he hadn’t hurt her. They were so busy trying to survive, so busy being busy that she could avoid an inevitable conversation where she’d had to apologise for getting their wires crossed.

But since they’ve been behind the walls of Alexandria? She can’t stop herself from searching him out, finding excuses to be near him, trying to act like they were back at the prison. Friends. She can do friends. She has been absolutely nailing being just friends, as long as she can ignore the tightness in her chest and the way she feels like she’s going to cry every time she walks away. Friends.

She flips the knife in her hand with ease, shielding his hand from the blade as she passes it back to him. He nods his thanks as he squints up at her.

“What crawled up your ass tonight?” She asks, but there’s a teasing smile on her face as leans against the railing to her house. The porch light is dim, warm golden yellow illuminating them. Daryl hasn’t been one for a lot of words in a long time, but he intends to bat the question away, distract her with something funny, something acerbic but good natured. Friendly, he can do friendly. He can’t, could barely do it on the road after everything happened. Now though, when she’s showered and brushed her hair and dressed up, lit up by a damn porch light? He doesn’t stand a chance.

“Dun’ kiss him”

“What the fuck?”

Fists clenching to calm himself down, unfurling them when he feels more grounded, he looks up at her again, daring to lock his eyes onto hers.

“Ya like him…tha’ guy?” He tries to keep his voice steady, hopes she doesn’t understand he’s begging her to say no, begging for her to give him a chance, but how many can one man have?

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Dun’ kiss him, please” He asks again, with a shake of his head, knocking his hair in front of his eyes as the ground in front of him becomes the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. She sighs quietly, but the sound reverberates in his brain, he can hear the disappointment that weighs it down, the disappointment he’d hoped to avoid by avoiding talking about this thing between them entirely.

“I’m not having this conversation with you on the porch” She pushes herself off the railing, turning to open the front floor. She means for him to leave but he follows her inside, tapping his fingers nervously against his thigh as he closes the door behind him. Every part of his body is telling him to run.

“I know I ain’t got no right t’ ask”

“No, you don’t. Why are you asking?”

“‘cause I can’t stand it”

“Why do you care?”

“’cause ya shouldn’t be wit’ him!”

“Who should I be with then, Daryl? Huh?” He doesn’t respond, not that she expects him to, head hanging low toward the ground “You have no answer, because it’s not you, is it? You didn’t want me!”

“I didn’t-what?”

He’d tried to make it obvious, had given her extra food, had nudged her shoulder with his, had talked to her more than anyone else. But she’d tried to kiss him and he’d fled, had retreated safely back into the comfort of his walls. Then he’d come back. He’d kissed her and again he’d fled. Daryl Dixon is the human embodiment of emotional whiplash. He knows he’s not easy, but he thought at least he’d been clear, he can’t imagine the way he looks at her has ever been subtle.

“I did want ya”

Her mind thinks over the weeks he’s been standoffish, the time he’s spent avoiding her touches, thinks back the first week they’d arrived here and he’s barely spoken a word, all the while watching her with an intensity that would have been uncomfortable if she hadn’t wanted his attention.

“I can’t do this, you can’t play with my head because you’re jealous all of a sudden”

“Ain’t jealous” He argues, knowing they both know he’s lying, but he still, even now, won’t let himself be vulnerable. “I know I fucked up, ‘kay? I know, but I’m ‘ere now!”

He snarls, frustrated and bordering on vicious, practically diving towards her as his hands grip her hips tight enough to bruise. He smashes his lips against hers, unpractised and clumsily before his brain catches up and he goes to pull away. Her response is so fast he doesn’t get a chance, dragging him back in as his brain shuts down.

The kiss is hard, angry and fast, all hip bones pressing into hip bones and teeth clacking against teeth. It’s not the romantic, affectionate start she was hoping for. It’s not the gentle steady and slow he was. She’s angry, he is too she can feel it in his body as he presses it against her.

The room spins, air thick and foggy with months’ worth of frustration, tension so thick it could be cut, it’s only when he swallows a heady, deep moan from her that he realises he needs more. Tongue sweeping into her mouth he grips the fabric of her skirt in his hand, bunching it up until he can reach an insistent, rough calloused hand inside her underwear, ripping his lips away from hers to heave a breath in. She’s soaked, dripping around his fingers and he’ll have time to be absolutely fucking floored by that when he recounts this later. His forehead sticks to hers as she moans.

It’s not that he hasn’t had trysts before, it’s just that they were short and unimportant, he’s barely been confident enough to use his hands. He wants to touch her in the right way, wants to know what he’s doing but she’s snaking a hand into his trousers and wrapping her fingers around his cock so thinking isn’t the top of his priorities right now.

It feels incredible, and in the vague recess of his brain he thinks he should have done this at a pace he'd be more comfortable with but he hasn’t done this in years, and barely successfully then so its not long before he comes all over her hand, whining as his head dips down to pant heavily against her collarbone. His fingers still, embarrassed and suddenly full of crippling self-doubt. She knows he’s going to remove them about a second before he does.

A thud echoes through the suddenly too big room as she tips her head back to hit the wall behind her.

“You leaving?” She lets out an incredulous laugh, hurt, betrayed, surprisingly unsurprised. The zip on his trousers seems louder than anything she’d yelled at him less than an hour before. It feels like an eternity before she lowers her head to look at him, doesn’t bother to mask the absolute disappointment on her features.

“I-uh-yeah-I”

She can practically see the walls slamming back up around him, the walls she’s been watching for weeks. A tear rolls down her cheek as he turns away from her, heading towards the front door.

“You don’t get another chance with me, Daryl” the finality in her voice makes him pause, hand on the doorknob. She sighs, hating that she’s about to give him the grace she is “You need to make up your mind, because I’m not waiting for you, not again. If you’re not certain by tomorrow you need to leave me alone”

The shaky nod from him is so small its almost imperceptible.

-

She’s not expecting the knock on her door as soon as the sun is up, really she isn’t. The whole night has been sleepless and filled to the brim with dread, knowing for sure that he wants her but fully believing he will never be able to let himself have her. She isn’t unaware of Daryl’s tendency to self-destruct. Maybe this is it, she thinks, maybe he values her enough as a friend if nothing else, to tell her face to face, but he’d never been able to before and the tiniest hint of hope lights her up as she treads carefully down the stairs.

Daryl stands there with a small, nervous but hopeful smile on his face. The hope hasn’t missed him, either. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, so out of his depth he might as well be drowning, but the knowledge that she wants this too means he’d rather fumble his way through this with her than do well without her.

“I’m a’ idiot”

“Yes you are” She laughs, setting him alight on the inside. The laugh that started al of this, almost. Doubt underneath her voice is the thing that finally settles it for him, makes him pull her towards him, gentle this time, the way he’d wanted. He’ll never let her doubt his feelings even when he doubts himself.

“I always wanted ya” he murmurs against her lips before closing the distance.

“You’re not going to run away again?”

“Ain’t runnin’, ain’t ever runnin’ again”

[froggywritesstuff]

the least judgmental demon in hell | angel dust

ship/pairing: Angel Dust x male!reader (featuring Fat Nuggets)

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

request: Could you possibly do Angel dust x Male!reader? Possibly soft/comfort where Angel dust attempts to comfort the reader after a meltdown or something similar?

warnings: mentions of dead bodies and murder, mentions of harassment towards the reader, mentions of sex, swearing (it's Hazbin Hotel so...), crying, anxiety, feeling overwhelmed, meltdowns, pet names (reader gets called baby multiple times), ooc Angel?, kinda rushed the ending, not entirely proofread 

word count: 1232

A/N: fem readers DNI, Angel Dust is a nwlnw character. I wrote in Fat Nuggets while I was editing so apologies if the writing doesn't flow as much. friendly reminder to not compare trauma :)

Hell isn't the most mental health friendly place to be. Like anyone with common sense, you're not unaware of that, and though not on your own terms, you've gotten used to it. Though it's useless, that doesn't stop you from wishing it was different some days. Wishing that maybe on your walks to the hotel you wouldn't trip over a dead body, or get harassed by other sinners, or witness a violent murder or very graphic sex scene. You were grateful that some days were better than others. However, today was not one of those days. And after an entire week of shitty days, it was too much for you.

You were on the edge of tears when you entered the hotel, ready to have a good cry in your room while hopefully cuddling with your boyfriend, but fate had other plans. More accurately, Charlie had other plans. You never allowed yourself to feel angry with Charlie. After all she had done for you, and all the other hotel patrons, working tirelessly for what seemed like a hopeless cause. However you did allow yourself to feel upset with her bad timing.

Barely a second after you returned to the hotel, she dragged you over to the lounge, rambling about one of her new trust exercises she'd come up with. Normally, Charlie would've been able to sense something was up with you in seconds, but she was clearly driven by her inspiration, too excited to slow down.

Your hands fidgeted together, your legs bouncing up and down as Charlie explained her idea. You tried to pay attention, you truly did. But you could barely even comprehend a word she was saying. Everything was too loud and your head felt like it was gonna explode.

"Hey," you felt a hand on your shoulder and looked up to your side, meeting the black, white and pink eyes of Angel. You calmed slightly at the touch of his hand, and you were able to focus on his voice, "You ok?"

You nodded. You knew he could tell you weren't ok in the slightest. He was more than familiar with faking smiles and bottling up feelings. Luckily for you, he didn't pry, instead choosing to stay close and keep an eye on you, figuring you'd much rather prefer to vent or cry to him in private.

When Charlie finished explaining her idea, she met your eyes and gestured for you to stand. A wave of stress hit you, and you did your best to hide it as you stood up, moving to stand beside her in front of everyone. You tried to focus on what she was telling you, you really did, but the overwhelming tightening in your chest paired with multiple pairs of eyes on you made it impossible. Surprisingly, you felt a million times worse when she stopped talking. You don't think she had stopped talking since you walked in the room, so her silence meant she was expecting you to start talking. 

You looked around the room, your breaths getting shallower with every second. Charlie gently placed her hand on your shoulder, a concerned look on her face. She asked if you were ok, her voice quiet so only you could hear. You don't remember clearly, but you're pretty sure you shook your head before apologising and excusing yourself. Voices called out to you in concern as you sped up the stairs, making your way to your room as quickly as possible.

You closed the door behind you, leaning your back against it and sliding down to the floor. Tears streamed from your eyes while you held your head in your hands, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself.

A knock sounded at the door, and you quickly wiped your tears away and cleared your throat, "Wh-who is it?"

"It's me." you recognised Angel's voice, his tone quieter than usual, "Can I come in?"

You jumped to your feet and rushed to the door, opening it and pulling Angel in. He was quick to hold you close, wrapping his arms around you, running his hands up and down your back to calm you.

"Just breathe baby," he whispered soothingly, his voice like music to your ears, "You're gonna be ok, I've got you."

Your breathing calmed down after a while, not before Angel lifted you off your feet - rather easily considering his height. He shut the door and gently sat you down on your bed, his hold on you never wavering as he sat beside you.

"You feelin' a little better?"

Shrugging, you pulled out of the hug, nodding your head yes.

Two of Angel's hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs wiping your tears away, while another set of hands rested on your shoulders, rubbing them softly, "You wanna talk about it?"

That would be harder to do than just breathing. You thought you were being over dramatic, getting so upset over small things every sinner goes through. Especially when you were sitting in front of Angel Dust. It's not that you doubted his love for you, but there was a small part in the back of your mind making you think he'd belittle your feelings and tell you that you were getting worked up over nothing.

"I dunno," you shrugged, "It's silly."

"Hey," Angel lifted your head slightly, getting you to meet his eyes, "You don't have to tell me if you don't wanna, but clearly it's not that silly if it's got you cryin'." you stayed quiet, and Angel could tell you were overthinking this, "Baby, you know me. I'll listen to you. I won't judge you for nothin'."

You hesitated, and Angel stood up from the bed, kissing your cheek before he stood to his full height, "Wait here," he said, hurrying out of your room and into the hallways until you couldn't see him anymore. Thankfully, you weren't alone for too long, and he arrived soon after he left, entering your room with Fat Nuggets in his arms.

You lit up at the sight of him, smiling widely when Angel sat back on the bed and placed him in your lap.

"If you're nervous, you can tell him." he pet Fat Nuggets on the head, "He's the least judgmental demon in Hell."

A soft laugh left your lips at his words. Fat Nuggets sat himself down on your lap as you pet him. You looked up at Angel, heart warming at his reassuring smile. Still slightly hesitant, you proceeded to explain everything that led up to your meltdown. And while you mainly directed it at Fat Nuggets, Angel listened intently, giving you his full attention just like he said he would. When you were finished talking, Angel wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you - and Fat Nuggets into a hug.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah..."

"Good. And it's not dumb, baby. When you don't talk about these things, they just add up and get overwhelming. You know you can always talk to me about anything, right?"

You nodded, before resting your head in the crook of his neck, "Thank you, Angel."

“Eh, it was nothin’.” he chuckled softly, before he pulled away from the hug to look you in the eyes, “I love you so much.”

You smiled. Both his words and the caring smile on his face making your heart swell, “I love you too.”

[eu0n1a]

Pls I need more of yandere Izuku!!! I BEG OF YOU!!!! I 100% believe he is stalker material and would have that wall of pictures of you.

yandere prohero izuku breaking into your home (+more Stalking details) (-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more)

your relationship seemed normal to you, he's your childhood best friend. after graduating UA and quickly rising to the top. you never escaped his mind. he misses you SO MUCH!

i mean you two have spent practically your whole lives together, and now what? nothing? he's so busy now, beating villains bloody, attending national TV interviews. if it's not the work then it's the media not giving him space to breathe. and you barely have time with all the pile of work your professors give you.

he would try his best to maintain contact with you. but everytime the messages would be hours apart. he felt you fading away and it upset him. he hasn't seen you in so long.

so he decides to visit you. issue is during his visit ...

he knows it's late at night. but something caught his eye. around the small space between the curtains and he saw YOU!

"gosh you're so cute," he thinks with heart eyes.

deciding to let himself in.

"best friends let themselves into eachother's houses, right?"

"i just want to turn off the TV, i'm doing her a favor."

taking advantage of the fact it's 3AM. passing through the white picket fence. in your backyard he opened the back door you forget to lock. Japan is one of the safest countries in the world. why lock it?

because of him. you'll learn soon.

exploring your house first, particularly your bedroom. rationalizing it by saying, "their birthday is coming up. maybe i'll find out what she likes."

of course he rationalizes every odd thing he does.

sniffing the pillows, a soft smile, whispering to himself, "mm strawberry shampoo" total lovesick idiot.

by the time, he finished learning things about you, he got to the living room. The TV radiating light on your face, everything else dark.

today was his first picture, his heart beating rapidly as he took it. gosh, how much he wanted to kiss you, hold you. you always lingered on his mind and he hates himself. hates himself for not confessing his love to you back in UA.

you could have been his. his honey, his lover. someone to dote on, someone to love, he hated how he wasn't able to caress your cheek.

but for now he had to return back home.

creating fake social media accounts. thank goodness you didn't have a private account. saving all your pictures, visiting your page whenever he could.

screenshotting pictures, making deep dives on the surroundings. who's that? he's searching up everything about the people around you in those pictures.

but he wouldn't talk to you, no. he needs to make sure he has all his facts straight about you. needs to make your reunion perfect.

instead he took pictures, videos. his phone had a whole folder dedicated to them. it was private, labeled as 'documents'. even bought a usb to upload it to his personal laptop.

pictures of you out on a walk, at a club, at home. he would dedicate his time simply staring, excusing it as "she's changed so much, i need to learn more about her".

it turned into something he couldn't help. secretly following her because 'a quirkless person must be protected. nothing will happen to them on my watch.'

familiarizing himself with you again as he opens one of his drawers. notebooks upon notebooks, all about you, from elementary to his UA years. reading through them either to give himself a good laugh or reminisce the past.

opening up a new notebook for a new era. once the pen hits the paper, he writes quickly, whispering gibberish at a rapid pace only he could understand.

(thx 4 the ask, I've literally never had one before💗)

[wrappedinpinklace]

Out of Bounds, Chapter Eleven.

(i literally stayed up all night writing chapters because i physically cannot stop!!! HAMILTON WROTE THE OTHER 51!!! mainly because im in bed sick and haven’t been able to do anything else 🤒 anyways…hope yall enjoy xoxo angel!!)

If You could disappear, You would.

The stares were constant. Relentless. Eyes trailing after you wherever you went, and then just as quickly darting away when Dick Grayson shot a scowl in their direction that promised a world of trouble if they didn’t keep their mouths shut.

“Keep gawking,” he’d mutter under his breath, “and I’ll give you something worth staring at.”

But none of that helped.

Not really.

You walked the corridors with hollow eyes and dragging footsteps, the sparkle you once carried now dulled into something muted and gray. Your hair, once carefully styled and softly curled, was now pulled into haphazard ponytails or tucked beneath your hood. Your books felt heavier. Your bed colder. Your heart? Shattered.

You hadn’t slept. That much was obvious.

The bags under your eyes were dark enough to make even Professor Nygma raise an eyebrow and threaten a pop quiz just to see if you were even still functioning.

You weren’t.

You’d dozed off during Transfiguration, forehead nearly colliding with the open pages of your notes before Stephanie nudged you awake. Whispers filled the room like smoke, curling around your name, but you didn’t have the strength to care. Twenty-four hours ago, you’d been glowing. Laughing. Believing you were loved.

Now you just felt like the punchline.

Stephanie tried. Merlin, she tried. Bringing your favorite chocolate frogs, sneaking up to the Astronomy Tower with you to stargaze, even stealing one of the first editions from the library’s restricted section just to see you smile.

But nothing worked.

Because nothing felt real anymore.

You should’ve known it was too good to be true. That someone like him could ever really want you. For someone supposedly smart, you felt like the biggest fool in the world.

⸻

(Jason’s POV)

He punched the wall.

It didn’t help. It never did. But he did it anyway.

Another detention. Another fight. Another professor shaking their head like they expected it.

He was unraveling, and everyone could see it.

The old Jason was back—brash, angry, bitter. And he wore that version of himself like armor, hoping if he leaned into the monster, he wouldn’t feel the ache in his chest every time he saw her in the corridors, eyes red, lips trembling.

He’d ruined her.

And now he was ruining himself.

Back to cutting class. Back to trading jabs with Nathan just to feel something. Back to pissing off Professor Whitlock so thoroughly he’d nearly been banned from flying.

Only Quidditch kept him sane.

The pitch was the only place he still felt like himself, like he had a reason to keep going. He didn’t tell anyone, but he wanted to go pro. Had dreamed of it ever since he was a first year, sneaking out to the stands at night to watch older students practice, imagining the roar of the crowds, the way it would feel to be wanted for once in his damn life.

But who was he kidding?

Who wanted a foul-mouthed Slytherin with a temper and a past?

She had.

She had wanted him.

And now she didn’t.

Now she couldn’t even look at him.

And he didn’t blame her.

____

Your legs felt like lead as you wandered through the empty corridor. Your books were clutched tightly to your chest, but the words on the page you’d barely glanced at during class still swam in your mind like meaningless scribbles. Everything was a blur lately—voices, footsteps, even your own thoughts.

You didn’t realize you were walking directly into someone until you hit what felt like a brick wall.

“Oh—! I—I’m sorry—”

Your words tumbled out automatically as you took a quick step back, heart stuttering in your chest. But the man you bumped into wasn’t a professor, or even a student. He was taller, sharply dressed, and far older than anyone you expected to see in the castle’s quieter halls.

You blinked in surprise as your eyes caught the face of none other than Bruce Wayne, the Defense against the Dark Arts professor.

“Ah, no harm done,” Bruce said calmly, offering her the smallest of smiles. “I should’ve been watching where I was going too.”

He had just left the Headmaster’s office, and judging by the crease between his brows and the tension in his jaw, it hadn’t been a casual visit.

Something in his expression shifted as he really looked at you—studied her. Recognition flickered in his gaze. “You’re one of Dick’s friends,” he said. “Smart girl. But you don’t look it right now, are you alright?”

You tried to form some kind of response—anything—but your head suddenly felt heavier than it should have. Your vision wobbled. The words you wanted to say stuck to the roof of your mouth.

Then everything tilted sideways.

“Oh—” you whispered, the ground coming up too fast.

But you never hit the floor.

Strong arms caught you just in time.

⸻

In the Infirmary

Your lashes fluttered before your eyes finally opened to the warm buzz of lamplight and the faint scent of healing potions. Your head throbbed, your limbs heavy under the soft blanket tucked around you.

You didn’t speak at first, too drowsy to move, too sore to sit up. But you could hear voices.

“She fainted,” Bruce said, his voice low but concerned. “Just down the hall from the Headmaster’s office. I caught her before she hit the floor—she’s clearly not been eating or sleeping well. Told the nurse the same.”

Stephanie exhaled a shaky breath. “She’s been… dealing with a lot.”

“That obvious?” Bruce asked, gaze narrowing slightly.

“She was fine a week ago,” Dick added, sitting in a chair beside the bed. “Now she’s barely making it through class. I’ve tried distracting her, but it’s like she’s gone completely numb.”

Bruce hummed softly in reply, then added, “Is she the one Jason was seeing?”

There was a heavy pause.

And then Bruce’s voice softened. “He told me bits and pieces. Not enough. But I know the look he gets when he’s trying to act like he doesn’t care. It’s the same one I wore when I was his age. And it usually means he cares more than he knows what to do with.”

Silence fell.

But Your eyes were open now, barely blinking as the words sank in. Dick’s gaze shifted and finally landed on you.

“She’s awake,” he said quietly.

Stephanie immediately leaned forward, her voice warm and worried. “Hey—there you are.”

Bruce stood back a little, a flicker of genuine relief passing through his features. “You gave us a bit of a scare.”

You blinked once, and your voice came out hoarse but even: “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Bruce said with a shake of his head. “You don’t need to apologize.”

He glanced at Dick, then back at you. “Would you mind if I spoke with her? Alone?”

Stephanie and Dick exchanged glances, hesitant but trusting. The nurse gave a silent nod and moved to the far end of the room, giving them space. With a small squeeze to your hand, Stephanie whispered, “We’ll be right outside.”

And then it was just Bruce.

The room was quiet after Stephanie and Dick slipped out, leaving only the soft sound of the infirmary’s ticking clock and the slow rise and fall of your breath. Bruce stood near the foot of your bed, tall and still, like he didn’t want to crowd you.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at you.

Not with pity. Not with judgment.

Just… observation.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“I’m not here to defend him,” Bruce said plainly. “What Jason did—how this all started—it was cruel. Immature. And I’m not going to pretend otherwise. You deserved better.”

Your throat tightened, eyes pricking again. You looked down at her blanket, twisting the edge of it between your fingers.

“But,” he added, voice a little softer, “if it means anything to you… he’s not doing well either.”

You didn’t look up, but he could tell you were listening.

“He’s suffering,” Bruce continued, tone even. “And frankly, he should be. He made his bed—now he’s lying in it. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s spiraling. And if he keeps going like this, he’s going to get expelled.”

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t known.

“He’s gotten detention nearly every day,” Bruce said, arms folded. “He’s lashing out at students, skipping meals, barely sleeping. I’ve already spoken to the Headmaster. I bought him some time, but not much. Another fight, another incident… and he can kiss his shot at Quidditch goodbye.”

He let that sink in for a moment.

Then, quietly, Bruce added, “I don’t tell you this to make you feel bad. Or to excuse him. But I thought you had a right to know.”

You nodded, slowly, without looking at him.

After a pause, Bruce stepped closer, voice softening just enough to sound more like a father and less like the imposing man she always saw in newspapers.

“But what about you?” he asked. “How have you been?”

You hesitated, then forced yourself to look up. Your voice was thin.

“I don’t know.”

“Then let me give you some advice.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Grief doesn’t have to drag you down,” Bruce said, crouching slightly to meet you at eye level. “It can—if you let it. But it can also light a fire under you. Motivate you. Turn all that hurt into something useful. Something powerful.”

You blinked at him, lips trembling, but still silent.

“I’ve seen your name brought up in meetings,” he said next. “Academic performance, magical aptitude, top of your year in two subjects. That’s not nothing. You’ve got a future.”

Your chest ached.

“And you shouldn’t throw all of that away because of a heartbreak,” he said gently. “Even one like this.”

You looked down again, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay.

Bruce stood fully once more, pulling his coat around himself. “Rest today. Then tomorrow, get up. Hit the books. Get your head back.”

He gave you a long look—quietly proud, in his way.

“Don’t let one boy’s mistake make you forget who the hell you are.”

And with that, he gave you a small nod and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

⸻

It didn’t happen overnight.

But you got back up.

Books became your lifeline again. Late nights in the library, ink staining your fingertips, parchment filled with precise notes and meticulously drawn diagrams. You stopped counting the days since the Yule Ball. Stopped waiting for letters, for explanations, for apologies.

Instead, you focused.

And somewhere in the chaos of your grief, you began to thrive.

Your professors noticed it first — your sharp answers in class, your raised hand, the quick wit that had gone dull during those awful few weeks. Stephanie noticed it second — when you cracked a joke again at breakfast, and even laughed at your own dumb pun. And you noticed it last, when you looked in the mirror and realized you didn’t look broken anymore. Just… tired. But steady.

You wore your hair up again.

You walked the halls with purpose.

You smiled.

Not every day. Not all the time. But it was there — like a flickering lantern in the dark. And even if the ache hadn’t quite gone away, you knew who you were again.

You knew your worth.

And as promised, there was no more nonsense. No boys. No late-night sneaking around. No secrets.

Just school.

Just yourself.

⸻

(Jason’s POV)

But Jason?

Jason was drowning.

He’d kept his promise to his father in the most technical way — no more full-blown fights. But aggression? That hadn’t gone anywhere. He was a storm bottled in skin, rage and guilt coiling under the surface like a curse that refused to break.

The only place it worked was on the pitch. Slytherin was unstoppable.

No team could get past their ruthless captain, the boy who moved like a man possessed, who played like every point was life or death. He scored with precision. Knocked players off brooms with terrifying accuracy. Never smiled.

Never celebrated.

He just won.

And still — none of it felt like winning.

His name echoed in the halls for all the wrong reasons now. He heard the whispers.

“Still hasn’t talked to her.”

“Deserved it.”

“Bet he cried after she left him.”

“Should’ve been expelled ages ago.”

And he didn’t say a word. Because they were right.

He passed her once, coming out of the library. She didn’t even glance at him. Hair up. Shoulders straight. Surrounded by books and a few Ravenclaws she used to tutor. She was glowing.

Untouchable.

And he hated how much he loved her still.

⸻

[sevs-corner]

Another quick shot ideas on- Tf 141: Mafia AU!

Link to Prev parts:

Currently on Ch 2- Mini Epilogue, and you can find it here :D 👇

A/N: 1st Edit of adding onto Price’s part + the other TF 141 boiyos will get their own on a separate post✨

So here’s the sitch folks

Price👏has👏the👏moola

Which means that he will not hesitate to spend it all for you

But he keeps it lowkey, he isn’t the show-y type (cough Soap cough)

So he starts slow, aside from giving you his apparels, he wants to give something to call your own

But if he asks what you want, you’d suspect him

‘Smart sweetie,’ he thinks, whenever he sees you give him that inquisitive look

Eyebrow raised, a knowing smirk

If only you knew the things you do to this man behind closed doors

He starts giving you simple stuff, a bracelet - something that was sleek in design but had good value (both sentimentally and economically)

Because, when he gave that bracelet to you

It was the day he, tells himself this, officially fell for you- wanting to do his damnest to court you however possible way he can

Imagine a cold December, the worst possible season ever for you.

You hate the cold, as much as how it cool it becomes when the rain rolls in and rattles your bones.

No, you’re not old, just weary.

You always hated the rain, but why- as you stood hand-in-hand with this mafia boss- did you want the rain to continue.

Currently, you were running through the rain with him, laughing all the way until you found a tiny closed up shop with an awning over it.

Pointing at it with a quick, “over there! Som cover!”

Price nods and speeds up his pace, making you squeal— complaining that he should slow down or you’ll both slip but he insists.

“I’ll catch you,” he says so reassuringly, “don’t worry.”

And you didn’t.

Even when you both slid under the awning, with you almost slipping past-- but luckily he was there.

You then realize he is a man of his word.

Catch you he will, and catch you he did.

With his hands on your waist, you swore to yourself that you haven’t felt this more secure than ever in your life.

John Price on the other hand, was tethering-- barely able to keep his hands to himself once he got a taste on holding you in his arms.

He pulled you closer, not letting his hands leave you for a second, as he lets his inhibitions go, resulting with his arms wrapping around you securely. (That even if you did try to escape you wouldn't be able to- not like you wanted to anyways.)

Once he fells no resistance coming from you, he breathes in deep, trying to live in the moment as much as possible as you relax in his hold- both of your giggles dying out and letting the patter of rain consume space instead.

"You know," you whisper, "I hate the rain."

You could feel Price's chest rumble, and his voice respond right next to your ear.

"I know that, lovie."

You let that stew in you, humming out a reply that just came to the top of your head.

"But I don't hate it right now."

Price wanted to ask why, but he knew-- inside he knew why you didn't at that moment. Though it didn't feel right to voice his thoughts at the moment and simply holds you closer instead, hoping to reassure you through it that,

'its okay to hate things most of the time, but then like it when you're with someone.'

And he thinks to himself, maybe... it was like that with you too.

He never liked going out on dates- he never had time for those frivolous things.

He wasn't a gift giver, but always found himself giving you whatever you wanted or needed.

He wasn't a lover, but damned the world and his existence would be if he couldn't find himself not to love you.

Squeezing his arms close to you made him snap back to his reality, the reality that you were in arms-reach.

And that tether?

Now fully loose and wrapped around you-- just as his arms are.

Once you arrived back at your apartment, John knew that now was the right time.

So he tugs at your coat from the bottom of the stairs, barely able to catch you before you leave his sight.

“Hey.”

He watches you turn around, a crooked smile on your face as you copy him.

“Hey?”

“I-,” he stumbles, “-could you..?”

He lips feels dry, the saliva he gulps becomes hard to do with his throat feeling like sandpaper, his hands get clammy and he has to shove it down his pocket to avoid you seeing it shake.

You stare at him, head tilted as you return back his words to him- hoping to coax out whatever he wanted to get out.

“Could I..?”

With a deep breath, he forces eye contact with and asks,

“Will you accept this?”

From deep within the recess of his pocket, he hands you a small dark navy leathered covered box, gold engraving on its front— and it made you pause.

“John…” you step down the stairs to stand chest to chest with him, “…what’s this for?”

You wrapped your hands around his, entrapping the box between his hands.

If there was moment in his life where he felt his heart drop in- this would be the number one.

What if he overstepped—?

Moved too soon, way too early? Fuck- he just messed up didn’t he-?

“John?”

But your voice forces him to resurface from the deep spiral and he shakes his head. Splitting him from fantasy and reality.

He tries to ground himself further by dropping his head to lock eyes with you, and he swore that the stars still shined in them, just as the day he met you.

“I,” he licks his chapped lips, “I thought of you when I saw this.”

You released his hands for him to open it and once he did, you gasped, eyes snapping back and forth from the silver bracelet and his face- oh his face.

It was so twinged in nervousness but at the same time, a sense of softness and vulnerability that you instinctively knew that he never shows this kind of side of him to anyone.

“I got a couple of charms on it,” he points out with a chuckle, “thought it’d be nice to add onto it whenever we go to places.”

“Like a keepsake…” you mutter, thoughts unable to be kept within as you feel your chest tighten.

He nods, “precisely.”

“And this,” he points to the rain droplet charm, “will be a reminder of today.”

Any thought that came onto your brain was incoherent and words, if it were to be spoken right now, felt too cheap to say.

So you settle for a hug, one so tight and comforting that Price greedily wishes that he could be in it forevermore.

Eventually you had to let go, dry your eyes, and tuck in for the night.

“John!”

You call out one last time by your window, and said man turns, his usual smile softened by the glow of the moon.

“I kinda like the rain now!”

His laughter resounds through the night as he carries your words next to his heart.

‘One day,’ he thinks to himself, ‘one day we’ll get to fill up that bracelet.’

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

You hate each other, right? (Tierna Davidson x Reader)

This wasn't requested or something I actually planned to write, but writers block is a bitch. Titles are hard, this isn't edited and I don't think this is very good, but here it is. Hope you enjoy :)

I'm going to try work on my actual wips so we'll see how that goes.

Warnings: None that I can think of, but let me know if I need to add anything.

Words: 4k

Tierna and I had always had a strained relationship. By that I meant we absolutely hated each other for years. Honestly, seeing as many many years had passed, we could barely remember what had caused the problem in the first place. Something to do with an injury or something.

Everything between us had changed one day when our argument ended in making out instead of shouting like normal. It seemed that over the years the hatred had turned to romantic feelings on both sides. After the kiss, there was lots of awkwardness and avoiding each other until I finally just asked her out one day when we were alone in the elevator. We had decided to keep everything on the downlow as first so we could learn how to have a relationship that didn't involve fighting or hatred. It wasn't actually that difficult because I quickly became addicted to everything Tierna. If her clinginess was anything to go off, then it was safe to say that Tierna felt the same.  

To keep everyone from getting suspicious, the last couple of months we had kept our outside relationship the same. There were glares, not talking to each other, and scoffs when the other spoke. The mean comments we used to make had pretty much stopped now. I couldn't bring myself to say anything bad about her, not when I was falling for her faster than I could keep up. If anyone ever asked, I just couldn't be bothered with it anymore. 

We had just gotten back from training. Tierna and I were glaring at each other as always while Emily stood between us as a kind of buffer. Tierna and I were sharing a room like we had been for the most part of the year. It was the teams way of trying to get us to get along. Little did they know how well that actually worked.

The glares lasted until the door closed behind us, finally away from the prying eyes of our team mates. Tierna turned, soft smile replacing the scowl as she fell into my arms. My hand slipped under her shirt, nails scratching along her back as she sighed, kissing my neck softly. 

"You okay love?"

"Just tired and I missed you today."

"I was with you the whole day."

"Well yeah, but I couldn't touch you let alone look at you nicely. I was craving cuddles all day."

"I'm sorry, we have the rest of the evening to cuddle."

"We have team bonding tonight though." Tierna pouted, moving to find comfy clothes. I groaned at the lack of contact, moving to wrap my arms around her waist. She gently shrugged me off, moving away from me. It was a clear sign she was upset about something. I lay on the bed, allowing her space to change and decide if she wanted to come to me or not.

Tierna sat on the other bed for a few minutes scrolling through her phone before she sighed, throwing it back on the bed and walking over to me. I opened my arms, letting her lay on top of me, head resting against my neck. "I don't want to pretend to hate you anymore. It's exhausting, I hate that I can't even smile at you when we're around them, I can't run to you during games or hold your hand or be close to you like I need when I'm tired, nervous or down."

"Okay. Well, we can start being friends in front of them."

Tierna looked up at me, "Yeah?"

"If that's what you want. I'm sorry that we haven't been able to do any of that stuff. It's not that I don't want to, trust me I hate it as much as you do if not more. All I ever want to do is be with you, my favourite thing in this world is your cuddles. I would prefer to keep our relationship to ourselves for a bit longer though."

I had always preferred to keep my relationships more private, but it was also in part because we constantly got roomed together in attempt to make us get along. I wasn't ready to have that change yet. Not just because I liked sleeping in the same bed with my girlfriend, but also because I hated change. It wouldn't be a big deal if my roommate changed pretty much every camp, that didn't happen so I had gotten used to Tierna and our routine. I dreaded that changing.

"Thank you. I'll just be happy with a smile or maybe a hug every now and then. There's no pressure to tell them about us, whenever you're ready I'm ready. I know you're scared about your routine changing and we'll protect that for as long as we can. And if or when it does, I've got you. Always."

I brushed a piece of hair out of her face, soft smile making it's way onto my face. We hadn't said the three big words yet, but I had known for a while that I was in love with her. Everything with her was warm, comforting, safe. "I love you T."

A grin made it's way onto her face before she kissed me deeply, "I love you Y/n."

---

It had been two weeks since we had agreed to be more friendly. We had decided to slowly start being more friendly so it wouldn't be suspicious. At first it was just stopping the glares and actually saying a few words that weren't mean or snarky. Now we had decided smiles and maybe some proper conversations were the next step.

We were at breakfast, Tierna sat at the table across the room while I sat with Emily and Rose. I hated that she was sat away from me, but unfortunately it had always been that way. Tierna sent a small smile my way. I sent a small smile back managing to stop the grin trying to escape. Emily and Rose followed my eyeline, confusion covering their faces when they noticed it was Tierna I was smiling at. I just shrugged going back to eating my breakfast. 

My peace only last a few minutes until Emily spoke up, "So have you and T have worked things out? There seems to be less glares, more smiles."

"I guess so. We actually talked a couple of weeks ago and could barely remember why we didn't like each other. We're trying to be friends."

"Finally. Maybe we'll all be able to be in the same room peacefully."

Over the rest of camp, the smiles and conversation became more frequent. The confusion or shock that covered the teams face for the first week was hilarious. Thankfully, after the initial shock, they seemed to back off their nosiness a bit. They seemed to realise we were more friendly without their prying eyes. It was nice though, being able to actually look at Tierna or be around her even if I couldn't touch her much.

---

Camps had always been one of my favourite things. I loved being around the girls, just getting to train and mess around. This time though, I almost wanted to just leave. Since Tierna and I were becoming 'friends', we had finally been roomed with different people. We had only been at camp for two days and my nerves were through the roof. They had been since I arrived. It wasn't what I was used to and I wasn't entirely sure how to cope with it. My whole routine had been disrupted without warning. The team knew I didn't like change, but I guess no one really thought this was something that would affect me too bad.

Training had finished an hour ago, dinner and team bonding weren't for a few hours and I was stuck on my bed fidgeting with my fingers. Alyssa sat down next to me, nudging my shoulder gently, "Are you okay Y/n?" 

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay."

"I call bullshit."

A sigh slipped out as my head rest against her shoulder. I didn't have the energy to pretend to be okay, "I love you Lys, really I do, but I hate this."

"Hate what?"

"Not rooming with Tierna. I know I used to not like it and we only just recently became friends, but that's what I was used to. For months, we had our routine, it didn't change much if at all. Just a bit of extra talking. Even then I knew what to expect. Now, it's all changed without warning and I don't think I'm coping very well with it."

"So, it's not just because you don't get to share with your girlfriend anymore?"

My head flew up, every muscle in my body tensing, "What?"

"Relax, I'm the only one that knows. I saw you guys making out in a hidden corner of the stadium when I took a wrong turn. You two are obviously pretending you're not great friends and hiding it for a reason. I haven't and won't tell anyone."

"Thank you Lys. I wish this was just because of that, but it's not. I don't deal with change very well at all. I like my routine and now it's completely different. If we hadn't been forced to room together for months, no routine would be formed and it wouldn't be this bad."

"I'm sorry that you were forced into a routine then forced out of it. We can see how you go for a couple of days and if it's not getting better then we can talk to coach and see if we can switch."

I smiled, accepting the hug she offered. It wasn't Tierna, but it was a close second. "I'm not mad at the forced rooming. I mean, T and I wouldn't be together without it. This is one of the reasons we haven't told anyone, to try hold onto my routine."

Much to my confusion, there was a light knock at the door. As far as I knew, everyone was hanging out in their rooms before dinner. My head buried in my hands, really not up for visitors as Alyssa went to open the door. Arms wrapped around me, my head resting against a stomach before the unmistakable smell of Tierna filled my senses. "Before you ask, Alyssa messaged saying you could use me so here I am."

"Thank you Lys."

"Always. I'm going to go for a walk, see you at dinner."

Tierna guided me to lie on the bed, cuddled up against her. It was probably the first time since camp started that I fully relaxed. "Love you T."

"I love you. I know this is difficult, but at least with Alyssa knowing we have more of a chance to see each other."

---

"Are you okay Y/n?" Christen asked as her and Alex sat on either side of me. I knew the team were getting concerned at how withdrawn I was and I appreciated they cared. However, getting asked multiple times a day if I was okay, was getting on my nerves.

"I'm fine." I snapped, retying my boots for the fourth time. 

I knew I was being grumpy, but I couldn't help it. This whole routine change had messed with everything, especially my sleep. I was tired and stressed, trying to adjust and create a new routine. It wasn't working very well, but I was trying not to show it much. I didn't want to seem childish or be judged for my lack of adaptability. Tierna was trying her best to help, there wasn't much she could do beside comfort me. Alyssa had also been understanding, not taking my discomfort personally. There wasn't much she could do either though.

Alex and Christen gave me a look before pulling me away from everyone else, "Talk to us."

I sighed, burying my face in my hands, everything that had been happening spilling out. They let me talk, not saying anything until they were sure I was done. Christen rest her hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly. "We get you're trying to tough it out, to adapt, but you could have told us before it got this bad. It's well known you don't do well with change and I guess we didn't think much of this since you had different room mates in the past. We'll talk to coach and see if you can change rooms assuming it's okay with Tierna and Rose."

"I'll be fine, I'll get over it."

"No, we need you to be at your best. So we'll talk to coach after practice."

"Thank you. Before you say it, I know I will need to get over it at some point. I won't always be able to have Tierna as a roommate. I'm working on it, my therapist is helping. I just think the lack of warning and no time to mentally prepare didn't help."

"We'll never tell you to get over it Y/n/n, but we are glad you're trying. We hate seeing you like this, we just want you to be okay."

Later that night when I finally made it back to my room after being dragged to hangout with Emily, I found Tierna lying on my bed, book in hand. I straddled her waist, kissing her forehead then nose and lips. "Well hello."

"Hi."

"Alyssa is rooming with Rose. I think you need an early night, you look exhausted."

"I think you're right. Sleep hasn't been easy the last few days."

---

Tierna: I'm thinking it's time for a date day. Sneak out with me? 

Y/n: Don't have to ask me twice. I'm going to head back to the room to change, meet me there?

Tierna: Perfect, can't wait x

After making the excuse of planning to spend the day relaxing in the room, I slipped out of the meal room to get changed and meet Tierna. It wasn't unusual for me to spend a day or two at camp alone to recharge so I knew it wouldn't cause any concern aside from a text or two. 

Soft lips landed against mine as soon as Tierna entered the room. "Hello to you too."

Tierna pecked my lips, "There was not enough of that this morning."

"Well if you had woken up when I tried then there would have been more kissing time."

"It's an off day, what's the point in waking up early?"

"Make out time."

"Whatever. I was thinking, we shower and make out more, then check out that book shop you were talking about. I didn't think about what else, but we can get lunch and there is a beach not far from here." 

My arms wrapped around her waist, kissing her forehead. There hadn't been a lot of time to ourselves so I was very excited to spend the day with her. "Sounds incredible. I'm sure we can find some lowkey stuff to do. Could you imagine the shit we would get if the team found out about this from social media?"

"Shit, I didn't even think about that. Sneaky date day it is!"

As per Tiernas plan she dragged me into the shower, spending more time with her lips attached to me than actual shower activities. Not that I was complaining in the slightest. Tierna and I spent a lot more time in the room than originally planned, it being almost lunch time when I finally dragged Tierna out of the hotel. 

We spent a while exploring the little book shop, taking our time looking at the different books and stealing kisses behind the book shelves. It was risky, we both knew it, but at the same time I was having too much fun with her to care. Though we weren't doing anything overly exciting, just getting to spend some alone time with the girl I loved was enough for it to be the most fun I had in a while. Spending time with the team was always fun, but it didn't compare to spending time with Tierna. 

After finally dragging ourselves away from the book shop, we got sushi deciding to eat in the park. Thankfully, there weren't that many people and we managed to find a relatively secluded area. 

At the start of the day, we had very much intended on actually doing things. However, we ended up spending quite a while lying on the grass at the park just talking. Since the start of our relationship, most of our time would be spent talking. At first it was getting to know each other properly, then it was just something we enjoyed. Tierna was one of the only people besides Emily that I could spend hours talking and not get bored. I never was much of a talker, but I actually looked forward to our talking time. Between games, training, meetings, and spending time with the team, we hadn't had a lot of time to just talk. Despite rooming together, by time we fell into bed, we were just ready to sleep. 

Eventually we dragged ourselves up, making our way slowly to the beach, stopping at a few shops along the way. We walked along the beach, finding a hidden away part near the end. Tierna settled between my legs, back against my front as I nuzzled my face into her neck, "You're beautiful T. I've never been more grateful for our meddling teammates. I love you."

"I love you. This is something I never saw happening, but I would never want anything else. And I would never admit to them how thankful I am for their part in this."

"Oh never in a million years will I admit that to them. Thank you for today T, it's probably one of the best days I've had in a while."

"Really? We pretty much talked all day which is not what I planned."

"My love, any day I spend with you is amazing. Maybe it wasn't what you planned, but I don't care T. I love just talking to you and with how little time we've had together lately today was amazing. I love you, I loved today so please stop feeling bad like I know you are."

Tierna turned to look at me, not saying anything for a second while her eyes roamed my face. Probably making sure I was telling the truth. She pecked my cheek before whispering, "How did I get so lucky with you?" 

"You didn't hit me when I kissed you that night."

"Didn't even cross my mind. I think by that point I was starting to realise that maybe I didn't hate you like I thought."

"Looking back you were blushing a lot around me then. No different to now I guess. You're just better at hiding it around the team."

My forehead was pushed back, Tierna pouting while I tried to stifle my laugh. She was adorable when she pouted. "Shut up asshole. Speaking of the team, we should probably head back soon." 

Unfortunately for us, a few of the girls were lingering in the lobby and not at dinner like we had anticipated. The thought to hide was quickly pushed away when they all turned to look at us. "Where have you two been? We came to get you for dinner, but obviously you weren't there."

I had checked social media a few times just to make sure there wasn't any thing about us since a few people had stopped us for pictures. Thankfully, nothing had been posted yet and if it was the pictures were all innocent so I knew it was safe to make up a little lie. "We just went for a walk."

Emily pulled me into a headlock, normally I could get out of her hold pretty easily, but I was tired and not really in the mood. "Where was my invite? You know you're bestfriend incase you've forgotten."

My eyes rolled automatically, finally managing to push her away, "Em, stop being dramatic. It was a very last minute thing, not some conspiracy to leave you out. You are and will always be my bestfriend."

"Yeah whatever. I don't think you two willingly spending time together without killing each other will ever get old."

"Maybe not, but your comments already are. Now isn't there dinner then team bonding?"

---

The game was almost over when Tierna ended up on the ground due to a miss timed tackle. She didn't get up straight away and I saw red. Before I even fully realised what was happening, my hands were on the chest of the player who took Tierna down, pushing her back multiple times. 

"Are you fucking stupid? You could hav-" 

Arms gripped mine, pulling me back and finally snapped me out it. "Y/n, Y/n stop."

My arms went up in surrender, walking back to Tierna before I could do something stupid again. I knew I had gotten a yellow card, but the only thing that mattered was Tierna. I wanted so badly to hold her hand to comfort her properly, but I knew I couldn't. Instead I squeezed her shoulder gently, relief washing through me when she finally got up. 

Everyone stared at us as Tierna and I walked into the locker room. I knew it was coming, I had just hoped it would be a few of the older ones and not everyone. Christen gave me a pointed look, Alyssa and Alex joining in.  "What the hell was that Y/n?"

I shrugged, avoiding eye contact. I wouldn't say I regretted it because I wasn't sure I did. Though, I had likely disappointed them, something I hated doing. "I lost my temper."

"You never lose your temper Y/n. You don't even lose your temper when I go down and I'm your best friend. Yet you lose your temper when someone you're barely friends with gets tackled." Emily stated, arms crossed. There was no way they would let this go, it was definitely out of character for me. I had always been a calm person, never violent or short tempered. The look Tierna gave me told me she was thinking the same. This was it.

My arm wrapped around Tierna's shoulder, pressing a light kiss to her temple, "Well, become my girlfriend and apparently I will."

"You're what!?! You're fucking with us."

Questions and statements were fired our way, everyone shocked and confused how we were dating given the way we acted. "Shut up." Once everyone was quiet, I spoke again, "Yes we are together. We have been for about 9 months. We kept our same dislike or barely friend act so we could keep it between us for a while. We needed to work out how we worked together after actually not liking each other for a long time. It was nice in our little bubble. And before you ask, no I wasn't not coping with the different room assignments because of it, my routine changed suddenly and my brain didn't like that. That should answer your questions, can I shower now?"

They looked at us in disbelief before I just walked away knowing we would be hit with more questions later. Tierna pecked my lips before going to her own shower, "That was hot. Don't make a habit of it though, you don't need to be getting in trouble. Also thank you for answering all those questions. I do not have the energy right now." 

Before Tierna could actually get into the shower, I grabbed her arm, pulling her back into me. Now that she had taken her shirt off, I finally had the chance to make sure she was truly okay. My hands ran along her sides and up her back before hugging her tightly, "I've never done anything like that before. I just, I saw you go down and I snapped. Seeing you hurt, well it worried me in a way I've never felt before. You sure you're okay?"

"This side of you is adorable. I've never seen you so worried before. I'm okay, I promise. There might be a bruise or two, but I'm okay."

"What can I say? I've never been in love like this before. I always worry about you T, but seeing you down is a whole different type of worry. I love you."

"And I love you."

[letthelightshinein]

It's easier for me to write about Luo Weizhao's headspace because it engages with more the analytical part of my brain. But Pei Su's headspace is a terrifying vortex of emotions, that is overwhelming to try to articulate. I don't ever feel that my metas on him really reflect my thoughts very well. Especially when nothing I write could do justice to the nuance that Zhang Xincheng puts into his performance.

But I'm gonna try cos this is just a blog and it's just for fun (isn't emotional trauma so fun??), so this is part 2 of me talking about 20/21.

Part 1 is here in case you missed it.

Part 2

"You'll never meet another person who'd sacrifice their life for you."

This line is a really big change from the book. And whilst I want to talk about the book comparisons at the end, if I ever get there, for now it's just really fascinating that where Fei Du reflects on how, maybe, he should let Luo Wenzhou love him, how precious his love is, instead Pei Su is expressing his anger and his frustration at Luo Weizhao's betrayal.

Because it is a betrayal.

He rattles off the answers to Luo Weizhao's questions because he has let his guard down. It's honestly such a basic ass interrogation technique. But he started to trust again. He's not thinking through every interaction like a 4D chess match anymore.

We've seen Pei Su without his protective casing before, probably notably when Luo Weizhao barged into his room and made him get out of bed to eat, back in episode 14. He was dragged out of his hiding spot and shown real care. He was in a state of shock, not quite sure what was happening, and we got Pei Su's limited edition, 'I'm a lost little kitten' face.

Pei Su is actually getting to be comfortable in Luo Weizhao's presence, used to living in his home and being doted on. He's happy, maybe he's happier than he's ever been.

So he's shocked, because this is worse than the Hot Water Incident. This isn't just Luo Weizhao hiding something from him, he's actively being underhanded, and he's treating him like a suspect.

So he's angry, and he makes it clear in this statement, and also in his general demeanor in the interrogation. It's not out of the question that he puts it on for effect to get Xia Xinan to talk, but the general consensus seems to be that he's actually angry and he's using it to good effect.

If you read my post on the Hot Water Incident here, you'll know that I love Pei Su being angry at anyone other than himself, and it's the same here. Especially now that I've reflected on it, Pei Su really doesn't get angry that often. We've never seen him be angry at his father, who tormented him, his mother, who left him, or any of his enemies he is fighting against. Pei Su is an extremely tightly wound person, especially knowing the issues with his genetics, he doesn't like losing that control over himself. The last notable time he was angry at someone, I think was with the older Zhou brother, but Pei Su was really barely hanging on to himself after the stabbing. So it's a big deal that he's angry now. He feels safe that he can let off steam, and he's also giving Luo Weizhao a chance to rectify.

Him using his self sacrifice to save Luo Weizhao's life is also fascinating. Because on the face of it, it suggests that Pei Su thinks that his life has value, and that Luo Weizhao should be grateful. That's very different to how he felt back in the Late Night Red Wine Summit. He's either developing a greater sense of self-worth because he has been so happy recently, or perhaps he sees Feng Bin's death as a tragedy and so he is able to see himself reflected in that, or maybe he knows Luo Weizhao cares and it's only a weapon for him to use. (I always think the answer is perhaps a bit of everything, especially when it comes to Pei Su. He's *a bit* of an overthinker.)

But mostly, as he is everytime he reaches out, Pei Su is frightened, because what now? What if Luo Weizhao doesn't back down? He hoped after the last fight they had, Luo Weizhao would drop the topic and let him deal with it in his own way. That doesn't seem to be the case anymore - even after he made it clear he was not happy, Luo Weizhao seems to be trying to steal his phone whilst he's asleep... Pei Su has never been so violated in a place he had previously felt so safe in.

Things are getting worse 😁😁😁 See you guys in the next part, which will be here when it arrives.

[hedwigoprah]

So much for a writing hiatus, but what are you supposed to do when the muses call?

Here's something that I intend on burying on my blog but definitely belongs in Children of the dark waaaaaaay down the line. @redheadsramblings I'm considering this a question answered. You don't have to read it now, I'm sure I'll publish it later, I'm just letting you know its here :) @notyourmamasdeerbat you should probably know this too 2.3k poorly edited words and a very violent Veryl below the cut.

The door to the chamber slammed against the wall, rebounding and slamming shut as Veryl planted herself on the other side of it. She worked to regulate her heart, the rapid inflation and deflation of her lungs making her dizzy. She hadn't eaten in hours, unable to stomach the uncertainty of what she faced. Her knees threatened to buckle right there in his office. The room was firmly tilted, skewing her point of view; black danced along the edges of her periphery. It couldn't hold a candle to the red haze made her brain pulsate where it met her skull, thrumming with the blood in her ears, putting pressure behind her eyes.  She was ready to attack at moments notice, hackles raised. Her fingers flexed at her sides, itching for the knives that had been confiscated at the the beginning of this entire ordeal. Every part of her was on high alert, ready to make good on the threat of her posture.  "You. Lied." Was all she could say to the man across from her. Her teeth ached in their sockets, shooting bolts of pain through her nervous system, warning her to ease up.  She had seen so many emotions on this man's face. Joy, sadness, anger, the whole spectrum, every degree. Yet, Veryl could not believe the grief-stricken remorse that made him look craggy and aged.  He didn't say a word as he stood there in front of her, as though he had prepared for her fury, anticipated it even. His office certainly befitted his station now, all fine woodworks and plush velvets. A bar cart, a leather chair, windows with a view of the gardens; all of the trappings that he swore to loathe. What a sick twist of the knife. There were obvious tears in his eyes; he always had been the more emotional one.  "How. Long." Veryl barely moved her lips, daring him to break eye contact with her. Her shoulders had started to ache at the beginning of the day from sitting still and straight in that maker-forsaken chair, the muscles were now numb. Even as she stood, tension winding every nerve tight, she felt no pain; no ache of being alive. "Veryl, I-" It was a small step with hands held in defense, an instinct that she was sure was correct on his part. Ah yes, the flesh of his well manicured hands would dare to tame the dragon he faced down.  He couldn't really blame her when she reacted like the animal he treated her as. She reached for the decanter on her right and slung it through the air with her left hand. The right was still slung across her chest, handicapping her most dominate offense.  "HOW LONG!" She roared. It was no more than a few seconds, as the ornate crystal bottle just grazed his ear before he had a moment to register, and was shattering against his painted portrait at the back of the room. Sticky liquid coated the room in sprinkles of antiseptic smells. The glass shards tore clean through it's intended target, the painting covered in it's own acidic application. 

"The whole time," He didn't even have the dignity to duck and come back at her, instead falling to his knees, a weeping, miserable clump in his fine regalia. Veryl's face contorted in disgust, lips turning down involuntarily. She barely registered the tingle of pain behind her broken nose and bruise-mottled cheek as the feeling dug into her skin.  She made a growling noise in the back of her throat, a release of frustration and irritation. Any emotion that could somehow lead to mercy was quickly dismissed, for she indulged nothing that would spare this man, even in his current state. Veryl dug her able hand into his carefully arranged hair, the red locks lush with scented oil, and pulled tight. She gripped against his scalp, raising his head to meet her gaze once again. He did not look away when he finally pried his eyes open. More the better for him. A small redemption.  "So the great and powerful leader of a noble house dares to snivel before the lowly street urchin." The hiss was low, dripping with corrosive derision. "The mighty fall so quickly." She would be damned if she didn't not get every ounce she was owed, and she would not waste a second on incoherent communication. No, he would know, and he would not need to question what she meant. 

Not only had he elected to side with the council, his new peers and colleagues, to expel her from the only place she ever called home. He had borne witness to her further crimes at the behest of another. A wolf in sheep's clothing. An enemy she called her dearest friend.  He had stood there and recounted every single thing she had ever told him in confidence. From the street fights, the violent crimes, the extorted hits, the fire, the defiling of sacred things. Every single thing. And provided letters and documents, further solidifying his claim to the council.  Veryl could do nothing but zero in on the table in front of her, unable to even trace the patterns in the wood, as the sound of shuffling papers being passed around verified her existence in the shadows. As the person who knew her best, revealed himself to her as a henchman of her own personal demon.  She had to assume that any names beside her own would have been coded, more than one gasp should have been heard from the people that judged her; there were a few of their own that had engaged her services. Instead there were only simple hums and snuffs as they ascertained motive and contemplated the evidence.  They had to know this was all incited by coercion, blackmail, and manipulation of which she could not hope to escape. Their perpetrator had already been ousted, why must this be what caused her own expulsion? "Councilman, why do you bring this up now? Most of these matters have been addressed." A stuffy voice asked with an exhausted sigh.  "I only mean to solidify the right to remove Watcher Ingellvar from the Necropolis." "Based on her history of violence?" "Based on a history of an inability to contain certain… urges." "You side with the Noble Undead then." A chair creaked as it's user leaned back, a paper landing softly on their desk. "They call for her head, would that not suffice?" "I simply mean to alleviate the stress of our office." His political voice would never fail to convince even the most stalwart. "The solution is simple: exile on the grounds of uncovered crimes." There was silence in contemplation. "I should so hate to see such a promising Watcher fall." Another, softer, voice chimed in.  "Very well. We shall take this into account as we make our decision."  "I thank you, sers." Her poisonous defender sounded proud of himself. "You will abstain from the vote, Councilman." "I will wait in my office to be called, ser." And so, there they were. Waiting in his office. Waiting for the knock that would summon them to hear her fate.  He was dealt his punishment now. He must have known it was coming, standing there, waiting for her righteous retribution to smite him down, turn him to dust right there on the hand-woven rug under his feet.  "Veryl, please," he begged, neck bent at the awkward angle that she still held him suspended in. She considered his plea before gnashing her teeth at him and letting him go. She moved to his bookshelves, seeking to expel her anger while she gave him exactly forty-five seconds to explain. 

Unwilling to permanently ruin the many first editions in his collections, she started pulling books from the shelves and tossing them to the ground. Heavy thuds perpetuated his flinching as he spoke.  "It was my mother, you have to understand." Thud. "The De Vries offered information on certain offices." Thud. "Offered protection from certain scandals that would ruin us. My scandals." Thud. That one landed next to his still prostrate form.  "The agreement was that I was allowed to be your friend if I relayed any information gathered and mother kept her records, so they wouldn't be traced back to the De Vries." Six or seven shelves in, that claim made her pause. "Why wouldn't you get rid of them? Why keep record at all?" Damn her questioning nature. With renewed frustration she went back to pulling at the leather bindings, ripping them away from their homes more violently and tossing them to the floor.  "She said it was to keep you in line should she ever need to." Of course she would have had a failsafe. Too bad she couldn't reach it when they finally came for her. Why hadn't she used it to keep the Watchers from forcing her exile from Nevarra? "She came for them." He was kneeling now, watching helplessly as more books found the hard wood floor. "But I wouldn't tell her where they were."

Veryl slowed again, this time as understanding dawned and shed light on new facts. He took the break in her decimation as a chance to push further.  "Please, Veryl, you have to believe me." He dared to watch her movements with watery eyes, the ones she was known to give in to, though they held more emotion than usual. This was less about getting his way, and more about hoping she wouldn't abandon him too.  He was shuffling across the floor, wading through the piles of literature, and hugging himself to her legs. Trying to pull her to him, get her to ground herself there with him. Veryl waned in her resolve, her old friend visible on the surface of his countenance, having been absent for such a long time. She felt herself sinking lower to the floor, heard his words become more rapid as he saw a chance to change her mind.  "I only brought them forward because the Nobles were calling for a much more severe punishment. If we play this right, we might be able to get you a pardon. Please, please. I did this for you, my dearest friend." Veryl could only comprehend a middle distance for a while. It was quiet in her mind when she finally reached his dark eyes. She watched as they switched across her face frantically, searching for any information, any inclination as to her thoughts. He gathered her closer as she sank into his embrace. Cloying, expensive perfume enveloping her as she clung to him.  Suddenly, they were kids again. Trying to protect each other from a world the other knew nothing about. Holding their friend together in the hopes that the favor would be returned. It was transactional, conditional, wretched. How many moments had they laughed together, were they greater or fewer than the ones where they cried? Where they screamed or hurt out of frustration? "You lied to me." She whispered into his shoulder as he smoothed her hair down her back.  "I know. I know." He cooed. And Veryl listened for the heart beat to prove his humanity. And for a moment it was calm. For moment, it was just them. Two parts of a single soul, destined to find each other.  But then… "You know." Veryl repeated, something gross and black solidifying in the back of her mind. It increased in size so rapidly it made her head spin.  "You knew."

In seconds she was wrenching herself away from the one person who knew her better than she knew herself, the betrayal of a lifetime thick in the air. She had told him so many things, yes, things she was sure made it back to the most eager ears.  But he knew every horror that Veryl had never told him about.  And he did nothing. "YOU KNEW!" Now she was ripping down tapestries and fine paintings, pulling the bookshelves with both her arms, damn the sling, screeching in pain. Tears poured down her face as she wreaked havoc across the space, and she hoped it would never recover. "YOU LET HER HURT ME, KNEW IT HAPPENED AND DID NOTHING TO STOP IT!"  By the time the last crystal tumbler shattered across the parquet floor, scarring the natural wood, Veryl was her own heaving emotional mess, having sobbed and torn across the room simultaneously. Not a single thing was left unturned, nothing hung on the walls, no books stayed in their home, and his fine self portrait now bore more than one tear in the once taut canvas.  He had tried to stall her with more pleading, trying to catch things as they fell, right things that she displaced, finally learned to duck and dodge as she threw.  He was lucky there had been no fire in the hearth.  He was lucky the windows were reinforced with an enchantment.  He stood in front of her now, hands held in that same horrendous fashion that wouldn't tame even the most timid goat. She watched him with an obvious apprehension that dictated her body language. Inching closer, he captured her hand brought it to his heart, the same way he always had done when she had panicked. Showing her what was real.  "Veryl… please…" He whispered, bringing himself ever closer. She let her hand linger there. Fingers flexing against the fabric of his shirt, the cloak he had worn having been long since discarded. She focused on her breathing, waiting for the clarity to ascend and bring things into focus. To realize that she was wrong to feel such perfidy in her bones.  But it never came.  Instead, her throat cleared, her skin hardened, and the dark mold that ate away at her soul finally reached it's goal.  Wrenching her hand away from the one she had always held closest, she memorized the face, that maker willing, she would never have to see again and she whispered her final parting words.  "Fuck. You." 

[taylor-titmouse]

How do you decide on the length of your erotica books? And how are you able to write that much? I can barely manage to get above 4k words. It stresses me out because I feel like I'm just repeating myself over and over when things start to get 'long'. I want to write original erotic fiction like you do because it's so much fun but I feel like I'll forever be trapped to write fanfiction because I just can't make anything long enough to be a real book that deserves to be published outside of ao3. Do you have any advice? This might be better to ask R L Monroe but I kinda feel like a dickhead filling out the form on R L's site when I don't even have anything for editing and just want advice

main advice: i think first of all you need to let go of "long enough". your story should only be as long as it takes to tell it, and that's as much as i ever think about it. if you only need 4k words, then that's as long as it should be. but if you feel like it's not long enough, consider--what part of the story are you not telling? if you're mostly writing fanfic, you've had all the heavy lifting of world building and character development done for you. you can drop the reader in anywhere and rely on their preexisting knowledge to skip the work of building context. how long do you think your original writing could be if that was no longer the case? if you needed to actually spend time acclimatizing the reader to the world? describing the characters? establishing the stakes and circumstances?

pressure relieving advice: if you feel that your work is too short to publish on its own, consider publishing a bunch of them at once. several of my books are made up of vignettes that i felt were too short to release on their own. if you find you can tell a complete story in under 6k, great! scrounge a theme together and tell me three of them in one book.

advice that could take time and money: read. the best way to improve your writing is to read what other people are writing. you bring up r/l monroe @petitemortality as an example--his works are generally under 7k, but he's telling complete stories. read those, and try to understand how he structures them. what information does he spend time on? how quickly does he set up the situation? how does he deliver information throughout the work? you can do this sort of study with any writing, but something short and comparable to your own goals is always a good place to start. you could also send him an ask to get his opinion, or subscribe to his patreon. he's posted some good writing advice there.

overall Don't Worry About Length. worry about telling a good story. you aren't in school with a word count to hit anymore.

[ihavenoideawhatiamdoingjustgay2]

PLEAASE WRITE A TENNANT REVERSE:1999 FICC THERES BARELY ANY

Touching you Between the Thorns

Notes : You were shot lol, not my best work but I had no more time to edit bc im being buried in homework, accidentally posted it when the post was unfinished, ik I said no smut but I would rate this E on AO3, first smut-ish thing I'm posting, Alexa play : More than a friend by girli, thx for the ask :D

Sypnoses : She was the first you could turn to. The closest. Who were you to refuse?

Words : To be added.

You lean against the brick wall, your head hitting it with a loud thud, it shortly distracted from the pain in your side, the blood gushing out in liters and galoons. If you`d look down, it would almost look beautifull, shining in the ligth. But it only hurt as of now. You took a sharp breath, going on to lean against the wall, using everything what was left of the earlier adrenaline. It is actually a suprise that you have made it so far withougth any medical attention. Must have something to do with your Arcanist mother. You cough. You would only need her to take the bullet out, nothing more. You would not stay for anything more. You took a sharp breath, continuesly pressing into the wound while your other hand was leading you towards a small alley, that led into a small square where there was only one house that had its ligth and music on. You went up to her door with your last strength left, lifting your fist against the door, and hammering it down as strong as you were able to. You leaned against the stone frame, trying not to crumble.

The music was turned of and the ligth turned on, shinning into your face. You listened to every footstep she took, they were so casual, she probably wasn`t expecting you to ruin her nigth. Or that you had known where she lived. Her shillouette was painted against the door untill the door clicked open with a broken sound, revealing her. The emotions on her face changed visibly, going from confusion to a teasing smirk in seconds.

„Good evening.“ you greet, as if you were her to ask if she had some damn salt or butter left.

She leaned against the frame, speaking in her low, sultry and sarcastic voice. „I wonder, what does lead an honorable officer like you into this part of the city?“

You grit your teeth, resisting the urge to shout at her how you were bleeding out and how you would appreciate this another time. But your vision blurred and it felt as if you could slip on your own blood. „I wouldn`t know, can I come in?“

She grinned, before looking back to the wound and swallowing whatever teasing words she wanted to say, instead she decided to help you in and you sit down on a long green couch instead. You switch to lying down while she pulls a smaller sofa closer. You really had the sligth feeling that she would be able to help you, she was still wearing that gun at her side. You grit your teeth when she pulls your hand away, exposing the fleshy wound. She looked concerned, her smirk gone and her eyebrows knitting together, thus her open hair. It made her seem older, in a way, or maybe you just haven`t seen her for to long.

„Wait here.“ she says, putting your hand back. She walked into the kitchen, opening cabinets, getting whatever she needed probably. You try to shift, look behind you, but are only meet with pain, so you stop, deciding to lay still like the corpse you migth become if that woman won`t come back soon. You look down, only realizing now how ruined your shirt was. It would probably be better to take it off anyway. She would probably ask you to take it off. You asked yourself which one of those you`d rather have, but she had already decided for you.

„Do take the shirt off.“ Ada said, standing behind you already.

You grab at the ends, roughly tugging untill she came to help you, her skilled hands just had the damn thing slip over your head as if it was made out of butter. She folded it, then put it on the small table, over a radio. You then watched the woman cross her legs as she dissenfects the tools carefully. To think she was doing this for `free`, she, odd wasn`t it? The woman that scammed other ladys, pulling the money out of their pockets. Your brows knit together, maybe she had something going on rigth now? You look back at Ada, the open hair, the half buttoned shirt. „So have you been up to something?“ you ask as casual as you can. „I did hear music, could I have interupted something perchance?“

She scoffed, freeing her hands to take one of yours, bring it to her lips. „You have been the only one on my mind, my rose.“

You pull your hand away. „I feel faint, you better get those hands to work so I won`t bleed out on your couch.“

She grinned, looking up at you, before taking the tweezers. „You have always been smart.“ her hands go to asses the wound with some tweezers, no warning, which makes you hiss and squirm away, but she holds you down as if you are only a leaf. „If you want me to do this, you will have to stay still, do you think you can do that?“

You hiss, staying still. If you wanted to heal yourself, you would need it out. Thank heavens above that Arcanists and half arcanists couldn`t die that easily. You feel her take a grip of it. „Less deep than the blood makes it out to be.“

„Still hurts like a bitch.“ you swear, shaking from the pain. „Why did you not give me alcohol?“

She chuckles and the bullet clatters onto the little plate she brougth. „There we go.“

You sigh, feeling the wound slowly close under your skill, it did not even leave a scar. „Thanks. I will have to go now.“ you go to stand up, but she is quick to be in your way, a fake pout on her face.

„What? Not even a thank you? I am insulted, my rose.“

You roll your eyes. „Thanks.“

„There we go.“ she pushes you back to the couch. „It is late and we have not seen eachother in so long, it would be a shame to not use this opportunity.“

You look outside. It was indeed dark...and they migth have followed you. But you could handle them.

„You have also been shot, I am worried about you, friend.“ something goes weak inside you then, her words, accentuated with her hand, putting some hair behind your ear.

„Alrigth then.“ you sit back down.

„Perfect.“ she goes back into the kitchen. „Do you still like your tea like back then?“

„My taste in it never did change.“ you sit back, relax. Your shirt would do no more, maybe that is why she would not let you go either. You were half naked. You could ask her for something later, it wasn`t as if she hasn`t seen you like this already. You take the fireplace in, in front of you, the shelves. It was all neat, trophies of travels, paintings, not half bad.

„I hope you don`t mind me putting some wine in this.“ she said, holding two cups as she approached you, handing it to you.

You snickered, stiring the dark fluid within. „I did always like to drink with you. Remember when I had my first one?“

She chuckled, her hand brushing your hair away, touching your face. You had the urge to lean in, imerse yourself in her hands, lips, whatever she`d give you. „You were so very cute, still are.“ her eyes seemed a bit distant, untill they sharpened with a grin on her face. „I have always had a weakness for your red cheeks, your babbling, the way you clung to me.“ she lets her fingers stroke it then, gently, she continues as you make no sign of dislike. Ada sighs. „It really has been long.“ she says in a breath.

„I missed you.“ the thougth that had lingered in you slips out like butter. And it changes something behind her eyes, her smile falters and she looks as if she has fallen into deep thougth, but only for a second, then she pulls back, sitting down in the brown chair opposite from yours, with an all to familiar expression. You follow her movements, even after, as she picks up her cup, but now she holds your gaze, looking at you through those slit pupils. Your cue to look away, drink from your own cup, have her chuckle at you. It was still warm, of course, and it was sweet, with only a hint of bitterness suggested by the alcohol. You were very sure that she could have completely covered it up though. You bite your lip, remembering when she did it the last time, where you have only taken a sip of it... „What if something more will happen?“ you look down, the dark brew mirroring your reflection.

„Hasn`t it happend before?“ you could hear her cocky grin, her dimples. How insufferable. How...attractive. You blushed, sinking down into your chair, sipping at your cup. She laughs, gently, you feel her leg brushing yours and realize how close she actually is. You could touch her.

„So...what have you been up to lately?“

She humms. „Haven`t you heard of my newest scam yet?“ she nudges your knee.

„I did. Your biggest one yet.“ you look around. „It is no wonder you hide here.“

„And I plan for bigger ones to come, but what about you?“ she crocks her head. „And while we are at it, you are the only one who knows my location, rigth?“ there was a sligth danger there, inside of her, but you knew it was only the fear of getting caugth. Getting exposed. How long has it been since she has seen her father the last time?

„Of course, what are you thinking of me?“ You snicker, enjoying some more of your tea, which was nearly emtpy now. You were left with a warm feeling in your cheeks. You saw her lips move, but had already forgotten what you had just asked. She explained it again, you acted as if you understood, staring at the fireplace flickering behind her. It reminded you of that one time, that other fireplace, you on your knees on some expensive couch, with Ada grinding her hips against yours, her hot breath on you, her hand already coated in your slick, playing with your clit. You downed the last bit of tea, crossing your legs., refusing the fire in your stomach.

„Finished already?“

You look at her outstretched hand ,your fingers linger a bit to long on hers as you give it to her. „It was good.“ your mouth was dry. „Like always.“

She put it to her side. „But as I was saying, how did you find me?“

You took a deep sigh, trying to conceal your desire„It was a coincidence, I was just getting back from some...business and saw you walk by. Funny, really.“

She looked away, then back at you, you couldn`t read her expression and were instead fixated on a loose strand. You interupted her talking, leaning over to adjust it, looking into her hellish eyes that were observing your every move, it made you feel naked, she saw rigth through you from the moment you appeared at her front step. You tried to brush some more hair away, but it only fell back.

Ada pulled you in closer by the waist, making you sit on her lap. „Someone is getting comfortable.“ she grinned, stroking your hot cheek. You lean into it.

„There we go,“ she praised „there is that blush.“ her other hand is tracing your spine meanwhile. Your naked spine, up to your brah clip. She circles around the place, her eyes drowsy, but hungry, yet she waited.

„Tennant.“ you whisper, hands on her shoulders.

„My Rose?“ she crocked her head at you, fauxing innocence.

All of your vocabulary leaves your mind. Your mouth is dry, so you lean down. „Yes.“

She grins, dimples showing. „What yes?“

You think, trying to find your words, but its hard when she is staring rigth at you while her fingers are teasing the space around your brah clip. „You know me...please touch me Ada.“

A genuine smile appears on her lips. She leans in to whisper into your ear. „Who am I to deny such a request from my Rose?“ A shiver runs down your spine. Her voice always did have this hoarseness to it. And you have always had a weakness for it. She kisses you, you return it, though it is more sloopy. How long has it been? She parts from you, leaning back, drinking the rest of her tea, not taking her eyes of off you the whole time. „We should take this upstairs.“ she side eyes the statues. „They creep me out.“

„The walls seem thin.“

„Did you ever really care?“

Well, the neighboors sleep would be ruined. You got off of her, took her hand and jogged up, with only a few inbetween breaks of kisses and some spare hickeys on your neck, around your collarbone. Her name left your mouth in prayers already. It did not take much for her, now did it? When you were struggling to open the door inbetween kisses, her shirt had already been unbottoned, exposing her bare chest. It wasn`t easy to focus with these factors in your mind, or her warm toung in your mouth. So she took this job from your hand, turning the knob and making you stumble back, but she catched you with a grin, of course. „It appears that you have fallen for me.“

You can not stop yourself from laughing, still giggling as she pulls you to bed, pushes you down. But she herself is grinning, even as she kisses you again, finally uncliping your brah. You sigh, taking it off with her help. She swiftly presses her lips on your jawline, leading them down your throath, more down until she closes her mouth around the hardened bud. Your body presses into her and a breathy moan escapes you. „Ada...“

Apperantly she likes your answer, her one hand travels towards your other breast, gently squezzing. You were sure that your underwear was ruined by now, just judging by that feeling in your stomach.

She takes your attention back as her lips continue to go lower, as she takes your pants off. You grin. She bites her lip at your wetness, before kissing your thigh to look back at you Yeah, you`d have a long nigth ahead of you.

***

Ada looked upon your sleeping form, the first rays of sunligth were scatered on you, your soft eyelashes, your naked body, bearing her marks. She crossed her legs, a proud grin on her face. She did usually avoid leaving traces, dissapearing to be never found again. But with you it didn`t work, and she ougth herself stupid for expecting it too. Considering your shared history. You`d always come to find her, and she would always leave traces. She leans down, kissing your forehead, asking herself if she would stay when you asked., as she stood up to leave. The idea scared her.

Untill there was a hand grabing at her wrist. When she turned, your angry eyes were looking between her and a letter on the nigthstand.“You are not leaving me to pay the rent again, are you?“

Ada grinned, holding the look in your eyes with no problem. „Oh. You know, I have always loved you for your brain, my rose.“ Your face changed from anger to shock in a matter of seconds, and with that shock came a loose hand. She took the oppurtunity, walking towards the door with a „I will see you soon, my rose~“

„Ada Tennant, you will come back into this room and face me now-“ she heard you shout as she jumped down the stairs, escaping something you threw at her, which she recognized upon further inspection as her hat. She threw a quick „Thanks“ at you before jumping down the stairs to escape your wrath.

[temporarywelcome]

The X-Factor - Peter Maximoff

Chapter One: To Be a Star

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader Fic Summary: Peter Maximoff and Alex Summers liked being X-Men, they really did. However, they both felt like they could be so much... more. And so they found themselves as film students travelling to a secluded farm in Texas for a documentary project, Peter immediately smitten with the owner's daughter, Y/N. However, Y/N, her parents, and the rest of the farm seem to be hiding a terrible, evil, secret.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: swearing

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"I will not accept a life I do not deserve."

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Word Count: 1.8k

Starting anew was tough. 

He wasn’t very good in high school. Not that he was dumb, he just barely ever showed up, just enough to pass so his mom could be happy. He didn’t bother with college, content with just staying in his mom’s basement and zooming around stealing Twinkies and junk. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. 

He was content, until he was twenty and found out who his father was. Erik Lensherr, the infamous Magneto. 

So Peter Maximoff found himself at Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, and he made himself a home there. Eventually, after Erik flip flopped from evil back to good, Peter was able to introduce himself to his dad, and became an X-Man. He built a relationship with his father, and began being friends with Alex Summers. 

Alex liked being an X-Man, he really did. He liked saving the world. Not only was it an ego boost, but, well, he didn’t like people dying. 

But there was something he liked more.

Peter and Alex were movie nerds, spending a lot of their free time at the movies or watching old films in one of their rooms, snacking away and chattering about whatever the hell they were watching. Peter was always into the story itself, dissecting the plot and hidden meanings. A lot of people just assume he’s dumb because of his laid back personality and shitty school attendance, but he really was smart, he was. He was smart and he talked fast and he would yap and yap for hours about interesting films, and Alex would nod along and talk about it as well.

Alex was a cinematography guy. Not so concerned with the content of the film, more interested in how it’s laid out and portrayed. He was good with a camera. Really good. So good he wanted the world to know it.

“I don’t know, I feel I’m cut out for more than this,” he had said once.

Peter, who was busy on Super Mario Bros, had glanced at him, “For more than saving lives?”

“Like… I like doing this, but I’m not as happy as I would hope… I was looking at NYU.”

“...for what?” Peter had laughed, but he was genuinely intrigued. 

“Imma be a director, dude. I can do more than this. I can use more than the mutations already given to me, y’know? I wanna prove myself, work hard and build myself to the top,” Alex had then said something that really stuck with Peter: “I will not accept a life I do not deserve,”

Alex wanted more with his life. And to be honest, Peter did too.

And that was how they ended up at NYU. Peter was terrified he wasn’t going to get in due to his shitty attendance in high school, however, like mentioned before, he was genuinely smart, his portfolio was sound, and he became a film student. 

He and Alex had plans. 

He was the imagination. With his speedy mutations, he was writing up ideas and storylines and soon full scripts within minutes. Alex was the bow, putting it all together into a complete idea. A master with the camera, and a genius when it came to editing.

That was the plan.

Actually attending classes was miserable. Staying in a chair for whole class periods, unmoving, was utter torture. But he pushed through, determined to get through with this.

He will not accept a life he does not deserve. He will persevere. Soon, everyone will know Peter Maximoff and Alex Summers.

Now, at 23, his junior year at NYU, he and Alex had a class together. A film class, of course, and they paired together for a project, of course.

The most boring project known to man.

They were stuck filming a documentary during their whole week of Spring Break. What the hell was Peter supposed to do? Narration? That was about it. 

The most boring piece of shit, at the most boring piece of shit of a place. Springlake Farms. In the middle of Butt Fuck Nowhere, Texas. 

Alex had chose this place because the story was interesting. It was one of those farms with plenty of lodging for guests. Twenty-five years ago, during the Christmas season, the lodge was filled to capacity by a big family. Everyone’s mom, dad, aunt, and uncle was there. A billion cousins, it seemed. Within twenty-four hours, they were all dead.

Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

The owners of the farm mysteriously vanished as well, cops coming to the conclusion that they were the ones responsible for this massacre. The new owners are distant cousins of the previous, and so Alex and Peter were here to learn more about the farm and this mystery. 

The duo was there in seconds, thanks to Peter’s speed. He removed his hand from Alex’s neck (gotta prevent the whiplash!), eyeing the establishment with a grin, “It’s shitty,”

“Ugly as hell,” Alex said in agreement, “Perfect,”

“It’ll look spooky on camera,” 

“Spooky as hell,” A smirk appeared on Alex’ face.

Peter fiddled with the strap of his camera, hung around his neck, “We should check in,”

“Yeah, then we can film this area, the first view of the house,” Alex was already envisioning the scene they were going to film, eyes scanning the fields, calculating, “We already have permission to film everywhere, we just have to ask for permission to film people,”

Peter nodded, following Alex towards the front door, “I feel like I’m going to be so useless,”

“Hey,” Alex glanced at him from over his shoulder, “This is a team effort. That narration needs to perfectly encompass the terrifying and eerie feel this place needs to give to the viewers.”

“By viewers, you mean our professor?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Alex rolled his eyes, “You’ll do just fine. Remember, you got-”

“-The x-factor,” Peter finished. He interrupted Alex quite often, he just talks too slow. And he always knew when Alex was going to mention their “x-factor”, he said it all the time. 

“Exactly,” Alex grinned, before turning ahead of him and knocking on the door. 

Almost immediately, a sweet-looking older woman answered, “hello, there! What young, handsome men we have in lil’ ol’ Springlake today. You the film boys?”

“Yes,” Alex replied politely, “I’m Alex, and this is Peter,” 

“Perfect! I’ll have my daughter show you to your lodgin’ for the week, alrighty then?” 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Alex responded. He was always the one interacting with anyone they had to speak with for projects, considering Peter was already zoned out.

He was way too focused on the gorgeous girl that just came out of the farm to give a shit about what some old lady was saying. 

A sweet-looking girl in a pair of overalls and a red shirt underneath, walking with a bucket in hand. Holy shit. That was beauty right there. That… that right there was one hot mama. Holy cannoli. 

“Y/N!” the older woman shouted, “Get yer lil’ ass o’er here!” 

Peter’s eyes widened. That hot girl in the overalls was this woman’s daughter? That total babe was going to show him and Alex to their cabin? 

Stone Cold Steve Austin ran through his mind. Can I get a hell yeah?

Hell yeah.

“Comin’, Mama!” the girl shouted back in reply, and her voice was like fucking honey. Holy shit. She made her way over, giving Peter and Alex a sweet smile, “These two the film fellas?” 

Her mother nodded, handing her two pairs of keys, “Get these young gentlemen to ‘eir loging,” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/N’s attention went to Peter and Alex, “Follow me!”

Peter followed. He followed like a fucking puppy following their owner. Practically breathing down her neck, he was so fucking close to her, “So…” he began, “How’s the farm life treating ya?” Shit, he sounded so dumb. ‘How’s the farm life treating ya’ ? That’s the only life this girl knows. 

“It’s the dream,” Y/N replied brightly. However, once she was sure her mother was out of earshot, she said: “It’s fuckin’ miserable,”

Oh!

“How come?” Alex quipped, wanting to be part of the conversation with the hot chick too. 

She shrugged, “I don’t belong here. I’m destined for greater things,” she turned back ahead of her, a little bounce in her step, as if she was daydreaming her new life.

“I respect that,” Alex said in agreement.

“What bigger things?” Peter asked, making sure to show his interest in her goals. Girls liked that, right? He wouldn’t know, considering he had spent most of his high school years skipping class and playing video games. 

Y/N shrugged again, “I wanna be a star,” she said dreamily, a sweet smile on her pretty face. 

“Like, movie star?”

“Somethin’ like that,” she stopped in front of the door of some worn-out cabin, unlocking the door, “This be yer cabin for the next week!”

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” said Alex, immediately throwing his suitcase down on the couch, “We really appreciate what your family is doing for us,”

“Ah, filmin’ a movie, right?” she questioned, leaning against a wall as Peter threw his own suitcase next to Alex’s. 

“Documentary, to be specific,” Peter explained, before promptly disappearing. Hell, he loved hot chicks, but his nosiness came first, and he was zooming through the small cabin, opening drawers and cabinets and closets in curiosity, returning a few milliseconds late, “Nice,” It was not nice, but he wanted Y/N to feel good.

“Really?” she raised a brow, “It’s shit,”

“You’re right, it’s shit,” he sighed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Don’t tell my mama I said that, she’ll get pissed,” Y/N giggled, the most melodic sound Peter had ever heard in his entire life. “I best be off, got chores t’do,” she turned to leave before pausing and glancing at Peter, “I can always show you ‘round if you like,” she added, biting her bottom lip before leaving. 

It was silent for a moment, Peter practically drooling as he watched her walk off. Alex was quiet as a mouse too, until a smirk appeared on his face.

“Holy shit dude,” Alex exclaimed with wide eyes, “She was totally checking you out!”

“What? Noooo,” Peter scoffed, “There’s no way,” 

“She was giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes, bro!” Alex clapped Peter’s back in praise, “Lucky bastard. She’s hot as hell,” 

A huge shit-eating grin plastered on the speedster’s face as he glanced back at the now empty doorway, “She’s hot as hell,” he agreed. 

“And she totally digs you, man. Lucky bastard!” Alex repeated. “I can always show you ‘round if you like,” he repeated Y/N’s words, terribly imitating her Southern accent. “I’m so horny, Peter. I need you so bad, Peter!” 

His cheeks flushed red at Alex’s words, “Shut!”

“Oh you better bag that chick, man, or you’ll surely be the dumbest man in the world,” 

He grinned, seating himself on the couch. Alex was right on that one, however, Peter had zero experience. Like, at all. So he already knew he was the dumbest man in the world because he knew he surely will not bag that chick. 

Well… if Alex was right, she already had an interest in Peter. There was a chance he could actually make this work!

Unfortunately, Y/N was not the only one interested in Peter.

_____

I'll try posting at least once a week. This is going to be a really short series, probably about 5 chapters? And if you couldn't tell, it's inspired by Pearl and X lol.

[officialstrawhat]

Rose of Dressrosa- Chapter 6

So... Long time no see! My writing kicks come and go but I hope there is still interest in this story :)

Masterlist

Gif is not mine! Word Count: 1K

Trafalgar D. Law x Fem!Reader

Summary:

After King Riku is dethroned, Doflamingo takes you under his wing and asks you to follow only one strict rule, "do not leave the palace alone". However, your sense of adventure is too great.

Law had only one thing in mind... Revenge. And you seemed like the best way to do that.

Rose of Dressrosa Masterlist

Warnings: Dark themes, Manipulation, not edited.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 6

Law watched you as you both sat in the alleyway. You brushed crumbs off your hands, a sly smile on your lips as your eyes lingered on something. 

“What?” he asked, intrigued.

“Do you actually use that thing?” you replied your tone light, almost teasing.

He followed your gaze to his katana leaning against the brick wall. He smirked. “From time to time,” he told you as you sprang to your feet, you flashed him a mischievous grin. 

“So, anywhere else you haven’t shown me?” he asked, pulling his hood up as he stood.

You thought for a moment. “There is one more place.”

His curiosity was piqued. “Lead the way.”

You both walked toward the tallest building at the town’s edge, exchanging light banter until you reached the stone tower. 

“So… how the hell are we getting up there?” Law asked, raising an eyebrow.

You held up your arm, and a thick root sprouted from the ground, weaving itself into an intricate staircase leading up the tower. Law couldn’t help but stare in amazement. Though he would never admit it…

“Hope you're not afraid of heights,” you teased as you stepped onto your creation.

“You’re a Devil Fruit user,” Law said, more a statement than a question.

“Does it bother you?” You slowed, your eyes wary. You weren’t exactly allowed to show your powers to others, a rule that had been in place long before the Donquixote family took you in.

“No,” he chuckled, following you up. “I’ve met plenty of people with… unique abilities.” Though it would make this much more difficult,  Law added in his head.

“Good,” you replied, a little too quickly. “I mean- I’m just glad you’re not bothered.”

Once on the roof, you sank down onto the edge, your feet dangling off the ledge as you looked out over the town. The hazy street lights turned on one by one as the sun made its descent toward the horizon. the Colosseum stood proudly in the skyline the chatter of citizens going about their day drifted away. The warmth of the breeze, the crashing waves in the distance—it felt serene. This was your hidden escape, a place only you had known about until now.

“What is this place?” Law asked, sitting beside you.

“It’s an old watchtower. It’s not used anymore, not since the revolution, so its become a sort of secret hideout for me.”

Law could see why you loved it; from here, the entire town lay beneath you, a picture-perfect sight—if he didn’t know better the perfect town. But he did know better. If Doflamigo was in charge something was terribly wrong. And being one of Doflamingo’s favorites You had to know something. That made you an enemy, and recently he felt himself forgetting that.

You broke the silence. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to see you again. Things are becoming… complicated.”

Law tensed. Perhaps he hadn’t pushed hard enough for answers. He had a choice: either you truly didn’t know anything meaning he should leave you alone, or you were playing the dumb and you’d be harder to break. He was still weighing his options when you sighed, looking back over the town. 

He decided now was the time to make his next move. “I leave tomorrow night,” he said, his voice steady.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“My job here is done. My crew and I are moving on.”

“Oh… okay.” Your heart sank.

“And I want you to come with me,” he said smoothly, barely betraying the lie.

“You… want me to join your crew?” Excitement and fear mingled in your expression.

“It’s just an offer. You seem like you’d want to see the world. I’ll wait for you here. But I leave at midnight—come or don’t, but I’m leaving.”

Your heart raced as you weighed his words. You looked out at the ocean, the vast world calling to you. 

“What if I say yes?” you asked.

“Then we’ll sail away, and you’ll see things beyond your wildest dreams,” he replied with quiet intensity.

“And if I say no?”

His fists clenched subconsciously, “Then I’ll leave, and you’ll stay here—just another secret on this island.”

The silence stretched between you as you stared out at the horizon, wondering if you had the courage to abandon everything you’d known. This decision would change everything.

“Can I think about it?” you finally asked.

He nodded. “Just know I won’t wait forever.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, a weight settled over you. You could sense this moment’s importance and its power to change your life.

OoOoOo

Back at the palace, you lay restless in your bed, torn between staying and leaving. You felt a longing to confide in someone, but fear kept you silent. In the quiet of the night, you found yourself at the grave of the one person you trusted most, a place thick with memories.

“I came to ask for your advice,” you murmured to the headstone.

The stillness offered no answers… just like always.

“I was asked to leave, and I want to… but I don’t know if I can leave you.” The silence hung heavy.

“It’s ridiculous,” you whispered, frustration welling up. “I’m safe here. And I’m well taken care of.” But you knew what would happen if Doflamingo found out you’d considered leaving- The very thought made your heart pound. You couldn’t even begin to fathom what would happen. But if there was any time for you to leave wouldn't it be prudent to go now while the young master was away? Or would that just make the punishment worse when he came back home?

As if in response, carnations began to bloom around you, the flowers your mother had adored. You must have conjured them unconsciously. “Just give me a sign, Mother,” you pleaded. “Anything.”

As if on cue, a butterfly descended and settled on one of the petals of the flower. The warmth of that tiny gesture filled you, bringing tears to your eyes. “Thank you.” You placed a gentle hand on the cold stone, feeling a rush of peace. 

For the first time, you felt truly free. With excitement stirring in your heart, you whispered once more to the grave, “I’ll carry you with me.”

Taglist: @rebeccawinters @mj-airlines @awkwardspontaneity @cresent-z

[winchesterwild78]

Behind the Scenes pt 7

Master List 

Minors DNI 18+

Warnings: fluff, body insecurities, oral sex (male receiving) 

A/N: I couldn’t leave everyone hanging long after the last chapter. I know it was a hard one, it was hard to write. I hope this one makes up for it. This is a work of fiction. No disrespect to Jensen or Jared or their families. *kinda a long chapter, with a slight time jump*

I edited this fast- please forgive any mistakes 

This is my original work, do not take it. 

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Jensen sat against the wall outside your room for what felt like hours. His head was pounding and his eyes hurt from crying. He prayed harder than he had ever prayed in his life. His mind was in a haze and all his thoughts kept centering around you and the future you two were supposed to share. 

The nurse who pushed him out of the room came up and kneeled beside him. Touching his shoulder he gently called his name “Mr. Ackles, you can come back in. She’s stable again. We were able to bring her back.” He helped Jensen to his feet and Jensen walked about into your room. 

He saw you laying on the bed, still unconscious and pale. He hated seeing you like this. He felt completely powerless and it made him angry. “What happened?” Jensen asked in barely a whisper. “She suffered a blood clot that went to her heart. We can’t give her blood thinners right now until we are sure her bleeding has stopped. We will do some scans in a few hours to check and then start her on a regime of medication to help prevent further clots. We placed these on her legs to help keep the blood pumping.” The doctor moved the sheet back to reveal cuffs on your legs that inflated and deflated on your legs. 

Jensen nodded his understanding. “Is she going to be okay?” “She’s still not out of the woods yet, if you’re a praying man I would suggest you pray. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. Really it’s up to her and her body to fight. We will give you two some privacy. Mr. Ackles, I will be praying for her.” Your doctor gently touched his shoulder before leaving the room.

Jensen sat beside you and held your hand. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I love you so much baby. I need you here with me and Tristan. I’m not ready to do this by myself. Please keep fighting baby.” Jensen laid his head on the bed beside you and quietly cried. 

His phone went off and he checked it. It was a text from Jared asking how you were doing. He just sent a text back that you were still fighting. He didn’t have the energy to tell him what happened. One of the night nurses walked in and saw Jensen. She was an older woman and had a sweet smile. “Mr. Ackles, when was the last time you ate or drank anything?” She questioned. “I guess this afternoon at home. I’m okay. I don’t want to leave her.” 

She walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder “Mr. Ackles, you are no good to her or your baby if you don’t take care of yourself. Go grab something to eat and drink, go see your son, and just breathe. I promise I won’t leave her side until you get back.” Jensen stood up and reluctantly let go of your hand. He leaned over and kissed your forehead. “I love you baby. I’ll be back soon. I’m going to check on Tristan.” He kissed you again and thanked the nurse. 

He walked to the cafeteria and grabbed a coffee and a snack. He ate it quickly. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he sat and ate. After he finished he started walking to the nursery. Jensen looked through the glass and saw Tristan awake. His bright green eyes were looking around. His heart warmed and he smiled. His son was the greatest gift anyone has ever given him. He was so thankful you gave him this beautiful baby. The nurse saw him and smiled. She opened the door for him. “Hello, Mr. Ackles. Have you come to see baby Tristan?” Jensen smiled and he said yes. 

Jensen walked over to Tristan and picked him up. He carried him to the rocking chair and sat down. “Hey baby boy. How’s daddy’s boy?” He looked down at Tristan and saw his green eyes looking up at him. He couldn’t believe how quickly he loved him. Then he had a realization. He put Tristan back down, kissed his head and told him he would be right back. 

Jensen walked over to the nurse in the nursery and told her his idea. She thought it was a great idea and worth a shot. The nurse helped him push Tristan’s bassinet to your room. Once in the room he found the other nurse still sitting by your side. She smiled when she saw you and Tristan. “He’s absolutely beautiful, Mr. Ackles.” Jensen smiled and thanked her. 

“I had an idea and I hope you can help me with it. I want to lay Tristan on her chest. Skin to skin. I think it will be good for her to feel her son.” Jensen told the nurse. “Oh Jensen, I think that’s a wonderful idea. Let me help you. You get baby Tristan down to his diaper and I’ll get her ready.” Jensen got baby Tristan down to his diaper and the nurse helped get your chest cleared enough of wires to lay Tristan down. Jensen carried Tristan over and carefully placed him on your chest. The nurse took your hand and placed it on Tristan. 

Jensen and the nurses stood silently. Listening to your monitor and the soft coos of Tristan. Your heart rate started increasing. Jensen and the nurses exchanged looks. They stayed quiet and watched you and the monitor. Jensen leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Come on baby, Tristan is here waiting for his mommy. Please open your eyes. You can do it baby.” 

Jensen saw your hand that was on Tristan twitch a little. His eyes went wide. Surely he was mistaken. He looked and saw it again. The nurse gasped when she saw it too. Then they all saw your hand tighten around Tristan, holding him tight. Your eyes started to flutter open. Jensen and the nurses couldn’t believe their eyes. You were waking up. 

“I’m right here baby! Oh thank God! Y/N, it’s okay baby. You’re safe.” The nurse left to get the doctor so they could check you. While she was gone you woke up and saw Jensen. Tears fell from your eyes as you held your baby. The other nurse in the room told you to stay calm. The doctor would remove the tube. You nodded with understanding. 

Jensen leaned over and kissed your forehead. “You came back to us. I love you so much baby.” The doctor walked in and saw you awake with Tristan on your chest. “You came back, Y/N. You’ve had so many people anxious for you to come back. I see you’ve met your son.” She smiled at you and Jensen. “Great idea, dad.” She looked at Jensen. “Okay, I’m going to remove this tube. When I do, your throat is going to be sore, but it’ll get better after a few hours. Are you ready?” You nodded. Jensen took Tristan off your chest and wrapped him in a blanket and held him. 

The doctor removed the tube and gave you some water to drink. Your vitals were getting stronger and your color was starting to come back. “What happened?” You asked hoarsely. The doctor told you what happened in the operating room and most recently. Your eyes went wide and you looked over at Jensen who had tears in his eyes. “You got yourself a great man there. He wouldn’t leave your side, and he’s been so great with baby Tristan too.” The doctor told you. You took Jensen’s hand and held it. 

“I need to text everyone and let them know you’re awake. They’ve all been worried.” Jensen said as he handed Tristan back to you. You took your son in your arms and looked at him. He was perfect. He looked like you but had Jensen’s eyes. He held your finger in his tiny hand and cooed. You smiled and whispered “Hey baby boy. You are so loved and so wanted. I can’t wait to watch you grow.” You kissed his head softly. 

Jensen finished letting everyone know you were awake and they were going to be moving you to a recovery room soon so everyone could visit a few people at a time. Jensen sat beside you and watched you with Tristan and smiled. He took out his phone and took a picture. “Jensen, don’t take my picture. I look horrible.” “No you don’t, you’re breathtaking, and you’re holding our son.” He smiled. 

“Our son. Our sweet baby boy is here. I can’t believe we did it, Jensen.” “No, you did it sweetheart. You carried him, gave birth to him, and fought to come back to us.” Jensen kissed your lips softly. “I was so scared, Y/N. I thought I was going to lose you. We almost did, but you came back to us.” A tear fell from Jensen’s eye. 

“Oh baby, don’t cry. I’m okay. I could never leave you.” You grabbed his hand. The nurse walked in and told you they were moving you to recovery. Jensen took Tristan and placed him in his bassinet and the nurse started pushing your bed to your new room. Jensen pushed Tristan and followed behind you. 

Once you arrived at your new room the nurse hooked you up to the monitor. “This will only be temporary. We need to monitor you a little while longer.” You nodded. Once you were hooked up she left you, Jensen and Tristan alone. Jensen picked up Tristan and brought him back over to you. You took Tristan in your arms and kissed his head. Jensen leaned down and kissed your lips. “I love you, sweetheart. So much!” “I love you too, Jens.” 

“So what did Jared say about his name?” “He was over the moon. It took him a second to get it. I haven’t had a chance to tell Misha he’s here yet. I’ll text him later.” You nodded and continued to look at your son. You couldn’t believe you were a mom. There was a soft knock at the door and Jensen said come in. You looked up and saw Jensen’s parents and yours. When your mom saw you she cried and ran to hold you. 

Everyone took a turn hugging you and then they turned their attention to baby Tristan. Your parents and Jensen’s didn’t stay too long. They wanted you to rest. Your mom kept hugging you and didn’t want to leave you. You understood, but her hugs were body crushing. 

When they left you fed the baby and changed him. You had just finished feeding Tristan when there was a knock at the door. You said come in softly and saw Jared and Gen walk in. They both smiled big when they saw you up and holding the baby. “Oh my goodness. We are so happy you are okay.” Gen said as she hugged you. Jared smiled and nodded. “Yeah, you gave us quite a scare.” “So I heard. Thank you for being there for Jensen. I know it wasn’t easy for him or y’all.” “Hey, Y/N, that’s what family is for. We will always be there for you guys.” Jared said as he hugged you. 

You tried to stifle a yawn that was building, but you couldn’t help it. Gen and Jared hugged you, Jensen, and Tristan before they left. Jensen placed Tristan in the bassinet and walked over to you. “I love you so much. I was so scared. I thought I was never going to see you again.” Jensen sighed. “Jens, what happened? I just remember them telling me they needed to do a c-section, but then everything went black after that.” “The doctor said your placenta detached and you started to hemorrhage. When they got Tristan out you started to bleed more. You lost a lot of blood and coded 4 times on the table. Later in your room you coded again, but you fought baby. You fought so hard to get back to us.” Jensen kissed your head as a tear slipped out.

“I’ll never stop fighting to stay with you and Tristan. I love you, Jensen. I’m so sorry you went through all of that.” You lifted your hand and cupped his cheek. He leaned down and for the first time in a while your lips touched in a passionate kiss. 

The kiss was filled with so much need, love, and emotion. You melted into his lips as both of you moaned. A knock on the door interrupted the kiss. You blushed and said come in. The nurse came in to check your vitals and see if you needed anything. “I am a little hungry. Do you think I can get something to eat?” You questioned. “Absolutely! Dad, do you need anything?” The nurse turned towards Jensen. “No, I’m good. I’ll grab something later. Thank you though.” The nurse nodded and left the room.

“Jens, you looked exhausted. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep? I’ll be okay.” Jensen smiled down at you. “I’m okay baby. That chair turns into a twin bed, I’ll get some sleep later. Right now I want to enjoy being here with my little family.” You playfully rolled your eyes, knowing it was useless arguing with him. “Okay, but promise me you will sleep. We need you in top shape.” You said as you motioned towards the baby.

The nursery nurse came to get Tristan just as your food arrived. “I need to take him for a bath, and to be checked by the pediatrician. I should be able to bring him back in a few hours.” You and Jensen nodded. You ate your food and Jensen chuckled. “You really were hungry, weren’t you?” You shook your head enthusiastically. 

When you finished eating you laid down. Sleep was washing over you. Jensen walked over to you and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby.” When Jensen heard your soft snores he fixed the chair into a bed and kicked off his shoes. It wasn’t long before sleep was overtaking him too. 

You woke up a few hours later and looked over to see Jensen fast asleep. You smiled and your heart filled with so much love. You couldn’t imagine the pain he went through. The doctor came in, breaking you away from your thoughts. She saw Jensen sleeping and she smiled. “Good afternoon, Y/N. How are you doing?” “I’m sore, but feeling pretty good. I heard I gave everyone a scare.” “Yes you did, especially him.” She pointed towards Jensen. “He refused to leave your side. I thought he was going to beat up one of my nurses.” She chuckled. “Oh no! He is fiercely protective of his family.” You told her. “I can see that. You’ve got yourself an incredible man there. I’m glad to see he’s finally resting.”

You looked over at Jensen, “me too.” “Okay, let's check you out and see what’s going on. I see everything looks good and you are healing. Your blood count is good and the scans we did show no more bleeding. This is all really good news. If you keep this up and your numbers stay up you can go home tomorrow.” “Oh my goodness, really?” You exclaimed. The doctor nodded yes. 

As she was leaving the room Tristan was brought back in. The nurse handed him to you. He smelled so good after his bath and was wrapped up tightly in his blanket. You were so in love with him. He was a perfect mix of you and Jensen, with Jensen’s green eyes. When you first saw him you thought he favored you more, but now he definitely is a beautiful mix of the two of you. 

You talked to him, held him and kissed him while Jensen slept. About half an hour after they brought Tristan in there was a soft knock at the door. You told them to come in. You smiled when you saw Clif and Misha. Clif walked over to you first. “Hey sweet pea, how are you feeling?” He kissed your head and looked down at the baby. “I’m okay. Doing so much better.” He nodded and looked over at Jensen and smiled. 

Misha walked up next and looked at you and the baby. “Hey, Y/N. I can’t believe you named him after me, thank you. That means so much to me.” “Oh Mish, you’re an important part of Jensen’s life and mine too. Would you like to hold him?” Misha nodded and held out his arms. It warmed your heart to see Misha holding your son. You grabbed your phone to take a picture. Jensen would want to see this so you decided to take a picture. 

Tristan started to whimper a little and Misha thought he did something wrong. You laughed and told Misha he was probably just wet. As Tristan started to whine more, Misha handed him back to you and Jensen started to wake up. Jensen stretched and stood up seeing Clif and Misha in the room. “Hey guys, good to see you. How long have I been asleep?” “A few hours, but you needed it.” You replied. Jensen nodded and walked over to Clif and Misha. He gave them both a hug and thanked them for coming. 

“Well, we are going to head out and let you two rest. I’m in town for a few days, so I’ll see you guys soon.” Misha said as he leaned down to kiss your head. “Okay, thanks for coming. We really appreciate it.” You smiled. They both nodded, gave one last hug to Jense and you, then left. 

“So the doctor came in while you were asleep and said everything is looking good. No more bleeding, blood count is steady and if I keep it up I can go home tomorrow. Can you believe it?” You told Jensen. “That’s great news baby. I can’t wait to get you two home.” Jensen replied. 

The next morning the doctor came into your room early to talk to you and Jensen. “Well, it looks like everything is still going good. Your blood count is increasing and there is no sign of infection or potential for you to code again. I think it’s safe to send you home. The nurse will be in shortly to unhook you, and give you your discharge paperwork. If you need anything, day or night, don’t hesitate to reach out to me.” She smiled as she talked to you. 

“Thank you doctor, we will. Thank you for taking such good care of me and my little one.” She hugged you and Jensen stood and hugged her too. “I want to see you in my office in about 5 weeks for a check up. If you need anything before then, let me know.” You nodded, “See you in 5 weeks then.” 

The nurse came in and started unhooking the machines and took out your IV. “Okay, Miss. Y/L/N, you can shower and get dressed if you would like. Here are discharge instructions. Please follow them and call your doctor if you experience any complications. Keep all of your follow up appointments and take your medication as prescribed. Do you have any questions?” “No, thank you. I’m just eager to shower and get my family home.” You smiled. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know when you are ready and we will get you a wheelchair and home.” 

She left the room and you slowly stood. Jensen helped you to the bathroom and offered to stay in the bathroom while you showered. As you stepped in the shower, the warm water enveloped your body like a hug. You sighed contently. You washed your hair and body, taking extra care around your incision. When you finished Jensen was waiting to help you out and dry off. “Jens, just hand me the towel, please. I don’t want you to see my body right now.” You said through the curtain. “Honey, no. Let me help you. I love your body. It’s beyond perfect.” He started to pull back the curtain. You bit your lip and tried to cover the best you could. 

“Baby, please let me help you. Your body just did something amazing. Not only did you carry and give birth to our son, you fought like hell to stay here with us. You’re perfect and I love every part of you.” You slowly put your hands down and Jensen’s eyes looked at your body. “So beautiful.” He whispered as he helped dry you off. You blushed and pulled him close to you. You placed a kiss on his lips and whispered “I love you, Jensen.” “I love you too, Y/N. Now let’s get you dressed and home.” You nodded and smiled

A few minutes later you were dressed and Tristan was in his carseat ready to go home. Jensen was beaming with pride. The nurse came in and helped you in the wheelchair and started to wheel you out. Jensen followed close behind with Tristan. He pulled the car around and placed Tristan in the backseat, locking him into the base. You slid in the backseat with him as Jensen got up front. 

You watched your sweet boy sleep and Jensen’s focus on the road. He was driving carefully. It made you chuckle. “Honey, you can drive the speed limit.” You laughed. “I’m trying to keep y’all safe,” he said. “Okay, baby.” You smiled.

The three of you arrived home safely. Both of your parents were waiting to welcome you home. The house was clean, there was food ready and everyone was so happy you and Tristan were home. Jensen’s mom and your mom came to your door and helped you out. Jensen grabbed Tristan’s carseat and carried him inside. 

You sat on the couch and Jensen took Tristan out of his seat, laying him in the small bassinet beside you. He was sleeping peacefully. Your dad and Jensen’s were sitting at the table while your moms were in the kitchen finishing up setting the food out. Jensen ran upstairs to take a shower and change. You got up and started to walk upstairs. You heard the shower running when you got to the bedroom and bit your lip thinking about him in the shower. 

You missed him and how he made you feel. You knew it was going to be awhile before the two of you could be intimate again, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t sneak a peek. You softly knocked on the bathroom door. “Hey, Jens, need any help?” You whispered seductively. Jensen pulled back the curtain showing off his wet, toned body. You bit your lip and could feel the ache between your thighs. 

Jensen stepped out of the shower and water trickled down his body. You walked up to him and kissed his lips. He deepened the kiss and you moaned. You felt his length harden against you. “Jens, let me take care of you.” You whispered as you slowly dropped to your knees. “Baby, you don’t have to do this.” Jensen told you. “I know, I want to.” You looked up at him seductively. 

You took his hardening length in your hands, guiding it to your mouth. As your lips wrapped around him he groaned. You used your tongue to lick his length, starting at the base and all the way up to the pink tip. He had some precum on the head and you licked it off. 

Your movements became fluid as you worked his length down your throat. Jensen’s hand went to your hair and helped guide you. Jensen moaned and grunted with each thrust. He was close already. “God baby, you feel so good. I’m not going to last long. I need to cum.” He moaned out. You pulled back and locked eyes with him, “cum for me baby, cum down my throat.” Your mouth took him in deep and a few thrusts more and he was cumming down your throat. His hot seed spilling in your mouth. When you felt his pulsing stop you pulled him out of your mouth. 

Jensen helped you off your knees and pulled you into a hug, kissing you deeply. “Damn baby that was amazing. You didn’t have to do that.” “I know, I wanted to. You deserve so much more than that.” You kissed his lips and told him to get dressed. 

*time jump 7 weeks*

You and Jensen worked really well as a team when it came to taking care of Tristan. Between diapers, baths and feedings you were getting good at being parents. Your follow up and Tristan’s first appointment went great. The doctor cleared you for all activities, as long as you took it easy. 

Jensen and you decided it was time to announce the baby had arrived. You had pictures taken and you both picked your favorite one. The post read:

Y/N and I would like to announce the birth of our son, Tristan Dmitri Ackles. Born on August 23 at 22:35, weighing 7lbs 5oz, and 21” long. He was early, but was born healthy. Y/N and I are so in love with him and can’t wait to watch him grow. Thank you for all the love and support throughout this journey. 

Jensen & Y/N

You couldn’t believe how fast the post went viral. It was shared and commented on so quickly. Everyone was so supportive and said he looked like you. Which made you giggle. Of course Jared and Misha had to comment about the baby being named after them. Their back and forth banter made you and Jensen laugh. 

Jensen was upstairs in the nursery with Tristan while you were getting lunch ready. Jensen called you upstairs, he said he wanted to show you the outfit he just bought for Tristan. You smiled and went upstairs. “Let me see the adorable outfit you bought for him.” You said as you walked into the nursery. When you walked in you saw Tristan in his crib laying in a onesie that looked like a tuxedo. You giggled. “Well aren’t you just the most handsome little man. You look like you’re ready to go to prom.” As you turned around to ask Jensen where he got it from you gasped.

There Jensen was, behind you and on one knee. Your breath hitched. In his hand was an open ring box. “Y/N, from the moment I met you I knew I wanted to marry you. You’ve given me an incredible family and I know I should have asked you this a long time ago, but would you make me the happiest man on Earth and do me the most incredible honor of being my wife? Tears filled your eyes and spilled over onto your cheeks. “Yes! Jensen, yes I will marry you!” He stood, hugged you and kissed you. Then he placed the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen on your finger. “Jensen, it’s perfect, this was perfect.” “You’re perfect”, and he kissed your lips. 

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