#I do have a few more personal paintings that are well on their way already

[elektroyu]

This one was a little tricky for me to get the colors right, and I hope it doesn't look weird on most screens. But it's one of the paintings that have been in the works for some time (2020 in this case) and just needed to get finished. I didn't really have the confidence to decide which direction I wanted to take it when I started, but i think I got it now.

Reference image was taken at a local dog show and it's terribly grainy, but I just loved her longing stare so much that I wanted to paint it :D I did leave out the drool tho...

That said, there's currently a sale going on at my shop at js-tierportraits.de. Please check it out if you're interested to get a portrait!

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒

summary: having your period is already stressful enough and being in a magical all-boys school doesn't make it any better; luckily, your boyfriend is here to help

pairings: leona :: jade :: jamil x gn!reader

warnings: period comfort; mentions of periods and different symptoms (but gn pronouns), mentions of reader having hair in jade's part

twisted wonderland masterlist || similar writing: bloody hell [obey me]

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑

It was decidedly too early for this.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you walked through the hallways, head down to keep from making eye contact with the beastmen staring at you as you passed them. After tossing and turning all night, kept from finding sleep by painful cramps, being ogled at by students at an all boys school that could smell the blood on you was the last thing you needed.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to avoid this. When you had realised the predicament you would inevitably find yourself in, you had downright begged Crowley to let you stay at Ramshackle. After all, a certain Ignihyde dorm leader also never attended class in person. But, really, you should have known better. As if the headmage would let his number one therapist stay home for a few days each month or as he put it, he 'couldn’t rob a precious student like yourself of the opportunity to learn'.

At least Sam was an actual help and had magically procured just the stuff you needed.

So, with heavy eyes and burning cheeks you speed walked towards your first class of the day, dodging students at the last second on more than one occasion until you eventually ran straight into a sturdy chest. Looking up briefly to apologise, you blinked at the familiar emerald eyes sizing you up.

“Leona! What are you doing here?” Most people’s first reaction to seeing their boyfriend would probably not be bewilderment, but running into your boyfriend inside the school during class hours was as likely as Ace making it through a week without being collared by his housewarden.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was about to ask you the same thing,” the lion drawled, ears flicking to help convey the incredulousness painted on his face. “So, what do you think you’re doing?”

As imposing as he was with his athletic build and the unimpressed expression, causing the students around you to serve around the two of you, you weren’t affected at all, used to his grumpy exterior.

“Uhm, going to class?” You deadpanned, putting your hand on your hip to mirror his stance. “Unlike someone else I know.”

“Yeah, you’re not doing that,” Leona stated matter of factly.

“Excuse you?” When he tried pulling you along by your arm, away from the direction of your classroom, you dug your heels into the ground. “I hate to sound like a broken record but what are you doing, Leona?”

“Making you get some rest, obviously.” You couldn’t see it from where you stood but you could practically hear the way he rolled his eyes. 

“Listen I can’t just skip class, I talked to the headmage–”

“Crowley can solve his own problems for a day,” his voice rumbled low in his throat, almost sounding like a growl, “you know, like an actual adult. And don’t try to play dumb with me herbivore, it’s not a good look on you. I know you sleep like shit when you get your period and I also know that the people around you don’t take your health into account when they get up to some stupid idea.”

“Yeah but-”

You saw the annoyed flick of his tail before he turned around and braced his hands on your shoulders without ever applying any pressure. By now the last bell had rang and the corridor was deserted, leaving you to be the only people standing in the early morning light.

“Don’t give me this self-sacrificial nonsense,” Leona said, words harsh but you knew him well enough to read the protective feeling behind them. “We both know you need to rest. What good would it really do you to go to class in this state?”

As if to agree with him, a nasty cramp pulled at your lower stomach and the ill suppressed grimace on your face must have been all too apparent to your boyfriend. Giving your arm another light tug, Leona coaxed you towards the Hall of Mirrors again with a tempting ‘C’mon’ and this time you let him pull you along willingly, even handing him your backpack when he reached out for it.

Sometimes, it was hard to forget the kind of culture Leona grew up in, one where women held a high position of power in general, so really you shouldn’t be surprised by how… normal he was about all of this. Part of that was probably also because it was a very gentlemanly excuse to skip class in favour of a nap, if you were honest.

“If you’re that worried about missing class, Jack can give you his notes.” His offhand comment made you snort. Of course, he would offer someone else’s service to you before anything else.

“Or my third-year boyfriend could tutor me,” you teased, a playful lilt swinging in your voice.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the lion shrugged. “Weren’t you just on my case about my attendance record?”

“Because the first-year curriculum is just too hard for someone who can turn an entire stadium into dust,” you jabbed.

“You’re yapping a lot for someone who’s this tired,” Leona grumbled, a large palm pushing your head down, careful not to hurt you. With a giggle you decided to drop the topic. 

Crossing the Hall of Mirrors and stepping through the Savanclaw portal, you were greeted by the  warm breeze of dry air typical for the dorm’s daytime. After the trek through the savanna past the spring in the common room and across the wooden bridges, you reached Leona’s room and you could already feel the tension seep from your body as you stepped into its comfortable familiarity. 

When you unbuttoned your uniform’s blazer, you caught a glimpse of your stomach through your shirt, slightly extended further than usual due to the bloating. And rationally you knew it was a normal bodily reaction to your period but paired with the new bumps on your face and general exhaustion, logic wasn’t quite enough to calm your mind.

The clothes being plopped down on your head, however, certainly did rip you from your thoughts. Lifting the ends of the black material covering your eyes you threw your boyfriend a questioning glare.

“I can tell you’re thinking something stupid,” Leona offered as an explanation. “Just get changed and come to bed.”

Huffing under your breath, you stepped into his ensuite bathroom to do as he said, pulling on your boyfriend’s shirt and sweatpants. While you didn’t feel like agreeing with him quite yet, you had to admit, royal loungewear was a league of its own in comfort. And probably in price.

When you emerged, Leona had just tossed his phone on the nightstand before devoting all his attention to you. The ears on his head flicked as his gaze wandered from your head to toe and back up, a grin tugging at his lips and an appreciative glint in his green eyes. 

Then, the second you came within reach, he’d already wrapped you in his strong arms and pulled you into bed with him, not without a surprised squeal from you. You could feel his deep chuckle as much as you heard it with your head resting on his chest and resigned yourself to merely sighing fondly. 

With two firm hands stroking up and down the length of your back purposefully, their warmth spreading through your body, and his chest rising rhythmically underneath you, you finally allowed yourself to relax as you traced random patterns onto his biceps and pectorals and followed the movement with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You weren’t seriously looking down on yourself earlier, were you?” Leona mumbled, a serious care in his words he didn’t offer many people. 

“Well, you can’t really help it when your body goes through this many changes, can you?” you drowsily replied, your eyes already falling closed with no conscious work of your own. “Besides, periods are not the time you feel generally great about yourself.”

“No matter how you might see yourself, I don’t want you to doubt for even a second that I like you the way you are.” At his heartfelt confession, you peeked one eye open to study his expression.

“You can be quite the romantic if you want to huh?” You meekly chuckled, not able to help yourself.

“Go to sleep, herbivore, you’re talking crazy.” Even as he put one of his hands on the back of your head to keep you cradled against him, you didn’t miss how his ears flicked or the fondness with which he looked down on you.

“Alright, alright. I appreciate it though, really.” With a big yawn you shifted to get comfortable, your cramps far from your mind as you sunk into your boyfriend’s natural warmth. “Love you.”

By the time you’d wake up, Ruggie would have dropped off lunch along with some other essential items. But for now, Leona was content to watch as your breath evened out and your chest rose and fell in the rhythm of his own, careful not to disturb you when he draped a soft blanket over you. With the rising sun peeking through the arches of his room, he truthfully answered you in a whisper. 

“Love you, too.”

𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇

Once Jade had taken an interest in you, he would seemingly appear out of thin air in your general vicinity a lot more often than it was usual to run into a fellow student. On your way to the school store, in line at the cafeteria or when you were carrying supplies for Professor Crewel, the moray would coincidentally round a corner to lend a hand.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that, as his courting became more serious and you had become aware of what was going on, even reciprocating the sentiment, you found the sophomore waiting for you before your classes started. Your time table was well-memorised so he could greet you with a serene smile each day and walk you to your first class of the morning.

Now, as a moray eel with naturally sharp senses, it was somewhat inevitable he’d pick up on the scent of blood once your period rolled around. In contrast to beastmen who were mostly mammals in their anatomy, however, the Octatrio did not grow up on land and periods weren’t exactly a thing for merfolk. Moreover, seeing as they had only been on land for roughly two years and were attending an all-boys school, it was not a phenomenon they were likely to run into.

So, having his dear pearl approach one morning, the smell of iron heavy in the air, paired with their already soured mood and his lack of knowledge on the societal stigma around the topic, misunderstandings were bound to happen.

“I really don’t think it wise to attend class in your state,” the moray had stated after greeting you, an eyebrow raised at your stubbornness to continue with your day even at what, in his mind, must have been a grave injury. 

“I’m fine, Jade, I just want to get this day over with,” you had groaned, trying to push past the tall student and drop the topic, embarrassed enough that a sizable chunk of the student body would be aware of your predicament in the first place.

But who would he be to let a person he actually cared about go on their way with a bleeding wound? 

“Prefect, I must insist you seek medical aid immediately.” You remembered the uncharacteristically genuine furrow of his brows as he had blocked your path. “Please, go to the school nurse or at least let me tend to your needs. I’m certain I could be of help if you share your problem with me.”

“If you want to hear me say it so desperately,” you had huffed, “I’m on my period. Happy now?”

“Your period?” Jade had echoed with wide eyes, unknowingly speeding up the burning of your shortened fuse with his lack of knowledge. “Yes, I’m aware we are to attend class but I fail to see–”

“Very funny,” you had deadpanned, pushing past him with a cold shoulder and leaving the moray to his own confusion. “Now if you excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and humour your feigned ignorance today.”

Yes it wasn’t your proudest moment, you’d admit that. And when Jade approached you later that day with a genuine apology, explaining how he had researched the topic and was deeply ashamed of his uninformed remarks, you felt like the worst person on the planet and apologised more than he had. So in the end, you came to an apology truce, where you noted he shouldn’t have prodded further when you didn’t want to talk about it and you shouldn’t have exploded on him like you did.

Since the incident, however, Jade had been a dream to have around. Not to fall short again, he had done a fair amount of research, both on the biological aspect of what was happening to your body but also on the lived experience and its numerous complications. Then, doing what he did best, he observed your reactions, moods and symptoms to better cater to you specifically.

Every month he put both his cooking and alchemy skills to good use, whipping up whatever meal you desired and brewing a painkilling potion with just the right dosage for your current situation. Being Jade Leech, he could also assert his presence in any given situation with as little as a simple glare if you did not want to be bothered.

Your favourite part of the comfortable rhythm you two had fallen in, however, were the evenings where Grim was otherwise engaged and you had Ramshackle to yourselves. On those nights, soft music and fond laughter would mix with hushed whispers spilling from under your bathroom door.

A few months prior, Azul and Jade had sat down for a ‘pleasant chat’ with the Headmaster concerning the state of Ramshackle dorm and soon thereafter, funding had been provided to remodel vital parts of the dorm. No more caved-in roofs or stairs giving away under people’s shoes. Together with the money from the VDC, the old house had finally started feeling like an actual home; one you felt welcome and comfortable in.

It also meant you finally trusted your new bathtub enough to sit in it and actually also relax without any anxieties of whatever you could possibly contract from the exposure. 

With his natural fondness of water, it hadn’t taken long for Jade to propose the idea of shared baths and you hadn’t regretted your decision to agree since. It wasn’t like he gave you any reason to either; it was the opposite, really. It didn’t take the moray long at all to figure out the perfect temperature or what fragrance you preferred, if any. 

He also never made you feel inadequate or like you had to be ashamed of yourself, even when your body went through change throughout your cycle. Your skin tingled from his featherlight touches where his fingers traced your curves, never hiding the fact that he appreciated what he saw but always pairing it with a reverence that made you feel loved and desired, rather than ogled at. So when you sank into the water after him, cosying into his space to lean back against his chest, it was like sinking into a warm, secure embrace.

The water helped soothe your aches and washed away the tension which had built over the day and the easily flowing conversation with Jade let you focus on anything other than the thoughts in your mind, listening to his rich voice rather than the doubts trying to crawl to the surface.

When his hands massaged the shampoo into your hair, you always teetered on the edge of falling asleep right then and there. The atmosphere paired with his skilled fingers applying just the right amount of pressure as his nails gently scraped over your scalp banished any headaches you could have had and had you practically melting against him, a sight that tugged on his heartstrings more than it should have. But to see you put so much trust in him, someone who wasn’t exactly known for his benevolence, it stirred something fond in his heart and it made him want to work harder so you would keep showing him this blissful expression.

After scrubbing your bodies down, paying special attention to any sore spots, he helped you out of the tub, never failing to comment on how wrinkly your hands had gotten in comparison to his, which didn’t seem to be affected by the water exposure at all. Wrapping you up in a fluffy black towel he claimed was from Octavinelle -though you were fairly certain you’d only ever seen pale lilac ones there- he padded you dry and helped you into your clothes, mindful of the routines and products you had shown him previously. 

Needless to say, you felt like a new person each time without fail as you lay snuggled up with your boyfriend in bed later on, listening to his breathing and the steady beating of his heart. 

“Thank you so much for always doing this much for me, Jade,” you said, earnest gratitude and unspoken adoration lining your voice. “I’m really lucky to be with you, huh?”

“On the contrary, I am the one luck seems to favour seeing how you chose to be with me,” he chuckled and you didn’t miss how his strong arms pulled you closer against him even if it wasn’t physically possible. He’d be damned if he didn’t try. “And you needn’t feel conflicted about receiving my affection. Just know I enjoy doing these things for you and with you, pearl.” 

“I stand by my earlier statement,” you smiled, making him laugh along with you. Looking into his heterochromic eyes, you traced the contours of his face with the same delicacy he showed you earlier. “Is it selfish to say that I feel happy about having this side of you all to myself?”

“Not at all. It is reserved for you only, dearest.” His gaze was heavy on yours as he loosely curled his fingers around your wrist and pressed a searing kiss against your palm. “After all, I do not intend to share this side of you with anyone else either.”

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑

There have certainly been times where Jamil lamented having to basically babysit his dorm leader. Well, pretty much all the time. But being unable to stay by your side while you were hurting was generally one of the most annoying parts of his duties to him, especially with the daily workload of being a student on top of it all. 

Jamil being Jamil, however, he soon worked out a schedule consistent enough to let him visit you somewhat frequently. 

You were lying on one of Ramshackle’s rickety couches, nursing your lower stomach with a -at this point already lukewarm- water bottle, when a familiar knocking pattern brought a smile to your face.

“Come in! It’s open,” you shouted across the hall, adding your sarcastic comment under your breath in order not to worry your boyfriend more than he already was. “Not like the lock’s ever doing its job in this place.”

“Hm? Did you say something?” Jamil made his way straight over to where you were sitting, his footsteps quieting down as he reached the carpeted floor.

“No,” you shook your head, smiling up at him as he leant over the back of the couch. Ignoring his raised eyebrow, you reached up, so you could cradle his cheek as you sat up to meet him for a sweet kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Seemingly appeased, your boyfriend mirrored your fond expression, tracing your face with his grey gaze while his hands moved to your shoulders, deft fingers working out any tension you might be having. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better now that you’re here,” you laughed, though it wasn’t merely a sappy joke, as indicated by Jamil’s scoff behind you. “I mean it though. I’ve been feeling a lot better since I’ve been receiving your royal treatment.”

“It’s nothing that fancy,” Jamil assured, his eyes softening at the way you melted into his touch. “I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“I know you don’t think much of it but I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to look after me when I’m not even facing anything out of the ordinary,” you sighed, rehashing points you had raised in vain before.

“Oh hush,” your boyfriend playfully shushed you the way he had also done many times already when the topic came up. “Compared to what I usually deal with, this is like taking a vacation, especially since I get to spend time with you. Now speaking of my normal chores, I brought some leftover food.”

“Have I told you that I love you?” You swooned, causing both of you to laugh as Jamil headed over to your kitchen, one he was already familiar with. Not only because he often came over for some much needed peace and quiet but because Kalim was literally the reason you had it in the first place. A relationship-warming-gift of sorts for a relationship that wasn’t even his.

Besides, ever since courting and dating you, Jamil’s measuring skills when it came to meal prep seemed to have worsened because -coincidentally- he’d ended up with too much food and subsequent leftovers so often, you wondered why you even stocked your own fridge anymore.

What you had also noticed though was that, whenever you were on your period -something he seemed to track himself-, the food he brought over was a lot less spicy than usual and rather light. Something someone prone to a sensitive stomach, nausea, reduced appetite or a disturbed metabolism could still comfortably eat. 

The phenomenon of suddenly appearing sticky notes had also made itself known, labelling new containers in your fridge, medication on the counter or your coffee machine with reminders like ‘Remember caffeine makes your cramps worse’ written on it in neat handwriting. 

One or the other bar of dark chocolate and some of your favourite snacks had mysteriously found their way into your bags or onto a bowl in your kitchen as well though, making you smile at Jamil’s thoughtfulness when you caught a peek of them. 

During the day, whenever his schedule allowed it, he’d also drop by to check in on you between classes or during lunch, something Kalim wholeheartedly supported. Normally, Jamil refused all of Kalim’s offers to take a break from his duty but when you were feeling under the weather, he took the white-haired student up on it when no imminent disaster was on the horizon waiting to happen.

When your plate was empty and made its trip to the sink, Jamil refilled your hot water bottle but unlike you earlier, he waved his magic pen over it, which you had realised significantly expanded the time in which the water actually stayed hot.

“Thank you,” you said for possibly the millionth time as you took the bottle from him, then gave him a mischievous grin. “You know what would make me feel soo much better though?”

At the tilt of his head, you scooted over to make space between you and the back of the couch. Getting the hint, Jamil settled in behind you and you got comfy again with your back to his chest. This too had become somewhat of a ritual of yours, one that wasn’t limited to while you were suffering from cramps. 

After all the chore-y part of the late afternoon was taken care of, you liked to spend the evening snuggled up on your couch with the TV playing some show you liked to watch together, read: a show which you started and dragged Jamil into. Well, every now and then your boyfriend also made sure you didn’t fall behind on your studies, though he was more lenient when you were on your period.

“This is nice,” you mumbled, your eyelids heavy now that you had eaten and were surrounded by warmth and your loving boyfriend, whose hands stroked along your sides in a soothing, continuous motion, his chest vibrating underneath you with his affirming hum. 

“I could stay like that forever,” he agreed.

“Well I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” The smile in his voice was auditory even if you couldn’t see his gorgeous face. You could, however, feel his soft lips on the crown of your head and his breath fanning over it and you reached to intertwine one of your hands with his before a yawn you couldn’t suppress any longer filled the air. “You should get some rest, I’m sure you’re tired.”

“But I wanna stay with you longer,” you protested, sleep clouding your tone. 

“Don’t worry, I will be here when you wake up,” Jamil promised. And with that you drifted off, the warmth from around you settling cosily around your heart. A heart that wasn’t really yours alone anymore.

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twisted wonderland: @savanaclaw1996 @honehbee42

[crustgremlin]

How to start a pair of punk patch pants

(a potentially really shitty tutorial)

I've seen a couple videos on this but a lot of them seem to skip out on some really key information and tricks so I thought I'd just write a probably really long and really rambly post about it!!!

Step one: gathering supplies

In terms of supplies the main things you'll need are:

The pants

Approximately 4 rolls of dental floss (this can change depending on number of patches and your pant size)

A needle with a big enough eye to fit the floss through

Acrylic paints

Brushes

Scrap denim or other scraps of fabric for the patches

Pins

Some kind of marker or pencil that will work on the fabric you've chosen

I will be going into some detail below about why you need each of these items!!

The pants themselves

personally I prefer either using a pair of jeans I already own or thrifting a pair to be as sustainable as possible, however if you really need to go out and buy a new pair for whatever reason get a high quality pair, this will help in the long run with preventing them from falling apart as easily.

The second main point I want to make is that the pants should not be skinny jeans. This is because when you sew on patches it slightly cinches in the fabric, and with skinny jeans generally being stretchy, this is going to result in the thread of the patches stretching out and snapping. Your patches will all just start falling off and it'll ruin your hard work.

This is why I'd recommend using a pair of jeans or pants that are a bit looser of a fit, such as straight legged pants or a pair of pants a size up from your actual size if possible!

Dental floss

The reason it's generally suggested to use dental floss rather than actual thread is because dental floss tends to overall be a lot stronger than your average thread, as well as often being more easily accessible to buy.

Needle

This ones pretty self-explanatory, just make sure you get a needle with a long/wide enough eye (the hole the thread goes through) for your floss to be able to fit through without trouble.

Acrylic paints

You may be wondering why I'm suggesting acrylics over fabric paints and there are a few reasons!

The first is simply that they're both cheaper and far easier to purchase for the average person than fabric paints, and I want this tutorial to be as accessible as possible for as many people as possible.

The second reason is that fabric paints require a lot of fucking around with setting the paint, whereas acrylics can just be left to dry and be finished, and so long as your pants are hand washed, the paints won't come out (unless you layer it on super thick or are really rough when you clean them).

Brushes

Another pretty obvious one, these are needed so you can actually paint your patches!!!

Fabric/spare denim

You need fabric or scraps to be able to actually create patches for your pants, so this is essential.

Any kind of scrap fabric can do, a lot of fabric stores tend to have bins of scrap fabric that are either pre-priced or priced by weight and that can be a really good opportunity to acquire the fabric you need!

Another way (the method I tend to use) is thrifting a few pairs of jeans alongside the pair I want to patch and then ripping them up into patch-sized pieces!

Either way, I really advise against buying straight up new fabrics by the metre for this as it kinda goes against the entire idea of sustainability and reuse.

A really big tip I have for when you're cutting the fabric of your choice up for patches is to actually only cut a little slit, and then rip. This produces a really nice distressed edge and will help add some texture and more of a fucked up look to your pants a lot quicker than if you waited for the fabric to fray by itself!

Marker/pencil

This is literally just so you can draw your designs onto your patches! I've personally found that either a black or white (depending on how dark the fabric you're using is) pastel pencil is generally good enough to get the general gist of what you want down well enough for you to paint it on.

Pins

These are literally just to hold your patches in place and literally any kind from proper sewing pins to safety pins will work! (just don't forget they're in the jeans before you put them on I promise you it isn't fun to put on a pair of jeans full of pins).

Optional: a sketchbook

You may want a sketchbook or alternatively scraps of paper if you have any kind of original concept for a patch so you can draw it out a few times first to really nail it, and it's also helpful to have if you aren't as confident in your painting and drawing abilities!

Step two: patch making

I personally pre-rip/cut all of my patches before I paint anything on them generally speaking and then fit whatever design I want onto whatever piece I think it would fit on, however if you want to paint your patches and then rip/cut the design out that's also an option (and probably a much smarter one I'm just incredibly stubborn).

For punk pants you want a good mix of both punk bands, politics, and also maybe something a bit daft (I have the "he scream at he own ass" possum on the back pocket of a patched skirt for example). If you don't have bands and such, it kinda defeats the point of them being punk patched pants.

I personally generally pick a theme (eg. colourful patches, all black and white) when making anything patched because I think it makes everything look a bit more cohesive, but that is by no means a rule you actually have to follow I'm just autistic a fuck tbh.

Step three: the assembly

I personally put my main/bigger patches on first and put them on in a few different places until I get the placement I like, and then sew them on with the floss like this:

The main thing you want to do to make sure your pants don't wind up looking a bit weird or bare is to fill in any gaps between your painted patches with small, blank patches. Like this:

and that's pretty much it!!! I can't really explain via written text how to sew and how I personally tie off etc but if anyone would like a video tutorial lmk!!!

[slttygeto]

cw: fuckbuddy! hanma, fem! reader, fingering.

“where are you going?” you almost don’t hear the question with how focused you are on getting your earring inside the damn hole—ugh. frustrated, you inhale sharply before glancing towards the man sitting on your bed through your vanity mirror. “I already said, a work dinner.”

“okay but where?”

hanma was annoying, he was persistent—but he wasn’t a partner. he wasn’t a lover, a boyfriend—whatever you’d call a man who wants to be in a committed relationship with you. it just wasn’t hanma, and you were okay with it!

you two were fuckbuddies who hung out more than either of you want to admit, you consoled each other with sex—doggy, against the wall, mating press, and sometimes when you were feeling generous you’d sit on the bed between his muscular thighs and play with his dick until he came on your face. before him, you would always hesitate to let a man eat your pussy or be face to face with it—hanma got rid of whatever shame you felt by making you grind your swollen clit against his nose.

you two were freaky sure, but outside of sex you knew not to ask too many questions about his personal life and so did he. so why was he persistent on knowing where you were going?

shuji’s eyes trail over the sight of your bare back, the dress you were wearing was…tempting. yeah, right it was just tempting! obviously it didn’t bother him that you were wearing such a revealing dress for a night out with your co-workers and he couldn’t come.

“none of your business, since did you get so curious?” and he didn’t know whether it was your attitude or your pretty lips saying it, or perhaps the way your manicured nails reached for the high heels or how your boobs were threatening to spill out of your dress—but he could feel something burning in the pit of his stomach.

jealousy.

people will think you don’t have anyone in your life, people won’t know that as soon as you come back to your place he’s going to ravish you, he was going to dig his fingers into your skin and leave bruises, he was going to make you squirt on his dick and have your thighs tremble around his head.

“it’s just that i’m gonna miss you,”

“i’m only gonna be gone for a few hours.” you say with a deadpan as you grab your purse.

“you don’t need a ride?” he sits up straight on your bed and his golden eyes follow your figure as you retreat to the bathroom to check your makeup again.

“nu-uh, a co-worker is gonna pick me up on her way.”

you don’t hear him creeping up behind you, screw him and his line of work. you are startled when you see his reflection in the mirror behind you, large hands squeezing your sides and his eyes shamelessly stare at your bare back and ass, the way the dress accentuates it is driving him crazy and you cannot deny that you were enjoying seeing him like this, so close to losing it.

“what?”

“it’s the dress that I got you,” he points out, his hand caressing your bare back, a finger tracing your spine and when you arch away from him, his grip on your hip tightens and he brings you back roughly against his bulge.

“well, I like your taste in dresses,” you mumble, trying your best to hide how hot and bothered you were by his behavior. whatever it was painted on his face, whatever emotion he was displaying—you liked it.

“mhm, so do I.” a large hand smacks your ass cheek, and his eyes lock with yours through the mirror when you gasp loudly at the spank.

oh no.

oh no no no—you can’t.

“stop,” your hand grips his wrist. “stop it, I have to go.”

“I won’t take long.” his lips find your bare nape and you gasp again.

“no! you liar, I can’t— you’ll ruin my makeup!” you whine when his hand finds your neck and he squeezes it gently, fingers feeling your quickening pulse.

“I just wanna taste you,” his lips then fine your ear and he kisses you there as his other hand starts to make it its way under your dress.

he moves your panties to the side, and he laughs against your ear at how drenched you are. the hand around your neck keeps you in place, forces you to stare at him in the mirror and his expression as he finds your clit and teases it over its hood. his slender fingers then part your pussy lips with much ease and you can feel the tip of his middle and ring finger teasing your entrance.

“I have to go,” you whine out weakly and shuji hums, delivering a quick kiss to your hot cheek.

“soon,”

his fingers fuck you within an inch of your life, the force he uses has you jerking up with each thrust and your mouth falls open everytime the palm of his hand brushes against your clit. you were so fucking pretty, so pliable and all his—all his to fuck and finger like this, all his to ruin.

“oh my-oh my god,” you moan out loud, the hand that was on the sink holding onto his wrist. “oh fuck! shuji—!” he holds you as you cum all over his fingers, your hips jerking and voice going all high pitched as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. it’s a sight to see, your half lidded eyes, the fucked out look on your face and most importantly the cum that was coating his fingers.

shuji pulls out his fingers and brings them up to his lips, lewdly sucking and tasting the remnants of your orgasm before giving you a kiss to your forehead.

“there, didn’t ruin your makeup.”

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[abbyromanoff]

Hi 👋🏻 could u write gpWanda x reader x gpNatasha where Wanda is r gf and she doesn't know how to fuck reader properly so she ask Nat for help and N fuck r while W is watching?

I'm sorry if there are mistakes, english isn't my first language

ACQUAINTED

PAIRINGS: Wanda x reader, Wanda x Nat, Nat x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,697

WARNINGS: therapist/patient relationship, perv!Nat, nat and Wanda have dicks, subby!Wanda, Miss (N), threesome, exhibition, voyerisum, degrading, praising, breeding, therapist!Natasha, pet names, smut (obvi), pining, cunnilingus, dry-humping (kinda), bottom!R, top!Nat, Nat treating R like an object,

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda sat on the couch with Natasha in front of her, sitting at her desk with a notebook in hand. The walls were painted a soothing gray, only adorning a few pieces of artwork. She had been seeing Ms. Romanoff for close to a year now after you suggested the idea of therapy, already having one of your own.

“I don’t know, it’s just hard I guess. I mean, I love them so much and I see myself having a future with them, but-” She paused, rubbing the back of her neck and adjusting her potion. Nat hummed, waiting for a response but speaking up when receiving none.

“But, what?”

“I- I want to- well, we don’t really-” She didn’t know why she was so nervous all of the sudden, she had been able to tell Nat almost everything but this seemed to be different.

“Trust me, I’ve most likely heard much worse here, whatever you say is confidential and free of judgment. Just take your time.” Wanda sighed and nodded, trying to figure out the words in her mind before speaking.

“I guess I just want to spice things up, you know? And don’t get me wrong, the sex is great but- but they were the first person I’ve ever done it with. I’m just scared they’re not satisfied and it worries me to think that I’m nowhere near as good as their past boyfriends or girlfriends.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t anything serious, but it was to her. She was a giving person, all she wanted was for you to be happy and well-pleasured, she wanted to impress you. But there was nothing to show off with, she had no skills in that aspect, that’s what she thought at least.

“Okay, that’s understandable.” Nat started. “Have you ever tried, say, having a conversation with them about this? I know you’re not great with communication but maybe just asking them what are some of the things they like or maybe even expressing your worries, I’m sure they’d listen.” She knew you would, but the idea of bringing such a thing up felt uncomfortable. She didn’t hate the thought of sex, but she hated the thought of talking about it. It felt like watching a sex scene on the television with your parents right next to you.

“I know they’d listen, I just don’t know how to, like, bring it up.” Wanda watched as Natasha moved her pen gently against the piece of paper, writing something down that she wished she could see.

“Alright, well, what if you invited them to a session, possibly our next one? We can bring up our discussion and your worries and maybe it could help ease them.” She spoke with such gentleness that it always made Wanda even more nervous. You had picked up on the way she’d always come home with a blush and a small smile after her appointments, but you just assumed she was happy to see you. And she was, but that wasn’t the full reason for her expressions.

“So it would be like couple’s therapy?”

“Yes, pretty much. I’ll have you two both share your sides and your feelings and we go from there.” Wanda could do that, she hoped so.

The one hour ended in what seemed like a few minutes as Nat said her goodbye’s to the woman, watching her leave as her eyes trailed down to her ass. The jeans fit her ass perfectly, it was impossible to stop the biting of her lip and the long sigh.

Truth be told, she had been planning this moment for too long. She remembered when she first ever saw you, Wanda showed her the picture she kept in her wallet of the two of you holding hands that were pointed to the camera with your lips attached in a sweet kiss. Before, she had been slightly upset when finding out that her client had a partner, even with the knowledge that it would ruin her career if she did anything. But then there was you, she didn’t expect you to be so beautiful.

The moment her last client left she went searching through your accounts, using your name to find anything on you. She was embarrassed to say she had stroked herself to multiple orgasms while scrolling through both you and your girlfriend’s photos. She was beyond ecstatic about next week’s visit, she could only hope you’d agree to go.

Luckily, you did. It took a little bit of convincing, when Wanda brought the idea up to you, you were frightened that you did something to upset her, but she quickly rushed that thought out of your mind. She didn’t tell you what exactly it was for, although you assumed it would be nice. You knew Natasha was an amazing therapist, she helped Wanda with all the things you struggled to help with. You were only human, and you didn’t have a degree like Nat, but your moral support meant just as much to your girlfriend.

“Wanda?” Her head shot up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, she quickly grabbed your hand and the two of you walked into her office. She closed the door behind you, her eyes catching a quick glimpse of your body. You were even better than the photos, she couldn’t wait.

“And you must be Y/N if I’m correct.” You nodded and shook her hand, giving her a warm smile as you removed your coat. Wanda did the same, grabbing yours and placing it on the coat rack in the corner of the room.

“So, I’m assuming Wanda has told you why you’re here?” When she looked down at her knees where her fingers rested, nervously picking the skin off of them, she knew her answer.

“Uh, not really. I was a little bit hesitant about this, but she told me there was nothing to worry about, so I’m hoping it’s nothing bad.” You shied away from Nat’s eyes, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks at the woman’s clear attractiveness. You didn’t exactly know what her therapist looked like, but now you wished you had done your research beforehand. She was stunning, breathtaking.

“Well, I can assure you that you have done nothing wrong, honey, there are just some topics we’d like to approach if that’s alright with you.” You nodded and interlaced your hand with Wanda’s, giving a small squeeze to assure her you weren’t upset. She had been planning what to bring up since the moment she left last week, but it seemingly all vanished by now.

“Do you have a therapist or a counselor of your own, Y/N?” It started off with simple questions, ones that you’d expect. That was until she started asking about your relationship and prior ones too. You shifted in your seat as she continued, feeling the immense pressure with both of their eyes on you.

“Now, tell me, Y/N, do you feel satisfied with Wanda?”

“Of course, I do. She’s such a great woman and I can really feel her love, I haven’t ever had someone like her.” You could see Wanda smiling next to you and you joined her. You truly loved this woman more than anything, you wanted to marry her someday and you hoped she thought the same.

“And sexually? Do you feel sexually satisfied with Wanda?” You nearly choked on your spit from her words, nervously chuckling in hopes to redeem yourself. She noticed your expressions and tried reassuring you, holding back as best she could when she patted your knee.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, trust me. It’s normal to feel a sense of discomfort in these situations, but I promise that everything here stays confidential.” Her voice was able to soothe you and calm your nerves.

“Uhm, I’d say so, yeah. Obviously, there are some…things I’d like to try, but we haven’t approached that.” She nodded, as if she wanted you to go on. You didn’t know what to say, your words were stuck in your throat. You were experienced with the topic, but it wasn’t one you openly shared or talked about with others.

“Would you say your sex life is more vanilla than you want it to be?” You loved Wanda, you really did, but she wasn’t the greatest when it came to your intimate moments. You could feel her love through it, but you wanted to see her rougher side, you knew she was holding back on you.

“To be honest, yeah. I kind of like things to be a bit more..kinky, you know?” You could see the redness on Wanda’s cheeks and the tip of her ears as she shuffled her feet around. You felt sorry for making her embarrassed, but that’s why she brought you here in the first place.

“What would you consider kinky, darling?” Her pet name had your lips quivering ever-so-slightly before you came up with a response.

“I guess I just wish she was a bit more rough with me. And don’t get me wrong, I love that I can really feel her care for me but sometimes I just want her to, like, use me.” Nat scooted her desk chair closer to you two, placing her hand on your thigh softly. Wanda was still silent, she was probably too scared to speak up.

“You want to be used, Y/N?” You nodded slowly, feeling your eyes drift to her lips. You felt so dirty looking at her the way you did your girlfriend, but you also knew she was doing the same.

“Hm, who knew such a sweet little thing could be so dirty?” You could feel her hand rubbing small circles on your covered skin, her eyes staring deeply into yours. She trailed them over your body, taking all of you in.

“Does this turn you on, honey?” You nodded once again. “Yeah? Me touching you while your girlfriend watches, that makes you wet?” You gulped down your arousal as you felt her thumb teasing your clit through the fabric, your legs instinctively opening for more.

“Kiss them for me, Wanda; act like I’m not even here.” You looked in the brunette's direction, watching as she snuck glances between the two of you. She placed one hand on your cheek and the other on your lower back as you leaned in for her lips to meet yours. You moaned into the kiss as Nat rid you of your pants, dragging her fingers across your panties and smiling at the wet patch adorning them. The noise allowed Wanda’s tongue to slip into your mouth, the intrusion causing you to groan in pleasure.

Your fingers ran through Nat’s hair, pleading her to come closer. You could feel her hot breath teasing your slit as she slid your panties to the side, small kisses being pressed against your clit.

“Please, Ms. Romanoff.” You pulled away from Wanda to catch your breath, your head resting on her shoulder. Your eyes landed on her crotch as you noticed her palming herself, her hips bucking into her hand.

“You’re such a good girl. Say, why don’t we give Wanda a little lesson, okay?” She smiled when you complied without a thought in your mind. She stood up, guiding you to join her as she removed your shirt, grinning when she took notice of your lacey bra.

“It’s Wanda’s favorite, I was going to surprise her tonight.” She huffed out a chuckle and reached around behind you to unclasp it, shuddering as it fell and you were left in nothing but your panties.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long, baby. Now I can finally get my hands on you.” She had been so desperate to be alone in her office with the both of you, she wanted nothing more than to mark you both as hers.

She led you to her desk, her kisses trailing from your neck to your chest where her lips wrapped around your hardened bud. Your back was met with the wooden table as she lifted you to sit on it, her palms lingering on your soft thighs after she guided your last piece of clothing off of you. She parted them, dropping to her knees in front of you and staring up at you with lust in her eyes.

“Watch closely, Wanda.” You looked over to the woman at the mention of her name, biting your lip with hunger as you noticed her unbuttoned pants and her hand hidden inside of her boxers. She shuddered when you cupped your breast, using Nat’s saliva to help create a small rhythm.

Nat blew a teasing breath onto your pulsing clit before leaning in, taking the bud into her mouth. She sucked delicately, soaking in your moans and twitches. She was too engrossed in your taste to take notice of her growing erection in her pants.

“Oh, you look so pretty on your knees for me, Miss.” It was clear that she was still the one in charge, but her need for you was so great, she couldn’t care if she seemed weak. Wanda, while feeling a pang of jealousy, couldn’t deny the heat that was growing in her stomach. She felt as though she would burst any second, but she was trying to hold back. Her thumb would occasionally brush over her tip, causing her eyes to squeeze shut.

“Look at me, Wands; watch me.” She pried her eyelids open willingly, nearly whining when she saw you wrap your legs around her therapist’s head. You grinded into her face as her tongue tortured your hole, diving in and out repeatedly. She groped your ass in order to push you closer into her, her nose poking at your clit.

“Fuck! Fuck- right there, yes!” You covered your mouth with your hand in order to silence yourself, becoming ashamed of how loud you were. Neither of them were complaining though, they thrived off of your noises; it brought satisfaction knowing that they were the reason you were in such a deep state of pleasure.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum.” Nat smirked into your cunt as you were brought over the edge, your head falling back and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your silent screams filled the room as Nat continued to lap up your juices, Wanda watching with the wish that she was the one tasting you. You were addicting, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. Every sway of your hips, every lick of your lips, every noise, and every word that left that sweet mouth was so alluring.

You were suddenly pushed to lie down, feeling the lumber underneath you bruise your back. You leaned up on your elbows to admire the woman as she undressed herself, running her hand through her short hair once as to fix what you tugged.

“Tell me, love, have you ever heard of breeding?” You nodded, receiving a slap to your cheek. Wanda widened her eyes at both the words and the rough contact, is this what you meant? Is this how you wanted her to treat you, like you were some no-good slut?

“Yes, Miss, I have.” She hummed, guiding her tip through your slit and gathering the wetness as a replacement for lube.

“When was the last time you ever pleaded to milk Wanda dry, hm? Beg her to slap you ‘till your skin turned black and blue? Or, better yet, when was the last time you got on your knees and asked her in that sweet little tone of yours to treat you like the dirty whore you are?” Your chest rose and fell with every breath you took, each one not feeling like it was enough.

“Never.” You shook your head as you answered, your eyes not being able to meet hers. She gripped your chin roughly, pulling you in close so her nose was practically touching yours.

“What was that?” She asked again, even if she had already heard you well enough.

“Never.” You repeated, this time louder. She clicked her tongue and shot you a disapproving glance.

“Mm, there’s always two sides to the matter. Here Wanda was not knowing what to do because you couldn’t communicate, do you think that’s fair on her?” The way she spoke, the light rasp to her voice was what caused the wetness already coating your thighs to increase.

“N-no, Miss.” She turned your head to face Wanda and she blushed in the moment you caught her. You could notice the stains now coating her boxers and the shameful look on her face; she had peaked with you. You didn’t know how you didn’t hear her, she was usually the louder one of you both. But you guessed that you were too far into your orgasm to care for anything else.

“Apologize to your girlfriend, Y/N, and tell her how sorry you are.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, I’m sorry for not- not talking about my needs and wants when I should’ve. I’m sorry.” You stuttered over your words as you felt Nat’s cock prodding at your hole, her tip breaking way and creating a small stretch.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry too.” She spoke up, and for the first time this entire session, you were able to hear her voice. It was coated thickly with her Sokovian accent seeing as she had just moved here nearly eight months ago. You hoped it would never go away, no matter how long she lived in this country.

“See? You’re both already doing such a good job.” You both smiled at the praises, seeming to fish for them from the woman at bay. You sent a small ‘I love you’ to Wanda from across the room, although it was only mouthed out. Nat grabbed hold of your waist, pulling you towards her and causing her length to fill you up almost entirely. You gasped at the intrusion, crying out in pain as you clawed at the desk.

She continued to slowly lead you further, moaning to herself as your warmth clamped around her. Your tears only brought more delight to her heart, she could only grin when seeing them.

“You’ve been begging for Wanda to use you yet you can barely even take me? Aren’t you just a pathetic fucking slut.” Her fingertips ran along your face, her thumb rubbing gentle circles as a faux sense of comfort. She then brought them down to your neck, wrapping her palm around it and cutting off your airways. The only thing you could manage to get out were choked sobs and moans. The burning discomfort slowly eased into one of satisfaction as Nat slowly thrusted her hips into you, the sounds of skin clapping together ringing through all three of you guys’ ears.

“Did you know your girl likes to be choked, Wanda?”

“N-no, ma’am.” She chuckled at the title given to her. Her breasts bounced with every movement of her hips, her cock hitting your womb. There was a small yet noticeable bulge carved out on your stomach making her groan, she was so big compared to you.

“Hm, maybe in our next session we can teach Y/N a lesson too, what do you say?” She didn’t need another opinion to decide her answer, it was final. It wasn’t just the brunette at fault, you were required to voice your wants too, even if she’d have to force it out of you.

“Please-” You managed to get out when her hand removed itself from your bruising neck and found a spot on your waist, pressing down harder than before. She was practically resting her weight on top of you, causing the bone to struggle in holding her up.

“Shut your dirty fucking mouth, I don’t want to hear another word from you.” You were close, so close, and so was she. She was forcing her body to hold back, ensuring that you were to finish first.

Wanda’s erection only grew after her orgasm, her greed making her yearn for another. You were the only one who had ever been able to make her cum, she assumed there was no better. Shyly, she walked forward, her soiled clothing still masking her bottom half. She gave Nat a look, asking for permission to which she was granted.

“Don’t ask, sweetheart, force it.” She was so used to constantly asking if it was okay to do something to your body, after all, it wasn’t her choice. Every time you’d say yes, but there was always a nagging fear that you’d not want it and she had forgotten to ask. The thought made her sick, who would ever think to do such a thing?

“They want it, Wanda. Just rub yourself against them- perfect, just like that.” She praised when Wanda held you by the back of your neck and rutted her bulge against your face, the fabric rubbing against her hard length. She whimpered when your hand came up to rub her balls, your mouth peppering kisses over her cock.

“You close, baby?” You didn’t know who she was asking, but you both agreed. You continued to gently suckle while wishing you were able to truly feel her instead of the wrinkles in her trousers.

“Ah! S-shit, cum with me.” You followed her orders and let the coil in your stomach snap as you soaked her cock, feeling her release shoot deep inside of you.

You nuzzled against Wanda as you felt her twitching, only to notice a wet patch forming on her pants. She had leaked through her underwear while itching for more, the knowledge only fueled your pride.

You mewled as Nat pulled out of you, watching as the cum dripped down your cunt, some landing on the desk while other droplets fell to the floor. She didn’t bother looking for her clothes, instead pulling the younger girl in for a kiss before doing the same with you. It was passionate, both kisses were. You could sense the longing and the emotions in it that she tried to mask, only making you chase after her lips for more once she leaned back.

“Shall we plan your next appointment then?”

[asuyaka]

Heyy, idk if u're still taking requests or not but if u're not just ignore this!

TikTok really came to drag me down the Satosugu hole by the foot this week goddamn. Anyways, I'd like to request my favorite sad gay boys with a m!reader who's a effeminate soft boy and is usually pretty quiet and cooperative but the second someone says something remotely negative about the two m!reader is already throwing hands and burying the offender's head onto the ground. Bonus point if he's from the Zen'in clan!

No one's ever calling Geto's bangs 'weird' with m!reader around lol.

- '🌈' Anon.

★ - yes! reqs are open !! when the first (yippie!!) one piece one shot comes out s'when reqs are gunna close briefly cause 've got other things m'needa work on! (❁´◡`❁)

☆ - Satosugu x M! Zen'in clan reader!

Lulling chirping sounds sounded through the second-year classroom as the sun began to rise. The sound of sweeping and the screech of desks moving across the table sounded through your ears.

With a gentle hand, you plucked the dead leaves off the bouquet of flowers that usually resided on the window sill next to your seat; plucking off the leaves as well and shaking it so the petals could become more pronounced.

After cutting the stem so water could flow through them, you placed the flowers in their vase and put them in their designated position, a pleased smile on your face when you realized that was the last thing you needed to do for cleaning duty, even though it wasn't your turn.

The door slid open behind you as a tired-looking Yaga walked into class. His eyes widened for a bit when they saw you before his expression turned sour. "Good morning, [Name]. I thought Satoru had cleaning duty for today?"

You bowed politely in greeting. "He asked me to do it because he had to get limited edition crepes today."

Yaga sets his things on the table with an annoyed mumble. "Thank you, please make sure he gets to class on time."

You nodded as you left the classroom. The sun shone down on your face through the windows as you made your way to Suguru's and Satoru's dorms.

You pass by Shoko in the kitchen who was hunched over the counter making a cup of coffee. "Want a cup?" She asks, biting and finishing the remaining pocky in her mouth.

'If Suguru woke up a few minutes ago, he'd want some. Maybe Satoru would like some hot chocolate too.' You thought briefly before turning your attention back to the brunette. "Yes, please. One hot chocolate and black coffee."

Shoko grins at that instantly recognizing the order. "You've got it Mister Zen'in."

You wave goodbye and continue your journey. Suguru's dorm isn't that far from the kitchen so you got there in a short amount of time. You knocked, politely waiting for an answer.

"[Name]-chan? If it's you, you can come in!" Satoru's voice answered.

You open the door to see two bags of delivered crepes beside Satoru, who is painting Suguru's nails black. "See? Got some for you guys 'cause I'm such a nice person!"

Suguru rolls his eyes. "You only got them because you remembered flunking on cleaning duty."

You take a seat beside them, staring at Suguru's black nails. "Yaga says I should make sure you two get to class on time."

Satoru snorts, the tiniest bit of blue peeking out from his glasses. "Yeah, and when have we ever listened to what Yaga says?"

"You don't. Maybe Suguru, but I actually enjoy not getting punched in the head every time you do something stupid." You interject, causing Satoru to gasp loudly.

"Suguru! Do you hear this? I do everything I can to make sure you two are well fed and all I get in return is bullying!" Satoru whines as he sets the nail polish aside to let Suguru's nails dry and picks up the bags with a bright smile on his face.

Shoko kicks the door open with two mugs in her hand. "Here you go losers. Zen'in blink twice if they're forcing you to be here."

Suguru and Satoru stare at you expectingly, an exaggerated gasp when they see your eyes close twice.

Shoko giggles, patting the top of your head affectionately. "Yeah, I'd be scared if I was forced to hang out with them too."

She walks out of the room with a reminder that class starts in a few hours. Satoru brought out the crepes and immediately started eating them as he read the Digimon manga, periodically sipping his extra-sweet cocoa.

"[Name], why didn't you get a drink?" Suguru asks, picking up a crepe carefully so the paint doesn't smudge.

You shrug. "The place I normally get my drinks at is too far to walk in the morning."

Satoru looks at you blankly as he stuffs his face with more food. "I could've teleported, dummy. C'mon, road trip time!" He exclaims as he grabs you and Suguru.

"Satoru, no— you haven't even mastered it yet—"

You feel reality split and your stomach churns uncomfortably for a brief second before everything stills again. The sound of cars blaring runs through your ears as a familiar sidewalk reflects through your eyes. "See? easy!"

"[Name]? Are you okay?" Suguru asks, squatting in front of you with worry all over his face.

Taking a minute to breathe, you feel everything finally settle. You have no idea how Satoru can do that without throwing up. "Yes, I am... okay. Just a little disoriented."

Suguru shoots a glare at the albino who rubs your back apologetically. "Well, my apology is your drink! So come on, I wanna get back to the crepes before Shoko's fat ass eats them."

"Shoko doesn't even like the crepes you order. It's always too much sugar." Suguru defends, slapping Satoru upside the head as the three of you walk into the shop.

It's a small cafe situated inside a bookstore with soft Lofi music playing in the background. The three of you get in line. It's short, most likely due to how early it was but that only meant you could get back to the dorms on time.

You hear snickering behind you but pay no mind. After all, it was a public place, and whatever affairs other people had wasn't your business.

Then, you hear something about how a guy has his nails painted. In the corner of your eye, you can see them pointing at Suguru.

Either Suguru and Satoru notice and they don't care, or they don't notice. Either way, you weren't going to let them poke fun at your friend (boyfriend?) and get away with it.

"Is something the matter?"

They stare at you, visibly sizing you up. "Wondering why your friend has nail polish on, isn't that only for chicks?"

Satoru taps you on your shoulder. "Take it outside, don't want you to beat their ass and get banned, yanno?"

You acknowledge him but keep a sharp gaze on the two of them. "Giving gendered terms to inanimate objects is an extremely stupid thing to do. It is not on you, so why should you care what he has on?"

The implication of calling them stupid seemed to hit a nerve because a vein pops in their forehead and their fists clench. "Cause it's fucking gay. What? You like taking it up the ass too?"

"If a fight is what you want, then that is fine with me. Do not let your petty ideals and quite frankly shitty opinions mess up my morning."

They keep talking as you make your way outside. The instant the door chimes close, a loud groan rips through one of their mouths.

They hold onto their nose, now streaming blood and broken. "Dude, what the fuck?!"

"You wanted a fight, did you not? Now, I am quite busy at the moment so if that is all, then I bid you a good rest of your day."

As you were about to walk back into the store, Suguru and Satoru came out with your drink in hand. "Yo! Here, got the kind you like cause I loveee you so much!" Satoru kisses your cheek and hands you your order, especially as you like it.

"Thank you, Satoru. Would you like to go back to the dorms now?"

Suguru stuffs a cake pop in your mouth, handing Satoru one and eating one as well. "Thanks for... that, by the way."

"It's no problem. You are my... partner, after all."

Satoru grins as he latches onto the two of you again. "Teleportation time, let's go!"

"Satoru, no—"

[jackactuallywrites]

Purely Professional

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Medic Reader

Rating: Mature (nothing too explicit but dick is hinted at)

Warnings: Ghost has a boo boo 😔 (blood, facial injury - split cheek and bruising)

Summary: You are the only medic Ghost trusts to treat him. Also you guys are friends with benefits!

Notes: Yes I do always headcanon Ghost with a broken nose. It’s HOT. Also I’m cleaning out the drafts

Word Count: 1,712

ao3 link

“He’s here.”

You didn’t need to ask to know who the other medic was talking about, nodding thanks to the medic as she left, and you quickly finished up with the young woman you were patching up, “You can take ibuprofen as needed, no more than two pills at a time, and space out the dosage to every four hours.” You wrinkle your nose, “I mean, you know how to take ibuprofen, just basic over-the-counter stuff. But come back if there’s any problems.” She nods, “Thanks, Doc.” You weren’t sure how many times you’d specified the difference between a combat medic and a military doctor, but at this point, it wasn’t worth the air, so you just nodded, gesturing for her to take her leave, “Anytime.” She grabbed the pillbox and made her way out of the room, leaving you to clean up the empty wrappings, tossing them into the nearby bin. You tore off the paper that was covering the bed, binning it as well and then rolling out another cover, making sure everything was fresh and clean. When you were satisfied, you walked out of the room into the waiting room, your eyes immediately landing on the one man who didn’t need to be named.

Ghost.

The intensity of his gaze was intimidating, his dark eyes glowering from underneath the skull mask as though he wanted nothing more than to take down every single person who dared to breathe the same air as him. At this point, the other medics had learned that he wouldn’t accept their help, refusing to utter even a single word until you were free. You leaned against the frame of the door that led into the hallway, beckoning him with a jerk of your head. He rose from his seat, seeming to dwarf everyone else around him as he walked through the room toward you, brushing past you without a word and striding straight into the open examination room, the cold silence seeming to emanate off him like a tangible aura, visibly affecting those around him, the other medics shrinking away from him as he passed.

You followed him into the room, closing the door behind you, “So, what can I help you with today, Lieutenant?” He sat down on the bed in the room, resting one forearm on his thigh, gesturing with the other hand to his face, consistently a man of few words. You stepped closer to him, “You’re going to have to give me a little more than that.” He grunted, reaching up to take off his helmet, setting it on the bed beside him, and then unclipping the skull mask, revealing the balaclava underneath. Finally, he pulled off the balaclava, revealing his clipped blond hair, and then his face, bruised and bloody, his cheek split open, blood already dried to his skin. His eyes, thankfully untouched, the black paint surrounding them unmarred, were on you, boring into your face as he watched you.

You didn’t waste time, reaching out to probe his face, your fingers gently holding onto his chin as you turned his head from side to side, inspecting the damage. It looked worse than it was; facial injuries always bled more, and though he tensed when you gently pressed his cheek, there was no sign of anything broken. After taking a moment just to be sure, you drew back from him, walking to the medical cupboard and taking out an antiseptic wipe, talking as you did, “You won’t need stitches.” He grunted, and you took this as permission to begin wiping the blood away from his face.

“So,” you began, always one to make idle chitchat as you worked, “who did you piss off this time?” Ghost watched you, his face solemn, searching your eyes before he responded, his voice barely more than a whisper, “Couple guys.” You smiled as you brushed the wipe over his split skin, “You know if you want to see me, you only have to ask.”

All the tension in his face seemed to ease then, his eyes softening as he looked up at you, “I know.” You took this as permission, gently nudging his legs open so you could stand in between them, closing the distance between you, allowing him to reach out in his own time, and after a brief moment, he did, his hands reaching out to gently rest on your hips, his fingers hesitant, still unused to the intimacy you shared. You cleaned up the rest of the blood on his cheek, giving him time to get used to your close proximity as you brought out a small plaster to cover his wound. In a moment of impulsivity, you pressed a gentle kiss to his damaged cheek, your reward his sharp intake of breath and the tightening of his fingers on your hips, pulling you closer toward him.

“You know,” you began, letting your hands rest on his shoulders, “the other medics are going to think you’re sweet on me.” Ghost let his face rest in the crook of your neck, his voice low, muffled by your shoulder, “I’m not sweet.” You smiled, letting your fingers trace over from his shoulders to the back of his neck, “No? What would you call this?” “Desperate.”

There was no mistaking the longing in his voice, the yearning, the way his fingers pulled you closer to him until your body was pressed against his. Already, his fingers were pulling at your shirt, just like he’d done so many times before, secretive fumbles in whatever vehicle or armoury was nearest, all beginning with some injury he only allowed you to treat, all ending with you wrapped up in his arms. You smiled, shifting one hand to stop his fingers on their insistent path underneath your shirt, “I think they’ll notice if I spend forty minutes in here with you.” Ghost didn’t seem entirely put off by the idea, his face tilting up as his lips began to move over your neck, gently nipping at the skin, his voice husky, “You love this being our dirty little secret, don’t you?”

It was impossible for you to lie to him; after all, he was special forces; no doubt he could sniff out every last secret of yours if he truly wanted to. His hand was already moving from your hip up to your cheek, forcing you to look at him as he pulled away from your neck, his pale eyes searching yours, “Admit it.” Every part of you seemed desperate to touch and be touched by him, and you held back a groan, “Yes. Which is why we can’t do anything in here.” His lips quirked in a smirk, “We wouldn’t want them to think you give this treatment to everyone.” You smiled, “I am supposed to be a professional, after all.” His thumb reached out to brush your cheek, “Couldn’t we both use a little unprofessionalism right now?”

The idea was tempting. Too tempting. You could feel those eyes of his melting away your resolve, and you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, biting the inside of your cheek, “What exactly did you have in mind?” There was a wicked look in his eyes, luring you into sin, to submit yourself to his will entirely, “What I have in mind would make too much of a mess and needs more time than we have.” You tilted your head to the side, curious, “So what do we do?” He was quiet for a moment, his eyes flicking over every single facet of your face, your eyes, your cheeks, your lips. He leaned into you, his nose bumping against yours, letting you feel that little ridge where it had been broken. His words were a murmur against your skin, softer than he ever seemed capable of, “I’ll be content with a kiss for now.”

It never seemed to make sense that a devil could be so sweet; you knew what he was capable of, you’d patched him up, you’d seen his medical records detailing what he’d been through, yet here he was, asking you for that simplest of intimacies. You obliged his simple request, leaning forward to press your lips against his, feeling the slight stubble on his skin prickle yours, his hand shifting from your cheek to the back of your neck, the one on your hip moving to the small of your back to pull you closer to him, encircling your body, his lips soft against yours, yet insistent, needy. He pulled away before you, leaning his forehead against yours, letting out a strained sigh, his hand moving from your back to his crotch, adjusting his trousers to disguise the growing bulge there. “The things you do to me.” His voice held some frustration, his fingers tightening on the back of your neck but loosening just as quickly, always in complete control of himself.

You could see the Lieutenant return, the way his back straightened, the grim determination returning to his lips. His hands fell away from your body, reaching for the balaclava and mask he’d put to the side, and you knew your time with him was coming to a close. You stepped back from him, tucking in your shirt, allowing him to resume that persona, covering his bruised face with the black balaclava and then finishing with clipping his skull mask back into place, his helmet finishing the transformation. All that remained of him were those soft eyes, out of place, surrounded by blackness. He reached up with one hand to tuck a loose hair back under your beret, his gloved fingers gently stroking against your cheek. “I’ll be seeing you.”

There was no doubt that he would find you to finish what you’d started here, but for now, he was back to business, standing up off the table and straightening out his uniform. You crossed the room to open the door for him, allowing the outside world view into your privacy, not that there was anything for them to see. He stalked past you without a word, yet as he passed, his hand reached out to gently squeeze your arse, sending tingles up your spine as he left you wanting, trying hard not to look like a lovesick dog as you watched him go.

[billybob598]

Were You Gay-Panicking? (Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader)

IM BACKKKKK!!! Here's my bi-monthly fic :) I'm actually kinda proud of this one, felt like some good writing. Anyhoo enjoy bitches! As always, any feedback good or bad is welcomed! PEACE

Summary: (first time doing one of these) A few months ago, Kyra had no idea who you were. Now? Now, she was gay panicking everytime she was in the same room as you.

Word Count: 4.6K (WTF?!?!?!?!?!)

Kyra didn’t exactly know how to feel about you. Sure, you were Aussie. Sure, you were an amazing fullback who could run forever and never seem winded. Sure, you were quite possibly the sweetest person ever. Sure, you were stunningly beautiful. Kyra paused, her eyes locked onto you as you laughed that adorable laugh at something Katie had said. Okay, the thing about you being beautiful kind of slipped out. It’s not like it’s not true though. You did have this just natural beauty to you, you barely wore makeup, but you still shone in Kyra’s eyes.

 It was crazy that the two of you had never met before. You were roughly the same age, both Australian and now both Gunners. Unlike Kyra, you’re career up until this point had been riddled with injuries and unfortunate coincidences. Despite being an integral part of the Arsenal squad and having a breakout year last season, you were still not chosen for the World Cup, or any national team camps for that matter. Kyra had heard plenty about you from Steph and Caitlin, she had also seen you a bit on a few of the other Arsenal players' socials. You did have an Instagram account, but you rarely posted. Any true Arsenal fan knew who you were, but casual fans and Matildas’ fans probably hadn’t heard of you. You preferred to work in the background, you weren’t a big extrovert and your personality was more closed off so, consequently you weren’t insanely popular with the fans. So, when Kyra officially met you she had no idea how you weren’t the most liked player.

4 months ago

After finishing some of the required videos and finally signing her contract for The Arsenal, Kyra found herself wandering around the grounds. She had a few minutes until she was supposed to be at a press conference introducing all of the new signings, so she figured she could start exploring London Colney a bit more. As she passes through the locker room she hears some noise coming from the pitch. The distinctive sound of a boot colliding with a ball lures the Australian outside. The scent of fresh-cut grass and marking paint rushes into Kyra’s nose, bringing a soft smile to her face. Another ball gets kicked on the other side of the field. Turning her head, the midfielder is met with the sight of the prettiest woman she’s ever laid eyes on. She watched in awe at how your muscles flexed each time you struck the ball, her breath catching in her throat when you turn around. Your beautifully Y/E/C eyes glimmering, the sun hitting them just right. 

“Oh, sorry. I thought the field was open.” You mutter quietly, your face heating up slightly. 

“Uhm, it’s alright. I’m not here to play or anything. I mean-uh, well actually I am here to play, but not right now. At least I don’t think rig-” Kyra stumbles through her sentences until your giggle cuts her off. She blushes at the sound.

“No, I get what you mean,” you both stand there awkwardly, shifting your weight from foot to foot nervously, “Well, I should probably get going.”

“Wait! Uhh, I mean you sound Australian, you are right?” Kyra asks, desperate to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah, yeah I am. I’m from Geraldton, you?” Your voice is quiet, but Kyra is already in love with it. 

“Herston, have you ever been?” 

“Yeah, I mean I’ve been to Brisbane, it’s nice.” The conversation comes to a awkward lull, Kyra can see how nervous you are. 

“I’m Kyra by the way.”  She extends her hand out to you. Glancing at it, you smile softly and take it.

“I know, Caitlin and Steph never shut up about you. I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“You’re the Y/N Y/L/N? Holy shit, Caitlin and Steph never shut up about you.” A small blush forms on your cheeks. Kyra swoons at how flustered you look. She takes another second to admire everything about you. Just as she went to speak again a voice from behind her called out, telling her the press conference was about to start. “I’m really sorry, I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” With one last smile, Kyra begins to back up and then turns and jogs to the man waiting for her. Tentatively, you touch your cheeks where the blush was still, very prominently, there. 

2 months ago

You watch from afar as Kyra, Caitlin, and Steph swing around from the bars singing along to Strawberry Kisses. A smile appears on your face when Kyra lets out a loud, silly laugh. 

A voice startles you out of your love-possesed trance, “You know, you’re really not subtle, like, at all.” 

“Shut up, Beth.” The England national smirks and for the next fifteen minutes proceeds to tease you about your developing crush on the new signing. 

“Okay, Beth, I think she gets it.” Your saviour, Viv, intervenes after her girlfriend makes a kissy face aimed towards you and Kyra. Beth groans and mumbles something about Viv not being any fun. Viv lets you go back to watching Kyra workout/goof around for a few moments before throwing her two cents in,

“You like her? Like, like like her?”

You sigh, “I don’t know yet. Would it be terrible if I did?” 

Viv shakes her head with a small chuckle, “Would it be terrible if you found someone you really liked and someone who is genuinely a good person? No, it’s not that bad.” You roll your eyes. 

“It feels pretty terrible. But, I guess it’s not too bad, especially since she’s never gonna like me back.” The older woman gives you a look, one that screams “you’ve got to be joking right now”. You and Viv had a certain connection to each other. Both of you were introverts on a team full of extroverts, so it was nice to have someone who didn’t mind just sitting in peace and quiet without any of the pressure of having to be “on”. 

“If Kyra liking you back is so crazy, then why is she staring at you right now with literal heart eyes?” Your head whips forward to find Kyra already looking at you. A blush was already creeping up your neck and you hadn’t even held eye contact for more than two seconds. 

Kyra is watching you carefully when your head turns to look at her. Her heart flutters when your cheeks tint red. A sense of pride swells in her chest at being able to make you blush.

“You two make me sick,” Caitlin says from behind Kyra. Steph is quick to shush the younger Aussie,

“They’re just in love, Cait. You can’t stop young love,” she says an annoying smirk tugging at her lips. Kyra rolls her eyes at her national teammates antics. 

“We are not in love. She definitely doesn’t like me, mate.”

“Sure,” Caitlin drawls out, seemingly unconvinced. 

“She doesn’t. I’m like 1000% sure.”

“Then why does she blush everytime you look at her, smile at her, or laugh?” Steph says, amused.

“Wh-What? No, she doesn’t. I think I’d notice.” The two older Aussies share a look, then they grab Kyra’s head and force it to look at you. Your eyes widen when you and Kyra make eye contact, heat already rushing up to your cheeks. She gives you a warm smile which does nothing to help your burning cheeks. Deciding that you’ve had enough biking for today, you step off the bike extremely ungracefully, bumping into everything and everyone. Kyra giggles from across the gym, her Australian friends rolling their eyes. 

“See? You two are so in love,” Steph tries to convince the younger girl. A frown replaces the small smile on Kyra’s face when you leave the gym,

“Whatever. You guys suck.”

2 weeks ago

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” Tony Gustavsson’s calm voice brings you back to reality. 

“Oh, uh, yes sir. I mean, yes coach. Thank you so, so much, I won’t let you down, I promise.” Your voice is shaky and weak. Someone’s warm hand covers yours, lifting your head up, your met with Kyra grinning from ear-to-ear. Returning her smile, you say your goodbyes to Tony and place the phone down carefully on the kitchen counter.

 You were, once again, at Kyra’s apartment. The two of you had grown closer over the past few months, unknowingly both of you had swallowed down your feelings for each other, convinced the other didn’t feel the same. It was driving the rest of the team crazy, and it was about to get worse. Finally, you had gotten your first call-up to the national team.

You and Kyra had been cozied up on her couch, watching a Christmas movie (because it’s never too early to start is it?) when your phone had began to ring. Of course, Kyra had already received her call a few days ago. It was hardly surprising, after the World Cup and with her recent performances for Arsenal she was an obvious choice for the last two friendlies of 2023. You, on the other hand, had long given up your dream of playing for the national team. Being a little bit older than Kyra and a lot more injury prone, your caps for the Matildas stood at a resounding, zero. You had never even been to a camp. So, last year when Tony never so much as gave you a call, you put your Matildas dreams behind you and focused on your club football.

“Who is it?” Kyra mumbles sleepily, she had been on the verge of falling asleep, it was impossible not to. You were perfectly situated between her legs, your head resting comfortably on her chest. The movie did little to distract her from the scent of your perfume infiltrating the hoodie she was wearing. 

“I don’t know, Ky. It looks like an Australian number.” 

“Wait, I know whose number that is.” She says, now fully awake.

“Who?”

She takes a deep breath, trying to hide her smile, “It’s Tony’s. Like Tony Gustavsson. The head coach of-”

“Yes, I know who Tony Gustavsson is! You don’t think he’s calling to invite me to camp is he?” You exclaim, your nerve levels rising as the phone continues to ring.

“Only one way to find out.” 

Standing up, phone in hand, you take a breath before accepting the call. Kyra sits up on the couch, her hands loosening her grip on your waist. 

“Hello?” Slowly making your way to the kitchen, Kyra only catches your side of the conversation. She takes a seat at the counter watching nervously as you pace back and forth in front of her. You pause. It looks like you’re trying to process everything. “Oh, uh, yes sir. I mean, yes coach. Thank you so, so much, I won’t let you down, I promise.” A full-on grin breaks out onto Kyra’s face, she reaches across the counter and takes a hold of your hand. After hanging up, there is silence in the small apartment for a few seconds. 

“So?” Kyra prompts softly.

“I’m going to play for fucking Australia!” You shout excitedly. You both squeal happily, Kyra rushes over and brings you into a tight hug. 

“Now we’re national teammates as well!” Kyra says into your neck, her heart pounding as you laugh your beautiful laugh.

Over the next few days Kyra helps you pack for camp, telling you all of the basic information you’d need to survive while also filling you in on all of the important bits about the team itself. Who’s friends with who, what not to say to this person, why this person acts like this. She was surprisingly helpful. So, when you, Kyra, Caitlin, and Steph boarded the flight to Australia you actually felt pretty prepared. Kyra sat beside you on the flight, chatting your ear off, you didn’t really mind though. It was how your friendship went. Kyra would talk about anything and everything, while you listened carefully, never ignoring her. She found it endearing how you remembered everything she said, sometimes she didn’t even remember herself. 

An few hours into the flight, Steph leans across the aisle asking Kyra if she knew who is supposed to bring them to the hotel when they land. Kyra remembers saying something to you about it so she turns and taps your shoulder. Taking out one of your earbuds, you look at them, raising an eyebrow. 

“Uh, do you know who’s supposed to be picking us up? I think I said something about it to you,” Kyra asks quietly, so as not to interrupt the other passengers.

“William.” You answer plainly. Kyra nods while Steph watches in shock.

“How in the hell did you know that? You don’t even know who that is.”

“Kyra told me last night, she also told me that she couldn’t wait to ride the ferry to Vancouver Island when we get to Canada.” Kyra blushes. 

“I can’t believe you remember that,” she says, slightly embarrassed. 

“It’s kind of hard not to when it’s all you would take about for ten minutes.” 

Steph has to cover her laugh at Kyra’s mortified face.

“Is that seriously all I talked about last night?” 

“You tend to do that. It’s actually kinda cute.” That last bit slips out before you can stop it. Now, you’re the one blushing. You decide it’s better to look out the window than to keep looking at them. Steph wanted to strangle the both of you. God, you were so oblivious. How could neither of you see that you were head over heels for each other? Whatever, you’d figure it out. Hopefully sooner than later because she had five pounds on you guys getting together before the new year. 

After landing and grabbing your luggage, just as you said, William was there with a car to bring you all to the hotel the team was staying at. Walking into the lobby, cameras point at you four. Kyra and Caitlin grin and wave goofily at them, probably saying something stupid as well. 

Steph smiles and waves happily, “Good to be home, huh?” 

You walk behind them, looking up and waving at the cameras shyly, “Alright?” 

“Hey, Y/N! Wanna do a quick interview with the other first timers?” One of the social media guys asks from behind the phone camera. Kyra stops. You look at her, uncertainty looming in your eyes. 

She nods encouragingly, “Go on. I’ll take your stuff and get your room.” 

“Thanks, Ky. I’ll see you later.” You smile and follow the man heading in the other direction. 

“So that’s the girl you like!” Charli shouts from across the lobby. 

Kyra flinches at the volume of her best friends voice, “Jesus Christ, Charli. Could you be any louder?” 

“Wanna bet?” Kyra shakes her head, not wanting to see how far Charli can take things today. “She’s really pretty, I can see why you like her.” The blonde says in a much more indoor appropriate voice. Kyra just rolls her eyes in response.

After a few good days of training and getting to know everyone, the team was in Canada. Walking onto the ferry with your hoodie drawn tight to you and your toque covering the top of your head, Kyra was bouncing off the walls with excitement and energy. 

“Kyra, for the love of God, please calm down.” Mini says, trying her best to calm the young midfielder down. Her words have no effect, Kyra continues doing laps around everyone. You were walking Sarah Hunter, another player about to earn their first cap, when Kyra gets in front of you and turns backward to talk to you. 

“Hi Y/N! Aren’t you excited about the ferry?” She asks. Her hyperness, you notice, was starting to annoy some of your teammates, specifically Caitlin, who looked on the verge of pushing her Arsenal teammate into the Pacific Ocean. 

“I am, Ky,” you lower your voice so only those close to you can hear, “But how about we tone it down, okay? We have lots of time to be excited, but maybe just chill for a few minutes so they can tell us where to go and what not, how’s that sound?” 

Kyra listens to you, she falls into step with you and speaks a lot softer and calmer. 

Mini stares on in disbelief, “Oh, Kyra is down bad. I mean, she didn’t even listen to me, but as soon as Y/N says something she’s on her best behaviour.” 

Steph shakes her head, “You should see them at Arsenal, it’s unbearable.” 

You and Sarah were in deep conversation about something Kyra couldn’t care less about. She wanted to go explore the ship, but she promised you she’d be on her best behaviour. Kyra is getting antsy and you can tell, she keeps turning her head every time there’s a new sound. You just needed to get wherever the guide wanted you guys to be and then she can do whatever she wants. Just as the team passes the gift shop, Kyra almost bolts. You catch her though, your hand intertwining with hers and securing her at your side. Kyra is taken aback by your actions and blushes profusely. 

In a break in your conversation with Sarah, you lean over and mumble into Kyra’s ear, “I know, Ky. Just hold still for a little longer, okay?” Kyra nods and presses a small kiss to the top of your head. You almost die of a heart attack right there and then. Blushing, you squeeze her hand and get back into your conversation with Sarah. 

“Holy shit, Kyra needs to man the fuck up and ask her out already,” Charli groans a few meters from behind you. Mini scolds her for her language, but silently agrees with her. 

“Fuck me,” You mutter under your breath as Canada scores, again. Surprisingly, Tony had given you and a bunch of other players their first caps. Unsurprisingly, Canada had been dominating the entire match. You were exhausted from having to run up and down the pitch for all ninety minutes. It seemed like you were the only player who wanted to attack, or defend, or do anything at all. You definitely weren’t blaming the other Matildas on the field with you, for most of them it was their first time in their nations jersey as well. You guys were also facing a team determined to get revenge and send off their hero in the right way, so that was not helping at all. What also wasn’t helping was that there was maybe five minutes left in the match, so both teams kind of switched off. No one really cared about this blowout anymore. 

Kyra was chewing on her nails as she watched another through ball to you get overhit and land straight at a Canadian defenders’ feet. She watched as you began your recovery run, eyes tracking the ball carefully. When Quinn tried to thread a ball to Prince you timed your slide tackle perfectly and intercepted the ball. The bench stood up clapping and shouting encouragement to you. Keeping the ball close to your feet, you stood back up and began dribbling into space. The defense were dropping off, determined to keep a clean sheet. Your eyes scanned the field hoping to find anyone making a run. Unfortunately, your teammates seemed gassed. So, you started to pick up your speed with the ball. Skillfully, you dribbled around Fleming and Grosso, picking your head up once again to find Tameka making a run on the weak side of the pitch. You hit the ball, aiming to lead her into the miles of green grass in front of her. She controls the ball in stride and continues driving down the wide right channel. Continuing your run, you jog up to the top of the box hoping to put any rebounds back into the box. Tameka sends a cross into the box, it heads towards the penalty spot, multiple players jump up for it. Ultimately, Gilles gets most of it and clears it out to the top of the box. Right where you are. Kyra stands up. You watch as the ball arcs in the air and starts to drop towards you. It’s as if everything is moving in slow motion. You plant your left foot into the grass, the ball drops and drops and drops. Pulling your right foot back, you wait for it to just drop a little bit more. Now. Straightening your leg, you watch your foot connect with the ball. The ball surges forward while your boot recoils from the impact. Your eyes track the ball as it soars through the air, it slips past the outstretched foot of Buchanan, Amy Sayer jumps out of the way. The goalkeeper tries her best, but it’s useless, the net ripples as the ball buries itself into the top left corner. Screaming is all you hear, you’re frozen in your spot. Suddenly, Mary is in your arms and the rest of the team is hugging you and screaming at you. 

“What a fucking legend!”

“Banger! Absoloute banger!”

“Mate, you’re actually insane.”

“First goal for the Matildas, bitches!”

Tears are welling up in your eyes as you set Mary down. Holy shit. You’ve always dreamed of scoring for the Matildas, all of a sudden that dream was a reality. Mary tugs on your hand and pulls you over to where the subs are screaming and jumping up and down. You laugh. Caitlin and Steph are the first ones to you, yelling at you that you’re a baller or something like that. After they let you go, Kyra is waiting for you. She’s got that blinding smile that you’ve always loved. She pulls you into a hug.

“I’m so, so proud of you, Y/N/N.” Her hands run gently through your hair, you sink into the hug, letting out a sigh.

“Thanks Kyra, for everything. Um, I should go though the ref looks mad.” She nods and relinquishes her hold on you. Jogging back into place, you breath deeply. Finally. You had finally done it. You were a fucking Matilda.

Present Day

The team had gathered for their annual Secret Santa party. This year, it was held at Viv and Beth’s house. All the players were crammed inside the living room, a lot of food had been consumed along with a lot of laughs being laughed. There had been a Christmas movie marathon (2 movies) where you and Kyra had found a nice spot on the couch for the two of you. There had also been a small potluck, everyone brining a small dish to share with the team. Now, it was time for the gift exchange. A few weeks ago, there had been a very formal name-drawing process. There were blindfolds and everything, you were actually kind of impressed at how serious the team took it. You had drawn Frida’s name which you didn’t really mind. You got along with her well, and you were both pretty chill so it was easy to hang out with her. Her girlfriend had helped you track down some Norwegian sweets that you know she loved, you also threw in an adorable polar bear stuffy you found at a cute gift shop in downtown, London. 

Everyone was going in a circle, unwrapping their presents and guessing who their Secret Santa was. So far, there had been some really sweet gifts and some really funny ones. Such as Katie giving Leah a toy keyboard, one that was really meant for two year olds. Katie defended herself saying, “It was appropriate for Leah’s skill level.”

Soon enough, it was your turn. You searched the small tree sitting in the living room for a gift with your name on it. Finding it, you carefully picked it up and sat back in your spot between Kyra’s legs. All eyes were on you as you gently unwrapped the gift, not wanting to be rude and just tear apart the wrapping paper. A gasp escapes your lips, hand flying to your mouth in shock. Everyone asks you what it is. You take it out of its case and hold it up for the team to see. Gasps similar to yours fill the room. A diamond necklace with your first name initial as a pendant hung from your fingers. It must have cost at least £100. You look around the room desperately, looking to thank the giftgiver endlessly. Multiple people shake their heads. Finally, you look behind you, Kyra didn’t meet even try to meet your eyes. Her cheeks were burning red, her hand rubbing her neck nervously. 

“Uh, do you like it?” You could hear the nerves in her voice. You were still a little shocked from the gift, so you stand up abruptly and grab her hand leading her towards the bathroom. 

Slamming the door shut, you whip around to look at your fellow Aussie, “What the hell? Are you insane?” Kyra flinches slightly at your tone.

“Do you not like it? Because I can return it and get you something else,” her voice was unsure. 

“Wha-? Of course I like it! I love it, I love you! But, Kyra this had to have cost a shiton, I can’t accept this as a gift.” You say forcefully, still not realizing what you had said. Kyra had heard it though.

“Wait, did you just say you love me?”

You freeze. Well, you had said that. Not on purpose, though. But, it’s not like it’s not true. Kyra tentatively reaches out and takes your hand in hers, 

“Y/N?”

WIthout even thinking you crash your lips into hers. She gasps, but eventually melts into the kiss, your lips working against each others perfectly. Her hands found their way to your hips, gripping them tightly. Your hands wrapped behind her neck at first before moving into her hair. As you tug on her hair she lets out a soft moan, giving you access to her mouth. Slipping your tongue inside of her mouth, she gently pushes you against the bathroom wall. A soft gasp at the cold tile lets Kyra detach her lips from yours and begin working her way down your neck. She presses wet kiss after wet kiss onto your exposed skin. Finally finding your weak spot, you moan her name quietly. Her perfume, her mouth on your neck, everything about her was overwhelming your senses. 

“Ky…Ky we have to stop, someone could hear us,” you moan out softly as she places more kisses on your collarbone.

“Mmm, maybe. Or we could just keep going?” She smirks playfully at you. Fuck, her smirk did things to you that you weren’t exactly proud of. Rolling your eyes, you pushed her off of you.

“They’re probably waiting for us to continue the Secret Santa. We shouldn’t keep them.”

Kyra groans and drops her head onto your chest. You laugh, and run your fingers through her hair soothingly. 

“Umm, I really like you, you know?” Her voice is muffled against you, but you heard her loud and clear.

“Oh really? I had no idea,” you say sarcastically. She slaps your chest in response. 

“Shut up, asshole.” Another laugh rumbles through your chest. 

“Sorry, sorry. I really like you too, Kyra.” She smiles lazily and leans in for another kiss. 

“Y’know, everytime I saw you I was, like, gay-panicking,” she confesses with a embarrassed smile.

“Awww, were you gay-panicking? That’s adorable.”

“Asshole.”

[talesofesther]

yours only

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: You make Wednesday feel something she never felt before; jealousy. And maybe a bit of something else too.

Requested by anon

A/N: First time writing for her, who stole my heart pretty quickly. I hope this is okay, hope I could somehow capture her personality that's definitely not an easy one. Let me know what you think. Requests for her are open. <3

Masterlist

You felt a little petty, just a little, as you walked amongst the woods to meet Xavier in his secret spot, the one where he stored most of his paintings.

But he's been a good friend of yours ever since before Wednesday came to Nevermore, and if she can spend however long she wants in that coffee shop, why can't you do the same?

You weren't expecting to fall for her, in reality, you couldn't stand her in the beginning. But one doesn't choose one's feelings, and when underneath all that secrecy and nonchalant attitude she does things like; take an extra tray of breakfast for you when you wake up a little late, or help you in class when you forget the particularities of a flower, or even send Thing to your room in the dead of night with a written note for you to meet her the next day for an outing, which was code for sneaking out to investigate, but the gesture is there.

It was safe to say you were a goner. As much as it might be — her words, not yours — a terrible decision.

But lately, Wednesday has been distant. And you were jealous, even if you didn't have the right to be. So over the past week, you've been spending a good amount of time with Xavier. He's been helping you with your drawing skills, the piece you're working on now is almost done, and you're quite proud of it.

The entirety of your day is spent in Xavier's shed, laughing and painting and getting your head off of things. You think you see a dark silhouette spying on you from outside, but when you go looking, it's gone.

It's already late at night when you do go back to your dorm, your roommate is sneaking into her boyfriend's room tonight, so it's just you. You're looking forward to the quiet night.

You open the door to your room with a yawn escaping your lips. Your backpack is thrown somewhere to the side and you don't care much for where it lands, you stretch your muscles, a little sore for being in the same position most of the day. Only then do you take a glance over your room, and in the right corner, sitting by the end of your bed on the floor and mostly covered by the darkness, is Wednesday.

You almost jump out of your skin. With the way your heart is beating under your hand, you swear your soul did leave your body for a second; "holy shit Wednesday, a little warning next time."

Wednesday gets up, taking a single step towards you before deciding against it, her eyes never leave you. "You're distracted today, why?"

"Hello to you too," you grumble, taking off your jacket, "and, how did you even get in here, the door was locked."

There's a ghost of a smirk on her burgundy-painted lips, and it gets you wondering if they'd leave a print on you if you stole a kiss. "You can't expect a simple lock to stop me," Wednesday tells you.

You chuckle, knowing damn well there were few things out there that held any power over her. You just don't know that you happen to be one of them. "no, of course not."

A beat passes where you just look at each other, both waiting on something, wondering whether the other person’s feeling the same way. The air feels heavy around you, almost electrical.

You clear your throat and walk past Wednesday and to your wardrobe to pick up your pajamas, figuring a shower would do you good.

Wednesday has a staring contest with the back of your head as you rummage for clothes, her jaw is set tightly in place and she hates the feeling that's in her stomach right now. "You didn't answer my question," she says, with more bite than usual.

You huff, running a hand through your hair as you turn to her again. You walk up closer, your personal space mingling with hers.

She sucks in a sharp breath when you stop before her, her gaze darting to your lips before settling back on your eyes. It's so fast that you don't notice it.

"What question?" You ask.

Wednesday gulps, twisting her words into what she really wanted to know; "why are you spending so much time with Xavier?" She deadpans, as if she couldn't care less.

Your lips tilt up on the sides, because you know better, but you won't indulge her just yet. "Why are you spending so much time with Tyler?"

"This is childish."

"Indeed."

"His father is the sheriff, and I need information on the attacks," Wednesday raises her brow, "my relationship with him is merely convenient."

You bite the inside of your cheek, nodding softly, "well, Xavier has been my friend for years already, so…" You shrug and walk around her, heading to the bathroom.

"It doesn't look like it."

"Like what?" You turn and ask impatiently, waiting for her to do the same and look at you again.

Wednesday does so slowly, staring at you through her lashes. "Like you two don't want to be more than friends."

There's something complicated about her tone that you can't quite put your finger in. Her eyebrows are a little crooked, her eyes glinting just a little brighter under the moonlight and her hands painfully closed into fists. You realize she's upset.

You soften. For her, this might just be the equivalent of a crying plea. You walk over to where your backpack lays forgotten on the floor and carefully pull out your sketchbook. The cover is black and a little worn as you run your fingers over it, taking a steadying breath.

You sit down on your bed with it and pat the space beside you.

Wednesday regards you with caution, she's lost and not in control, two things she absolutely hates; however, she doesn't feel as uncomfortable when it's with you. She takes calculated steps to your bed and gently sits down beside you, closer than she thinks she should have, but it's too late to back down now.

"Xavier has been giving me a hand with a few of my drawings," you explain, opening your sketchbook on the last page you used, "and uh- this is the one I'm working on."

Wednesday takes the sketchbook from you, holding it tenderly between her fingers as if it could fall apart. Her heart beats erratically against her ribs, for a moment she thinks she can hear it. The feeling is foreign to her.

The drawing is a perfect picture of her, undoubtedly by your eyes, as she sits beside you in class, focused on her notes. It's a sight you're all too familiar with, one that you love. The lines are a little rough still, all black charcoal and dark ink; tracing the lines of her jaw and hair to perfection. It's pretty, probably not a word Wednesday usually would use to describe herself, but it's true now.

"I couldn't see Xavier as more than a friend," you tell her quietly, so as to not break the bubble of intimacy around you, "I'm afraid that spot is already taken."

Wednesday's gaze snaps up to you, and you think that's the most emotion you've ever seen her let on. You wish you could bottle this moment up like fireflies in a glass jar.

You reach out a hand, and Wednesday holds her breath before you even touch her, you do too. Her hair, deep black and so incredibly soft, meets the pad of your fingertips as you push it behind her ear. The motion is all delicacy and shyness, just a breath over the fragile line between you and her.

Wednesday's lashes kiss her cheeks when her eyes almost drop closed for a millisecond before she takes back control. She's stiff, hands now with a bruising grip on the sketchbook, "what are you doing?"

You inch closer, and when she doesn't pull away, you gently cup her cheek; her skin is a little cold under your touch. "What do you think I'm doing?"

For the first time in her life, her words get caught up in her throat before she forces them out; "Something you'll regret."

Smiling against your own volition, you whisper; "do you really believe that?"

Wednesday wonders if you're aware that you're killing her slowly; agonizingly, because you're so kind with her demise. She's the one who closes the gap between you, when you're just a hairs width away from her, one hand letting go of your sketchbook in order to bunch up your shirt in her fist and pull you to her.

It's everything you're not expecting, her eagerness, urgency even. She's kissing you like she's trying to memorize you, not sure if you're real or not. It's still soft though, still uncertain, still her.

When she parts, it's slowly, her lips almost refusing to let yours go. The outlines of your mouth are faintly smudged with her lipstick, testimonies of her affection, of how lucky you are to have it.

The sight pulls a smile from Wednesday, and consequently from you as well once you see it. Because albeit small, her smile is real, and you think you already have your next project for the sketchbook.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242

[flynnriderishot]

tattoo - m.s

warning- i’m used to posting actual wattpad stories and not imagines so bare with me 😭💀

being a well known tattoo artist wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in many peoples eyes. with tattooing people like vinnie hacker and chase keith and becoming good friends with them, a lot of people thought you had it good.

and at some points you did.

having made many friends through your job and having big people showcase your work on their social media was really helpful for your business.

but on the other hand, you weren’t very fond of the ‘fame’ that came with it. you’ve become more known as a ‘tiktoker tattooist’ rather than your own name.

you’ve had plenty of upcoming and wannabe youtubers and tiktokers come in just to show your face, pretend to get a tattoo and then leave. at one point you were bound to grow sick of the fact that people were using your passion for their fame.

which is why a lot of people would consider you to be a bitch.

today you’d be tattooing two of the three sturniolo triplets. you’ve heard of them, of course. if you haven’t, you must either be really young or extremely old.

from what you’ve heard, they were friendly people, not being thrown in much controversy and usually keeping to themselves when invited to influencer parties.

you were a rather blunt person and could come off aggressive at times. you’d just hope that the news of your so called ‘disrespectful’ attitude didn’t paint a false narrative of who you truly were.

•••

“hi, is y/n in?” you heard a voice ask from your room in the back, “we’re nick and matt sturniolo, she’s supposed to be tattooing us today.”

alyssa, your coworker, nodded, “yeah, she’s in the back. if you could just wait there, i’ll go let her known you’re here.”

it wasn’t long before she walked to your area, respectfully shaking the curtain that separated you from the outside world before entering,

“your 2:30’s here. want me to call them in?”

you looked up from phone, sighing softly before agreeing, “yes, please.”

alyssa smiled before quickly leaving.

she was one of the few people that knew your weren’t a complete bitch like social media painted you out to be. she knew that if it wasn’t for the people recording without your permission and completely lying on your name, you’d be a lot more at ease when it came to taking in social media influencers.

you thanked god everyday that she knew how you really were, or else that’d make this job a lot harder than it already was.

you flung your curtain open, startling three familiar faces that just so happened to be walking towards you.

“hey, i’m nick.” a boy with red hair smiled, looking back towards his brothers,

“I’m chris, nice to meet you.” the longer haired one greeted.

“I’m matt.” he was a lot more quiet than you’d expected.

you’ve seen a few of their videos and while he was a bit quiet on camera, you had the idea that he may have been a little more talkative in person.

“i’m y/n. who am i tattooing?” you asked as you began to move around to collect the things you needed.

“these two.” chris answered, moving to sit on an empty chair near the exit. he seemed excited to know that he wouldn’t be getting a permanent design inked into his skin.

“do you mind if we film for our youtube channel? these tattoos are kind of a punishment for losing a challenge.” nick asked, “if not, it’s completely fine.”

if he hadn’t asked, you probably would have stayed silent the entire time. you couldn’t help but feel your shoulders relax at the way he asked permission before just doing it.

“i don’t mind.”

and for the first time in a while, you truly didn’t.

•••

after tattooing nick, the eldest triplet moved over to chris, who held the camera, to show off his eyeball with wings, explaining something to the camera that you hadn’t bothered to listen to.

you waved matt over, the boy inhaling softly before he layed down. you noticed how he, like nick, already had a few tattoos so you assumed his pain tolerance wasn’t very low.

“what are you getting?”

“uhm… a bee.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle, “these don’t sound like very detrimental punishments.”

matt only smiled slightly in response, nodding along to your words as you placed the stencil on his skin,

“is that spot okay?”

“yeah, it’s good.”

“matt’s getting his tattoo now—”

chris cut nick off, “kids face is as red as a tomato.”

“shut up, chris.” matt snapped at his brother, glancing over at him without moving too much.

the youngest of the three spoke quietly to the camera, “he has a crush on the tattoo artist. he thinks she pretty.”

from the way he chose not to say your name, you assumed the three have decided to keep you and your identity as secret as possible. which, despite your already large following, you were glad they did.

“chris, you can’t say shit like that.” nick scolded him, turning the camera to himself and beginning to go into a rant about the numerous pictures of work you’ve done that we’re plastered on the wall.

“sorry about him.” matt muttered to you. you didn’t respond which made him assume you didn’t hear, going to repeat himself only for you pull away from his arm.

“don’t worry about it. if it makes you feel any better, you’re pretty cute too.”

he might have thought you were only saying it to ease his mind but you weren’t lying. he was really attractive.

matt’s cheeks flushed, clearing his throat as he took a deep breath.

“okay, you’re done.” you wiped away a bit of ink, rolling your chair back.

he spluttered, not expecting to be finished so quickly, “oh, okay. thank you.”

glancing down at his arm, he seemed content with the finished product.

“you guys can head over to the front and alyssa can ring you up.”

“looks good.” chris nodded at matt’s tattoo, smiling in your direction. he mumbled something to his brother before following nick who didn’t leave without praising you for your work.

just as you heard the bells ring, leading you to believe they’ve left, your phone buzzed in your pocket,

from instagram-

matthew.sturniolo wants to send you a message:

thanks for the tattoo. it looks really good.

no problem.

it might seem really forward but chris managed to convince me…

would you wanna hang out sometime?

[ddejavvu]

Anakin would totally paint your nails for you 🫢

You're willing to bet a lot of credits that you're the only person who's ever gotten a manicure while pinned down. You'd begun the task of painting your nails alone, but when Anakin had volunteered to help with your dominant hand, you'd let him take over. And you should have remembered that once Anakin takes on a task, he will get it done, and he will get it done right. So when you'd twitched your fingers one too many times out of sheer human nature, Anakin had decided he needed to revoke your privilege to move.

His knees are digging into the small of your back and he's got your hand clutched in his own. You assume he's biting the inside of his cheek, the way he does when he's really concentrating on something, when he gets so deep into the zone that he needs to be physically prodded to remember where he is. But an assumption is all it is; you can't see him because your cheek is smashed into the mattress below you.

"Stop moving." Anakin drones, his voice monotonous like the droids he tinkers with.

"I'm not moving!" You exclaim, doing the very thing he accuses you of only now, and wriggling slightly beneath his hefty, muscle-packed weight, "Anakin, you've got my hands pinned behind my back. You're gonna bruise me with how tight you're holding onto them, you really think I could move if I tried?"

"Well clearly you can, because you just did," He gripes, shifting his weight so that one of his knees holds more than the other, digging into your back harder, "Just sit still, baby, I'm almost done."

"They don't need to be perfect," You try, hoping for the best but expecting the worse, "Anakin, I mean it, just slap a coat on the last few and let me go, please? You're heavy, and my back hurts, and-"

You can't process the feeling of one of his hands lifting away from your own until it's already gripping the back of your head and turning it towards the mattress, then pushing your face into it. You let out a muffled shout that you're aggravated is part-laugh as Anakin smothers you in the sheets, keeping pressure on your head long enough to complain, "You talk too much. Keep quiet 'til I finish, motormouth."

[sameheart-sameblood]

Love in the Time of Cordyceps

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. joel miller makes that rule hard to stick to

words: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of gore (pretty tame but still), swearing, sickness, angst, fluff, two dummies not realizing they love each other until one of them almost dies 🙄

a/n: this was supposed to be more angsty but then i remembered life is hard enough already. and i just want soft joel soooo here we are. also i meant to write 2k at most but boy do i love to ramble

read on ao3!

After the world goes to hell, you promise yourself you’ll never love again. A person, an animal, a place, nothing. Only a fool would choose to make themselves that vulnerable, needing every fiber of your being one hundred percent devoted to your survival and nothing more. 

Was a life without love worth living? Every time that question enters your mind, you swat it aside. It’s like a nagging fly that buzzes around you until your persistence finally drives it away completely. Of course you could live without love. You’d been doing it just fine these past fifteen years. 

Living without attachment proves useful in the new world you find yourself in. It makes the countless people you lose along the way easier to move on from. In the early days, your heart still twinges as the people around you drop like flies. Most fall victim to the bites of clickers, some to raiders’ gun, a few by their own hand. 

The first group you had travel with is filled with Midwesterners who see the terrors of the new world and still somehow have a smile and a joke for you. Their joviality can’t save them, though. Clickers swarm you one rainy night two years after the fall of civilization. The sight of Gail, a woman who reminds you of your grandmother, having her stomach ripped out by an especially voracious clicker cures you of your need for any connections to the living. 

Over the years, you make your way to the East Coast. Smiles, defiant in the face of adversity are replaced by permanent grimaces etched into the faces of everyone you meet. It seems as though every survivor has lost the ability for happiness of any kind. Good, you think, they’re finally learning. You wonder what took them so long. 

Tales of peace the Canadian wilderness has to offer reaches your ears. In your heart you know it is most likely a tall tale spread by desperate survivors. But the good thing about a zombie apocalypse is you now have nothing but time on your hands. Working your way north, if all goes well, you’ll reach Saint John by May, continue to Port Elgin and then decide if you’d try for Prince Edward Island or turn east to Nova Scotia. 

Plans are made to be broken, though, and yours, along with your ankle, break clean through one day as you make your way through Boston. It would have been over for you if not for the two survivors that find you nursing your injury in a department store that will most likely be swarming with clickers by nightfall. 

The woman, after she puts her gun away, introduces herself as Tess. The man doesn’t offer his name, preferring to keep the barrel of his shotgun pointed at you. As they argue quietly over what to do with you, you observe their faces. Both are etched hard with years of loss and worry. Even harder than your joyless face. It’s impressive albeit in a sad kind of way. 

Tess had somehow persuades the man to help you back to the Boston QZ. Joel. You hear her call him Joel. “Fine,” he had grumbles as he places your arm over his shoulder for support, “but if she scans red, I will not hesitate to put her down.” Oddly enough his threat somehow makes you almost like him. You sense a kindred spirit. Another follower of the “no love, no attachment” way of life. 

You do not, in fact, scan red and are allowed to enter the QZ. An apartment is assigned to you, a crappy little studio with faded lime green paint. The old you would have adored it, called it quirky and planned out how best to decorate it with your meager funds. The new you just appreciates a safe place to sleep. 

After your ankle heals, Tess invites you to join her smuggling scheme. Thoughts of Canada flee your mind for the time-being and you gladly welcome something to keep yourself occupied. 

“But what about the cowboy?” you ask. 

“Joel? What about him?”

Your eyebrows arch, “He threatened to shoot me.”

“Only if you were infected. Just don’t get infected.” She says it like you’re discussing the weather. 

Joel allows you into the group begrudgingly, probably because he thinks they can use you as bait or a distraction if needed. Fine. Let them label you bait. You’ve been called worse before. 

The first few months working together are tense. Joel reprimands you for the smallest mistakes and warns Tess you’ll get them all killed. At first, you bite your tongue, reminding yourself of the part he had in saving you. But one night after he scolds you for the millionth time about not checking your blind spots for clickers, you snap. “Fuck off, Joel! I survived the clickers for fifteen years. I think I know what I’m fucking doing!.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, wandering off with a hurt pout like he wasn’t the one who was just being the asshole. You wonder why your victory leaves you feeling hollow. 

After that, Joel keeps his mouth shut around you. No nagging, no “helpful” tips. Just the bare minimum of whatever he needs to convey. You’ll never admit that it hurts. You don’t have to, though. Tess, at the end of her rope, explodes one night as the three of you eat dinner in awkward silence. “Couple of fuckin’ babies I’m working with,” she seethes. “If you don’t grow up I’m finding a new crew.”

It’s decided that you and Joel will do the next supply run to Bill’s. Alone. No Tess there to act as buffer between you and him. Joel grunts at that but doesn’t argue, always deferring to your leader. The trip to Bill’s goes as well as you can ask. There are no arguments between the two of you at least. You’re sure you even see Joel crack a smile. Of course it’s when you clumsily tripped over a raised tree root…But hey, progress is progress.

With the supplies in tow and Frank’s compound behind you, you actually think this trip might be a success. A gang of raiders lying in wait to sabotage you dashes your hopes of that. They had seen the two of you lugging your supplies and thought it would be an easy win. At first, they are correct. They outnumber you and Joel in size and wickedness. The four of them aren’t content to kill you outright. They tie you up and discuss what to do with you next. 

Of course their attention quickly falls on you. The man with an ugly gash across his face leers at you. “Maybe we should keep her around awhile. She looks like fun.” Try as you might to act tough, that sends the blood rushing through your ears. 

You almost don’t hear Joel snarl at them. “You lay one finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” The venom in his voice snaps you back to reality. While their attention is on him, you discreetly start ripping at your bonds with the little pocket knife you thankfully decided to stow in your back pocket. 

They beat Joel senseless by the time you get free. You honestly think you’re too late as you stab the goon nearest to you in the thigh, by some miracle hitting his femoral artery. The others turn to you, blindsided as you go wild at the sight of your bloodied and broken companion. Gash-Face comes roaring at you, all brawn no brains. The look of surprise as you lodge the knife in his neck makes you smile with sickening glee. 

The remaining two corner you, murder in their eyes. Your gun is just beyond them, taunting you to come retrieve it. The only “weapon” you have is the belt you’re wearing, it’s clasp heavy and silver. You undo it and swing it at the nearest man. He grabs it, cackling victoriously as he uses it to pull you closer. In their grasp, you become the target of their blows. You curl into the fetal position, angry that after all the near death experiences you’ve had, this will be the way you go out. 

A shot rings out, then another. Two thuds on the ground next to you make you open your already swollen eyes. As you look up, you realize your savior is Joel. Back from the dead. His face is covered in blood, like some kind of ghoul. But in that moment, you have never seen someone look more like an angel. The two of you limp back to the QZ where Tess nurses you as she simultaneously curses the deceased thugs. 

Joel corners you in the bathroom the next day as you study your bruised face. “You could have run,” he hisses at you, making you jump. You don’t know what he wants so you just shrug. He invades your space, making you back against the counter. “Why didn’t you run?” His voice has gone low, anger simmering just beneath the surface. 

Faces inches from each other, all you can muster is a weak, “We’re a team. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Several emotions flicker across his face in quick succession. Anger, fear, worry and something you can’t quite put your finger on. Pride? Maybe that was you projecting but you hope you were right. Joel studies you for a moment longer, then reiterates, “Next time, you run.”

******

After that, things change. Joel is still a man of few words but the ones he does grace you with are softer and more intentional. Instead of berating you for the knowledge and skills you lack, he takes them time to teach you. He shows you how to identify fake ration cards and to spot the kind of guard you can bribe. Nights are spent with you following behind him like a shadow as he shows you all the secret ways in and out of the QZ. When your hands shake during target practice, he places his calloused ones over yours. It steadies your hands but frays your nerves, threatening to awake a feeling long thought dormant. 

It goes both ways. Joel lacks attention to detail in certain situations and you show him how to read people and ascertain their flaws that can be exploited. During your runs you point out the flora that can be consumed safely or used as medicine. At Flynn’s, the only bar in the QZ, you teach him how to play pool. An essential to survival? No. But it sure helps you win a huge stash of ration cards from your fellows survivors. It also gives you an excuse to sidle up behind him and mold your body around his, all in the name of helping him get the “proper pool stance.”

Your excuses to fleetingly touch one another became more and more common. They are all perfectly innocent but carry the weight of something elicit, at least to you. Joel is never one to give away his innermost thoughts, happy to wear a permanent poker face. For all you know he couldn’t care less about you. Maybe he just knows keeping you alive is good for business and that’s why he takes a particular interest in making sure you’re safe. Whatever the reason, you hope he never stops. 

******

During one supply run, a torrential thunderstorm forces you to spend the night at Bill and Frank’s. You know it makes Joel nervous to be indebted to anyone for such hospitality but you can’t hide your glee. A night there means a cozy bed and a hot shower, something hard to find in your home where the water runs tepid at best. 

Afterwards spending way too long in the bathroom, you curl up in your bed, toasty and content, only to find sleep won’t not come. Your hosts are dear to you, even the grumpy Bill, but their snoring through the wall you share makes hopes for a deep sleep impossible. 

After an hour of tossing and turning, you decide to go make your bed on the couch. As you tiptoe down the stairs you run into Joel, on his way up . “Going somewhere?” he drawls, exhaustion making his voice deeper than usual. You shrug, “Couldn’t sleep. There are two buzzsaws in the room next door.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ve had that room before. Can’t say it was the best night of sleep I’ve ever had.” You lived for these little snippets into Joel’s life before you came around, always eager to hear more. But the trek to the house through never-ending sleet and over the turbulent river left you more tired than you had felt in years. Right now all you want is to get where you could pass out immediately. “I’m just gonna make camp on the couch,” you say, stifling a yawn. 

Joel shakes his head. “You take my room. The couch is good enough for me.” This man. Hadn’t anyone told him chivalry is dead. You sigh tiredly and beckon for him to come back up the stairs with you. “It’s a big bed. We can share.” There is silence behind you where there should have been footsteps. Joel’s smile disappears as his forehead creases in thought. “Please,” you pout, “I can’t sleep in my room and I won’t get any rest knowing you’re crammed on that dainty little loveseat.”

It takes far more coaxing than it should but finally Joel gives you a little nod and follows you into his - your - room. You gesture to the bed, “Care which side you get?” Joel thinks, then shrugs. “Left is good.” You flop onto the right side, eyes immediately drooping shut. Once again, there is no movement from your companion. Without opening your eyes, you chide him, “If you’re gonna be weird and watch me sleep all night then you can go sleep on the couch.” That got him moving again. 

The sound of the shower turning on lulls you to a sleep that is disturbed only when you feel the dip of the bed several minutes later. You watch through barely opened eyes as Joel does a strange shimmy under the covers. It’s clear he’s trying his best not to wake you. The sight makes you laugh softly and his head whips to you. 

“Thought you were asleep,” he murmurs. 

You hum, “I was. You woke me up.” 

It’s meant to be a joke but Joel grimaces. “Sorry.”

The sight is sweet and your heart flips, his frown making him look almost boyish. “It’s ok. It’s your bed.” 

As you burrow into your cocoon of blankets, Joel props himself up, a pillow behind his back. He looks from you to the bedside lamp and back again. “You mind if I read for a few minutes?” 

That surprises you. In all your time together you had rarely seen Joel do something just for the pleasure of it. There was usually no time. But Bill and Frank’s is a sanctuary and even the hyper-vigilant Joel Miller is able to slow down here. You nod enthusiastically, perking up. “What are you reading?” 

It’s like you had asked him what his darkest secret was. He reddens, then finally grabs a book from the table. Pride and Prejudice. He stammers, “It’s just…I never had a lot of time for reading before and this was a favorite of…it was a favorite of somebody I knew.”

“You can read out loud to me if you want,” you offer with a grin. Honestly it was half in jest and half a serious hope. It had been decades since anyone had read aloud to you. Joel, always thinking you were making some sort of fun of him, smirks sarcastically. “Not a chance.” 

Your glower slowly melts away at the sight of him putting on his reading glasses and settling in. Silently you curse as you feel your hardened heart crack just the tiniest bit. Idiot that you are, you try to talk yourself out of your own feelings. You aren’t attached to Joel. How could you be? He’s just a handsome, rugged man who keeps you safe and reads Jane Austen in his spare time. Maybe some lesser fool would fall for him but not you. No, sir.

The next morning, you find yourself curled into him, chest pressed against his back and arm draped over his side. Like a bomb diffuser, you carefully try to extricate yourself from the position, every movement slow and precise. Joel, still asleep, lazily grabs your hand, keeping your arm around him. He sighs contentedly as you settle back down and you swear under your breath, nestling your head at the crook of his neck. You are so that lesser fool. 

******

The thunderstorms of summer give way to the pleasant days of autumn. Those good days don’t seem to last long enough. You should have appreciated them more while they were there but so is the way of being human. 

Winter in Boston isn’t fun. Ok that’s an understatement. It makes you long for the soul-sucking, never-ending Midwestern winters you had lived through for most of your life. There is something about being next to the ocean that makes everything feel colder. 

The nights are especially hard, the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls of your apartment. No matter how many blankets you tuck around yourself, your body never truly feels warm. Runs to Bill’s or anywhere outside the QZ become less frequent and more difficult. Only those deemed truly necessary are attempted and even then there is always a long discussion beforehand weighing out the pros and cons. 

Runs between the months of November and January are too risky and after much debate, it  is decided you three would lay low in the relative safety of the QZ. In the meantime, you’d assess your stockpile, make connections over the radio and wait for the spring thaw. With less food smuggled in from the outside, you decide to put your energy into earning ration cards. Even though no one could argue you don’t pull your weight in the group, you often feel like the weak link. Making sure Tess and Joel have a hot meal every night is the least you could do. 

Joel had always told you to stay away from sewer work. It paid double what the other jobs did but at a high risk. Besides not being able to wash the stink off for days, the tunnels under the city were treacherous. Many had gone down there only to be blindsided by a stray clicker or jumped by a loner who made their home away from society up above. Some just got lost in the labyrinth, never to be heard from again. Or at least you had been told. You hoped those were just myths. 

You and three other desperate souls are sent down to the sewers with the task of clearing the rubble from a recent cave in. A hard day’s work definitely but you were optimistic that you could get it done in a few hours time and be on your way.

The first few hours go well, the biggest pieces of the concrete being cleared easily enough. Your back aches and callouses quickly form on your palms. But still, all of that you can deal with, mollifying yourself with the thought of the stack of ration cards you’ll proudly gift to Joel and Tess. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been daydreaming you would have heard the shouts of your fellow volunteers sooner. Finally coming back to reality, you move just in time to avoid another piece of falling rock. You save yourself from being crushed but lose your footing, coming down hard on your shin. 

A stream of bright blood instantly trickles from the gash and you swear as you try to keep the tears that spring to your eyes at bay. Wanting to prove yourself, you brush off your group’s insistence that you go get it checked by the doctor. It doesn’t matter if you complete ninety percent of your shift. You still don’t get your payment if you leave early. So you suck it up for another hour, slogging through the muck as you finish the job. It’s fine, you tell yourself, it’s just a scratch. You’ll wash it off when I get home and be good as new. 

With the job done and ration cards tucked away in your pocket, you hobble back towards your apartment. The thought of a shower, as lukewarm as it will be, is the only thing keeping you upright. That is until you feel someone putting your arm around their shoulder. Joel helps you the few blocks to your house, his icy silence hurting you more than the cut that now throbs with every jostle. 

It’s only after you get inside and are deposited on the couch that Joel speaks. He rolls up the leg of your jeans, cursing as he sees the already festering wound. “I told you to stay out of the sewers.” 

You suck in a pained breath as he starts wiping away the dirt. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Besides, it was worth it,” you pull out the stack of ration cards and present them to him proudly. The sight gives him pause. But the look on his face isn’t one of gratitude, it’s worried exasperation. His signature grimace returns, “It’s not worth it if you lose your leg.” And people claim you’re dramatic. 

Pushing him away with a shoo, you rise, limping to the bathroom. “I just need a shower. Then I’ll be right as rain.” As you peel off your now ruined clothes, Joel hovers on the other side of the door. “I can hear you pacing,” you call over the sound of the warming shower. 

Even through the almost closed door you can hear Joel sigh. “I just think we should take you to the doc. Make sure you’re alright.” The water hitting you makes you audibly moan, the filth on your body washing down the drain and with it, the memory of the hard day. You appreciate the concern but all you want to do know is forget about the day. You call out to a still pacing Joel, “I’m fine. You worry too much!”

******

It turns out Joel worries the right amount. Of course he does. As eager as you are to forget about your day, it’s not long before you can’t ignore your leg. The wound is an angry red and the area around it has swollen, leaving it tender and throbbing. Thankfully you have Joel there to dress it because, honestly, you can’t stomach the sight of it. These past years have been filled with much blood and gore at your own hands. But there’s something different when it’s your own blood. 

In any other circumstance you would have reveled in the feeling of Joel holding your leg so tenderly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wraps the bandage around you. It would have driven you insane seeing him crouched in between your legs as he is now. But at the moment all you can think about is how you much pain you’re in. 

You try not to show your discomfort, but your poker face is nonexistent. Joel’s eyes flick up to yours as you slowly exhale, trying to keep calm. Avoidance has always been one of your favorite tactics when dealing with uncomfortable situations so you pipe up, overly perkily, “See? All better. Now about those ration cards, I was thinking for dinner-“ 

Joel rolls his eyes, standing with a groan, his knees audibly cracking. “The only thing you’re gonna do tonight is rest.”

You slowly turn your body to prop your leg up on a pillow as he watches. Pouting has never worked on Joel but you figure it never hurts to try. “I still have to eat,” you mope. 

“You will. I’ll open a can of soup or something.”

The disappointment is real and bubbles to the surface quicker than you realized it would. “I just wanted us all to have a nice dinner. You and Tess do so much and I feel like…” Thinking how you feel is different from saying it out loud and you have to psych yourself up. Joel’s softening gaze helps you continue. “I feel like I’m useless. I just thought this was one thing I could do to really contribute.”

The silence between you feels heavy as you avoid his stare. Finally, he speaks, confusion contorting his features, “Of course you contribute. We wouldn’t have kept you around if you hadn’t.” It’s meant to make you feel better but it doesn’t, especially in your current laid up state. 

“So are you going to get rid of me if I’m no longer useful?” you gesture at your leg, feeling your eyes beginning to sting with tears. 

Joel sits down next to you. Your fear has made you defiant and you meet his gaze, wanting to fight. But Joel speaks in a soft, level voice, as if teaching a child a lesson. “First of all, you’re going to get better. You just need to be patient. Second, you’re thinking there’s only one kind of way to be useful.”

“I can’t shoot like you two can. I can’t fight. I can’t threaten people into getting what I want. I can go on runs and earn ration cards. That’s it. I’m too soft for anything actually important.” 

Joel frowns, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. ‘Being soft’ in a world like this is an act of defiance. It’s brave as hell. What you consider important? I don’t want that for you.”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you observe him. He’s trying so hard to find his next words, to make you believe his truth. “Me and Tess, we let the world harden us more than it needed to. It was easier that way. But having you around reminds us there’s still innocence and good out there.”

The angry tears have turned to ones of gratitude. The sentiment is too much for you, unused to such vulnerability from Joel. You give him a small smile and he returns it, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You’re useful just being you.”

While you still wish you matched Joel and Tess’ levels of badassery, the conversation helps ease your mind. You might not think much of your survival skills but you remind yourself that you’ve stayed alive in a world that wants you dead. Fifteen years you’ve been fighting and surviving and that’s nothing to look down on. 

“And for what it’s worth, “ he adds, “you scared the hell out of me the first time we met.”

You grin at him, shocked, “Really?”

He nods, smirking cheekily, “Really. Still do sometimes.”

******

Joel heats up a can of tomato soup for you to share. You try not to think of how old it must be as he prepares it. But actually, it’s not bad, the taste reminding you of your childhood. 

It also helps that you’re sharing it with someone you care about. A part of you hates that how easily you’ve let him into your heart. The one thing you swore off all those years ago is now all you can think about as you watch him sitting across from you, ladling out the steaming liquid. 

He catches you staring and breaks the silence, “Were you even going to tell me you got hurt today if I hadn’t run into you.” The fuzziness of your feelings for him makes your brain a little mushy and instead of having a grownup conversation, you reply with a childish, “No, I thought I’d let it be a soup-rise.” 

Joel rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. You chuckle and continue eating your rapidly cooling dinner. You sober up a bit and add, “The extra ration cards will be good, though. Right?” 

He nods, “Yeah. I think it’s soup-er.” His eyes flick up to yours as they crinkle, the only sign that he finds himself amusing. 

After dinner, Joel excuses himself to go work his overnight shift. When he leaves and you’re left along, the throbbing in your leg returns with a vengeance along with a mild fever. Your usually chilly apartment now feels stuffy and you have to remove all of your layers except your t-shirt to be even somewhat comfortable. 

Worry creeps in as you sit there, alone and increasingly unwell. You long for the company of Joel or Tess, anyone to reassure you that you’re fine. But you’re alone and the dark thoughts creep in, whispering in your ear that whatever is brewing is not good. Unsure of what else to do, you slip in to bed, hoping that whatever this is will be better by morning. 

******

You don’t wake for two days. Or at least, you have no real memory of the past 48 hours. Later, when the worst is over, Joel will tell you the details of that lapse in your memory. He’ll recount how you faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes submitting to your fever for so long that he wasn’t sure you were coming back. His voice will waver as he remembers how bad it got and how fragile you looked…

But for now, he stays by your side, foregoing his own health to make sure you stay alive. The first thing you remember is waking up to the sounds of Joel and Tess arguing in hushed tones. 

“We need to get her to a doctor. Now.” Joel’s voice sounds strained, like he’s trying desperately not to lose it. 

Tess still maintains her signature composure. “We can’t, Joel. It’s too late for that.”

Joel must make some kind of face because Tess sighs and re-words. “It’s too late to take her in because if we bring her to the hospital all they’ll focus on is her fever. They’ve put people down for way less. You know that.”

In your addled state, you wonder who they’re talking about. Your throat hurts to much to speak up though and ask. 

“The doc will give us the meds. We’ve bribed him before.” 

Tess shakes her head, “Antibiotics are on lockdown. Shipments have been delayed because of the weather. No one gets any without FEDRA knowing. Breaking in guarantees we get caught. We’re no good to her dead. ”

Joel scoffs, “So what do you suggest we do?”

“She rides it out.”

“She’s been ‘riding it out’ for two days. Look at her,” Joel’s voice gets closer as he peers down at you, “she’s fighting but she’s losing.”

Oh. Fever may have taken hold of you, making your brain fuzzy and concentration near impossible, but you understand now that you are the subject of their argument. For Joel to sound so forlorn you must look bad. 

If you’re dead soon, you want to let them know to leave it and just let you slip away. Your well-being means nothing if it puts them in unnecessary danger. Rule be damned, they’re your family now and you care about them. If you’re being honest, you’ve cared about them since you met them. It breaks your heart thinking you won’t be able to tell them that now. It nearly kills you right then and there to know you won’t get the chance to tell Joel you love him…

Opening your mouth to articulate all of that takes great effort and when you do try and speak, all that comes out is a strangled groan. The two rush over, Tess sitting down beside you. She takes your hand, an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. Yep, you’re dying. 

“You’re ok, kid,” she whispers, “you just have to hang in there.” It would be easy to ignore reality and blindly trust her. But you’ve always been stubborn and so you shake your head and continue trying to speak. Again, nothing comes out but garbled nonsense as you writhe around trying to make your limbs do what your brain wants. 

You must look a sight because Joel lets his anger overflow. “Maybe you can sit here and watch her die, but I can’t.”Heavy footsteps and Tess yelling are all that you can focus on as you fade back into oblivion. 

******

Living is hard and unconsciousness is addicting. Peaceful and cozy are feelings you can scarcely remember having. It would be easy to stay in that enveloping darkness but the feeling of the back of someone’s hand on your clammy forehead pulls you back to the realm of the living. You grumble weakly as you’re made to come to. 

Everything is painful. Stabbing jolts of electricity radiate up your leg from the cut. Your chest is tight, making breathing troublesome and your eyes can barely stand the dim, watery sun coming through the shades of the window. Someone places a damp cloth on your forehead to keep the fever at bay. Still out of it, you try and swat it away. 

A gentle hand grabs yours, shushing you. “It’s alright. It’s only me.” 

Joel. Maybe you have died and this is heaven. The man you love by your side, nursing you so tenderly. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for. This might be the afterlife believers talk about if only you weren’t in so much pain. The neurons in your brain begin firing more rapidly as your fever dies down. They remind you that you and Joel aren’t lovers. Your cowardice, disguised as intelligence, has kept you from telling him how you feel. 

“What’s happening?” Your voice comes out croaky and soft but at least it’s intelligible. The bed dips as Joel moves closer to you. As you peer up through barely opened eyelids you can see him leaning over you. His tired eyes look down at you as he caresses your hair. 

“You got real sick, honey. That cut you got festered and turned into a fever. We thought we were gonna lose you.” The slight falter in his voice makes your already tight chest contract. 

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. We got you some meds, though. You’re gonna be ok.” He says it firmly, which does some good in easing your worry. 

Trying to open your eyes a bit more you continue your questioning, “Where did you get the antibiotics from?”

Joel hesitates, “Bill and Frank had some.”

You try and sit up, angry that he made that trip and put himself in danger. Even now, you can see the snow whipping around outside your window. Knowing he made the trek there and back through that storm makes you curse. Joel tuts and puts a gentle hand to your chest, keeping you down and resting. 

“It’s done. No use getting angry about it now.”

You glare up at him even though you’re really just upset with yourself. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

His smiles peacefully down at you, exhausted but eyes bright. “We’re a team, remember?”

It’s too much for you to handle. You cover your face just in time to hide the angry, relieved and grateful tears that spring to your eyes. Silent sobs wrack your frame, making you seize with pain. 

Joel pulls you into him, shushing you as he resumes stroking your hair. You hide your face in his side, trying to regain your composure. Crying shouldn’t be something you feel the need to earn. But you’re all sorts of broken, so you take this rare opportunity to not judge yourself and weep with abandon. You almost died, for Christ’s sake. Surely that warrants some show of emotion.

After a few minutes, the tears stop and your breathing calms. Peeking up, you see Joel has his eyes closed. His face is the most serene you’ve seen it in ages, most of the worry lines softened. There’s still a few that refuse to relax, though. The crease in between his eyebrows remains stubbornly indented. You gaze up at him as he continues to run soothing patterns along your back. 

Feeling the weight of your stare, he opens his eyes. Coward that you are, you glance away. “Thank you,”is all you can mumble out as he gazes at you. After a moment, you add a shy, “I would do the same for you. You know that, right?”

Joel pulls you gently into him, almost to remind himself you’re still here with him and that the danger has passed. He nuzzles into your hair, murmuring an affectionate“I know, honey. I know.”

******

After a few more hours and another dose of antibiotics, you begin to feel more like yourself. Joel still won’t let you get out of bed yet, except for a trip to the bathroom for a quick shower. Even though you’ve been dead to the world for much of your ordeal, you’re quickly getting bored with bed rest. But you’ve learned long ago that resistance is futile with Joel. So you shower like a good patient, scowling as the water hits your scabbing cut. 

Once you finish, Joel hops in and washes the grime and worry of the past three days off. As you settle back in bed, you can hear him singing softly to himself. Through the patter of the water you can hear his soft rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird. It’s one of your favorites, too, and you hum along as you settle back into your pillow. 

After a few minutes, sleep still won’t come. You toss and turn as Joel finishes getting ready for bed. He comes in to find you still awake. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.” He says it like a loving mother gently scolding their rebellious child. 

You flail as you try and get comfortable. You shoot back a moody, “But I’m just not tired.” Joel chuckles as he sits down into the arm chair next to your bed. He smooths back his wet hair and gives you a faux stern look. “Your body’s been through a lot. You need rest.”

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

Joel looks confused, wondering what he did wrong. “Sorry I just thought I’d sleep here tonight in case you need anything. I can leave, though.” 

“No!” you yell out, completely abandoning any hope of looking cool. You give him an apologetic smile, “I want you to stay but you’re not sleeping in that chair one more night.”

Joel glances to the spot on the bed beside you, then looks to you for confirmation. He sighs, a smile playing at his lips. “If I stay will you promise to go to sleep?”

You nod very seriously. “Of course.”

Joel grins, knowing you too well to believe you. “Liar,” he chuckles but still gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed. You pull back the blankets so can get in, then cover him up. Settling on your side, you watch as he suddenly looks lost, unsure of what to do now. It’s cute, this powerful man rendered helpless by something as innocuous as sharing a bed. 

You can’t help but laugh at him and he looks down at you, eyes wide. Taking pity on him, you make a suggestion. “If you’re not tired you could read to me.” Joel opens his mouth to refuse but you blurt out a quick, “I did almost die, you know.” He glares at you but his lip quirks up. He grabs the book from the other room then flops back down in bed, opening to a spot in the middle. 

Frowning, you reach out to touch Joel’s arm. “Do you mind starting from the beginning?” He rolls his eyes but flips back to the first page. You grin triumphantly as you settle into his side. Joel places his arm around your shoulder as he begins to read. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…” 

His southern drawl mixed with the Romantic Era style of writing makes for an amusing but  pleasant combination. After a few chapters, your eyes get heavy and Joel feels you nodding off against him. Jane has just been invited to Netherfield Park but even that can’t keep you awake. Joel puts the bookmark in to save your spot and places the novel on your bedside table. 

You grumble in weak protest as he tucks you in and turns off the light. “We can keep reading tomorrow. But right now you’re going to sleep.” Joel lies down beside you and with the pale light of the moon through your curtains you can see him studying you. He caresses your face and you close your eyes, delighting in the sensation. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispers. 

You force your eyes open, needing him to see the truth of it when you pledge a soft,“I won’t. I mean it.”

Joel nods gratefully and you reach out for him. He slides into your arms and you rest your chin on the top of his head. He’s watched over you for long enough. It’s your turn to take care of him and reassure him that, in this moment, you both are safe. 

For most, an outright admission of affection is needed to understand how you feel about the other person. But you and Joel are cut from the same cloth, stubborn and slow to reveal your feelings. In this world, for people like you, ’I love yous’ are rare and replaced with actions and deeds. 

You realize that even though you've never told Joel that you love him, you’ve shown it. Joel has been showing you all this time too and you were just too dull to realize it. While you know you’ll long to say the words to him soon, for now it’s enough to have him in your arms. 

Joel’s breathing deepens and you feel him completely give himself over to sleep. Looking at his face bathed in the moonlight he looks like a new man. His edges soften and his vulnerability brims to the surface. It tugs at your heart and you understand how rare of a sight this is for Joel to allow anyone to see. 

Smiling sleepily, you close your eyes and nestle into him. This feeling coursing through you is something foreign but familiar, an old friend you thought you had said your final goodbye to long ago. The love you have for Joel will leave you vulnerable. But it’s a price you’re willing to pay a thousand times over. 

******

[hyunnie04]

muse

hwang hyunjin x reader, fluff | m.list

wc: 2.1k

synopsis: you can't decide what to give hyunjin for his birthday. a/n: very self indulgent theme/fic!! i like to draw myself so i thought i'd write about it for his birthday :> i apologize for being a bit late, irl obligations have been kicking my ass lately i'm sorry my hyune but i hope you guys like it! T-T

march was a month full of new beginnings. the year was only starting, january and february flying by like a breeze. remnants of winter still clung in the air and on the branches of the trees, pillowing them with the softness of white snow. it was also getting warmer, the chill no longer having its harsh bite and welcoming the inevitable pinks and greens of spring to come. and for you, new beginnings also meant taking on projects that you never thought you would be able to do. 

hyunjin's birthday was only a few days away, just a little less than a week from now.

you've spent the entire afternoon in a panic after the realization, racking your brain for any ideas, thinking what you could possibly do for his present only to come up empty handed. buying a gift for him is certainly the easier option and there was absolutely nothing wrong with it, seeing as hyunjin was the type of person to appreciate whatever you give him, be it big or small, expensive or not. it was just the matter of wanting to surprise him with a gift that he most likely doesn’t already have.   

you sigh and rest your head on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling in thought. your eyes silently wander towards the painting that hung on the wall of your tiny apartment.

it was painted by hyunjin himself, a bouquet of your favorite flowers that he had given you for your own birthday. you always loved staring at it, earning a place in your favorite corner of the room.

you often stare at it, delving into the intricacies of each brush stroke, how the colors come together in harmony, the symbolism and sentimentality behind it all, and just how much love was poured into making it. hyunjin truly had a talent in capturing the likeness and essence of his subjects, even the simplest ones.

it was almost tradition, how he makes his closest family and friends paintings when it was their birthday or when there was a special occasion. he used his oil paints that you've become familiar with, the dozens of tubes and pots of color messily strewn all across his little studio back at his dorm.

it was a such thoughtful gesture, painting that was. taking his time out of his day to make something out of nothing, showing that he truly cared about the person. whenever you would visit him on his days off, he was always immersed in his craft. adept fingers swiping over charcoal, hands dipping into paint, a sight you always love seeing. you still remember the photo you took secretly of him in his studio, blissfully painting the night away.

you drum your hands on the arm rest, returning to brainstorm for ideas, still in deep thought. and then it all suddenly clicked. 

you have always admired hyunjin and his work, so why not make him one in return? 

he was always giving others gorgeous pieces of art, he certainly deserved to have his own. you were no picasso and certainly no hyunjin, but the act of gift giving has always been your favorite way of showing your love.

you had a basic grasp of how the medium was used, having watched hyunjin more than enough times. the techniques he had taught you during one of your art sessions together might come in handy as well. the one and only problem was that it left you with such little time to finish it. oh well, it was better to start late than never.

the next day, you picked up and gathered the necessary materials from the art supply shop you knew hyunjin frequented, recognizing the different kinds of paints, sizes and types of canvases, and brushes that he likes to use. you laid them out on your living room floor upon arriving home, finally starting on your little project. 

the remainder of the days leading up to his birthday were spent awake during ungodly hours into the night, full of endless trials and errors, scrapped ideas and tons of caffeine. your living room became your makeshift studio, a tarp laid down the center to catch the unavoidable mess you surely would be making. learning a completely different and unfamiliar medium from what you were used to was difficult, but you were determined and your mind was set.

-

hyunjin was getting worried. it had been a few days since he last saw you, nonetheless heard anything. he understood that the two of you were quite busy people, not always finding the time to talk. but after five missed calls and maybe a dozen texts over the span of two days and no reply? he was ill at ease.

maybe he was overreacting, but he knew that you would've at least sent something to acknowledge his texts. he decided to ask his friends about your whereabouts, asking if anyone had contact with you, only earning head shakes in return.

"have you tried going to their place?" chan asks the ravenette, leaning his back on the dance practice room’s mirrored walls. hyunjin huffs, mouth forming into a slight pout, shaking his head no. practice was getting more challenging as the comeback and schedules started to pile up, his attendance becoming crucial.

"you can go later, we don't have anything scheduled for tomorrow." his hyung removes his cap, fluffing his curls underneath. hyunjin breathes out a sigh of relief, sending him a quick thank you.

the older of the two nods in understanding, reaching a hand out to hyunjin upon standing on his feet. back to practice they went.

it was the night before his birthday. getting stubborn paint off your brushes was the worst, is what you've learned these past several days of non-stop painting. even with the appropriate solvent, the paint can and is still clinging stubbornly onto its fibers; leaving you in the bathroom sink to scrub them tediously under soap and some warm water.

your hands start to ache with all the scrubbing, perhaps growing tired as well from the painting, but you'd like to think that the momentary pain was worth it. the composition of it was finally starting to come together. the work flow became easier once you figured out a concept and a theme you were happy with, inspiration and motivation coming in effortlessly now. it only needed some last few touches, you could only hope he would like it as much as you ended up liking it too.

after the brushes were cleaned to the best of your abilities, you pat them dry, leaving them on the counter for the time being.

"y/n? are you home?" your hands still at the sound of the front door opening. it was undeniably hyunjin's voice. 

you and hyunjin lived apart despite dating for quite a long while. it was a mutual agreement that it would be more convenient for the two of you to live separately, his job requiring him to live closer to his place of work. you gave him a spare key so he could come by whenever he liked, but you didn’t expect him at all to drop by today.

you originally thought nothing of it for a moment, even brushing it off. but then the panic started to set in. he would see it right away, the canvas sitting right in front of the living room with no cloth to cover it. if you go out now, you might have a chance of covering it up before he finds out.

rushing out of the bathroom after wiping your hands dry, you've quickly noticed how it had suddenly gone quiet. you peak around the corner, seeing him standing idly in the middle of your living room, still unaware of your presence.

it was too late. you see the familiar ebony locks greet you upon arriving. his mouth practically hanging open as he stares at the easel facing him, winter coat slung heavily on his left arm.

"surprise?" you flush upon seeing his head whip towards your figure, leaned against the arch of the doorway. it was also a little embarrassing, not having the time to clean up. 

"is...that me?" he says in quiet disbelief. you can’t quite decipher if his reaction was good or bad but you nod, coming up to stand beside him. he stares at the canvas once more, no doubt taking in the details of it. you start to feel a little anxious under his gaze, silently wondering if he likes it. 

"it's not done yet, that's why it looks a little rough." you pause, hesitation lacing your voice. he would eventually find out, having already seen it. “it was supposed to be your surprise birthday present.” is what you ended up saying, speech meek and low, barely audible. 

his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he turns his eyes back to you. a noticeable redness staining his cheeks.

“wow,” he breathes out, tilting his head closer to gaze on the finer details. hyunjin pauses for a moment before replying. “this is beautiful.” his voice light, feathery. his fingertips, slender and lithe, hovering above as if to trace it. relief washed over you hearing him say it, your nerves easing and cheeks warming in return.

“you think so?” you purse your lips before smiling gratefully at him, noting the masking tape still plastered on its borders and small parts of it still unblended but thank him earnestly nonetheless. 

“i figured since you always make people art on their birthday," you took to move to the couch, the ache in your body starting to take its toll. "i thought i'd give back and make you one too." 

hyunjin was, in short- moved. the portrait was of him sitting in his art studio, the sun falling and spilling on his form peaking through the windows. although his elegantly curved back was turned and it was impossible to see his face, it was unmistakable that it was him.

he was truly not expecting anything, he was just happy with the prospect of just being with you on his special day. the thoughtfulness, sentimentality, and affection that came with making gifts with him in mind, he didn’t think it was possible to love you more than he already did. his eyes are lost in yours, the contours of his handsome face highlighted by the dim lights of your living room.

“i know it's bad but-”

hyunjin doesn’t let you continue, pulling you into a sudden kiss, throwing his coat on the couch haphazardly. your immediate response was to wrap your hands around his neck, hands wandering up and towards his hair. you could feel his smile on his mouth as he kisses you, grabbing the nape of your neck to steady your form. the kiss is intoxicating, feeling the love upon his soft movements, his warmth contrasting the chill from outside.

when he parts from you, he’s giddy, and jumping around like the happiest ferret you’ve ever seen. the wisps of hair fall to his temple, framing his beautiful face. “thank you, darling.”

“even if it’s not done yet- i love it,” he presses another kiss to the side of your mouth. “so much.” you could only laugh in response, completely flustered and enamored by his reaction.

hyunjin pulls you towards his chest, both arms locking around your shoulders. you could smell the perfume he always likes to wear. “is this why you weren’t picking up your phone?”

“my phone?” you pat your pockets in search, only to find it missing. your mind must’ve slid away, not knowing at all where it was but you could search for it later. “oh, yeah. m’ sorry.” the apology is muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he hums, his worries fading. you thought he was going to let you go, but he retaliates by resuming to press more kisses into you.

“okay, okay! thank you. i’m glad you like it.” you untangle his long arms from your body in order to stand up while hyunjin watches you do so, curiosity in his eyes. you already miss the warmth he radiated. 

“but, technically-” you start by grabbing the easel and placing it near the wall and out of his view, grabbing the stray tubes of paint off the floor and putting them away in their basket. “it’s still not your birthday.”

his plump lips form into a pout as he continues to watch you clean up. “and i’m not quite done with it yet so you have to wait.” placing a quick ‘boop’ to his nose, you head to the bathroom to freshen up for bed.

hyunjin checks his wrist watch as he follows you suit, his white teeth poking out. his arms catch you once again, wrapping you from behind. "it's 12."

amused by his antics, you let out another laugh before turning around in his hold to face him again, pressing a kiss on his soft lips.”in that case, i’ill finish it as soon as possible and-”

"happy birthday, my dearest."

-

please reblog or leave a comment if you like my work! it motivates me to keep writing ♡ all works are written by hyunnie04, please do not repost on other sites.

[estapa-edwards]

"Team Sweetheart" and "Physical Therapist" are so gorgeous I've reread them both like 10 times! They leave me so full of butterflies I am positively buzzing! May I please make a request with Jack and a girl who has no knowledge/familiarity with hockey, or any sports for that matter? Maybe just them introducing eachother to their interests/worlds as their relationship develops and it's just nice to be with someone a bit removed from what Jack's life is centered around. Idk if that makes sense please ignore this if you don't like it.

CONNECTION - J . HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack Hughes walked into the quiet café, eager for a break from the relentless pace of his hockey-centered life. The New Jersey Devils had been having a grueling season, and every moment off the ice felt like a precious escape. The café, tucked away in a corner of downtown Newark, had become his haven. Today, however, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face behind the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get you?” the girl asked with a warm smile. Her name tag read "Y/N."

Jack glanced at the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers flying over the buttons of the register. “Coming right up. Are you from around here?”

Jack hesitated. Despite his growing fame, he still enjoyed the anonymity of casual encounters. “Yeah, I live nearby. What about you?”

Y/N handed him his change and started preparing his coffee. “I just moved here for school. Trying to get the hang of the city and all.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a great place once you get to know it. What are you studying?”

“Art history. I know, it’s not exactly the most practical major, but it’s my passion,” she said with a slight laugh. “What about you? What do you do?”

Jack paused, unsure of how to respond. “I’m... in sports,” he said vaguely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hesitation. “Any particular sport?”

“Hockey,” he admitted. “I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, I don’t really follow sports. But that sounds impressive!”

Jack chuckled. “That’s okay. It’s actually kind of refreshing to meet someone who isn’t obsessed with hockey.”

Y/N handed him his coffee. “Well, I’m glad I could provide a break from the norm. Enjoy your coffee!”

As Jack took a seat by the window, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity about Y/N. She was different from anyone he had met in a long time. He found himself looking forward to his next visit to the café.

--- --- --- 

Over the next few weeks, Jack found himself returning to Brewed Awakening more often. Each time, he and Y/N would chat for a few minutes, their conversations growing more personal with each encounter. Jack learned that Y/N was passionate about art, spending her weekends exploring museums and galleries. She, in turn, learned about Jack’s rigorous training schedule and the pressures of professional sports.

One rainy afternoon, Jack entered the café, drenched from practice. Y/N greeted him with a sympathetic smile. “Rough day?”

“Just a long one,” he replied, shaking off his wet jacket. “Do you have a break coming up? I’d love to hear more about this art thing you’re always talking about.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do. Give me five minutes to finish up here.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined Jack at his table, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “So, where should I start?”

“Tell me about your favorite artist,” Jack suggested, genuinely curious.

Y/N’s face brightened. “That’s a tough one, but I’d have to say Vincent van Gogh. His work is so emotional and raw. There’s something incredibly moving about the way he saw the world.”

Jack listened intently as Y/N described van Gogh’s turbulent life and vibrant paintings. He found himself captivated by her passion and the way she brought the art to life with her words.

“You should come to the museum with me sometime,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Jack smiled. “I’d like that. And maybe I can take you to a hockey game in return?”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to explain everything to me. I know absolutely nothing about hockey.”

Jack chuckled. “I think I can manage that.”

--- --- --- 

Their first outing together was to the Newark Museum of Art. Jack was out of his element but excited to see the world through Y/N’s eyes. As they wandered through the galleries, Y/N explained the stories behind the paintings and sculptures, her voice filled with excitement and admiration.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, stopping in front of a large, colorful painting. “It’s called ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’ by van Gogh. Look at the way the stars and the reflections in the water create this almost dreamlike scene.”

Jack stared at the painting, trying to see it the way Y/N did. “It’s beautiful,” he said finally. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Art has always been a way for me to escape, to see the world differently.”

Jack nodded, understanding more than he expected. “Hockey is like that for me. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades away.”

A few days later, it was Y/N’s turn to step into Jack’s world. She had agreed to attend one of his games, despite her lack of knowledge about hockey. Jack had arranged for her to have a prime seat, and as she settled in, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The arena was buzzing with energy, fans cheering and waving signs. Y/N watched in awe as the players took to the ice, their speed and skill mesmerizing. She spotted Jack, his focus intense as he prepared for the game.

Throughout the match, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering along with the crowd even though she didn’t fully understand the rules. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time Jack made a play, his talent and dedication evident in every move.

After the game, Jack met her outside the locker room, still in his gear and grinning from ear to ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was amazing!” Y/N exclaimed. “I had no idea hockey could be so intense. You were incredible out there.”

Jack laughed, relieved that she had enjoyed herself. “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can make a fan out of you yet.”

Y/N smiled. “Maybe. But only if you keep coming to art galleries with me.”

“Deal,” Jack agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him. Despite their different worlds, he felt a connection with Y/N that he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

--- --- --- 

​​As the weeks turned into months, Jack and Y/N grew closer, finding comfort in their contrasting interests. They delighted in introducing each other to new experiences, each outing deepening their bond.

One sunny Saturday, Jack found himself at a local art supply store with Y/N. She was on a mission to find the perfect set of watercolors for a new project. Jack followed her through the aisles, amused by her enthusiasm.

"Do you paint?" Jack asked, curious.

"I dabble," Y/N replied with a grin. "Mostly for fun, though. It’s a great way to relax and let my mind wander."

Jack picked up a brush, twirling it between his fingers. "Maybe you could teach me sometime. I’ve never really done anything like this."

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "I’d love to! It’s really not about being perfect, just about expressing yourself."

A few days later, Y/N set up a makeshift studio in her apartment, covering the table with newspapers and setting out a variety of paints and brushes. Jack arrived, looking both excited and apprehensive.

"Ready to become the next Van Gogh?" Y/N teased, handing him a canvas.

Jack laughed. "I think that might be a stretch, but I’m ready to give it a shot."

As they painted side by side, Y/N offered gentle guidance, encouraging Jack to experiment with colors and shapes. Despite his initial uncertainty, Jack found himself enjoying the process. It was a welcome change from the structured, high-pressure world of hockey.

"You’re a natural," Y/N said, admiring Jack’s painting of a snowy landscape.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle. "I think you’re just being nice, but thanks. This is actually really fun."

Y/N smiled, pleased to see Jack so relaxed. "See? I knew you’d enjoy it."

Their relationship continued to flourish, each new experience bringing them closer together. Jack took Y/N to more games, patiently explaining the rules and strategies. Y/N, in turn, took Jack to more art exhibits and even a few art classes.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling game, Jack and Y/N found themselves at a quiet diner, sharing a plate of fries. Jack looked at Y/N, feeling a surge of gratitude.

"You know, I never thought I’d enjoy learning about art so much," Jack admitted. "But being with you has opened my eyes to so many new things."

Y/N reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "And I never thought I’d enjoy sports, but you’ve made it so much fun. It’s nice to have someone to share these experiences with."

Jack smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite their different backgrounds, they had found a way to connect on a profound level. It was a rare and precious thing, and Jack knew he wanted to hold onto it.

--- --- ---

As their relationship grew stronger, Jack and Y/N began to face the challenges that came with their differing worlds. Jack’s demanding schedule often kept them apart, and Y/N’s art exhibitions sometimes took her to different cities.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week of practice and games, Jack called Y/N, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I miss you," he admitted. "It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages."

Y/N sighed, feeling the distance keenly. "I miss you too. It’s hard, but we’ll get through it. How about we plan something special for next weekend? Just us."

Jack’s spirits lifted at the thought. "That sounds perfect. Let’s go somewhere quiet, away from everything."

The following weekend, they escaped to a cabin in the woods, a peaceful retreat where they could unwind and reconnect. They spent their days hiking through the forest, cooking meals together, and sitting by the fire, talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as they sat on the porch, watching the sunset, Jack took Y/N’s hand. "I’m really glad we’re doing this," he said softly. "It’s exactly what I needed."

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. "Me too. It’s nice to just be us, without all the noise."

As they sat in comfortable silence, Jack realized how much Y/N meant to him. She had become his anchor, a source of joy and calm in his hectic life. He knew their relationship wasn’t always easy, but he was willing to face any challenge as long as they were together.

With the hockey season winding down, Jack finally had more time to spend with Y/N. They began to talk about their future, their conversations filled with excitement and hope.

One sunny afternoon, they found themselves at a local park, lying on a blanket and watching the clouds drift by. Jack turned to Y/N, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Have you ever thought about what comes next for us?" he asked.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "I think about it all the time. I want us to keep exploring new things together, to keep supporting each other’s passions."

Jack nodded, feeling a sense of certainty. "I want that too. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Your dreams are just as important as mine."

Y/N reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Jack’s face. "And I’m here for you, always. We’ll figure it out together."

As they lay there, hand in hand, Jack knew they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives. It wouldn’t always be easy, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready for anything. They had built a strong foundation, one based on mutual respect and a genuine love for each other’s worlds. And as they looked towards the future, they knew that together, they could face whatever came their way.

[grxndprix]

Hey gorgeous! I love your writing! Its beautiful <3

I wanna request something like apologetic noncon? Like yan! Doesn't think its ok but still does it, whispering sorry to the reader, telling them that they're sorry for doing this but it's for their own good!

Would love it more if it includes a bit of breeding kink! Please write one on either Yuji or Yuta from jjk! I think they'll be like the that!

Lots of love♥️

𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘰𝘬𝘬𝘰𝘵𝘴𝘶 𝘺𝘶𝘶𝘵𝘢 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦/����𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘨?, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

Snowflakes painted flourishing kisses to the Tokyo streets. White specks of the substance coated all pavement and surface, and wandering eyes remained fixated on the sight. Winter days always felt so— Right. Like not a single thing was wrong about it, everything was just perfect. 

Such is the rapt glaze to [name]’s eyes. She was beautiful in every way imaginable — From the way her varsity jacket was much too big for her figure, to the scrunching of her nose at the bitter cold, to the little shivers of her body — She was the walking personification of what Ananke stood for. Temptation incarnate. 

The girl’s long lashes blinked languidly up at the building in front of her. She wan’t sure whether or not to head in, especially since the neighborhood was a bit shady— But the cold was too much, her nose was turning pinkish, and yet her nerves still stopped her from taking another step. She didn’t want to see him right now. 

‘Him’, pertaining to the boy she liked for about two years in high school. This was his apartment complex, she knew that, but he was also the only person she knew in this area of Tokyo. Surely he would let her crash for a bit, at least until she could call someone for a ride, right? From what she recalled, the boy was kindhearted and always willing to help, as much as she hated to ask in the first place.

[name]’s fingers brushed stray strands of hair away from her face, pushing her bangs back as well — White sneakers stepping into the lobby, already making it into the elevator before she even registered the decision. Her eyes trailed up to look at the floors passing by, unsure whether she’d chosen the right number or not. 

She leaned back on her heels, puffing out a cold breath of air. Even inside the building, her breath still slightly froze over. She prayed the man’s apartment would be nice and toasty.

Another breath and the elevator dinged to signal her destination. She stepped out onto the floor, immediately warming up. Her body felt the hot air from the heaters all around the walls, fingers less numb, brain less foggy, and nose less stuffy. Her eyes didn’t feel like bags of weight either.

The floors were soft, red, velvet carpet. She observed a few of the paintings on either side of her, realizing her apartment wasn’t nearly as nice as this.

[name] vaguely recalled the correct apartment number, having come over to study a few times. Those were all fuzzy memories by now though. She was an adult that hadn’t seen him in 2 years — She didn’t like him like that anymore. The girl wouldn’t mind being friends, however, and that was the most probable outcome of the ordeal. Plus; she already fancied someone else. Her best friend (and roommate), Maki Zen’in — Honestly, [name] was completely enamored with her.

The girl ran a hand through her hair. A low buzzing started beneath her skin. Maybe it was the purple-ish ochre of the walls, but she’d come to realize how it smelled strangely of metal the closer she got to the room.

Pungent — And, addictive. She stopped in front of the door, momentarily allowing hesitation to stop her. But still, she knocked. 

No answer besides the sound of things clattering inside.

She knocked again— And this time, the door swung open quicker than she could blink. Wintertime was odd, because for a moment, the boy’s eyes flickered with a burning bloodlust— Gone with a blink.

Okkotsu Yuuta was a kind man. His gunmetal blue hues flicked from her nose up to her eyes, but it hardly took a second for the brightest grin to light up on his face. His smile lines — and eyebags, she noted — crinkled upward, canines glinting under the overhanging lamp. 

“[name]—?!” He sounded almost breathless, surprised, but most of all, happy to see her.

The fact that she’d never told him her name in highschool went right over her head. [name] mirrored his smile, pupils dilating at the sight. “Yuuta!” A chuckle slipped past her lips, pleased that he remembered her at all. Maybe, if fate would have it, they could really be friends.

“Ah— Please, please, come in! It’s freezing out in the hall— Man, they really should get heaters—” He offered with a chuckle of his own, noiret hair bouncing while leading her inside. His cheeks were decorated in a slight pink. She deduced it was from the cold. 

They had settled on the couch — Fireplace burning, heater on, hot chocolate in their hands. [name] didn’t really want to leave at this point, it was too cozy. Like a fox to its burrow, an eagle to an aerie, something about this just felt so right. She ran a ringed hand through her hair, hoping she looked somewhat presentable.

She’d changed a lot since high school, and in the best way possible, she hoped he would see that.

“Awh, man, I really wasn’t expecting to see you today! N-Not that it’s a bad thing!” He was quick to correct, cheeks darkening pink again, “I just— I haven’t seen you since our senior year, so this was a really nice surprise…” The man rubbed his nape, laughing airily. [name] noticed how even if his mannerisms hadn’t changed, he looked a lot more— Well, different. His hair was less ragged and way better kept. He had a very lean physique, visible despite his oversized clothing. His gaze was a bit sharper now, and his voice— 

Overall, he had changed quite a bit. [name] wondered if he noticed the little things about her too.

“No, it’s okay sweetie!” She held back a laugh at his flustered expression, “I was originally going to stay in the lobby to call a friend, but it was too cold down there— And, ah, I remembered coming here to study a few times, so yeah! I really hope I’m not imposing.” It was [name]’s turn to look bashful, eyes averted to the table.

“Don’t even worry about it! I’m happy you’re here, it’s a chance for us to catch up, y’know?” That same kind tone, that same raspiness and gentleness — Yuuta hadn’t changed that much, she supposed. He was still that same shy, soft-spoken guy he’d always been. It was endearing in its own way. 

A sip of her hot cocoa, “You’re right… How’ve you been, then? Like you said, it’s been a while.”

Yuuta hummed, sipping at his drink as well. “Well… I’ve been pretty good all in all. Being a sorcerer is a lot of work, so I still have a bunch of missions but besides that, I’d say I’m living a pretty laidback lifestyle right now.” He smiled earnestly, “What about you, sweetheart?”

The petname would’ve garnered the same reaction from her if she hadn’t seen the way his eyes flicked down to rake her figure, then back up in a blink once more. Her hands absentmindedly tugged the coat tighter around herself, willing her mind to remember his kindness and hospitality. Self-conscious — She was imagining things. “Honestly, same for me. I’ve been holding up alright after quitting the whole sorcerer thing— I’m glad it’s going well for you though! My part-time job’s really fun, and a lot less, well y’know, life-threatening.”

She emphasized her words with finger quotations, earning a laugh from the man next to her. She didn’t catch the way he watched her lips wrap around the edge of the mug with the focus of a man releasing his arrow. [name]’s tongue swiped along her bottom lip, and Yuuta’s smile illusioned straining. 

As their conversation continued, the banter grew more and more light-hearted. It sounded like they were long-time friends rather than just-meeting-again acquaintances. The girl would laugh at the boy’s little jokes or comments, and he would smile at each and every word out of her mouth.

Things were winding down, clock ticking faintly in the background. The fireplace was still crackling with newfound energy, and 3:26 A.M. flashed along [name]’s phone screen. Her body felt light, that low buzz from before returning tenfold, movements sluggish and less thought behind them. A little height to her psyche.

Yuuta picked up on every little twitch and movement of her figure, every single word out of her lips, every little reaction she had to offer. It was almost ritualistic — [name] would yawn, or sigh, or laugh, and Yuuta would blush, or giggle to himself, or grab a pillow to put on his lap.

3:27 A.M. She should’ve been home hours ago. She can imagine Maki’s terror to coming home to an empty apartment, completely barren— Oh, right. She was supposed to get groceries for the two of them. 

[name] hadn’t even realized how close Yuuta was by now. His arm was slung over the rear of the couch, fingers ghosting along her back at times. His breath painted butterflies along her neck every now and then, eliciting shivers and another tug of her jacket. Tighter just wasn’t tight enough.

The girl stretched her arms out in front of her, ignoring the way they trembled just slightly. She made a move to stand with confidence akin to a mortal in front of deities. “Well… I hate to cut this off right now, but I really should get going… My roommate is probably waiting for me back home.” She didn’t look him directly in the eyes— Couldn’t.

Yuuta hardly wasted a beat before standing up too, hand casual in its place around her waist. “Oh, are you sure? It’s really late, sweetheart… Don’t wanna wait until morning or something?” His eyes innocuous and slightly off-putting as he tilted his head, [name]’s trepidation blossomed into something worse. She waved him off, subtly realizing her movement to get out of his hold didn’t do anything.

“Nah, it’s fine! Like I said, I don’t wanna worry my roommate… Thanks so much for letting me stay over hon’, this was really fun.” [name] reached for her phone, ready to call Maki now that she had WiFi— Only to find that her phone… wasn’t… on the table.

Huh.

A pair of hands gently guided her waist to sit back down, a bit too close to his own frame, she realized. Silence settled over the pair — But something else settled in her stomach too. Pit-like, heavy, dread. 

One of those hands rubbed circles on her thigh, the other still slung around her hip and under her jacket. It was intimate. Too intimate. Black hair and gunmetal eyes, soft pink lips — Proximity closing in, she felt her breath hitch. The sluggish drive beneath her movements was getting worse, eyes blinking languidly. She was losing herself.

“Y’know…” He began, “Being a Jujutsu sorcerer’s helped me keep some discipline. I think I’ve subconsciously created some rules for myself, and it’s a ton of use, honestly.” Yuuta rested his chin on her shoulder, gentle smile transforming into something more sinister.

[name] felt her body shiver under his ministrations, only nodding so everything would end faster. He would stop talking, let her go, and she’d hopefully never have to see him again—

“Rule number one, and this is the one that’s saved me a bunch,” There was an odd glint in his eye as he sat up straight again, grabbing her mug of hot chocolate to drop it on the floor. She flinched at the sound of it shattering, hand instinctively reaching out to grab it— But it slipped right through her fingers.

It felt like time stopped when the liquid, previously in the mug, shrivelled up and morphed into some kind of powdery substance. 

“Never drink anything you didn’t make yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes flashed a brief electric blue, just before his hands found purchase on [name]’s wrists. The couch creaked under their weight as she cried out in the spur of the moment, a cracked whimper that hardly made it past her lips.

Everything blurred together. He had wrangled her into the perfect position, carrying her over to his room and tossing her onto the bed. Hardly another second, and he was on top of her once again, wrists pinned above her head. Yuuta’s bangs mingled with hers when he leaned down to press their lips together, tongue easily slipping into her mouth.

The headboard groaned with their movements. Sighing quietly to himself, his face decorated in cupid blush — He pulled back from the kiss to pepper the rest of her face, wet with tears, in more gentle adorations. “Ah, ‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry sweetheart—” He mumbled over and over again, way too high on the feel of her to really process much else.

In her drunken stupor, [name]’s body couldn’t do much to stop him. It seemed only her lips were working their purpose, spouting pleas for him to “Stop, please, just stop—”, to no avail.

She felt her jacket get slipped off her shoulders, even more panic aroused within her now. In a matter of seconds, all clothing covering her top half had been discarded among the floor. Yuuta’s hands found purchase on her breasts, kneading them under his fingers and pinching the pebbled nipples as his lips went further down her torso.

Teeth bit into her collarbones, neck, tits, stomach — Eventually reaching her sweatpants as well. The girl hadn’t stopped pleading for one second, weakly tugging at his hair to stop him, but it only earned a satisfied groan from the boy.

His canines tugged at the hem of her bottoms, eventually working them down so he had a fresh view of her pretty panties. He couldn’t hold back another low groan, it coming out as more of a whimper if anything. The guilt was eating him up inside, but he had to do this. For [name]’s own sake.

Yuuta dragged a slow finger through her clothed folds, relishing in the jerk it earned from her body. He tugged the panties down, finally, and wasted no time in latching onto her clit with his mouth. The whimper that followed was less quiet now, moreso delighted as he licked up every last drop from her folds. It didn’t matter how much she was squirming, his strong hands held her thighs firmly in place.

He worked his expert tongue along her clit, occasionally dipping into her hole — But it wasn’t long before his fingers worked their way inside instead. Two fingers scissored her apart, gasps and cries filling the room at the utter pain that didn’t evolve into pleasure. Her body wouldn’t move an inch, trembling under all the stress but unable to fight back at all.

After the third finger was added, and he was sure she was all ready, Yuuta pressed her thighs to her chest, releasing his cock from its restraints with a low hiss. Apologies were already bubbling on his tongue, dragging the tip through her dripping folds with satisfying ease. [name] couldn’t help it — She was sobbing by now, begging him to stop, that if he quit it right now and let her go, maybe they could forget about this—

But he was already pushing into her, a string of curses leaving his swollen and puffy lips. His eyes were bright and electric-kept, cheeks ever so bright pink. Hardly a second of still hips before he was rolling into her in quick and harsh thrusts, bed shaking with the force. “Shh— Please, please— I’m sorry, ‘m so, so sorry sweetheart— You’ll understand later, you’ll get it, I promise—” 

There were a number of things he said that rendered [name] speechless every time, that low buzz in her skin growing into white noise — It blocked everything else out of her ears.

“Been— Fuck— Been watching you since h-high school— Ngh—” He pointed his thrusts even deeper, canines digging into his bottom lip. “Noticed how b-beautiful you were, but you always— covered yourself up around me. Tugged your— Your sleeves down, sucked in your stomach— It always had me so confused– Haah, fuck,” He cut himself off with another sharp thrust, whimpering again when her pussy unconsciously clenched around him.

“You’re beautiful, [name]. Why don’t you— See that, h-huh? This was the only way to make you see it, to help you understand just how—” He rolled his hips up to meet hers, leaning down to lock eyes with her own as well. “F-Fucking perfect you are. ‘M sorry, so sorry it had to be like this, but it’s okay. We have all the time in the world.”

Yuuta’s words were a perfect dissonant harmony to [name]’s whines and pleads, trying to tune out anything he said. His pace grew sloppy as his hips stuttered, climax nearing. The girl’s eyes widened in pure, utter terror.

“Once I give you a child, y-you’ll learn how to love yourself along with them.” His words were final, despite how her eyes had widened to the size of saucers. Pace increasing drastically, earning high-keening whimpers from [name], Yuuta finally shot ropes of white into her walls, coating it in such heavy amounts of the thick liquid it started to seep out of her cunt.

Heavy breathing rang out in the room, painting it in a cacophony of blissful tears. The girl’s face was decorated in sweat, tears, and some of her hair stuck to her cheeks. Her bare chest heaved up and down, eyes shut tight as she wouldn’t dare meet Yuuta’s gaze. Not in a million goddamn years.

The boy ran a hand through his hair, not bothering to pull out as he laid next to her. She couldn’t move anyway, so he just pulled her close and rested his chin atop her head. [name]’s eyes were dulled over, lips quivering as tears still poured forth, as if she was still processing the entire thing.

He’d thought that once it was over, he might need to cry everything out, not even be able to go forward with his plan out of pure remorse, but, — In the aftermath of it all, he felt every ounce of guilt wash away.

Love has its sacrifices. Some people are just willing to give up more than others.

𝘱𝘭𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘥 𝘪𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 ☆

[skylersprompts]

DC x DP Prompt *10*

It had been a relative uneventful day in Gotham, the new Week just started and most of the big rouges were still in Arkham after the last big breakout. And even tho the nightly patrol wasn't done, Batman send most of his charges that were still somewhat injured home. He, Orphan and Robin would be able to handle the rest.

They had stopped some muggings and one break-in by the time patrol officially ended. His children made their way back to the manor on their bikes, while the Bat made one last round through the docks.

He had a feeling of foreboding, not necessarily a bad feeling, but he was cautious. Even if Cassandra and Damian weren't hurt that badly, he still wanted them home. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he didn't had much time to think it over.

A swirling green Portal opened in front of him and a figure started to emerge from it. Bruce got into a fighting stance, his eyes trained on the unknown.

The Portal vanished after a young man, almost still a boy, stepped out of it. He had white hair that seemed to sway as if he was under water. Green freckles glowed in the dark, just a little muted in contrast to the vibrant green eyes. The boy - because the longer Bruce looked, the younger the being seemed - floated a few inches in the air. In his hands he held what looked like a type of thermos.

"You are Batman, right?", his voice seemed to echo a bit, even in this open space. Bruce just gave a little nod, still in his fighting stance. Just because the other seemed young, didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.

"Good, good... ahem... So my name is Danny or Phantom or Danny Phantom and I know this might come a bit suddenly, but a friend of mine - well more like my mentor - said that I was on the way for the best possible timeline and I think he really needs someone like you - you know with all those contingency plans - and a different dimension than ours and he is already 3 years in the thermos, well minus the bit he was out for a moment where Clockwork sat his Bodytime a bit back, so that he can have a childhood again, but that was like five minutes max. so that doesn't really count, because ha was also in timeout, so for him it was more like a few seconds, but ahem, what I wanted to ask you Mr. Batman, sir... Would you take my evil self from a different timeline, so that he can have a better childhood and maybe be not evil anymore?", Danny rambled and Batman really wished in this moment to have any of his children here, just to make sure that he did indeed hear correctly.

Even if everything had came out in one breath, the things he could piece together didn't paint the best picture. But it seemed like his brooding had taken to long, because the child folded into himself and started do fidget.

"I understand that you don't want to, you don't know me or Dan or anything about us, but you seemed to be the one most capable of handling him and I looked through so many dimension in the hope to find a good place for him... I can understand why he is like he is, but I will never be able to talk sense into him. His actions are unforgivable, but his timeline doesn't exist anymore, the things he done never happened and he is alone in a dimension that would just remind him of everything that happened if he would life with us... But I can totally just look into some more dimension if you don't want to! It's not your problem and I shouldn't have bothered, sorry!" Phantom started to raise his hand and a green line became visible where his finger cut through the air. If Bruce didn't do anything the being would go with a child that needed his help.

"I want a list with all his abilitis, his weaknesses, his potential triggers, dietary needs, allergies, a way to contact you, your mentor and a third trusted person in case of an emergency and a weekly check in system from your side", Bruce knew his kids would make fun of him when he brought another child home, but someone said he was the best possible guardian for this boy, so he would take him. And if he felt pleased about Danny's surprised and relieved face, than no one needed to know.

"Of course! I think Clockwork gave me a folder with everything!", the boy exclaimed, before he led the riff he started to open close, just to open another one. He seemed to rummage in the small Portal, until he showed him a folder full of papers. This would take a while to go through, but at least the boy was prepared.