#and that the four years she has on him barely means anything now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewintersoldierdisaster · 2 months

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a/n: i’m almost shocked at how fast this fic got written?? thanks to anon who indulged my fun little request for a new hockey to write about (inspired by @wyattjohnston ‘s post earlier about how there’s only fics for certain hockeys in the nhl fic tag and also bc i have so much fun writing for new guys in the fic exchanges!!)- how could i resist vancouver’s own prince charming? hope you guys enjoy because i had fun writing! ☺️

word count: 2.7k

tw: single dad!brock, nanny!reader, dirty talk, minor daddy kink, fingering (f receiving), handjob, dirty talk, nipple play

summary: you’re nothing but the nanny for brock’s daughter, until one night all the lines get blurred

Kya snuggles closer to you in her sleep, blonde hair tickling the underside of your chin. Her cheek is pressed up against your collarbone and her little body is hot, making you feel all sweaty where she’s connected to you.

The TV casts the room in a faint blue light, the low volume serving as white noise along with Kya’s little puffed air snores.

You think about moving her to her bed, but she’s so soft and cuddly when she hasn’t been lately and you can’t find it in your heart to get up. Unfortunately, the four-year-old has your heart in a vice-like grip and you’d do anything for her. Including being a human mattress.

So you stay on the couch, stroking her back and humming softly when she stirs briefly. Eventually, the clock ticks over to the eleven o’clock hour and you know it’s only a matter of time before Brock’s home and your shift is over. Not that you have to go very far to get home - your pool house turned bachelorette nanny pad is practically spitting distance from the back door. If you tilted to the left a bit and angled your neck, you’d be able to see the little planter with multicolored flowers that Kya had helped you plant last week.

And by help, you mean crushed a few daisies in her little fists and ate a mouthful of dirt before you could stop her.

A+ nannying for sure.

You’re still thinking about it when a familiar voice startles you from your thoughts.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Brock’s voice rumbles through the dark room, laughter around the edges.

Without thinking, you reply, “just thinking about the handful of dirt I let Kya eat last week.” Then you wince, wondering why Brock’s presence always makes you say the stupidest things.

He laughs fully now, stepping around the couch and dropping into the armchair. He’s in his post-game look - rumpled suit pants and button down with the sleeves rolled up, bare feet with his loafers kicked off in a pile at the front door, and blonde hair darkened from his shower. His palm rasps over the few days’ worth of stubble growing on his chin and his face splits into one of those smiles that makes Twitter (and you) swoon.

“She’s gotta get vitamins and minerals from somewhere, right?” He teases and your cheeks heat.

This.

This is why he makes you say the stupidest things. Because he’s a real-life Prince Charming with the personality to match.

You smile back at him, a reflex. “There are some leftovers in the fridge, if you’re hungry and want to get in your own vitamins and minerals,” you joke back, shifting Kya on your chest when she starts to slip.

Brock shakes his head. “I’m good, thanks. I’ll take Princess Ky upstairs and you can get some rest,” he stands, arms out to grab Kya.

Weirdly, you shift and hold her closer. “It’s, um, I don’t mind. She’s been really snuggly today and it’s nice,” you shrug one shoulder. “She watched a little bit of the first.”

“Yeah?” Brock’s face lights up. He loves it when you bring Kya to games and he gets to wave at her during warmups.

“Mhm,” you smirk, “she was obsessed with Quinn.”

Brock narrows his eyes at you, scrunching his nose in disgust. “Real nice,” he shakes his head, “making fun of the guy that your best friend over there belongs to.”

Your cheeks lift in a smile, your arms holding Kya comfortably. “Don’t be jealous of my bond with Ky. Daddy’s still her favorite.”

Something flickers across Brock’s face, there and gone before you can analyze it. He chuckles, says, “I better be since I pay for all those chicken nuggets she inhales like a freaking vacuum,” and excuses himself upstairs to change.

You watch him leave, chewing at your lower lip while you study the curve of his ass in his slacks, feeling awful even as you’re appreciating his form. Kya mumbles in her sleep, nonsense words and a ‘Daddy’ and your name, eyelids twitching as she dreams.

Brock’s back a few minutes later, comfortable in sweats and a threadbare t-shirt. Still barefoot, now he smells like mint toothpaste in addition to the locker room soap. “Sure you don’t want me to take her?” He asks, sitting down on the couch with you, a cushion’s worth of space between your bodies. “Feels like I should let you off the clock and hold my kid now that I’m home.”

“I really don’t mind,” you promise him. “Kya’s…she’s exactly what I want my own daughter to be one day.” You think maybe you’re over sharing, but it’s late and Brock just looks so domestic and comfortable. It’s easy to pretend when he looks like this. His eyes soften as he studies you and the way you’re holding Kya.

“She’s a pretty cool little girl,” he agrees warmly, reaching out to run a hand over her head. His palm

makes her hair staticky, fine strands lifted into the air. You blow at them gently, giggling when they stick to your face even after you try smoothing them back with a hand.

“You know,” he says too casually after a comfortable pause, “she, the other day when you were off, she said that she never wants you to leave.”

A little piece of your heart breaks with his words because you know one day you’ll have to leave. It’s easy right now, nannying for Kya while you get your Master’s, but what happens next year when you’re finished with school and you have to find a real

job.

Your face must show your distress, because Brock coughs slightly and rushes to say, stumbling over his words, “I didn’t mean, she’s four. You know, they say stuff all the time. When you do have to leave, it’ll be okay. She’ll be okay.”

He means well, you know that, but it doesn’t help and to your horror, your nose starts to burn and tears well in your eyes. You don’t really want to cry in front of Brock, not over something that’s at least a year away, but you feel the dam starting to break.

“Um, I do think I’ll head out for the night,” you say quietly, trying to not let your voice crack. You shift Kya in your arms and transfer her to Brock’s, making sure she stays asleep. “She really should be out for the night. So, um, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He takes her easily, arms practiced with adjusting her weight against his chest and her head on his shoulder. You jump up from the couch and wave over your shoulder, heading for the back door, ignoring Brock’s whispered shout of your name.

It’s so silly, to get so emotional about Kya outgrowing her need for a nanny, her need for you. But you’re more attached to Ky and Brock than you’re willing to admit, even to yourself.

Right now, your best option is to play your sad music playlist and cry, just to get it out of your system before getting back to normal in the morning.

The music helps. The crying helps more. The two glasses of wine help the most.

And then there’s a knock on the door, scaring the ever living shit out of you. It’s so late your visitor can only be one person.

“Brock?” His name is a question on your lips when you open the door, your brow furrowed.

“Hi,” he looks upset and your brain works sluggishly to figure out what could be bothering him. “Can I-?”

He gestures a little and you nod, stepping back automatically. “Yeah, of course. It’s your pool house,” you say. “Is Kya asleep?”

He nods, holds up the baby monitor. You can see Kya’s little body sprawled out on her bed and a smile curls your lips - she sleeps like a starfish, arms and legs akimbo. “She’s done for the night,” he replies quietly, setting the monitor on the little table you have next to the door for your keys.

Brock’s been in the pool house before, a million and one times. But this time, the air crackles like it does before a thunderstorm, your nerves on edge.

“What are -“

“I’m sorry.”

You and Brock speak over each other, words getting jumbled in the air. You giggle a little and Brock smiles, his shoulders relaxing.

“I’ll go,” he says, still smiling. His hands run through his hair, the strands flopping over his forehead before getting pushed back into place. “I’m sorry, for what I said. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Oh,” you aren’t expecting the apology and you start to excuse him, “I didn’t -“

“You did,” Brock cuts you off. “Your eyes are all red and I’m so sorry. I just thought, Ky loves you so much, that you’d want to hear what she said about you. I wasn’t thinking about - about you leaving.”

“I’ll have to eventually,” you shrug, the wine dulling the sharper edges of your emotions.

Brock’s jaw works and you wait for him to speak, patient like he’s Kya. A few seconds go by and he scratches at the back of his neck. “I’m not good at - I want you here, as long as you want to be here. I don’t care if Kya is a grown woman with her own kids, I’d want you here.” He pauses and his words sink in, battering at the boundary you’d built around your heart.

“What?” You whisper, hands fluttering at your sides. You suddenly don’t know what to do with them.

“I…I think, no, I am. I am definitely falling for you,” Brock says, tone firm and eyes soft, crinkled at the corners. Those damn blue eyes that have starred in a fantasy or two of yours. He reads your silence as negative, apparently, because he frowns and continues, “if I just made this uncomfortable, we can forget it ever happened.”

“No!” You nearly yelp, Brock’s eyes widening at your sudden increase in volume. “No,” you repeat quieter. “I don’t want to forget this happened. I’m just … surprised. I didn’t think you thought of me as anything but Ky’s nanny.”

His smile is contagious and you’re both grinning like idiots at each other.

“You haven’t been Ky’s nanny in my head for a long time,” he confesses. “Just been hoping you felt the same way.”

“Definitely feel the same way,” you giggle, feeling hysterical.

“Can I -?” He steps forward, into your space, and you nod, knowing what he’s asking. And then all you know is Brock’s mouth on yours, his hands warm on your waist, his hair soft under your fingertips. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you open your mouth. A groan fills the air and you’re not sure if it’s yours or his.

Your chest crushes against Brock’s, bodies flush against each other. His cock is prominent against your thigh, hard and hot through the layers of fabric separating the two of you. For months, you’ve fantasised about this, wondered what it would feel like to get your hands on Brock and it’s better than you ever imagined. Hot and hard, his lips soft against yours, his hands gripping at your ass, dragging you closer and closer. Your hips chase his, involuntarily moving for relief.

“Brock,” you whine his name, surprising yourself with the neediness that colors your tone. He growls against your jaw and lifts you, arms braced under your ass, settling you on the countertop in your tiny kitchenette. He steps into the space created by your spread legs, your thighs at his hips, ankles locked at his lower back.

“Shit, wanted to do this for months,” he mumbles against your skin. His lips mark a hot trail down your neck and over the heated skin of your chest. His hands are down the back of your shorts, kneading at your ass.

His cock presses against your heated core and you moan, loudly and unashamed. Brock’s laugh is clearly delighted and he presses himself against you harder, drawing a strangled moan from your throat.

“Making such pretty noises for me,” he croons, dragging one hand up your side to grope at your breast, rolling your nipple until it’s a stiff peak. “What other noises are you going to make for Daddy?”

“Oh my god,” you keen, arousal flooding your panties. “Brock, oh my god, I need you to touch me.”

“What’s the magic word?” He replies, ducking his head to suck at your nipple over your shirt. The scrape of his teeth and the wet fabric makes you shiver, clit throbbing.

“Please,” you wail, grinding your hips against his.

“Please…?” He trails off and your heart pounds in your chest, pleasure coiling low in your stomach.

You sigh, a shaky exhale. “Please, Daddy, touch me. Please make me come,” you whisper the words in his ear, nipping at his earlobe.

Brock whips your shirt off, tossing the fabric to the floor. You’re not wearing a bra and normally you’d be self-conscious, but Brock’s staring at you like you’re the first woman he’s ever seen and you’ve never felt hotter. “Christ,” he mutters, palming your breasts and kneading them tenderly. “So fucking gorgeous. Just, just fucking stay with me forever, please?”

You nod, agreeing. “Yours, I’m all yours, I promise,” you cradle his face in your hands and kiss him deeply, leaning in as close as you can.

Somehow, his shirt ends up on the floor with yours and your fingers can trace each muscle on his chest and stomach. You drag a nail over his nipple and his skin erupts in goosebumps, so you do it again, skimming your nails over his skin and scratching at his biceps.

“Mark me up,” Brock encourages you, lifting your ass off the counter with one hand so he can tug at your shorts and panties. “Make sure everyone knows I’m yours.”

He’s certainly doing the same, sucking bruises onto your skin. There’s a bite mark over your breast and it feels like his fingers dug bruises into the flesh of your ass.

“Just want you,” you blink away a sudden rush of tears, still in disbelief that this is happening. “Been thinking about you for so long, Brock.”

Your fingers dance down to the waist of his sweats, pushing at them until his cock springs free and you can get a good look at it. It’s just as perfect as his face, thick and long and hard as steel.

“Come on, honey,” his fingers swipe at your clit, making you inhale sharply and arch your back. “Put your hands on me. Touch me.”

You obey, wrapping your hands around his cock and stroking him. Softly at first until Brock grunts and wraps his hand around yours to increase the pressure and speed. “Like that,” he instructs you, leaving his hand in place and using the other to smear your arousal over your clit and inner thighs.

“I don’t have any condoms!” You gasp, Brock’s index finger teasing at your entrance. The thought hits suddenly, annoyingly.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies, kissing the moan from your mouth when he plunges his fingers into your cunt. “I’ll make you feel good just like this.”

Brock’s a man of his word.

He makes you come twice, once on his fingers and one on his tongue. The first time you make a mess of the counter, dripping all over the place. The second time he’s got you laid out on the couch, his stomach splattered with his own come from the handjob you’d given him.

And then he cuddles.

Wipes between your legs with a towel and wraps

you in his arms under a throw blanket. Kisses the crown of your head and tells you all the filthy things he’s thought about doing to you.

“Hey,” you pipe up, amusement bubbling in your chest, “do I get a bonus for every blowjob I provide?”

Brock’s surprised laughter vibrates at your back, shaking your entire body. His arms wrap around your chest and squeeze. “No,” he deadpans, sounding like he’s struggling to hold back his laughter, “but we probably should talk about your job.”

“Tomorrow,” you insist. “I love taking care of Ky. So we’ll work on a transition.”

The transition from Ky’s nanny to Brock’s wife and Ky’s mom takes about six months less than you anticipated.

“Best job promotion ever,” you tease Brock at the altar, Kya practically glued to your side and shouting her excitement when you kiss for the first time as husband and wife.

#brock boeser #brock boeser x reader #brock boeser x you #brock boeser fic #nhl fic

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toji-sweetheart · 2 months

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𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐥. 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: A wedding can bring a couple together, but it can also tear them apart, and it was high time you let Levi know how much you love him.

wc: 2.8k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + not beta read + a bit of an argument + champagne but no one is drunk or tipsy + blow job + bondage with his belt + ass slapping with belt + pet names + cock slut being used

Your fingers danced over Erwin’s arm giving it a light squeeze and a small laugh something about how he met your husband Levi who normally was never jealous.

Now the feeling was heavy like a rock in his gut as he watched from the other side of the ballroom holding the plastic cup of water in his hand as you barely dangled the flute in your hands before taking a sip and looking at the tall blonde man with ocean eyes.

Somehow he found himself standing at the edge of the room watching you and Erwin dance around the floor holding hands, his free one on your waist pulling you closer only to dip you hearing you giggle.

“Something bothering you?” Hanji asked pushing their glasses up and looking at Levi who turned to look at them raising an eyebrow.

“She’s dancing with shitty brows acting like he’s her husband instead of me,”

“Oh,” Hanji murmured elbowing their friend while following gaze, sure enough, it looked like you and Erwin were long-lost lovers who finally found each other after years of being apart scared to let go of one another in fear you’d just disappear again from his life and in some way it was true.

Erwin has always loved you long before Levi who ironically introduced you to him. “Want to dance with Petra? She’s your friend.”

Levi shrugged his shoulders glancing at the orange-haired woman who smiled and waved at him hoping he would ask her, he looked back at Hanji and shook his head.

“She is my friend, yes, but I don’t want to dance.”

“Maybe that’s why she’s down there with him instead.” Hanji pointed out.

Before he could open his mouth to say something they were already walking away to join Mobilt in on the dancing. “Stupid four-eyes,” Levi grumbled before downing his water and throwing away the cup walking over to you and Erwin who was twirling you in a circle away from him giving Levi the perfect chance to grab your hand pulling you into him.

“Hi,” you panted softly cupping the back of his neck, the smell of the sweet champagne fanned over his face.

“Looks like you’re both having a lot of fun,” Levi murmured staring daggers at Erwin who backed away in search of another glass of champagne and to get away from the heartbreak of watching Levi ghost his hand down to the small of your back pulling you closer to him.

“We were yes, but there’s no reason to get jealous baby,” you murmured threading your fingers through his hair as he stared at you with an aloof look, his silver eyes intense as he fought the urge to say something to Erwin, instead he kept you close to him as he danced awkwardly around the floor replaying Hanji’s words over and over in his head.

“Do you think I’m a good husband?” he blurted squeezing your hand fearing the worst answer possible.

“What? Of course, I do Levi, you’re so caring, sweet, attentive, and smart and you know me like the back of your hand. You’re the shoulder I know I can always lean on, the person who always has my back no matter what even if I’m in the wrong. I can count on you for anything and everything, I mean we have fights and sometimes you do close yourself off but you’re still a trophy husband.”

His heart softened as he felt his cheeks grow warm leaning in to kiss you deeply, “A trophy husband?” he asked noticing Erwin still stealing glances even as he talked to Mike and Hanji about something, his eyes lingering longer than what he liked. The feeling of jealousy was new and foreign, why should he care when you were the one to marry him and not Erwin who asked you not once but twice?

“Yes, a trophy husband,” you leaned in whispering in his ear, “I hear the women in the neighborhood talk about you, or when we’re in the grocery store I can hear them whispering about how handsome you are and how cute your ass is.” He felt you grab both cheeks giving them a firm squeeze earning a small grunt from him.

“And do not get me started on when you wear those button-up shirts with the sleeves rolled to your elbows,” you added with a mischievous smile.

Levi rolled his eyes clicking his tongue. He’s used to your open display of affection and doesn’t mind usually, opening his mouth to say something Erwin walked up to you both holding another flute and looking at you with a warm soft smile as he gestured it to you, “Oh, I’m good thank you.” you told him keeping one arm still wrapped around Levi’s waist.

“Ah, well looks like Mike gets another one,” Erwin chuckled, “could I steal another dance before I head home?” he asked hoping you’d say yes.

You looked at Levi then at him, “I think we’re going to head out right now. It was nice seeing you again Erwin.” you patted his shoulder and walked off the dance floor with Levi behind you.

“Aren’t we going to say goodbye?” he asked following you confused about the sudden change of pace, you shook your head laughing as you turned to look at him.

“We’re not leaving just yet, there’s one thing I want to do before we go and Hanji told me it was okay, they’ll keep watch over everything and it was their idea.”

Levi raised an eyebrow wondering what the hell you two were up to but knowing you and Hanji it was something probably far-fetched and crazy.

You glanced around before walking into the lobby of the hotel to the elevator, using your free hand you dug in your purse producing a card to a room, and showed Levi who looked at it, and then you with furrowed eyebrows.

“What are we doing?” he asked as you pulled him into the elevator pushing him against the wall as the doors closed, your lips found his kissing him so needy and desperate like it was the last one you’d share. Wrapping his arms around your waist he kissed you back before pulling away to look at you, his features softened while cupping your cheek.

“We-well, I got a room for us. I’ve been staring at you all night and I couldn’t wait until we got home,” you whispered popping the first two buttons of his shirt before grabbing the lapels of his jacket.

“You looked too busy staring at Erwin to even look at me,” he said not meaning for it to come out so nasty but the damage was already done, stepping back you gripped the card in your hand turning to face the doors.

“A lot of things look good on you but jealousy doesn’t,” you replied before walking out towards the room with him following close behind you, the apology on the tip of his tongue but wasn’t sure how to word it.

Unlocking the door you walked inside letting Levi shut the door before grabbing your wrist gently to stop you, “Listen I didn’t mean for that to come out so harsh.” you looked at his hand then at him furrowing your eyebrows.

“Really? I know you like the back of my hand too. Our dancing doesn’t mean anything, he’s nothing but a friend.”

You both stared at each other, his stubbornness coming to a head as he let you go taking his jacket off and laying it over the back of the chair neatly watching you sit on the bed kicking your shoes off rolling your eyes, “You might want to tell him that. Asking for one more dance before he goes home and supplying you with more to drink?” he asked voice thick with irritation.

“You do know that my last name is Ackerman and not Smith? I was having fun and he wasn’t the only one I danced with. If I recall you told me you didn’t want to dance so why should I just stand around with my hands in my pockets watching everyone have fun?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes sitting down in the chair facing you crossing one leg over the other folding his hands in his lap, any time you and he had some sort of argument he was hell-bent on fixing it because the passing thought of you leaving him never left the back of his mind but he never pushed especially when it was heated like now, usually, he waited until everything calmed down before figuring out a way to talk it out.

“I never said you had to do that but are you that blind not to see the look in his eyes? Like you were something he could eat.” Levi mumbled.

You stood up and set your purse on the table walking over to him grabbing the armrests bending down to look him dead in the eyes, “I’m not interested in him,” you told him moving your hands to his belt unbuckling it before pulling it off throwing it on the bed, “I only have eyes for you and while I admit jealousy can cause a lot of heartaches there’s something about seeing you so riled up makes me hot. I’m all yours and you’re mine, we made vows to stay together forever and I meant them.”

Levi watched you sink to your knees tugging on his black slacks to palm his growing cock before pulling the band of his boxers down grasping the base softly looking up at him, “If you ever thought for even a second that I was thinking about someone else it’s not true.” you murmured peppering small kitten kisses to the tip watching his head loll back resting on the seat bringing one hand to the back of your head as you opened your mouth taking him in.

“I know, I’m sorry I let my jealousy get the best of me.” he gasped when you deepthroated him fondling his sack softly bobbing your head up and down, watching you like this set a fire in his chest as you kept working up and down, judging from the way you didn’t care at how he was thrusting his hips up he knew the kind of mood you were in, with both hands on either side of your head he kept you still fucking your throat with harsh snaps of his hips.

Gagging could be heard from outside the door as you drooled over his dick making it easier for him to slide in and out, his bottom lip was tugged between his teeth losing himself in the warmth of your throat, “Reminds me of our wedding night, you couldn’t keep my cock out of your mouth, could you? Or bounce yourself on it begging for me to cum in you.” he growled moving his hand to the back of your head now.

You gripped his legs letting him take control hearing him moan so beautifully thinking of the night he was talking about, the truth of it had your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing at this point.

After saying goodbye to everyone you nor Levi could keep each other's hands off one another, fingers removing your clothes until bare skin whispered against bare skin as your legs wrapped around his waist and then later over his shoulder only for you to end up on top of him nails digging in shoulders.

The moment you met Levi you knew that you were two were destined to end up together and seven years later here you were with him replaying the night you two were husband and wife, with one final snap he came shooting his load down your throat, “Don’t swallow.” he demanded as you pulled away keeping your mouth open showing him the creamy white essence coating your tongue.

He slid two fingers in depressing the muscle before smearing it around pulling out wiping some on your lips groaning, “Good girl, now get on the bed face down and ass up.”

You were quick to get off the carpet to hop on the bed getting into position as he stepped behind you resting his knees against the mattress and leaning over to grab his belt looping it as he trailed it over your back and then ass using his free hand to yank your dress up and panties down ripping the fabric making you gasp.

“I know you love me but the way shitty brows was looking at you made me want to jab in the eyes,” he said rearing his hand back and cracking the leather over your bare ass, his free fingers stroked your cunt circling your clit as he slapped you again.

If it was any other night Levi would have you in his office or the bedroom bent over his desk or knees with your panties his palm striking your ass, the stinging sensation something you felt many times before mixing in with the hot pleasure that pumped through your blood which roared in your ears as you fisted the blanket looking out the window of the high rise hotel.

A gasp escaped your parted lips when he slid two fingers inside you curling and stroking while keeping his thumb on your clit, dropping the belt he bent down kissing away the bites of his belt massaging the soft skin, “You know as much as I love cumming in that pretty mouth of yours I love watching it drip from your used cunt, don’t you?” he asked trailing his kisses up to your shoulder ghosting his free hand up to rest on the side of your neck barely resting his fingers on your throat.

“I do! I do!” you whined grinding on his fingers that kept pumping in and out making your toes curl, Levi chuckled to himself watching your eyes roll to the back of your head on the verge of orgasm as pulled out he joined you on the bed helping you on your back to bury his face between your legs placing tender and sweet kisses on your pussy sliding his arms under and around your thighs pulling you closer.

“You taste so fucking good I could stay here forever,” Levi moaned into your skin lapping at you softly at first sucking and flicking your clit with great care that you were sure a bright light was dancing behind your eyes as he kept it up as you grabbed two handfuls of his hair humping his face wildly arching your back and moaning his name loudly over and over, you were sure there was going to be complaints.

He didn’t stop until your thighs were shaking from the orgasm he gave you that left your eyes watering as you panted heavily looking at him with wet eyelashes taking in his beautiful naked body, once what was hardened muscles have turned softer and to you sexier as you sat up grabbing his arms pulling him down on top of you engaging in heavy teeth clacking kiss feeling his cock slide against your swollen and soft cunt, finally he pressed in until he was buried to the hilt.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh? Don’t worry sweetheart I can’t get enough of your sweet pussy either the way you pull me back in, my own personal fleshlight aren’t you?”

Both of you let out a moan when he began a perfect pace of pulling out slowly only to snap his hips hard against you fucking you slow, rough, and deep while cradling your head with one hand, the other found purchase on your breast staring at you, noses pressed together, “My cute little cock slut.” he whispered kissing you roughly before fisting your hair only to pull out completely putting you back on your hands and knees wincing from the loss of him.

“I hope I’m your favorite cock slut.” you giggled high of the toe-curling climaxes he gave you with just his tongue.

“Of course, you are my dear. I love praising you for being such a good girl but the way your pussy is trying to milk me already, have I fucked you stupid yet?” he asked grabbing your shoulders and pulling your back flush against his chest as he held the back of your neck kissing the sides of it while thrusting in and out slowly.

All you could do was slur unintelligible words as you held his arm whining and moaning something about how good only he could make you feel like this, his teeth nipped your skin as he grunted against your shoulder feeling his orgasm uncurl stilling his hips he came hard shooting thick ropes of cum in you panting.

Several minutes later you found yourself between his legs in the bathtub in the warm water as he lathered his hands up to massage your shoulders, “You did amazing, you always do. You’re glowing.” he whispered kissing your cheek as you settled between against him sighing in content.

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡

#✍🏻minx writes #levi ackerman smut #levi x reader smut #levi x you smut #aot smut #aot x reader smut #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #Levi Ackerman smut #snk x reader #snk x reader smut #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan smut

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livwritesstuff · 6 months

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Tommy POV, wc: 2890, full version on ao3

Tommy Hagan is not jealous of Eddie Munson.

He’s not.

There’s nothing to be jealous of, in his opinion, and Tommy probably wouldn’t be thinking about him at all if Eddie wasn’t the most publicly well known member of his graduating class – well, he hadn’t actually been in his graduating class, Tommy supposes.

They had been seniors at the same time, though.

If Tommy happened to be jealous of anything – and that’s a big if – it would probably have something to do with the famous thing. Everyone has a small part of them that wants to be famous at least in some capacity, he’s pretty sure, even if Eddie isn’t really, truly famous – not like the red carpet celebrities. He’s a writer. Even the most well known writers never get all that much attention, but Munson has his own Wikipedia page, and that’s more than anybody else from Hawkins, Indiana can say. Hawkins itself barely even has a Wikipedia page, and it’s only because of all the atrocities that happened in town in the mid-eighties.

Tommy hadn’t been around for the end of it all – the earthquake-slash-serial killer situation that never made any sense to him. He remembers his mom calling him at his college dorm when the deaths first started. He remembers her asking, “You went to school with that Munson boy, right? Do you think he could do something like this?”

And Tommy had been twenty and a total moron, so he’d said some dumb shit like, “Yeah, he’s into freaky stuff like that. Somebody should’ve put him on a list ages ago,” even though four years of experience told him that Eddie was all bark, no bite. Tommy hadn’t been surprised at all by the statements that later came out clearing Eddie's name, and by then his parents had already high-tailed it out of Hawkins so it all sort of became irrelevant to him.

Tommy never even returned to Hawkins one single time after he left for college (barring his high school reunion, obviously), and twenty years after graduation, he doesn’t really think about those years all that much.

He doesn’t love the person he’d been in high school. He was whiny and immature and had his priorities all messed up. Most of the memories he has of his teenage years, he looks back at and cringes, feels a whole lot of shame and embarrassment, but also some pride at how much he’s grown over the last twenty years. He also knows he’d been kind of a dick in high school, but that he’s less ashamed of. It’s normal, he knows, for kids to be mean, that it’s a standard response to being untreated kindly in other ways. Like, his dad had been an asshole to him as a kid, always on him about his grades and his smart mouth and how he’d no longer been a standout on any of his sports teams after starting high school, and Tommy had coped with that by poking kids beneath him at school.

It’s just the pecking order of high school. It’s normal.

Even now, when Tommy’s son had dealt with some pricks in the year above him shoving him around, he had come home from school and tormented his little sister for a while – it’s normal, no matter how much his wife had tried to convince him it was something that needed addressing. It’s just kids being kids. They grow out of it eventually, just like Tommy had.

Occasionally he wonders where the kids he’d spent all those years with in the Hawkins public school system had ended up, but these days the internet makes that pretty damn easy to figure out.

He’s learned Tina got married and had kids real young. She still lives in Indiana. Carol, who he’d split up with before heading off to college, lives in Alabama now and she’s got kids and a husband too. Jonathan Byers is a photographer in California – Tommy isn’t into all that art-y crap, so he has no clue if he’s any good, but he definitely recognizes some of the organizations he’s worked for and if that’s any indication, Tommy would wager he’s not too shabby. No wife, though, he noted, so he’d either been right about Byer’s being a queer, or women just found him repulsive (admittedly, Tommy leans more towards the former – he’s a photographer). Tammy Thompson still lives in Tennessee, though it doesn’t seem like she does music anymore (husband, kids, blah blah blah).

If he’s honest, the only person Tommy is actually interested in tracking down is Steve Harrington, and he’s the one person Tommy can’t find a single trace of online. No MySpace, no Facebook, no weird blog thing, nothing.

Vaguely, he wonders if Steve might be dead. A truly massive proportion of Hawkins had died over just a few short years in the mid-eighties. Maybe Harrington was one of them.

Tommy doubts it.

He would have known.

Steve’s parents would have made sure everyone knew if their son had died. Funnily enough, Steve’s mom is actually on Facebook, and pretty actively too, but there’s no sign of Steve anywhere on her page.

He hadn’t even shown up for their high school reunion in the winter of ‘04, which is odd because Tommy had been certain he would.

He doesn’t obsess over it – he really doesn’t. It’s just a thought that pops into his mind every now and then – where the hell is Steve Harrington?

In the late spring of 2007, he gets his answer.

“Tom,” his wife says, “That guy from your high school is on the cover of this magazine.”

He knows without asking for clarity that it’s Munson – no other person makes sense – and when he eventually gets his hands on the magazine, he finds that he’s correct.

Eddie Munson is on the cover of a magazine because, apparently, he published another book.

Truthfully, Tommy already knew that.

It’s his fourth book (which, for the record, Tommy hadn’t known until he knew it because it’s not like he’s keeping tabs on this guy or whatever), and it’s been getting a whole bunch of mainstream attention after a controversial landing on the top of all those book charts Tommy doesn’t follow despite featuring a gay love store amidst all his normal fantasy crap. It sparked a whole debate about banning books and everything (dumb, Tommy knows, because if he learned anything in business school it’s that if you really don’t want something to exist, the best thing you can do is not funnel money and attention into it).

Tommy does, in fact, watch the news so he’d already caught wind of all this – it’s part of the reason he can’t shake the guy – and it’s why Eddie Munson is on the cover of this magazine (because, seriously, nobody gives a shit about writers until it hits the news).

He allows himself a moment to look at the cover, to look at Eddie, who apparently goes by Ed now. Tommy is loath to admit it, but he looks good. His hair is normal and he’s grown into his frame, not all long and lanky and gangly limbs like Tommy remembers from school. He looks well-fed, confident, happy.

He looks good.

Tommy thumbs through the first few pages of the magazine until he reaches Eddie’s interview, and, again, he allows himself to look over the photo of him that takes up nearly three-quarters of the first page even if he has no intention of actually reading the article itself because, again, Eddie looks good (and maybe there’s something about the scruff of facial hair along his jaw that Tommy's eye gets stuck on). Tommy’s allowed to say that men look good when it’s true – it’s 2007, as his wife likes to remind him whenever it’s convenient for her, and if she’s allowed to say that Angelina Jolie looked good in that CIA movie, then Tommy is allowed to say that Eddie Munson looks good here.

When Tommy flips to the next page, he’s met with a photo that stops him in his tracks, has his feet frozen to the floor because –

Jesus Christ, that’s Steve Harrington.

Fuck, okay, so he’s reading this fucking article.

It takes Tommy a long time to get through it, honestly. Eddie comes out in the article, which might be a big deal, might not (and he doesn't care to be enlightened, thanks). He keeps getting distracted by the pictures scattered throughout it.

The pictures of Steve, mostly.

Because, well, if Eddie Munson looks good, Steve…

Steve looks alive.

Tommy didn’t realize it until this exact moment, but Steve had existed in his head for the last two decades as the eighteen-year-old he’d been the last time they were in the same room together. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Steve’s been aging this whole time too, just like Tommy has.

It’s undeniable that Steve is older.

His hair is starting to go gray at his temples (it’s the only thing that’s changed about his hair since he’s still styling it the same as he did in high school – because why mess with a good thing, Tommy supposes) and he’s got just the hint of crow's feet around his eyes when he smiles. He’s smiling in all the photos – every damn one – and it has Tommy struck by how unbelievably happy Steve seems. It’s an effect that somehow both takes years off the age Tommy knows he is and shines a light on just how good those years must have been for him.

There’s no solo shots of him like there are for Munson – though according to the article, it's actually Harrington now – and only half the photos are in color. The rest of them – the more candid ones – are smaller and left in black-and-white.

The one that caught Tommy’s eye first – because it was meant to, he’s pretty sure; it takes up half the page – is right in that sweet spot between staged and candid where Steve and Eddie both know that they’re being photographed even though neither of them are actually posing. Eddie is grinning at Steve in a wicked way that still feels familiar to Tommy even two decades since he’d last seen it on him (probably swaggering around the cafeteria like a total jackass – not that Tommy would know anything about that). Steve is grinning right back at him with a smile Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Or maybe he has, but not on this version of his face, not since Steve was as young as his oldest daughter.

Just as the author of the article said, the photos don’t show the faces of Steve’s children, either leaving them artfully out-of-focus or choosing shots where they’re turned away from the camera, but they’re still present, and it makes the whole spread almost feel like a photo album in a way, like it should be private but instead was published for the whole world to see.

Steve has three of them – kids, Tommy means. He didn’t know that Steve was a family kind of guy. It makes sense though, when he thinks about it. Steve’s parents were kind of a nightmare — present in the worst ways, and absent in the worst ways too (though it hadn’t seemed that way when Tommy was a teenager looking for a failsafe party house). He'd always felt kind of bad for the guy. Like, Tommy's dad had been a total piece of work, but they'd at least been around, and he'd stuck around long enough for them to sort out their issues at least most of the way, and these days he's a pretty kickass grandpa to Tommy's children.

Tommy wonders about Steve's parents now, wonders if they maybe came around like his own parents had, but then he remembers Mrs. Harrington's Facebook page and how there's not a damn trace of her son on there, never mind three grandchildren.

Tommy isn't sure he wants to touch that.

Steve is probably a really good dad, Tommy decides. He’d been kind of that way when they were friends — Steve used to say he wasn’t all that bright, but he always had a freaky sixth sense for reading people, for caring about them in exactly the way they needed.

There's one photo where Steve is managing to holding his youngest daughter — a tiny little baby still — and her bottle in one arm (that's a level-three dad hold, Tommy knows). The bottle is angled in a way that obscures her face, and Steve's other hand is being tugged on by another daughter, this one with a mop of curly brown hair remarkably similar to Eddie's when it was still long.

That's another thing Tommy won't let himself think about, (because he knows if did he'd start wondering if any of those kids were half-Steve).

Anyways, Tommy doesn't need glance to see that Steve wears fatherhood like a favorite sweater.

There’s something about this, about seeing these pictures, about the way Tommy is getting an answer to that question he’s had for years about where his childhood best friend has been all these years, that is making him feel like his ribcage is being split open, bones splintering and shattering as everything vulnerable inside his chest in suddenly out for display.

He probably should feel uncomfortable, right? Like, a guy he’d been seriously close to growing up — sleepovers and gym locker rooms and all that shit — had turned out to be gay. If his own son came home from school saying that his best friend came out or whatever as gay…well, again, it’s 2007, and Tommy doesn’t think his wife would allow him to denounce the friendship entirely, but there certainly wouldn’t be any sleepovers anymore. He thinks that’s pretty reasonable.

What was the likelihood that Steve had been, like, into Tommy?

And that should be an uncomfortable notion too, and in a sense, it kind of is, but not necessarily in the way he would expect.

He just doesn’t understand why all this feels so much like a loss because he knows that he hasn’t really lost anything – not since he got his hands on the magazine, anyways. Steve Harrington hasn’t played any sort of role in Tommy’s life since their final falling out in 1984, and as far as he’s aware, having a falling out with a close friend is pretty much a guaranteed part of growing up. His wife even experienced something similar when her own grade school best friend suddenly stopped answering calls and stopped reaching out after they’d started college – and his wife is basically the nicest person Tommy has ever known, so…it happens to even the best.

It’s just…Steve had always continued to exist in Tommy’s life in a way, even if he wasn't physically present, and maybe Tommy had figured it could be the same for Steve too, that maybe he sometimes wonders where Tommy is, wonders what he’s up to.

This article and these photos makes it pretty fucking clear that Tommy doesn’t even exist in the same galaxy as the life Steve is living.

And that’s not to mention the Eddie fucking Munson of it all.

Tommy had been kind of ignoring the Eddie of it all until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, because he doesn't care about Eddie Munson.

He'd never cared, but he'd spent years seeing the guy's face and his name everywhere, and now it feels like a sick joke, like he's the piece of Steve left in Tommy's life.

If the article is accurate (and he has no reason to believe it isn’t), Steve and Eddie have been together for longer than Tommy has even known his wife. Steve has been with Eddie for longer than Steve was ever friends with Tommy – not by a lot, but still more. That’s a long fucking time, and it’s clear as day on both of their faces that they’re just as in love with each other fourteen years in as they were on day one.

It’s not just Steve, and it’s not just Eddie, and it’s not one more than the other. It’s both of them.

There’s one photo in particular – a small black-and-white one that keeps pulling Tommy’s attention.

It’s another candid shot, taken from a bit of a distance. In it, Steve has Eddie boxed in against the counter in what has to be their kitchen. Eddie is leaning back against the edge of the granite countertop and looking at Steve with something sappy and fond on his face, and Steve’s hands are this close to grabbing Eddie’s waist as he looks at him the exact same way.

It’s shit out of a fairy tale or something, and sure, maybe someone could argue that they’re laying it on thick just for the sake of the magazine or whatever, but Tommy knows Steve Harrington and that look on his face is more real than Tommy had ever seen in all the years he'd known him.

So maybe Tommy has a reason or two (or three or four) to be jealous of Eddie Munson.

#unreliable narrator!tommy hagan my beloved #the ao3 version has the interview btw #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan

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wanderingsoul6261 · 4 months

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Credit for gif goes to cinevettel

Title: You're Okay. We're okay.

James Beaufort x Reader

Synopsis: James and the Reader get into an argument and their relationship is rocky for a week. Then she doesn't show up for several days to school and he gets worried, before finally going to Alistair for some answers.

Warning: I think there is a few swears words? If I remember?

Also some personal reflection in this as well. I have hypothyroidism and it runs in the family. My dad had an episode with vertigo in which he had also found out he had his first episode of AFIB. This was a few years after he was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. Second episode was four years later. AFIB is often a side effect of thyroid issues. Thyroid issues can cause detrimental effects if not taken seriously. You have any issues, with anything to do with your body, please please. Get it checked out. Stay safe.

------

The current week was definitely turning out to be a tough one, especially for both James and Y/N. Y/N herself hadn't been feeling the greatest the past week, with an unknown cause nor did she have anything that had seemed to help her feel better. But the two were currently going through an argument. Albeit, she wasn't one to go out of her way to talk to Ruby, Y/N wasn't happy with the way that James was treating her. She had felt that he had been unfair towards her, especially when Ruby's actions towards him were largely warranted.

So the two had barely talked in the last week. Whenever they did, they argued, and Y/N didn’t like it, but James had to know that his actions were wrong, and as Y/N walked through the halls of Maxton, she thought back to the argument that they had earlier that morning.

They both rode to school together that morning, even if they weren't talking. Alistair and Elaine offered to take her to school instead. Y/N understood Alistair asking, but she was surprised by Elaine, considering Elaine liked James. Y/N had spared James a look a few times, and itched to hold his hand. But he looked pissed off, so she didn’t, and when she went to ask if he was okay, he got snappy. This had only succeeded in now pissing Y/N off for the day as well.

“What is your problem?” She asked. Percy turned the car down the long road leading to Maxton. The college could be seen through the trees.

“My problem? My problem is Ruby Bell.” He had but growled out those words, sending a sneer out the window at the passing trees.

“She didn’t do anything.”

“She walked in on Lydia and Sutton.”

“It could have been anyone!” Y/N exclaimed. “What would have happened if it was Alistair or Cyril that walked in on them?” She asked. Y/N turned in the seat To look at him, but he refused to look at her.

“But it wasn't them!” James turned to look at her. Percy looked in the rearview at them for a lengthy amount of time before turning his eyes back to the road before them.

“Not my point, Beaufort!” She looked incredulously at him, as if he grew an extra head. Y/N wasn't understanding him in this moment, but then again, all millionaires and their heirs worked in the same way. “You can't just go and try to buy someone like you are her!”

“Since when have you liked Ruby Bell?”

“I don't not like nor do I like her. I just don't like how she is being treated by you and Lydia. She isn't even talking!”

“Doesn't mean she won't. She thinks she knows how far I'm willing to go with this, but she has another thing coming for her.” James grumbled out. “I'm only just beginning.” Y/N clenched her jaw, before turning towards the front.

“Percy, let me out.” the courtyard of Maxton was now in sight and only a few seconds away via car, but she couldn't handle James anymore at this moment. Percy looked at her through the rearview mirror, blinked a few times and then looked at James, who went back to looking out his window.

Percy stopped the car.

Without saying another word to James, she climbed out of the car.

“Thank you, Percy.”

Y/N had thought about it all consistently throughout the day. It had made some moments of studying and paying attention in classes difficult, but she had managed till the end of the day, and she was relieved. Y/N was ready to go home and relax.

However, once Y/N had arrived home, she suddenly felt a ringing in her ears. Y/N felt nauseous, taking a few deep breaths to try and settle her stomach as everything seemed to hit her at once. She struggled to get out of the car, and the moment she was finally standing, she fell.

The world was chaotic. Her vision was blurred and she was sensitive to all light and noise. Her chauffeur had come around the car to her, shouting for anyone inside the building to come and assist him. The crunching of his shoes against the stones of the driveway caused her face to scrunch up, and the yelling made her want to puncture her eardrums until she became deaf.

A few more people knelt down around her, and she tried to keep her eyes open to see who it was, but the world was spinning. It was fast and quick and everything hurt. Y/N closed her eyes again. Why did she feel this way? What was going on?

Y/N was now being picked up, placed back in the car between two bodies. Their voices told her that it was her parents. She was going to be okay.

She turned as well as she could to see Alistair and Elaine standing on the front porch of the porch, watching them leave. She’ll be home soon.

—

Y/N hadn't been to school for several days. Alistair and Elaine had missed a few days as well, but had not talked much about what was going on. And to say that James was worried was an understatement. He was terrified, especially more so as their last conversation was an argument.

She hasn’t been answering his texts. Alistair and Elaine hadn't said much when he first initially asked. Just that there was an accident but everything was okay. No specifics were given to him. He had been too busy with the event committee and his parents to find time to go to the Ellington’s manor to see him. Even then, visitation to Y/N had been strictly limited, it didn't matter who you were.

James was pulling his hair out by the time the fifth day arrived of no communication from her.

“Alistair!” James grabbed his bicep, pulling him into an empty room. “Is someone going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“About what?”

“About what? Your sister! Why isn’t Y/N answering my texts? Is she okay?” He had all but demanded. “And most importantly, why can’t I see her?” He asked. Alistair stared at him for a few seconds.

“She had an experience with vertigo the other day. She’s been experiencing it on and off the past few days. Parents took her to the hospital after she collapsed the last day she was at school. Me and Elaine were already home, as she had stayed behind to do some extra studying on school grounds.” James stared at him as he took In this information.

“And she's okay now?” Alistair hesitated.

“Yes and no. She'll be fine. I can promise you that. But the vertigo is still messing with her pretty badly. On top of it, she had an episode of afib that she didn't really detect. She has to be on beta blockers for a little bit with a pacemaker also for a little bit to help monitor her heart rate. It will help the doctors keep track of her heart and this event of afib.”

“Can it just be a one time thing?” He asked.

“Depends, honestly. They said it was likely for her, but that she could also likely experience more down the road. They said it was likely brought on by her hypothyroidism.” the two went silent for several minutes as James took in the information.

“When can I see her?” He asked.

“I can take you today.”

—

Hesitation was not in James' intentions when he arrived at the Ellington manor. He booked past every single person, he seen, even the owners of the home As he raced towards the stairs.

Their parents looked back at Alistair, Elaine following slowly behind him. He gave them a small shrug.

“No one was talking to him about what was going on, including myself. It was time someone finally gave him some answers.”

James hurried through the house, slowing down as he neared her room. She had vertigo, which likely also meant she was sensitive to light and noise. He had to be quiet.

He knocked softly on her door, before calling out her name. It was silent for several seconds.

“James?” A weak sounding voice could be heard.

“Yea. Its me, love. Can I come in?” James could barely make out her approval. He opened her door, slowly and quietly. Her room was dark. Not entirely pitch black, but still dark enough that she could open her eyes and not be bothered by it if needed.

She could be seen laying on her bed, buried underneath the blankets. James watched as she peeked her head out, her eyes opening slightly to watch him as he walked over to her.

“Can I crawl into the bed?” He asked. Y/N nodded, moving backwards in the bed to allow him in.

As he proceeded towards the bed, he noticed the medication bottles on her side table. The one he knew to be her thyroid medication. The others must be from her recent hospital stay.

“So many drugs.” Y/N softly mumbled. “a pain in my arse.” James huffed out a laugh as he climbed into her bed. She scooted back over to rest against his chest. His arms came up to wrap around her, a hand coming up to comb through her hair. James buried his nose in her hair.

“I'm glad you’re okay.” He whispered. Keeping his voice down. “I didn’t hear from you and no one in your family wanted to tell me anything.”

“I'm sorry. They were supposed to.” Her weak voice spoke back to him. “that wasn’t fair to you. Even if we were fighting.” his mind went back to the argument.

“I want to apologize.” He said. “You were right. The whole time, you were right. It wasn’t right for me to treat Bell like that.” He admitted. James knew when the arguments started that Y/N was right. He was just too arrogant and hard headed to admit it. For a moment there, he had turned into his father, and he grew to resent it.

“Did you apologize?”

“Not yet.” He admitted. “But I have been nicer.”

Y/N huffed out a laugh, before wincing.

“Well, it's a start.” Y/N kept her voice quiet, barely a mumble. She almost sounded tired.

“We’ve made some good work on the donor gala.” He admit. “We are changing it to be Victorian themed.”

“Yea? Are you going to use your parents' collection for advertisement?” Her voice sounded still as a mumble.

“Wasn't going to. But I think it will be good for it. I was probably going to take Bell in the coming days to take photos. I know you absolutely love the collection, so if you'd like to join us-” a soft snore broke the moment. James sat there, listening to Y/N as she slept. A small smile graced his lips. James pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, his fingers still gently combing through her hair. He used his other hand to pull the blanket to cover more of her body. After a short amount of time, James too fell asleep.

—

Several hours have passed and the Ellington parents checked in on the two in Y/N's room. Both were fast asleep, clung to each other.

“Should we wake them?”

“No. They have to make up for lost time. Plus him being here will probably be better for her moral.”

---

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @sillyfreakfanparty

#james beaufort #maxton hall #james beaufort x reader #maxton hall: the world between us

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syrupfog · 3 months

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Hmmmm Sanji keeps his dress from Kambakka but one day when he’s looking for something deep in his locker the dress falls out and the crew get ahold of it.

They think he’s stolen it from some poor girl and they scold him for it, how dare he actually act on his perv tendencies?

And Sanji like. Feels real weird and sad and upset and doesn’t understand why. Just grabs the dress and throws it overboard in a huff. Doesn’t explain to them where it came from because why would he.

But he. He dwells on it. He’d kept the dress because he liked it.

Well. The dress was ugly. But he liked what it did to him. Made him feel… soft inside.

But he can’t buy another one, not now. He knows, intrinsically, that it would be soul destroying for the crew to find a second dress and connect the dots— that they would realise that the dress is for him. That they would call him perverted for wanting to actually wear the dress.

It’s one thing to yell at him for stealing a dress. It’s another thing entirely for them to yell at him for owning it for himself.

He doesn’t know why. Just knows that it would hurt. So badly. For them to associate perverted actions with his desire to feel that… softness again.

So he doesn’t. He doesn’t dare buy anything like that again, buries that self down deep for years.

Maybe it’s after Luffy’s become pirate king. Maybe it’s after everything has settled down a bit. The crew meets with the Revolutionary Army and Iva is there.

And damn him, Iva just KNOWS things he shouldn’t, can strip someone bare with just a look. But when he looks to Sanji his expression is so SAD and it makes Sanji angry. How dare he be disappointed in him? Sanji’d never promised him anything, any change.

Maybe Iva takes him aside and Sanji’s ready for a lecture or a fight but all Iva does is say that if Sanji wants, he can raid Iva’s closet anytime. He’s welcome to anything in it.

Sanji knows that there’s a lot of fishnets and leotards in there, but also… those dresses.

And maybe, I mean, they’re in a public place, maybe Zoro overhears.

And he’s close enough to clock Sanji’s expression. He’s known the cook long enough to know what yearning looks like on him.

I dunno! I dunno what happens next! Probably that Zoro watches Sanji a lot because that’s what he does! Probably that he reevaluates small things like the way Sanji gazes in shop windows! Probably he does something really stupid like makes brazen comments at dinner

About how the revolutionaries could probably teach Nami a thing or two about clothes and even the guys look good in those romper things and skirts or whatever.

He’s probably real bad at it!! He’s saying dumb shit and Nami gets mad because she dresses just how she wants shut up!

Man. I dunno it prob still takes a while. But this is still before Sanji and Zoro are together. Because I think that Zoro supporting Sanji as a member of the crew is nice, that Sanji never worries that this is Zoro being blinded by love and willing say do things he doesn’t mean.

Like this is gruff annoying Zoro who fights with him and argues with him but Sanji sees the openings he gives.

Maybe the next time, another 6 months or a year down the line, that they see Iva, Zoro drags Sanji to her closet. Says “come on cook she could teach you some lessons in fashion, the suits are getting old.”

And maybe that’s the first time in three or four years that Sanji considers it. Puts on a dress that’s tight around the waist and it’s not tailored well— all his suits are tailored perfectly— but he gets that soft feeling again.

And it’s so fucking embarrassing to cry in front of Zoro so he doesn’t.

Or at least Zoro doesn’t comment on it.

And Zoro insists that Sanji takes it. He grabs a few others and throws them into Sanji’s arms and he’s somehow managed to pick out the most hideous ones that Sanji can imagine, but he’s overwhelmed and touched.

And maybe he starts small, back on the ship, but Zoro acts as a guard dog against the idea of anyone saying anything. Only has to actually snap at someone once (it’s Brook. Come on, man.) about how it’s not a perv thing get your eyes fixed (yohoho I don’t have eyes!) and Sanji takes a bit to recover from that but he does. Eventually.

And dresses aren’t an all the time thing they’re impractical and sometimes just not what his brain wants.

But maybe an extra bit of lace on his suits is good sometimes. Or a bodice under his collared shirt, just for the shape it gives him.

Or, on very rare occasions (when most of the crew is off exploring for the day) a miniskirt.

Maybe some days it’s nothing.

It’s fine. It’s all fine. It just gives him that soft feeling inside, that settled, good feeling.

It’s just, you know, a quiet happy ending.

(Also yeah he and Zoro start hooking up and then get together and all of that is messy as HELL and full of fights and crying and two day breakups and getting back together but that’s a different thing. Totally unrelated).

#zosan #my writing

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torakowalski · 1 month

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More Swimmer Steve!

(part one | part two | part three | part four)

"Kinda cold to be sitting out here," Steve says, dropping down onto the grass to sit next to Eddie. He leans his back against the hotel wall and blows on his hands.

"Can't smoke in my room," Eddie says, staring out into the dark evening. "My roommate's quitting."

"Sounds like a drip," says Steve. He picks up the packet that Eddie has been making his way through, gives it a shake, then puts it back down without asking to borrow a light.

Eddie's relieved; with the way he's feeling, he totally would have given one over, even though Steve really is serious about quitting this time.

"Nah," he says. "He's an athlete."

Steve laughs a little under his breath. "And an idiot."

That gets Eddie turning toward him. "Huh?"

Steve rubs his hands up and down his thighs, skin making a gentle noise against his denim jeans.

"I mean, I knew you liked guys, it just never occurred to me that that meant I should act different. I'm sorry, man. I won't forget to take underwear into the bathroom with me, anymore."

That...is not what Eddie expected. Eddie has been sitting out here, trying to work out if he had the cash for a Greyhound home, if Steve kicked him out of the hotel. This is not that. At all.

" You knew I liked guys?" Eddie asks. Far as he knows, the only people who know are Robin and Gareth and Wayne and Dustin, what with how they're the only people he's told. "Did Robin -?"

Steve shakes his head. "She wouldn't. No one told me, I just... You know how you just know?"

"No?" says Eddie who has never ever trust his ability to know that. The idea of getting it wrong is too frightening.

"Huh," says Steve. "I always seem to know. With guys, at least." He smiles a little to himself. "I'm not so good at spotting lesbians."

"They camouflage," Eddie says, automatically. Even he doesn't know what he means by that, but it makes Steve laugh, which is all he ever wants. "But like, you're cool? We're cool?"

"I guess that's up to you." Steve turns to him, devastating eyes all big and earnest. "I'm the one who's been... What did Robin say? Exposing myself to you."

Eddie chokes. "That makes you sound like a creep in the park."

"That's what I said!" Steve knocks his knee against Eddie's. "But anyway, I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. I know you weren't trying to like, taunt me or anything. I thought I was being a creep for like looking."

"You barely looked," Steve says which, how does he know? Did he look at Eddie looking? "And it's no skin off my nose, if you do." He catches Eddie's eye, bounces his eyebrows up and down. "You deserve a treat."

"Oh you're a treat, huh?" Eddie asks. He reaches out, gives Steve's arm a shove, and feels about a year's worth of panic melt away.

Steve just smiles, smug and annoying and fully aware of what he looks like.

He leans back against the wall, staring out across the parking lot. "It's just cos I'm a guy, right?"

Eddie hums a question at him.

"I mean, you're looking, or not looking, because I'm a guy and you like guys. Not because of anything to do with me?"

Eddie freezes. He doesn't do that much; he's much more inclined to flight or fight. Mostly flight, let's be honest. But right now, he doesn't know what Steve wants to hear, so he doesn't know what to say.

Steve huffs, turns to Eddie so Eddie can see him rolling his eyes at himself. "Sorry, stupid question."

"It's kinda because it's you," Eddie admits, because Steve looks like he thinks it _isn't_ and that's apparently unacceptable to Eddie. "Like, a little. Partly."

He holds his pointer finger and thumb an inch or so apart, so Steve can see how much of Eddie's horniness is dependent on Steve's Steveness.

"Huh," Steve says and grins. "That's cool. "

"It... is?" Eddie asks. "Not super fucking weird?"

Steve shakes his head. "No? I mean, I had way more than a little, partly thing for Robin for ages, but after we talked everything, it wasn't weird to her. That's basically the same thing."

Sometimes Eddie has no idea how Steve's brain works. "How?"

"Because!" says Steve, like it's obvious. He definitely picked that tone up from Dustin. "My sexy parts were into hers, but hers weren't into mine, no one's fault, just the way they were made. So if she wasn't weird about me, I'm sure as shit not gonna be weird about you. You know?"

He does a little shrug, hands spread. Eddie knows he hates explaining himself.

"You're something else, Harrington," Eddie says.

"In a good way?" Steve asks.

"In a great way," Eddie promises.

"Cool." Steve nods to himself. "In that case, give me a cigarette."

He reaches for the packet. "Not on your life, you're not that great," Eddie lies, and snatches it away from him.

(continued here)

#stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #swimmer steve #snippets #I firmly believe that Steve's gaydar is impeccable #Boy is good at people

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justauthoring · 9 months

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Shoko Just Can't be Right [2]

a series of snapshots of your life with geto and gojo -> this part: what if shoko's convinced and maybe she's just right?

a/n: finally wrote the second part.... hehe.

pairing: satosugu x f!reader, shoko x f!reader

read the other parts here: one - two - three - four

"There is no way."

"Uh, yes, there is."

Sending Shoko a blank look, you scoff.

But, as per her style, she doesn't relent.

"Y/N," she deadpans, reaching across the desk to take your hands in her own, squeezing them enough to pull your gaze on her's once again. "I say this with complete and utter confidence, they're in love with you."

"Shoko," you call back, mimicking her tone; "they're in love with each other."

"True," she offers with a light shrug. "But also you."

Your mind blanks with the utter disbelief and ridiculousness of it all. "Is that even... possible? I mean, to be in love with two people at once?"

You didn't think so.

"Probably," she shrugs, "I mean with love anything's possible, right?"

And you can tell with the shit-eating grin on her face, she's finding this all too funny. Honestly, if you were on her side of things, you'd probably get a kick out of the whole thing as well but alas, you weren't and it wasn't easy to ignore the crushing of your heart as the hope you're desperately trying to hold back tries to sliver it's way past.

Ugh. Hope. What an entirely stupid and ridiculous--

"They do say that."

Back straightening, every muscle in your body tightens at the sound of Gojo's voice. It was, honestly, the last person you wanted to hear right that second; by default just because it was, well, him, but also because with Gojo, Geto was usually trailing behind...

A glance over your shoulder tells you you're correct.

Just as you thought.

You catch Shoko perking up out of the corner of your eye, and instantly a sense of dread floods you; this cannot be good.

"What are you two talking about?" Geto asks, coming to a stop next to Gojo, hands shoved leasurely into his pocket, brow raised with curiosity.

"Well—"

"Nothing!" You cut in sharply before Shoko can finish, sending her a glare over your shoulder (to which she rolls her eyes), pushing yourself to your feet. "Actually, we should be going because we—"

"Awehhh!" A loud whine cuts you off, eyes flickering over to Gojo whose slumped over dramatically; "but I was hoping you'd wanna hang with us."

Hang with them?

Alone?

That sounds like both a blessing and absolute nightmare. Especially with the thoughts that Shoko has invested in your mind—you could barely look at them now without thinking about her words; they're in love with you. God, why did she have to go around telling you that?

Making you think—for even just a second—that that could ever be true.

Because it wasn't. Obviously.

Geto and Gojo loved each other. That was true. Yes, that had been true since the very first moment you'd laid eyes on the both of them. The last to join them in their first year. The two of them, including Shoko, had already gotten aquainted with one another (some more than others). The three of them had spent four whole months with just them and no one else and had been able to bond.

And then you came in.

Clueless about the jujutsu world and about what a jujutsu sorcerer even was. Your whole world had been turned upside down and you were far outside of your element.

And yet, despite all that, you'd walked into that classroom that day and amongst Gojo's rather cocky greeting, Geto's simple one and Shoko's enthusiastic one (she'd expressed her fondness quite plainly for no longer being the only girl), you'd seen how much Geto and Gojo loved each other.

They were pretty obvious about it, even if at the time neither of them had known about the other's feelings.

So, yes, Shoko couldn't be right. She knew she wasn't saying it all to be mean, she wasn't like that—clearly she'd seen or heard something that had lead her to this incorrect assumption.

Because that's all it was.

An assumption.

One you wouldn't let yourself be swayed by for one second.

"Y/N?"

Blinking, you're pulled from your thoughts with a snap, focusing in on Geto who's leaning down to meet your gaze, concerned, with a baffled Gojo slightly behind him, the both of them looking at you rather intensely.

And, when you turn your head to the right, Shoko's gone.

"Are you okay?"

"Where..." Your words trail, in disbelief.

"Oh," Geto mumbles, pulling back as he realizes where you're looking. "She left for a smoke, said that she didn't mind rescheduling your plans. I do believe she added to the end of it, 'anything to get Gojo to shut up'."

"Hey!"

That sneaky little—

You turn to face both boys, quite honestly dumbstruck.

But then Gojo is shoving his face in yours, grinning; "so? Let's go!"

You sputter; "wh-where?"

To a sweets cafe. That's where.

Gojo all but drags you there, ignoring your protest to at least let you change, simply calling over his shoulder that; 'you look adorable!' which absolutely was not true. You hadn't worn your uniform that day since it wasn't a school day, and you and Shoko had had plans to spend the day together campus which had lead you to wear a simple skirt with an oversized sweater over it. You weren't expecting to leave or go out or least of all be going out with both Geto and Gojo or else you would've probably dolled yourself up at least a little.

Which, yes, Gojo's words, albeit simple, did leave you even more flustered, cheeks flushed and stuttering for a response all whilst Geto chuckled lightly behind you, clearly amused to himself.

But both Geto and Gojo are dominating of your time and don't allow you even a second of an escape, chatting your ears off happily whilst Gojo goes to the counter to order an array of sweet, leaving you and Geto to find a table.

You have to admit that the cafe is quite cute and the sweets you'd managed to grab for yourself (with the help of Geto, who promptly slapped Gojo's hand away when he tried to steal one of them) were delicious. Geto had gone back to the counter to order you a drink and although you weren't always used to be with either of them alone, the two of them were chatty enough that you didn't feel awkward or tense with silence.

It wasn't that you didn't get along with them. You did. Despite your rocky first impression of Gojo, you got along with the both of the extremely well.

But that was at school. In class. Or, at the very least, with Shoko. You weren't used to having to fend off the both of them and although you cared for them both greatly, they were both intimidating in different ways.

In ways you weren't.

Shoko always said you were too quiet. Too easy. You said yes to anything someone asked you of and you didn't often argue even if it wasn't something you weren't comfortable with. It had taken Shoko months before you properly opened up to her, but Geto and Gojo were confident and skilled and people seemed to bend over backwards for them just because, well, they were them.

People treated them differently than they treated you because you were quiet where they were loud, nervous where they were confident, and soft where they were hard.

(Little did you know that Geto and Gojo absolutely adored this about you—despite how incredibly self-conscious you were about it yourself).

Still, the day goes on well. And you find yourself rather enjoying their company.

You've all been there for just over an hour when you excuse yourself to the washroom, slipping past Geto in a way that has your cheeks burning red and flustered as you make your way to the ladies room.

It's on your way back that things take a bit of a downward shift.

A firm hand wraps itself around your upper arm, halting you in your tracks and pulling a surprised gasp from your lips as your world is tilted on it's axis briefly.

Then, suddenly, there's a group of boys surrounding you.

"Hey," one of them smiles at you, though it's all cold and no warmth. "Do you go to school around here? Don't think we've seen you before."

"And I think we'd remember a face like yours." Another one pipes up, your head shifting to the right to find him towering over you.

The one on your left steps closer, smirking down at you. "Noticed it as soon as you walked in here," he grins, wide and menacing. His eyes drift across you, low in a way that makes your chest tighten uncomfortably, then back up to your eyes. "You new?"

They're too close.

"N-No," you force out, shaking your head as you try to push them away. "Sorry, my-my friends are—"

"Yeah, those two guys, right?"

A hand falls on your back, and you tense.

"We could show you a far better time, you know?"

"Yeah," a laugh, "why settle for them, when—"

Another hand falls on you. But it's different. Warmer. Familiar.

You're pulled away and tucked against a chest, glancing up to see Geto's familiar figure looming behind you, his gaze threatening but it instantly softens as he glances down at you.

Gojo steps in front of you, blocking you from their view.

"I do believe you're making Y/N uncomfortable," Gojo grounds out and his voice is so unlike anything you've ever heard. It's dark, cruel, all trace of his usual goofiness and teasing gone.

You can't see his face, but if it's anything like Geto's, you're sure the face matches his tone.

"I would fuck off now." Geto growls from behind you, low enough you feel his chest rumble in reaction. "Before we make you."

You don't see it. Geto doesn't let you. But none of the three boys even get a word out before they're scampering off with paled skin and pleading cries of mercy, racing out of the cafe and not sparing another glance back.

What—

Gojo spins to face you and he's grinning, wide and bright, stepping towards you. "Sorry about that darling," he calls out, ruffling your hair. "We got worried when you took a while to come back."

"Should've called for us," Geto mumbles, squeezing your shoulder in a soft, reassuring sort of way. "Let us know you were in trouble."

Gojo's hand falls on your cheek, cupping it, face suddenly serious but not in the same menacing way as before but concerned. "We'll always come when you're in trouble."

Geto nods; "so, don't feel afraid to rely on us."

They're in love with you.

Shoko's word taunt you in the back of your mind, completely stunned by Geto and Gojo as they move to walk, neither of them letting go of you, Geto's hand on your back and Gojo's hand wrapped around yours, leading out of the cafe.

They're close. They still close. Refusing to slip away.

I mean with love anything's possible, right?

Shoko just couldn't be right. She just couldn't...

Could she?

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satosugu #satosugu x reader

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nanaminsmoon · 1 year

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babydaddy!connie x blackfem!reader

a/n: this one made my heart ache a little icl. but i had to put this song because it goes so well😭

pt.2

cw: pnv, unprotected sex, infidelity (reader cheats), connie calls reader; 'ma', 'hermosa', ”es bueno, ma?” ("is it good, ma?"), "quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you” ("you want another kid, hm? [...] tell me, and i'll give it to you"),

wc: 3380

“why’s my daughter telling me you got a boyfriend?”, booming from where its owner was stood at the door, connie’s voice abruptly entered your ear canals to bring your attention to him. after hugging your daughter, you had kept your front door open for connie to come in if he wanted to. and, when he followed you both inside, you had just assumed he was bringing in your daughter’s belongings. even as he stuck around after having placed her bags in her bedroom, his presence was dashed to the back of your mind. now, as your child sat in the garden eating with her aunt, he was demanding your attention as he leant against the doorframe.

“because i do”, your eyes were trained on the soapy dishes in front of you, and they wouldn’t divert as you spoke. meaning you didn’t see the incredulous expression on your ex-boyfriend’s face, as his features scrunched at your straight forward response.

“the fuck you need a boyfriend for?”, he asked. confusion was laced through every word in that sentence to hold it together so it could leave his mouth. barely.

“because we can't fuck as friends forever, connie. at some point we both need to move on, and i have”, you answered, frankly. the decision to coparent came after you and connie decided to break up four years ago. and four long years had been hastened by sunday sunsets spent behind closed bedroom doors when he returned your daughter back to you. meaning that suspicions did rise when the emotions sprawled on your face, at the end of every week, had become more impassive—the lustful glimmer in your irises, dimming to a seemingly more platonic one. yet, connie never said anything, he just assumed you wanted space. that’s not to say that it didn’t bother him, but he knew that he couldn’t beg you to come back to him. as much as he did want to.

because, contrary to popular belief, connie had changed since you two broke up. having heard the news of you having a boyfriend, old connie would’ve had a video of some girl throwing ass on him seared into the back of your eyelids by sundown. but old connie had never developed an understanding of how important his family was, and new connie would lose his life before he lost his girls. yet, these two different versions of the same man still shared one similarity; their love for antagonising you.

“so you're just bringing randoms into the place my daughter sleeps?”, connie exaggerated as he always did, irritation audible in his tone. and you’d roll your eyes at him.

“first off, he's not a random, he's my boyfriend. and second, this is my house, i can bring in whoever i want”, you said, wiping a pan. that term, ’my boyfriend’, was an anvil that sunk connie’s intestines to his feet in a way he had never felt before. it was hard to put a finger on what exact feeling it induced, but he did know that it pressed his dreams, of getting his family back, into grains of sand that would escape his grasp through the growing gaps in his fingers.

“has she met him?”, he asked, cautiously, looking at his sock covered feet in the slippers you had always kept for him. in the past, that had been a gesture that made him feel at home with you; something that made him feel like you still cared for him the way he did you. but now, the slippers felt uncomfortable. like they were growing in size, and the only person capable of wearing them was someone he could never be—like he couldn’t fill them anymore, and you knew that so you had gotten someone else to do it.

“yeah, he came over and cooked us dinner and she loved it.”, you said, tone coming out more braggy than you had hoped. and that hurt connie more than it angered him, but the latter was the only thing he was capable of expressing.

“so what, you gonna marry him?”, those words were abrupt, even surprising connie’s ears. but they’d be met with a scoff from your glossed lips as annoyance built inside you. your love life was none of his concern, and he knew that, so his entitlement infuriated you beyond belief.

“i don't know, connie”, you said, vexed, as you waved him off, “even if i was, why’s that any of your business?”,

“’cause you're the mother of my child. as long as she's here, your business is my business”, the truth in that statement rested in what connie didn’t say. that being, you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with so, whether you liked it or not, his heart had already staked its claim on you. and he needed to know who to fend off, to keep you by his side.

no thoughts spawned in your mind at that statement, so you’d just remain silent as you continued what you were doing. that gave connie enough time to search for straws to clutch at to get you back. but he could only ever draw one. that was the one that placed a small smile on his face as his tongue swiped across his bottom lip; if connie couldn’t win your mind over, he’d try his luck at the one thing that refused to obey the former.

”so we’re done? not even one more time for the road?”, connie’s shoulder pushed his body off the doorframe, before he started making his way toward you. a stutter in your mind would replay that phrase, ’one more time for the road’, until it finally clicked.

“we're not fucking, no”, you said, avoiding eye contact.

“just quickly, ma. i know you miss it.”, connie’s smirk would only widen when his statement received no rebuttal. and it’d stay that way as he walked to stand right behind you—he’d place a hand on either side of you, pushing you right against the counter. all you could muster was a harsh swallow as connie moved closer to you, and his breath would be touching your neck as he spoke, voice lowered.

"you used to call me all the time telling me you ain't never had dick like this. and i know he ain't fucking you good enough for you to forget about me", connie’s lips brushed past your ear. a brief shudder would intensify to wring out any suppressed longing you held for him, producing a moist patch at the front of your underwear. and that was before you could even feel his desperation, to keep you his, pressing into your lower back. once that’d register, you’d have to breathe deeply to release the temptation building within you.

"i'm not cheating on my man, connie", you said, voice shaking. a sigh would fall from connie’s lips, hitting the spot on your neck they planned to cover, before transfiguring into a tingle that explored your back. one of connie’s favourite things about you was your loyalty, so that answer was expected. but he’d still kiss his teeth at the knowledge that it was now being directed toward someone else.

"then leave him", he’d say, an inch away from your neck, before his plump lips would attach to the skin there. a proprietorial mark would be etched onto your skin when connie heard you sigh out in pleasure. the erasure of all his doubts would arrive when you tilted your head to give him better access. and those doubts would then be quashed completely when your hand rose to run your fingers through his buzzcut.

a few more kisses to the neck, combined with connie’s hand venturing into the front of your leggings to rub away all loyalties to your man, affirmed connie’s statements about you missing him. but once you were in the privacy of your bedroom, he could actually feel how much you missed him; your need for him was prominent in the way you tightened around his length like you feared letting him go. this was the first time where fucking you was a welcomed struggle, pulling out of you being a necessity he wanted to avoid. mainly due to the connection of your foreheads, connie couldn’t see anything but you; the noises you made, your scent, the look he could discern in your eyes when they weren’t exploring their sockets, all of it warmed his heart in an infuriatingly delightful way. and there was no way you hadn’t missed him, and the way he knew your body inside out. the way he knew where to kiss as your legs rested over his shoulders, a pillow sat underneath your hips as your nails painted stripes onto the skin on his back. five years ago, connie fucked you in every position he could think of, but separation birthed the need for closeness. so now, whenever you two fucked, it was always in a position that allowed for his eyes to be locked with yours as his tip poked that spot that had made you nut twice already.

”es bueno, ma?”, he asked and you’d nod a reply, pulling a smile from the man above you. you were all he could see, and perhaps that’s why he saw love in everything that surrounded him.

prior to this point in his life, connie’s need to build a family with you had never been a focal point for him. but now it was all he could see; he saw it in the envy that followed him around at the sight of families happily laughing together, he saw it in the ducks dutifully trailing their mother at the pond near your house, and he felt it when the merging of you and your daughter’s giggles made his heart feel swollen in a way he could never soothe. if he had it his way, you’d both be married with four kids living in some mansion somewhere. but when push came to shove, his ideals only ever amounted to short-lived ‘conversations’ when you two were fucking,

”quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you”, a fucked out mutter would always fall from your lips, and that’s the only answer he could ever get from you. because the answer you gave him any other time, tore his heart into a million pieces he had yet to locate. your boyfriend posed a new challenge for him, so connie would have to tell you how he felt before he lost you forever. feverish kisses would be placed on any skin connie would reach, as his hips sped up. pleasured mumbles would mean nothing to him, because he could feel your body warning him of your release.

”i’m yours, hermosa, just—fuck—nut on it”, he’d instruct, and your body would obey. this man was fucking you so good, you could’ve sworn you felt your soul leave its vessel, to watch you coating connie and the bed underneath you, in your arousal. and connie wouldn’t be far behind—hips losing their rhythm, and low ’fuck’s leaving his mouth before he started kissing you again.

”ifuckingloveyou”, he messily kissed onto your lips and surprise struck you so hard, you didn’t even register your own mouth speaking back to him,

”mmloveyoutoo”, those words would be enough to trigger a twitching in connie’s balls that would empty them, until he was leaking out of you.

the kiss you two shared was bittersweet, both literally and figuratively. not just due to the lingering taste of the results of your aching throat, mixing with the reason why you could still feel his lips wrapping around your clit, but also because connie felt like he was flirting with a dream that could never be realised. but that wouldn’t stop you two from losing yourself in each other and making out for a few minutes. until you’d hear a knock. all movements would be halted, and there’d be silence from behind the door. then winces, and small hisses of discomfort, would fill the space as connie pulled out of you before getting up to put his boxers on. he’d step off the bed, walking over to the door to tend to, who he thought was, his daughter.

”princesa, we’ll be out in a second, okay?”, connie shouted to the other side of the door, but the voice he heard was not the one he was expecting.

“the fuck’s going on?!”, connie’s eyes would dart back to your wide ones, before a smirk would quickly grace his face. it was clear to see that he was trying his very hardest to not burst into laughter, despite your panic being written all over you. disorientation clouded you to the point that you didn’t even realise that the shirt you decided to put on your body was connie’s. but he would. and he wouldn’t say anything, even as you walked to the door to talk to your boyfriend.

”i can explain”, is all you’d manage to get out to your man, before he’d open the door further to find connie sitting himself on the bed, covering himself with the sheets he’d just put on his lower half. the lower half of his face remained smug, but the upper half of it was focused as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him; desperate hands grappling to hold your boyfriend’s arms or hands, as he paced the room, trying to digest what he was seeing. connie’s enjoyment would be short-lived, ending when he heard the angry words your boyfriend was throwing at you.

”shoulda fucked her better, then i wouldna had to do it”, he said, still laid on the bed. the room would fall still once again, and you’d look at him in pleading. he’d shrug, but acquiesce, not saying anything after that comment. that seemed to be the final straw for your boyfriend, because he’d say something about needing to go outside before walking out.

the blustering of infuriated footsteps would fade out as you followed your boyfriend down the hallway to the front door. connie would sit in waiting, leaning against the headboard, as he contemplated what this meant for the both of you, but those thoughts would be cut short at your return. alone. it turns out, no amount of apologies or promises that this will never happen again could convince your boyfriend to stay. and, though that elated connie more than he cared to admit, he couldn’t help the lump forming in his throat at the sight of your slumped posture as you sandwiched your lip between your teeth, swallowing pained tears. that lump would block any sly comments he planned to make. in fact, he wouldn’t even speak as he got up to walk to you, hands reaching to pull you closer to him. even as you pushed him away,

”leave me alone”, you chided, quietly. but, no matter how hard you pushed, connie would overpower you to pull you into the warmest hug you’d had in months. its warmth would invite your arms to wrap around him, sobs spilling into his bare chest the second your cheek touched it. not once letting go, connie would pull you back into bed, wrap you in the sheets, before comforting you. relief drowned a certain of him as it knew that he had a chance of getting you back. but the part of him that still had its head above water wrestled with guilt; there’s nothing this man wanted for you than happiness, and seeing his hands be the ones to take it away from you pained him.

the commotion of everything numbed you to your environment, so it would be only a few moments before your distraught sobs would reach the ears of the person you wanted to hear them least. small knocks would bring yours and connie’s attention to the half-open door, and you’d try to get yourself together, but there was only so much you could do to hide the shadows of sorrow reddening your eyes, and creating darkened splotches on connie’s shirt. as soon as you saw your daughter reach up to comfort you, you’d climb off the bed and hug her, feeling your heart start to glue back together when she wiped a tear off your face. both you and connie would instruct her to wait for you in the living room and you’d begin getting dressed properly once you’d hear her run off excitedly.

the both of you would get dressed, and walk down the stairs, in silence. the most connie would provide would be an arm around your shoulder, and a kiss to your temple, which you accepted happily. and, as soon as you were within an earshot of the living room, you’d hear ’the little mermaid’ playing for the nth time, accompanied by the usual harmonisations provided by your daughter’s jovial singing. you’d be admiring the blankets, cushions, and snacks she had set up before you’d be distracted by the rustling of connie putting his shoes and coat on. every fibre of your being would beg you to stop him, but you’d try and convince yourself that he probably had somewhere to be. however, such considerations meant nothing to your hand that was already reaching to grab at his own,

”stay.”, you asked quietly, and his eyes would widen at the request. of course he wanted to stay, but he didn’t think you’d want to spend another minute around the man who had just ruined your relationship. but then once your daughter ran up to him, pouting while asking,

”please~”, his decision would be made for him.

as you watched the movie, you’d notice connie’s eyes fixated on you. at first you thought he was watching your daughter wave her little mermaid doll around but, when you’d turn to check, you’d be met with direct eye contact. his lips would fall agape only to meet again, before they’d open to allow their owner to mouth a belated apology,

”i’m sorry”, his swollen lips would trace out, and a forgiving ”it’s okay” would be mouthed by your own lips. there’d a second where you’d just be staring at each other in mutual love and understanding. it was obvious that this chapter wasn’t finished, not when the authors holding the pens had changed immensely since the day the first page of the book had been written. but small hands would rise to push your faces to face the screen, and connie’s own inability to forgive himself for his actions would shift his eyes to the floor. that’s when they’d narrow in on the slippers that did nothing but breed insecurity. a small voice in his head would ask him if they still felt hard to fill, and admittedly, they still did. yet, looking at them again, he didn’t mind that. though the future still held uncertainties, the feeling of you and your daughter leaning on him, as his arm reached around to embrace you both, filled the gaps of himself he had lost confidence in. because this was all he had ever wanted; to become a person that could be leant on by the people he cared for most. both of you. for as long as his lungs held breath, and for as long as the image of you and your child falling asleep on him every night, was the only one his subconscious could conjure up when his head met his pillow at the end of every day.

#nanaminsmooninc #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #connie springer x black reader #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie smut #aot connie #Spotify

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earlysunshines · 6 months

Text

are we still friends? (can we be friends?)

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff, angst

synopsis: seeing sana again during christmas causes feelings to resurface

warnings: food ; alcohol ; datzu crumbs ; cursing ; proofread halfway bc i got lazy + grammar and spelling errors probably

a/n: how to write angst?? am i cooked?? (I'm cooked) ALSO I wrote this in December so a lonnnngg time ago like when I touched the doc for the first time two days ago it said last edited 12/30/23 T-T

“y/n! come help with the decorations, it a bit tough to reach.” your mom calls out from the entrance.

pausing in your place, you turn to respond to her, “i’ll be there in a bit, let me finish mixing everything.”

“okay honey. make sure to wear a coat when you get out here, it’s chilly!” she yells back before closing the door.

a giggle leaves your lips as you continue to sift the dry ingredients, trying not to spill the flour and sugar. when you’re done with a part of your cookie process, you wash your hands and throw on your puffer jacket before heading out to help your mom.

christmas is in four days and your mom has this annual thing where she throws a big party at your place every christmas eve. she invites all her friends who are back in town—some even fly out to come to this big event—and it goes on until the concerningly late hours of the night.

your mom didn’t get to throw this big party last year because she was terribly sick, so you missed it that time, but now she’s so back.

this means you’re in charge of the baking (yet again) and also helping her out everywhere. it’s not that you don’t enjoy this, if anything you look forward to this event—just not this year, it won’t be the same as the previous christmas parties.

your mom has this friend who moved in five minutes away from your house when you were twelve, and they had a daughter your age. of course, both your mothers found a way to get you guys to meet, and eventually, you’d be spending the majority of your middle and high school years together stuck by the hip.

her name was minatozaki sana; she was the first person you had fallen in love with inside and out.

she had this type of vibrance to her that spread through her surroundings like a bullet train. if the room was dim, it’d seem like she had brought a piece of the sun inside just by being there, instantly illuminating it. it was palpable that she had her flaws, everyone did, but with the way she held herself up and gave her all, you’d see right past her imperfections and into that warm heart of hers.

sana expected nothing and appreciated everything, that’s what made her lips curl up into a contagious grin. the streaks of creased skin in the corner of her eyes as she flashed that toothy grin gave everyone the intimation that she was simply overjoyed to be able to have the ability to love and to care. she was so beautiful in the way she found adoration so enticing, and that’s why you had fallen in love with her.

your years with her passed by quickly, each year was filled with vibrant memories that led you to fall even deeper into her charm. however, you never mustered up the courage to tell her how you really felt toward her, and by the time you had gotten close to spilling out your pent up feelings; sana had found herself a little boyfriend.

chris was some guy on the basketball team—who was also a bit short and lacking skill to even make the team—he was an arrogant, pretentious, and egotistical snob who managed to win sana’s heart. how did he do this? who knows, everyone who’s interacted with him either hates his guts or is in love with his pathetic self.

he was only nice around sana, but you had seen him when he wasn’t pretending like there wasn't a stick up his ass. he was below the bare minimum and that’s how you’d describe him, he was nowhere near sana’s league. if anything, maybe you were just jealous (and that you were), but you knew what kind of person deserved sana—chris was not someone who deserved a wonderful woman like her.

that asshole managed to win sana’s heart and keep it for half of junior year and all of senior year of high school, then he managed to convince her to go to a college that was a five-hour flight away from home—and by the way, your town was a two-hour drive from a well-known, top notch university, one that you and sana agreed to go to when you were both in middle school.

there was no way you’d let sana go to that college, not when chris was the reason she was going. it was a school that wasn’t even comparable to the one not so far from home, the one that had significant alumni and programs fit for the both of you. sana could easily win a decent scholarship to the university you’ve been dreaming of going to, but she was going to let him change her mind in a matter of seconds.

there was no way you’d let that happen, so you simply walked over to her house and stormed up to her room after seeing her text regarding this whole plan, a fool’s plan.

you remember the argument that shattered your friendships in seconds, almost like it was yesterday.

“sana, you can’t just go to that school because of chris. look, i’m saying this as your friend and because i love you: he’s not all that, and the uni nearby has great health programs, they’re ten times better than the school over there and you know it.” you argue.

you’re pacing around the room that you and sana have had countless late-night conversations and sleepovers in, the place where you had done more for sana than chris did. your eyes land on the two strips of laminated paper that hold the memory of the time you two had gone to the photobooth on your sixteenth birthday, your brows crease at the sight of your cheeks squished with sana’s as the two of you posed. a heavy breath makes your lungs shrink as you exhale.

“i can’t let you do this, not for him sana.”

“but i love him so much y/n, you know this. he promised we could stay in an apartment together and that everything would be perfect, we have a whole future planned and i—”

“what about us sana?” you cut her off, voice breaking slightly. “what about our future? we promised that we’d go to that uni together, what happened to that? you’re going to throw it away for him?”

“you’re being ridiculous y/n, we were thirteen! things change and you need to grow up, look—”

“we’ve known each other since elementary school and you’re throwing away this opportunity for a guy whose grades are falling apart. not only that, he’s a fucking ass! you’ve come crying and complaining to me more times than i can count on my left hand.” you respond angrily, and much louder than you meant to.

sana looks at you in disbelief, her expression almost carrying some sort of disappointment or disgust. she scoffs and you feel your heart shatter just from hearing it, this isn’t like her at all.

“if you were so fucking annoyed by my misery then you could’ve told me,” she responds harshly, water lining her eyes.

“sana that’s not what i—"

“you’re supposed to be my best friend, always there for me and to support me. now look at you, what happened to that? can’t you be happy for me and chris? i seriously love him and all you’ve been is mopey and bitchy whenever he’s around.”

“i know more people that have treated you better than him. he’s an asshole sana, it’s clear as day and even dahyun agrees.”

her eyes meet the floor and she says in a smaller voice, “i love him y/n, and he loves me.”

not like i love you, never will he love you like that.

your features soften as you look at her. “sana you can’t—”

“get out of my room.” sana spits in a stinging tone that’s worse than a dagger to your heart. she shakes her head then turns to avoid your gaze and your heart completely shatters as you watch a tear slide down her cheek in the process. “get out of my house, i don’t want to hear it.”

“sana,” you begin, but when you hear her sniffle, you hold back everything that’s burning in your chest. your shoulders give up and sink in defeat before you croak out an “okay.”

turning around, you step out of her bedroom with a heavy heart and trembling lips. tears stream down your cheeks as you make your way out of the house where sana and you had spent countless hours together—hours that you’d never forget no matter how hard you tried.

each breath you take is visible in the cold air and snow compresses with each step you take whilst hanging up the christmas lights. your mother smiles once you pin the last string up and then you take a step back to admire the illuminating pattern of diverse hues beaming when your mom presses the “on” button.

“thank you again honey, i appreciate it.” your mom says, holding your hand and squeezing it gently.

you turn and smile at her, shaking your head before responding, “anytime mom.”

the two of you enter the house again and immediately you’re on your way back to the kitchen to finish up your famous cookies. you three different types of cookies: chocolate chip cookies (the fastest batch to be eaten), matcha cookies with white chocolate chips, and ube cookies—sana’s favorites.

“ube? what’s that?” sana says, giggling softly as you hand her a purple cookie with white chocolate chunks.

“just try it sana, you’ll love it.” you assure, urging her to try. “it’s purple too, how could you not?”

she rolls her eyes at you then picks up the sweet treat, taking a bite of the cookie. it’s crunchy on the outside and perfectly soft on the inside, making her shoulders sink down and eyes close when the new, thrilling flavor meets her tastebuds.

“so, how is it?” you ask, raising your brows. sana simply smiles and nods, shooting a dorky thumbs up before taking another bite.

“it’s wonderful, it’s like coconut and nutty and has vanilla and oh my gosh it’s so… it’s really good.” she sighs, melting as she consumes your baked good. she looks adorable.

you laugh at her response and take a bite of your own experiment, eyes widening at how good they were. sana was right, they’re wonderful.

“ah the purple cookies, those were a hit ever since you started making them.” your mom says, rubbing your back. she looks at you with some pity, knowing about your little falling out with sana.

you simply smile and nod. “i like them, i was going to save some for myself too.” you joke, easing some tension in the air.

“well, i’m going to call your dad up, go visit the kim’s later and tell them i said hi.” your mom insists, placing a twenty dollar bill on the marble counter. “heard they have a holiday latte out, you should try it. dahyun’s also been experimenting with her baking and beverages, she gets better each time i visit.”

“of course she is,” you chuckle lightheartedly, “let me just finish these last cookies and i’ll put them in the fridge for a bit. did you want anything from their place?”

“no, it’s fine. oh wait! i have a present for dahyun’s mom, can you give her this if she’s there?” she asks.

“mhm,” you hum, “just put it near my bag on the couch.”

“thanks sweetie, i’ll do that.” your mother beams, then rushes towards her room to grab whatever it was that she needed.

ring

the sound of the bell chimes throughout the café—which is not too busy other than the elderly group in the corner and a student typing away at their computer to the side. you catch sight of the familiar face, instantly grinning when you walk towards the register.

dahyun is turned away from you and cleaning the espresso machine, wiping it down and yelling a “welcome! feel free to check out the holiday pastries and beverages!” without turning towards you.

you laugh and speak up, “it’s nice to see you miss know-it-all.” and upon hearing your voice dahyun instantly turns around, beaming a bright grin and setting her rag down.

“y/n? you didn’t tell me you were in town? what the hell where were you last year?” she questions, walking out from behind the counter and then towards you to greet you with a warm hug. she smells like coffee grinds and cinnamon, you hug her back and smile.

“i was deathly sick last year, like seriously fighting for my life. i didn’t tell you?”

“no stupid, you didn’t.” she sighs, then pulls away to look at you. “i’ve only seen your instagram posts, haven’t seen you in a bit and wow… you look better than in the pictures.”

“thank you?” you giggle before she walks over to return back behind the register. “i’ve also seen your instagram… who’s that girl you’ve been posting? got a girl and didn’t fill me in with the details?” you pry, smirking cheekily.

“oh, tzu… gosh y/n we have so much to talk about, i’m glad you’re back in town.” dahyun says appreciatively, and you don’t miss the slight pink that dusts on her cheeks before she starts again, “let’s talk over some coffee. what can i get you? on the house by the way. we have like, thirty minutes before a bunch of people start piling in.”

a giggle leaves your lips again before you decide on a peppermint mocha. dahyun gets to work and weighs out the coffee grins as you situate yourself to the side, watching her work her magic.

the two of you catch up on what’s been going on with college, dahyun’s love life that you’ve missed out on, and what you’ve been up to yourself. twenty minutes pass and you’ve both ended up on some old memory that has the two of you laughing like idiots again, making both your stomachs hurt.

“so… we’ve talked about what’s been going on with me… what about you and your love life? bet you’ve met a girl too.” dahyun interrogates with a teasing tone.

“oh, well—” you begin, awkwardly staring at the cup in your hand. “i dated this girl for a while, but we ended up falling out and staying friends, nothing much… we just weren’t right for each other.”

“i see…” dahyun responds, holding herself back from bringing up the sensitive topic—or, well, person.

dahyun was aware of the falling out as well, but still stayed friends with sana. however, she was your friend before she met sana, so she had made sure if it was alright to keep contact and whatnot. of course you didn’t want your own personal problems to get in between other friendships, and you still loved sana despite everything that had happened so you gave dahyun the green light.

after running to dahyun the same night of the argument with sana, you cried for an hour or two in her room. this was the first time you turned to someone other than sana, and dahyun had been on your side of the whole situation, making it easier to comfort and reassure you. she also disliked chris, but not as much as she liked you.

she pretty much agreed with everything you had ranted about and thought it was stupid that sana would rather choose that asshole over someone like you, and later on you’d confess that you were in love with sana to dahyun. when everything had been rocky with sana, dahyun had been by your side, and you were grateful for that.

“well, maybe you’ll land yourself a kiss under the mistletoe, who knows who’ll be showing up to your christmas party.” dahyun nudges you, smiling as she hands you some peppermint chocolate bark treat. “i could always set you up~”

“it’s fine, really.” you guarantee. a smile spreads across your face and you dismiss her offer with a wave of your hand. “um, by the way… has um, has she stopped by or anything like that recently? does sana still visit—"

there’s another ring from the door opening that cuts you off, making dahyun’s attention redirect towards the customer walking in. her eyes widen and she pauses in place before smiling awkwardly, then she mumbles an uneasy “um, be back…” before walking over to the register.

you don’t think much of her weird mood shift and instead swirl around the small remainder of coffee in the latte cup.

“hi dahyun! it’s nice to see you again.” a voice beams.

you freeze in place, all of your body tensing up as soon as the familiar voice processes through your ears. it’s smooth, it’s sweet, and it has that same high-pitched ring and giggle that follows. immediately, your heartbeat spikes and you’re doing anything you can to avoid interacting or even looking in the woman’s direction.

“it’s nice to see you too sana,” dahyun greets with a bubbly tone. the name being uttered from dahyun’s mouth is enough to make your hands grip the cup in your hand a little tighter. “can i get you anything?”

“hm… i’ll have that peppermint mocha please. i’m also going to take a look around the bakery, i need to grab some treats for others. you know how it is, holidays and whatnot.” sana says in that adorable tone, it has you falling for her all over again just when you thought you’d gotten over everything that’s happened.

quickly, you finish the last sip of your coffee before setting the empty cup down abruptly. it makes a small yet noticeable sound with the glass plate it had been sitting on, making sana advert her gaze.

the small gift you had set down beside you is now placed on the glass that covers the display of christmas themed cakes. dahyun looks at you in confusion and tilts her head before you turn to smile at her, avoiding sana’s widening eyes.

“thanks for the coffee dahyun, take the present on the glass to your mom—it’s from my mom to yours.” you start, trying to keep your voice level

every ounce of restraint and discipline is fighting back the urge to simply glance at sana, who’s standing right in front of dahyun. you almost manage to avoid her, but it’s inevitable, your eyes land on your first love for the first time in almost two years.

she’s looking at you with parted lips and surprise, but she still looks as beautiful as you remember. sana looks a little more mature than when you last saw her; the curve of her jaw is sharper, lips somehow brighter and her features are more defined overall. sana is wearing a scarf that fits around her neck comfortably, a brown, fluffy sweater, and dark sweatpants with uggs to compliment the outfit. there’s simplicity in her look—she’s jaw dropping, the sight of her makes your jaw tighten and heartbeat spike.

her eyes meet yours for exactly three seconds, enough time to have every memory flowing in.

clearing your throat, you finish your farewell to dahyun with a smile, “i’ll see you around, my mom says hi to your mom, tell her i also said hi too. i’ll get going now, have a good one.”

your body doesn’t fight back the urge to glance at sana again—big mistake—before turning around and walking out the door.

sana keeps her look on you the whole time, baffled to see you here and her own heart yearns for you. she’s missed you more than you’d ever know, and more than she’d like to admit. it doesn’t help her case that you’re ten times more attractive than when she’d last seen you at graduation.

“you should talk to her.” dahyun says softly. sana keeps her eye on the door, you’re already out and probably in your car, but she keeps her eye on the door still.

“were you talking to her earlier?” sana asks, now turning to face the younger woman.

“we were catching up.” dahyun answers. the woman behind the register turns around to start making sana’s drink, unknowingly the same drink you had ordered. it all makes dahyun’s own heart sink in her chest a bit. “how long has it been since you’ve talked to her?”

“since graduation.” sana explains, looking down at the counter. “i messed up.”

dahyun turns around again to see sana, sorrow and regret etching into her features. the barista frows and reaches over to place her hand on sana’s shoulder, then rubs it gently.

“talk to her, there’s always time to fix things. especially with y/n.”

a few days past since that meeting, you’re still shaken up from it to say the least.

sana is too, but you aren’t aware of that.

to stray away from this event that is dreadfully close to leading to some form of existential crisis or spiral, you’re helping your mom out with setting up the last few decorations and tables while your cookies that you chilled a couple days ago bake.

dahyun is also coming over with her girlfriend in the evening to exchange a couple of greetings and to properly introduce her girlfriend tzuyu to you. your mother had met tzuyu before and talked highly about her, so you were excited to meet her yourself.

when the time comes, you hear a knock at the door and shoot up to answer it. you open the door and dahyun stands there with a nervous grin on her face. next to her stands tzuyu—and sana.

your eyes widen and your jaw tenses when you see her perfect face, standing next to tzuyu with this awkward smile. she’s wearing a gray pullover and black sweatpants; an orange scarf also wraps around her neck comfortably. she looks snug and cute as ever, no matter what she’s adorable in your eyes. your heart flutters and you get all nervous like a teenager again.

pushing away the edginess flowing throughout your whole being, you greet dahyun with a warm hug, then give tzuyu and friendly one as well. you’re not sure how to greet sana, being all shaken up by just her presence, so you resort to a smile and a small “hi sana,” then invite them all in.

sana walks in and her hand brushes against your arm on accident, the two of you definitely notice it—though you both decide to ignore it and the warmth in your chests.

your mom greets all the girls with a hug and the five of you sit down in your homey living room. sana sits across from you on the couch next to your mom, and you sit there avoiding eye contact as you all catch up.

an hour passes by and dahyun is over in the living room talking to your mom about what’s been going on with her parents and the bakery. in the meantime, you decide to give yourself a break from feeling all nervous just by being near sana.

standing up, you announce, “i’m going to the kitchen for a bit.” your mom simply raises her brows at your sudden departure, you’ve been silent for most of the conversation and it seems like you’re the only one affected by the tension in the room. “won’t be long.” you add, smiling weakly.

the fridge is still full of some essentials, and to the side, there’s some cold brew and your favorite coconut milk; everything you need is right where you need it. you head over to the counter and grab your favorite glass cup, heart stinging at the memory of when you had received it. it was one of the many gifts from sana.

you grab some ice and put it in the cup, then add your cold brew inside. then you grab a small cup with some honey and search for a spoon so you can mix it in with the coconut milk.

“drinking coffee at this time?” a voice says, making you freeze. you break out of your short trance and hum in response before continuing to make your drink.

“you know i can’t resist a good coffee, sana.” and the way her name slips off your tongue feels right. you haven’t said it often since the falling out and it still rolls off perfectly, it feels right coming from you. you’re hesitant to talk again, feeling her eyes drill into your back. something in your heart shifts and you manage to ask, “did you want something to drink?”

“yeah,” she answers, walking over to you and sitting at the kitchen island. “same thing you’re drinking, but sweeter.”

of course she wants it sweet, just like always.

“okay.”

your back is still turned towards sana and she watches you grab another glass. as you do so, she gets a glimpse of your own glass and smiles. “is that the cup i got you?”

still fixing up her drink, you nod and answer, “yeah. it’s my favorite.”

“a lot of your gifts are my favorites too.” she admits, her voice so soft and fragile that you’re scared the thick tension in the air might break it.

sana watches you turn around, but you still avoid her gaze. you place both cups on the surface of the kitchen island and begin to pour the coconut milk mixtures into the coffee. the liquids swirl as they combine, creating a satisfying view. sana’s quick to redirect her attention back to you, staring at your face again.

last time she had saw you at dahyun’s cafe, she only had the chance to get a simple glance at your features, not enough time to fully take in everything that’s changed about your apperance. there’s two new piercings on both ears and a new, small tattoo below your ear; the length of your hair is also noticeably longer. your lips part as you swirl both cups in your hands around, and then you take a quick glance to the side, allowing sana to admire your side profile and the unique curve of your nose and lips.

you hold the mug out for her and finally meet her eyes again. sana’s favorite thing about you were your eyes, they’re still as pretty as she remembers.

it’s some thursday night during your sophomore year of high school, you were supposed to be studying with sana for your math quiz tomorrow, but she had other ideas.

“stay still,” sana mumbles softly.

she situates you in the chair near her desk and tilts your head up with the fingers holding your chin. she’s inches away from you as she puts some sort of sponge on your face, brows creasing as she does so. your heart is racing.

after a couple of minutes, sana finishes up your makeup. she’s done some type of natural look on you, nothing too heavy or bold. you look at yourself through the mirror and take a moment to examine sana’s doings. as you do so, sana can’t keep her eyes off you.

something in her heart shifts as she admires you. her eyes land on your lips, they’re oddly alluring, and sana’s cheeks burn.

“sana you’re staring… do i look weird?”

“no,” she practically breathes out, mouth slightly agape. “you’re beautiful.” she says breathlessly, her expression turning all serious it makes you giggle awkwardly.

there have been many moments where sana has found you pretty, not just physically. your small gifts and reassurance have made her heart flutter, but she’s always figured that was just because she loved you deeply as a friend. but when you stare at her with those eyes in this moment, she’s so surprised by everything she feels. she's giddy and happy and warm inside and gosh her heart wants to jump out her chest and cling onto you. she's not opposed to the feeling; she always has this feeling aorunf you and she loves it. that's why she’s always around you in the first place.

her face burns and you’re gazing at her all confused, you look so cute.

growing nervous from how non-verbal sana has been, you try to shake her out of her trance. “hey, you’re scaring me. earth to sana? hellooooo…?”

“how are you so pretty all the time.” sana’s eyes soften and her whole body relaxes as she rests her head on her palm. “like, your face is so perfect and your eyes… god y/n, whoever gets to be with you would be so lucky, seriously. like, you’re honestly the prettiest girl in our school, how do you not have a boyfriend?”

your cheeks flush from the abrupt compliment, so you push her gently and giggle. sana giggles along with you, still star-struck. you’re both young and unknowingly in love with each other—giggles and teasing seem to be the only way to hide that.

sana has always found you attractive, after all these years she still hasn’t figured out why she made the mistake of pursuing chris instead of the person who was always there for her—and ten times prettier. you’ve always been right there, she’s a fool for looking right past you.

sana grabs the mug, still making eye contact with you and both your eyes soften at the same time.

“y/n i’m sorry.” she says immediately, “i messed up really bad and—”

“sana,” you cut her off, “just enjoy the drink.” she watches you smile at her, it’s genuine and small, still enough to calm her nerves. you grab your glass and walk towards the door to the porch, tilting your head and urging her to come follow. sana figures she could pour her heart out later, if it were on the porch it wouldn’t be the first time she’s poured out her emotions there.

the two of you find a seat across from each other, the fairy lights above create some type of ambiance to ease the tension that’s hanging in the air like an invisible cloak of some sort, suffocating the two of you with its unease.

“how have you been?” sana asks. it’s cliché, but what else was she supposed to say?

you don’t look up from the drink in your hand when you respond, “good, you?”

“likewise.” sana lies, her jaw clenching.

“you know,” you begin, and with intent, your eyes meet her face and she’s doing the same as you had been doing before; she simply sits there with the drink in her hand, looking quite on edge. “i figured if i were to see you again like this, chris would be with you.”

“we broke up three months after we moved in together.” sana says quietly, “i broke up with him.”

“sana…” you mumble quietly, surprised to say the least. “why— what?”

“i ruined everything between you and i because i was so blinded by his affection, i couldn’t stay with him anymore with guilt clawing at me.” she explains, her voice breaking slightly. “and i couldn’t bring myself to talk to you after hurting you. losing you was the biggest mistake of my life. god, it took everything in me to come back to you.”

“you never lost me sana,”

“i’m just… sorry for everything, i really am.” she says sincerely, “and i don’t think enough words could really explain how sorry i am.”

you look at her with pity, and despite her coldness towards you during the last semester of your senior year, you decide to let everything go. she’s your best friend after all, you promised yourself to be there.

“it’s okay.” you say, it’s not the truth, but it’s not a lie either. “it was my fault too for letting the distance between us get larger.”

“don’t say that, it’s not your fault.” sana sighs. she takes a sip of the coffee, it’s good, of course— everything you’ve ever made for her has been great. “i only stayed with chris because i was scared. that’s why it was so easy for me to leave everyone i loved behind, i think.”

“scared? …of what?”

she looks dead into your eyes and exhales, “i realized that, that maybe i was with chris because i was trying to push down how i felt about you.”

you tilt your head in confusion, then begin to pry, “sana what do you mean—"

“y/n, i was falling for you and it terrified me. i mean, i loved you, and honestly, i think i still do. i'm so fucking dumb, god i'm just oblivious.” sana says, then immediately, your heart rate spikes and your brows raise. she continues while fidgeting with her fingers, “i guess it’s easier to admit now because we’ve grown distant, and physically we’re distant enough. chris treated me alright and loved me, but i came crying to you all the time because he never treated me like how i wanted you to treat me, i don’t know why i did that. i don’t know why i let myself go through that when i had you. every time i’d kiss him i wished it were you, every time we did anything honestly.”

sana's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, their glossy shine failing to hide the immense emotions she was desperately trying to suppress. the weight of her confession hung in the air, causing the entire world to momentarily freeze. it felt as though time itself had paused, giving you a moment to absorb the magnitude of her words.

sana loved you, and she still does. you loved her, and you still do.

but really, you can’t. you can’t go through with this. it’s too sudden, so unorganized and uncertain.

all of this is a recipe for disaster.

the echo of her vulnerability reverberated through the atmosphere, your mind spun in a cyclone of emotions. thoughts collided and collided again like football players during some game, leaving your head in a dizzying state of confusion, the sheer intensity of it all was jarring, leaving you all disoriented. the feelings you suppressed were finding their way back out, and you found yourself teetering on the precipice of vulnerability once again, just as you did years ago.

finding out that sana loved you still gave you hope, but the revelation also made you uneasy. it had been too long without sana, and so much had happened, so there was the chance that things would be all rocky. besides, it’s just too sudden.

“i’m— sorry for dumping all of this, i just wanted to give you closure because… well, i should’ve given you it years ago.” a tear streams down her eye as she says this, and then she begins to stand. “i should leave, i’m sorry for not letting you know i was coming— god i’m so sorry.”

“sana wait—” you start, grabbing her wrist. she looks into your eyes, her’s are still glossy. you decide it’s better to let her go for now, unsure if this is the last time you’ll see her after this—hopefully not. “it’s okay, just… be careful. you know i’m always here, always sha.”

the nickname that you made up for her makes her heart crack a little, she can only smile back at you for now.

—

the conversation between dahyun, tzuyu, and your mom is interrupted when dahyun catches the sight of sana pulling her scarf off the hook and wrapping it around her neck again. she takes account of the slight flush of her nose and cheeks, as well as her water-lined eyes.

“you’re leaving?” dahyun asks, concern clear in her tone. sana simply smiles and nods, “yeah, i’ll see you at the holiday party. it was nice seeing you too miss l/n, i missed all of this.”

“you’re always welcome honey,” your mother assures, “where’s y/n?”

“out on the porch, she said she’ll be back in a bit. i’ll see you all, thank you.” sana says before departing, leaving the three women in the living room perplexed.

a few minutes later whilst the three in the living room conjure up theories of what had happened while you and sana had been gone—you appear with a blank expression. you sit down next to your mom and lean against her, not saying a word.

tzuyu (who is only briefly caught up with whatever had happened between you and sana, and she deinfitely needs a thorough presentation on your history) looks at dahyun and tilts her head, dahyun simply shakes her own head.

“sana and i talked a bit, resolved and made things clear.” you say, answering the elephant in the room. “i’m heading up, i’m getting sleepy and i want to have some energy for the party tomorrow.” you add. “it was nice getting to know you tzuyu, you’re perfect for the idiot beside you. night everyone.” chuckling quietly in between responses.

and with that you’re walking up the stairs to your room, leaving your mom, tzuyu, and dahyun perplexed yet again.

december 25th, five o’clock pm.

you're greeting guests, various familiar faces and their parents, family friends, and whoever else you mom managed to fit on the list.

the party is lively, with people scattered in the backyard and on the little porch while your dad grills his signature bbq meats. your mom laughs with her friends as she sips on her wine, moving her hands around as she talks to emphasize her little life updates.

in the basement with you are your old high school friends: momo, her cousin mina, jaehyun, mark, johnny, seulgi, sooyoung, jeongyeon, and dahyun, who’s accompanied by tzuyu. the rest of your frineds couldn’t make it, they were probably out of town. all of them sit on the floor or couch with a can of smirnoff or soda, all chatting and laughing over old memories.

you lean against jaehyun as you laugh, letting yourself hide behind his shoulder while mark ruthlessly brings up each embarrassing phase you’ve had. what a guy, a guy you’ll be figthing soon if he keeps this up.

the feeling of your phone ringing against your palm as you hold it catches your attention, directing you from the conversation at hand. the screen shows a call from “mom♡” which earns a confused look. you answer the call, cupping the phone so you can hear her better as you answer.

“hello? did you need something?”

“hey honey, would you mind coming out for a bit? someone wants to see you.”

“someone?” you ask, “one of your friends or...?”

“just come on out sweetie.” she insistts.

“okay okay, whatever you say.” you respond before ending the call and starting to get up. jaehyun looks up at you with a quirked brow as he sips on his drink. you look back and shrug, “my mom wants me to meet ‘someone,’ probably one of her friends or something. i won’t be long.” you respond to him and let the others know.

"alright, take your time," jaehyun says with a nod, setting his drink down. "hopefully, it won't be too boring," he adds with a small smirk, teasing you gently. you roll your eyes playfully in response before grabbing your jacket and heading towards the sliding door.

you were right about the guess on seeing your mom's friend, or—friends. however, the sudden chill you get when seeing the minatozaki’s on the porch makes you tense up.

they're standing there, glasses of wine in their hands as they look at you. sana's mom has a smile on her face, so does her dad. you walk up to them and try to shake off your nerves, fully hugging sana’s mom and giving sana’s dad a side hug.

“it’s been a while hasn’t it?” sana’s mom says, putting her hand on your shoulder and grinning. “it’s wonderful to see you again.”

“likewise.” you respond, melting into relaxation the more you get used to this atmosphere. “how have you all been?”

after a tense reunion with sana’s parents, they find out about your ambitions and what you’ve been up to. not much is mentioned about the falling out between you and their daughter, but the thought most definitely lingers in the cold, winter air.

sana's parents tell you about an internship she earned at a hospital her first year, saying they’re proud of her for helping others and the bonus of the nice paycheck that came with the experience. they tell you she’s found herself a guaranteed transfer to your school and that she’s excited to help even more people in the nursing program. it sounds like sana’s a great person, she’s always wanted to help others, it makes you smile and nod as her parents update you on what she’s been up to.

but there’s this feeling of uncertainty and sorrow brewing. the fact that you have to hear about sana from anyone but her breaks you a bit, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t hesitate to update each other back then. now, it seems like you’re missing a chunk of memories that you could’ve shared with sana.

“we asked her to come to the party.” mr. minatozaki says, looking at you with a sympathetic smile. “she said she’d consider it.”

“oh, i see.” you respond, nodding whilst looking at the ground.

part of you is glad that she’s not here, but who are you kidding, there would never be a time where you’d be dissapointed to catch her near you, despite the paranoia taking over.

“well, it’s nice to catch up y/n. we've missed you, it’s great to see how well you’re doing. your parents must be proud.” mr. minatozaki concludes, looking at you with admiration.

“yeah, thanks.” you say, “well, i'll leave you to talk to my parents, but i'll stop by again to talk to you two. it's really nice to catch up, i've missed you guys too, and your wonderful dinners.” you add jokingly, earning a laugh from the couple.

sana's mom kisses your temple and hugs you, then lets you walk back into the house.

it seems like this whole night has been full of surprises—scratch that, at this point, everything is a surprise ever since you've been back in town. especially now, because once you step into the kitchen, there’s a familiar woman who’s making your knees weak all over again.

“y/n, hey.” sana greets softly, smiling at you.

she's just hung up her scarf on the little hook near the fridge, the same place she’d always hang it back then. there was this unspoken rule that when sana was here, there were certain spaces that belonged to her; the hook near the fridge, the chair at the dining table closest to the living room, the right side of your bed, and the left side of the couch in the basement.

still, you’re pissed at the fact she had practically cut you off completely over a boy just to come back years later to win you back. it irritated you how easy it was for sana to convince you, but you were much angrier at the thought of her coming back to see you because her and chris didn’t work out. was she serious about the breakup? was that all it took to forget that she had caused so much mental turmoil?

despite this, her being in your house again and seeing her at this christmas party like years before; everything reminds you of the fact that sana had always lingered in your home.

“hey, didn’t think you’d make it.” you respond, watching her shrug.

“my parents said your signature cookies are here, i had to.”

can't be the only reason, you want to mumble, but your lips stay sealed.

sana speaks again, “i stole a couple, ate some earlier actually. still as great as i remembered.”

“thanks.” you mutter, walking over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “did you want to talk about something?”

“what do you mean?”

“there’s a reason you came, and i know it’s for me since you’re not in the basement with everyone else. we both know that’s the signature spot.”

sana cringes at your tone, but gives in.

“i just wanted to see you, and hopefully talk to you normally.”

it's taking everything in you to hold your ground, to protect yourself from this sudden appearance that’s making you all uneasy again. you can’t let sana screw you up again with a simple visit, you can’t.

“i know you’re sorry but sana, you treated me so terribly. do you know how much i cried? how fucking terrible i felt after losing my friend of years to chris?” you seethe, sighing. “part of me wants to start over, maybe try again—but how can i do that when there’s the chance of you throwing away everything, we rebuild over another stupid fucking guy.”

she looks at you with guilt in her eyes, her shoulders sinking and words jumbling in her throat.

“y/n, nothing—no one, despite what i've done to you, will ever make me forget how much i love you. there's always a space in my heart for you.”

you scoff, anger flowing throughout you now, then walk over to her. she stands against the frame of the entrance, you stand in front of her now, looking down slightly. sana's looking at you directly in the eye, you can see the hurt and regret in her eyes; her look brings you back to your senses.

“how do i know you’re not bluffing? sana, every ounce of me wants to redo this.” your voice cracks slightly, the hurt evident in your tone.

“you just have to trust me, i'm sorry, i'm really sorry.”

you feel like curling up into a ball and hiding, the way your chest tightens makes you want to cry a bit.

the party ends around one in the morning, considering the fact that some of the attendants are adults that don’t have the energy to party until the sunrises.

jaehyun’s just crossed the line, now slurring his words and laughing stupidly while he gets touchy with the guys, so mark ends up driving him home. johnny catches a ride with seulgi and sooyoung. with them gone, you’re in the basement with momo, mina, dahyun, and tzuyu. all five of you end the night with some recollections of memories, momo’s recent date, mina’s annoying professor, and before you know it you all are hugging goodbye.

you've already gone through three cans of the smirnoff cans, it hadn’t done much except make you a little more giggly and talkative. you were a little tipsy, that was all.

throughout the night, tzuyu and dahyun exchange glances, their eyes meeting repeatedly, dahyuns hand rubbing tzuyu’s thigh, and the little smiles they give each other. all of it doesn’t go unnoticed – at least by you – and hints at the potential for something you don’t want to think of in detail once they return home.

as you observe their subtle interactions, a pang of envy stirs within you, longing for that same allure and anticipation. amidst the swirling emotions, a sense of emptiness creeps in, amplified by the beers you’ve had. you're left to ponder on what’s making you feel hollow, still feeling bad after raising your voice at sana earlier.

you can’t feel bad, you shouldn’t. whatever you did wasn’t comparable to her practically pretending you didn’t exist for almost two years.

after rolling your eyes and saying some stupid joke to dahyun and tzuyu – the last to leave the house – you head back to the basement.

of course, sana had to be sitting on the couch, head turned towards the tv as she sipped on a beer.

“hey.” you mutter, earning her attention as she turns away from the christmas movie you paused earlier.

“hi.” sana greets.

every ounce of anger, irritation, and dread had been squeezed out your body at the sight of her. you genuinely think it’s the alcohol that’s making you rethink everything, making it hard to fight back that voice in your head that’s trying to stay reserved and petty.

sana sits there, her gaze fixed on you with intensity. her glasses are perched on her nose, a familiar sight whenever she's engrossed in watching tv or anything like that. the sight only adds to her charm, making her look even more adorable. you can't help but notice her favorite cardigan draped over her shoulders – the fluffy, white knit cardigan she adores so much –it's a cherished gift from your mother, and she's held onto it all these years. her eyes bore into yours, drilling into your skull and compelling you to plop down beside her as if nothing had ever transpired between you. you surrender, maybe it’s the late hours of the night, maybe the beer, o rmaybe just sana.

(it’s probably just sana.)

she turns back to the movie playing, some stupid romcom jaehyun had put on as background noise.

your eyes trace the curve of her nose, lingering on her lips and the impeccable contour of her jawline as she remains fixated on the tv screen. her side profile captivates you for a moment, holding you in some sort of spell until she breaks the silence with her soft voice.

“i think our parents are playing card games in the kitchen.”

“probably betting money too.”

“remember when your dad took your christmas money for their game?” sana asks, giggling at the memory. her eyes are still fixed on the screen, you decide to tune into the movie too. “didn’t he lose too?”

“yeah.” you sigh, sinking into the couch. “he paid me back double the next day though.”

“so it was worth it?”

“yeah, i think we went out to eat with that money.”

sana turns to gaze at you, her eyes tracing the soft contours of your profile in the dimly lit room. the glow from the tv accentuates her favorite features of yours, and she finds herself lost in the sight before her. for a while, she simply stares, allowing the comfortable silence to envelop the moment.

you turn to look at her now, you two just stare at each other for a while more.

“maybe we can try again.” you mumble, giving into the beauty in front of you. “every part of me is against the idea.”

“that’s understandable.” sana agrees. she sighs before adding, “you don’t have to try again.”

“i know.” you assure, “but i think we should.”

“i’m sorry.”

“i know, sana.”

as the music from the tv fills the room, silence once again settles between you and sana. you know that you can't let this opportunity slip away – it's everything you've wanted, and deep down, you realize it's everything you've needed too.

there's a mistletoe that’s hung above the two of you, it’s been there the whole time, both of you were aware of it. it dangles from the light tantalizingly, but neither of you do anything about it. neither you or sana even mention it. your mind races to the memory of dahyun and tzuyu kissing each other under it and part of you wants to kiss sana like that, but you won’t let her kiss and make up.

you reach out, your fingers gently intertwining with hers. you lift her hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of her skin against your own. softly, you press a kiss upon the back of her hand, you linger in the intimacy of the gesture.

the two of you sit there for a moment, letting the world around you two fade away.

everything about the moment renders you weak. you think to yourself that maybe, just maybe, a second chance is enough to patch things up. if it’s with sana, then maybe it’s worth it.

#sana x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #twice x reader #minatozaki sana #twice sana #minatozaki sana x reader

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slytherinboysappreciation · 6 months

Note

We need more tom riddle and male reader. Like yall know tom is a charmer and the prince of Slytherin sort of stuff but then he found out abt this guy who is also prince-like from Hufflepuff (can be another house or wtv) and Tom's like "Hm, i wonder what's this guy's hiding, imma find out" so Tom did tryna find his secrets but when Tom use Legilimency, all he can found out are the reader thinking abt silly stuffs like "what kind of food i should try today" or "that guy's socks cool" or "shit, this flower's yellow, imma made it into a bookmark >:]" or "Imma dye my hair white using this spell i found from an old book from the restricted section, i wonder if this'll kill me– whatever" idk basically reader is a dumb typa guy who just... doing what he likes 😭 m sorry if this confusing lmao i tried my best to explain

Scatterbrained - T. R. x male!Reader

A/N: Hi, anon! Thank you so much for the request! I went with a more airheaded sort of approach so I hope that’s okay. I incorporated as much of your request as I could, and I hope you like it!

This is completely unedited, so please be nice! 💛 No use of Y/N. Sentences in italics are the reader’s thoughts. GIF is not mine; it was found on Pinterest, link here

Part 2 here

CW: Tom being a bit of a stalker; suspicion; nonconsensual thought reading; reader is just a bit of a scatterbrain; flirting; fluff; Tom being slightly emotionally aware; Tom is a little mean towards reader; kissing; Tom’s nefarious plots

1384 words

Tom Riddle was the Prince of Slytherin. Everyone knew it. Everyone respected it.

Even the Gryffindors, for all their talk of bravery, cowered when it came to confronting Tom.

He was the top of every class, the teachers’ favorite, the star Head Boy that everyone admired. All the girls wanted him. All the boys wanted to be him.

And then…

There was you.

Tom first met you in Herbology class in fourth year. You were almost unnoticeable at first. Just a languid, easygoing Hufflepuff boy with a warm smile and a friendly manner.

But more importantly, you were utterly unafraid of him. You’d even helped him care for his baby mandrake.

Tom was immediately intrigued. So he started following you around. Secretly, of course. But the more he follows you around, the more he starts to suspect.

You’re… too nice. The kind of guy to offer help and genuinely mean it. The kind of guy to help you with your homework and give you homemade cookies as a confidence booster.

Perhaps in mockery of Tom, the Hufflepuffs start calling you their prince. Prince of Hufflepuff. The boy who should be Tom’s rival, except you’re just so nice.

You have to be hiding something. No one is that nice normally. You have to have some hidden agenda. Some dark secret behind your sweet demeanor and comforting smile. Tom is sure of it.

Once fifth year starts, he comes armed with a secret weapon. The true key to figuring out your intents.

Legilimency.

Tom holds off at first, waiting for the perfect opportunity. And then… it happens.

You’re down by the Black Lake, picking flowers with your friends to make into bouquets for the prefects.

Tom watches as you laugh, as you playfully tease one of the girls. It makes his chest tighten and his jaw clench. Now is his moment, the perfect chance to truly find out what you’re thinking.

Tom silently casts the spell, causing you to wince and rub your forehead. He barely notices, too lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts.

Ow, my head…

Oh, I should grab those flowers. They’d be perfect for him…

She has cool socks…

I wonder if I can press that flower and make it into a bookmark…

Oooh, clovers! I wonder if there’s a four-leaved one…

Tom stops the spell, his head spinning.

You were so… scatterbrained.

Your head is full of fluff and nonsense. Tom can barely make sense of it all. He ends the spell, staggered by the revelation.

You have no ulterior motives. You’re so genuine because there’s no room in your head for anything otherwise.

Tom stares at you, lost. He doesn’t know what to do now. You’re not malicious or manipulative like him. You’re just… something else.

As you turn to grab a flower, you spot him. Instantly, your face brightens. A huge smile spreads across your face as you wave eagerly at him.

Tom slowly waves back.

You turn to say something to one of the girls. She nudges you, grinning. You rub the back of your head bashfully, and start heading up towards Tom.

He watches you, a bit surprised. You still have your bouquet of flowers, holding it out all nice and stuff.

On impulse, Tom casts Legilimency again. You immediately wince, but quickly shake off your pain.

Ouch, what is up with my head today?

No, focus! Be calm. Be cool. Be smooth…

Oh god, it’s him. He’s so perfect…

Compliment him somehow. Tell him he looks nice!

“Hi, Tom,” you smile warmly at him. “You look nice today.”

Tom’s cheeks warm against his will. “Thank you.”

Oh my god! Is he blushing? He’s blushing! He’s so cute…

Hurry, give him the flowers!

Merlin, he looks so cute…

Tom’s cheeks redden further. He awkwardly coughs into his fist, trying to quell the sudden thrill in his chest.

“Oh, um, here!” You hold out the bouquet of flowers. “I made this for you.”

Tom’s heart does an unfathomable flip-flop of excitement. He takes the bouquet gently, running his fingers over the colorful blossoms. Bluebells, white clover, twinflowers, and pink primrose. “For me?”

“Mhmm! I made it myself!”

Tom smiles, a small slight thing. But the way your thoughts explode at the sight of it makes it widen a bit more.

OH MY GOD!! He’s so cute!!

Look at his smile!!

God, I wanna kiss him so badly…

Mmm… kissing…

Tom panics a little, the mental images you’re coming up with overwhelming him. He stops the spell immediately, flustered and blushing.

“Thank you for the flowers,” he stutters out, tripping over his words in a way he wouldn’t have before.

You beam and nod. “Of course! I’m glad you like them.”

Then you walk back to your group, humming happily with the biggest smile on your face ever.

Tom gazes down at his bouquet and turns away, his heart thumping in his chest.

So you were a bit of an idiot, but somehow that didn’t bother Tom. He strolls back up to the castle, thinking deeply about you.

His reactions to you were… unexpected, but not particularly surprising. You were a handsome boy, after all.

Perhaps a different sort of investigation was required.

You seemed to like him quite a bit, and Tom isn’t opposed to the idea. But he’ll have to be quick going about asking you out.

Your kindness and genuineness haven’t been unnoticed by others, and Tom’s well aware that not everyone interested in you has the same intentions he does.

He’ll ask you out tonight, after dinner.

With that resolve in his mind, Tom enters the castle, a pep in his step.

Tom finds you in the library after dinner. You’re huddled over an old tome, muttering something under your breath. You’re so caught up in reading that you startle when Tom clears his throat.

“Oh! Tom! I didn’t see you there!” You beam up at Tom.

He gives you a thin smile back. “What are you reading?”

“Just some book I found in the Restricted Section.” You say blithely. You point to the page you’re looking at. “I found a spell for hair dyeing and wanted to try it out!”

Tom looks at the page. “Unicorn hair and ashwinder eggs? Where are you going to get those?”

You shrug. “I dunno yet. I’ll find them somewhere.”

Tom stares at you. “You’ll find them somewhere? You don’t just find ashwinder eggs and unicorn hair.”

You frown a little but shrug, clearly undeterred. “I’ll work something out.”

Tom sits down next to you, trying to comprehend the stupidity of your words. “You have a death wish.”

You blink and tilt your head. “I just wanna dye my hair, is all.”

Tom rubs at his face, forcing himself to stay calm. There’s no point in getting annoyed when he hasn’t even accomplished his goal yet.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, he casts Legilimency on you, bracing himself for the onslaught of unbridled thoughts.

He seems upset.

Oh, no. I gotta do something…

Quick, say something!

“Tom?” You ask softly.

He sighs and gives you a weak smile. “I’ll help you dye your hair using a safer spell.”

You brighten immediately. “You will?!”

Yes! I’ll finally have white hair again!

“On one condition.”

Oh.

You nod. “Okay…”

“I’ll help you dye your hair if you go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow.”

Go to…

You tilt your head. “Like, on a date?”

Tom swallows. “Yes. On a date.”

Your thoughts explode with giddiness. Tom jolts a bit, ending the spell as his head aches from the force of your happiness.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes! I’ll go on a date with you!”

Tom relaxes and gives you a small but genuine smile. “Let’s go dye your hair then.”

He gets up, but pauses. On impulse, he leans down and gives your cheek a slight kiss. You’re frozen in your seat for a moment, stars in your eyes. Then you scramble to your feet and follow after him.

There’s no doubt you’ll be his now. And then he, and only he, will be able to enjoy your sweet stupidity.

He finds himself inwardly grinning at the thought. A date at Hogsmeade is only the first step. Soon, he’ll make you his perfect, scatterbrained boyfriend.

And then he’ll be unstoppable.

#tom riddle x male reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #male reader #divider by cafekitsune #evie’s requests

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shadowtriovibes · 1 year

Text

pt. i: break a sweat

pt. ii: blood, sweat and tears || pt. iii: sweat it out || pt. iv: never let 'em see you sweat

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV sex, dubious safe sex methods, even more dubious interpretations of how the room of requirement works

Summary: sebastian makes the house quidditch team after training all summer. before his first match, you let him talk you into a bet over its outcome that will in all likelihood ruin your friendship. (merlin, you sure hope it does.)

"Speaking of which," you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. "What prize will you not be winning?" Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, "I have something in mind." You force yourself not to get distracted. "Do tell." "If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game," he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

Seeing Sebastian for the first time since the end of your sixth year at Hogwarts is quite the shock.

You knew from his detailed letters that your dearest friend had spent the better part of his summer break training for Quidditch tryouts in the fall, frequently flying down to the Poidsear Coast to log hours and hours at their pitch.

Sometimes he would even bring Anne along with him when she was feeling well enough to ride on the back of his broom. He’d convince her to release a secondhand Snitch for him to track down, and while he hunted it down, she worked on the assignments your professors had set to help her prepare for her return to Hogwarts in the fall.

He’d even written to tell you that he’d never felt more confident on a broom, and that if he only got to have one last season on your house team before leaving school, he was determined to make the absolute most of it.

You knew all of this, and yet when you first see him in the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast, you nearly swoon like a Muggle schoolgirl at the sight of him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s taller. Even seated next to Anne at the Slytherin table, you can see his entire head whereas you can barely make out the top of his sister’s. Sebastian had never seemed that much bigger than his twin before, but things have clearly changed.

Then, you notice that his complexion has changed as well. He’s tan from spending all summer training in the sun, his button-down shirt suddenly looking so crisply white against his sun-kissed face.

His freckles, too – there are so many more.

But that could also just be because there’s simply more Sebastian now. His shoulders are broader, his chest wider, and even his hair has grown long enough to brush upwards into a less haphazard style (though certainly not as severe as Ominis’).

It’s as if your boyish Sebastian from the previous school year had quite suddenly become a grown man in just three short months, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

It takes you a few minutes to adjust as you slide into a seat across from him next to Ominis, and based on the look on Anne’s face, she at least knows what’s got you so flustered.

During a lull in conversation about Anne’s return, you tell Sebastian, “You’re looking fit.”

You hope you can casually get it out of the way, and that no one will dwell on it.

“Am I?” he asks with an easy smile.

“I mean physically,” you insist, remaining one step ahead of him. “I nearly mistook you for one of the Beaters for the Magpies.”

“Sebastian could never be a Beater,” Anne interjects. “He’s too much of a show-off to be anything but the Seeker.”

“I’ll be whatever the team needs me to be,” he insists. “I practiced for all four positions this summer, so wherever they want to slot me in is fine.”

“Silly Sebastian,” Violet McDowell calls out from a few seats down, a wicked grin on her face. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that there are many more positions than just four?”

Your entire end of the table bursts into laughter while Sebastian simply flashes a wicked grin, and you think about using your ancient magic to hurl one of the stacked platters of food in front of you at Violet’s head. (Or maybe you should simply toss her out into the courtyard.)

“Is this how it’s going to be this year?” Anne sighs. “When I left, Sebastian was just an awkward boy with his nose always buried in a book, and now the girls are lusting after him.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Ominis agrees. “He had a big enough head before he was attractive.”

“I think it’s excellent,” Sebastian laughs. “It’s about time everyone realized that I’m the perfect man, and all it took was a little bit of Quidditch practice and one last growth spurt.”

“‘All it took,’” Anne mumbles at the same time Ominis exclaims, “‘Perfect man?!’”

While both his sister and best friend take turns putting dents in Sebastian’s inflated ego, he takes it in stride and sneakily winks at you from across the table when he catches you silently observing, your gaze firmly settled on the sharp line of his jaw.

Sebastian makes a mental note of the fact that you immediately go red. Even if no one else notices, he certainly does.

—

Two weeks later, you and Anne link arms with Ominis to walk down with him to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Slytherin team tryouts.

“Now that I’ve got a brilliant witch on each arm, I suppose I won’t be needing my wand as often to get around,” he teases.

“Please, I know a thing or two about that wand of yours,” Anne replies. “Last year I spent a full month reading books on wandcraft that Sebastian brought me from the library. If I had to guess, I think you can probably ‘see’ more clearly than either of us can. It’s powerful.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Ominis demurs. “I’m just naturally perceptive.”

Once you arrive at the pitch, the three of you take seats along the practice bleachers with a few of your housemates, who chat excitedly when the Slytherin hopefuls begin to take the field.

You spot Sebastian quickly, even among nearly two dozen others in green practice uniforms circling for warmups on their brooms. Compared to how big he’d looked at the start of term in just his school robes, he’s huge now – equipped with pads across his shoulders, forearms and shins that accentuate his muscular form.

He’d declined a helmet, of course, because despite his newfound bulk he’s still the same exasperatingly headstrong boy you’ve nurtured a crush on for nearly your entire school career.

“Between us, what do you think his chances are of making the team?” you ask Anne.

“Truthfully?” she smirks. “I think he’ll have his pick of positions, unless Imelda wants to humble him on purpose.”

“Which one would be humbling?” you ask, amused.

“Probably Chaser,” she muses. “He’d be an excellent Chaser, of course, but it’s his least favorite.”

“I’ll bet he becomes a Beater,” Ominis offers. “Without the Dark Arts, I’d like him to have some sort of outlet for his intensity.”

“Fine, then I’ll say… Keeper,” you say, smiling to yourself at your private joke that only Sebastian would appreciate. “Because that way he’ll get to stay in one place the whole game and know that everyone’s eyes are on him.”

—

Shortly after tryouts wrap up, Imelda sequesters herself in the girls’ dorm to put together her official roster and the majority of Slytherin’s upperclassmen start passing around Butterbeers while they settle in to await her decision.

Sebastian is inarguably the center of attention, casually leaning against a table in the corner with Anne at his side. A flock of fifth-year girls crowds around him to listen intently as he talks about the impressive diving save he’d made, capturing the Snitch just feet from the ground.

“He’s going to be insufferable now,” Ominis groans while the two of you watch from across the room. “There’s barely enough room for his ego in this friendship as it is.”

“Come now, we can keep him in check,” you laugh. “Especially with Anne here.”

“It’s really good to have her back,” Ominis agrees softly, smiling to himself when he hears Anne’s voice through the noise, telling Sebastian’s fan club how he’d attempted a similar save over the summer and ended up crashing into a derelict poacher camp.

Huh.

However, before you can spend too much more time thinking about Ominis and Anne, you hear the noise in the room spike as Imelda saunters down the stairs, a rolled-up piece of parchment in her hand.

“Who’s ready to meet this year’s Slytherin Quidditch team?” she calls out, and the entire room bursts into excited cheers.

She starts to read off from her list, allowing brief pauses for applause after each name. You and Ominis snake through the common room to stand by Sebastian. He seems to be perfectly calm, but by now you can recognize some telltale tension lingering in his jaw.

Anne holds one of his hands to reassure him, swaying a bit nervously herself.

While Imelda works her way down the list, the four of you learn that hasn’t been named Slytherin’s Keeper. He’s not a Beater either, nor is he ultimately a Chaser.

“Lastly, your newest Seeker,” Imelda teases as she reaches the end of the list. “...It’s obviously Sallow!”

Sebastian beams brilliantly while Anne pulls him into a tight hug, and Ominis smiles and murmurs his congratulations to his friend, assuring him he always knew he’d make the team.

There are several other girls quick to offer their congratulations as well, but you wait for the crowd around him to thin out and for Anne to escort Ominis to get more Butterbeers before you sidle up next to Sebastian and nudge your shoulder against his.

“Excellent work, Bash,” you murmur. “You put on quite a show at tryouts.”

“Only because you were watching,” he flirts back, and you roll your eyes fondly.

Since the start of term, he’s been relentless with his play-flirting. You resist it as much as you can, but it always makes your heart race when he calls you “love,” or offers to carry your books for you, or even charms little notes poking fun at your classmates into tiny birds that gracefully land on your desk during classes.

(You don’t have the heart to ask him to knock it off, because even though you know he doesn’t mean it, it still feels nice to be the center of his attention.)

“Then I’ll have to come to see you start in next week’s match,” you offer. “Especially if you only play that well when I’m watching.”

“You can be my good luck charm,” he jokes. “Felix Felicis is prohibited, but you’re not.”

“That was awful,” you laugh, but Sebastian just grins.

“Tell you what,” he says after a moment. “We should make a bet on it.”

“A bet?” you ask. “On what, that you’ll win?”

He shakes his head. “Too easy, we’re playing Ravenclaw, we’ll obviously win. I mean something more challenging.”

“You’re clearly confident,” you tell him. “What are your terms?”

He considers his offer for a moment and then says, “I’ll bet that I can catch the Snitch in under thirty minutes. I’ll even let you be the official timekeeper, since I’ll be a bit preoccupied.”

“Under thirty?” you ask skeptically. “That’s nearly professional, Sebastian. Ominis told me most games last at least an hour.”

“I’ve been practicing all summer,” he insists. “Anne would release a Snitch and I’d even give it a five-minute head start, but I never let one get further away from me than the far side of Marunweem Lake.”

“Careful, Sebastian, you sound quite cocky,” you murmur, and you think you see Sebastian’s gaze dip down to your mouth for a split second.

“I am,” he agrees. “In fact, I’ll even let you pick your prize first, for if you win.”

“Alright,” you laugh. “When I win, I want… for you to write my History of Magic assignments for the next month.

“That’s it?” he scoffs. “You could have anything and you want me to write your essays?”

“I didn’t start studying magic with the rest of you lot, and I don’t know a lot of the foundational things that Binns wants us to reference,” you remind him. “You know your history much better than I do, and I need to bump my ‘Acceptable’ up to ‘Exceeds Expectations’ by the time N.E.W.T.s roll around.”

“Love, I would’ve done them for you anyway,” Sebastian says dismissively, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning at the nickname. “Pick something fun.”

“Fine,” you reply. “I want…”

You consider your options for a moment, trying to think of something that isn’t either obscene or pathetic. Finally, you have an idea.

“There is one thing I’ve been thinking about,” you tell him, a secret smile on your lips.

Sebastian perks up, leaning in closer. “Go on then.”

“I want you to help me set up Anne and Ominis,” you say carefully, watching him for any signs that he’s about to blow up.

He just blinks at you, bewildered. “What.”

“I think they would be a lovely couple,” you croon. “And I know she’s your sister and you’re, y’know...”

“I’m what?” he demands.

“You’re very protective of her,” you say tactfully. “But we’re all adults now, and I think they really understand each other. I want you to help me convince them that they should give it a chance.”

Sebastian is quiet for several long moments.

“Well,” he finally murmurs. “I would prefer it if Anne never dated anyone so I wouldn’t have any more reasons to worry about her, but I suppose if she must, Ominis is a good man.”

You shout excitedly and wrap your arms around his impossibly broad shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. He easily allows it, fondly pressing his nose to your hair.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter though, since you won’t win and I’ll never have to aid you in your scheming,” he murmurs against your temple.

“Speaking of which,” you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. “What prize will you not be winning?”

Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, “I have something in mind.”

You force yourself not to get distracted. “Do tell.”

“If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game,” he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

“O-oh?” you ask softly, squirming a little in his grasp. “Just me?”

“Just you,” he confirms.

His eyes are dark, and despite the cacophony of the room around you both, he’s focused solely on you.

“And what would we be doing in the Room of Requirement?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t even dignify your question with a response. Instead, he deliberately drags his thumbs across your hips, raking his gaze down your body and back up with a pointed look.

“You mean it?” you ask him quietly. “You aren’t just teasing like earlier?”

“When was I teasing?” Sebastian asks, amused.

“This whole time,” you insist, fidgeting nervously with the laces at the front of his Quidditch shirt. “All the flirting, all this back-and-forth… You’re just winding me up.”

“I’m not,” he says quietly. “I thought about you all summer, love. I missed you like mad, and I sincerely want you.”

Merlin.

Some bold part of you steps a little closer so you can lean in close to his ear and ask, “Are you sure we shouldn’t just go to the Room of Requirement right now?”

You hear Sebastian swallow and exhale sharply.

“N-not now,” he answers. “After the match. I just…”

He doesn’t really have the words to articulate it, but he wants to earn your affection. He has to prove he’s good enough first, that you aren’t making a mistake by letting him finally force your close friendship into something more.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, gently brushing your lips against his cheekbone. “Just don’t get too distracted and fall off your broom, because I actually want you to win.”

“The match or the bet?” he asks in a low voice.

You just take a step back with a teasing grin, and before you disappear into the crowd to find your friends, you murmur, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sallow.”

—

It’s so many flights of stairs up to the Room of Requirement. You almost feel bad for Sebastian, but not enough to stop relentlessly tugging him up countless flights in the quiet Astronomy Tower.

He must be exhausted already, you assume. While the match itself had only lasted twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds, he spent nearly all of them racing around the pitch alongside Ravenclaw’s Seeker, eyes trained on any flash of light that shimmered like gold.

He’d even taken a Bludger to his right thigh. You’d felt like you were going to be sick just watching it collide with him, but he’d merely dropped a few feet with a wince and sped off again.

Not even a damn Bludger could knock him off his broom.

(As soon as your nausea had dissipated, you’d felt another dizzying wave of sensation take over slightly south of your stomach.)

Just as he’d promised, he quickly caught up with the Snitch near the base of the Hufflepuff student section, landing not-so-neatly in the muddy grass with one arm thrown up in the air. He was evidently clutching the struggling Snitch and beaming so hugely you could see it from your spot in the stands fifty feet in the air.

As soon as Madam Kogawa blew her whistle, the Slytherins had begun to move en masse toward the stairs, preparing to turn their common room into the official site of the year’s first not-so-clandestine party.

You, however, snuck away from the group and lingered outside the team’s changing area. Inside, you could hear raised voices.

“Imelda, you don’t understand,” Sebastian was whining. “I need to go now.”

“There’s a way we do things here, Sallow,” she had argued “I’m the captain, and if I say we’re going to discuss the game before anyone leaves, you stay.”

Sebastian had a few choice words to say to that but ultimately relented, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly while you leaned against one of the canvas walls that lined the interior channels of the pitch. Ultimately, it only took about ten minutes to discuss how everyone could improve – and Imelda’s only suggestion for Sebastian had been to try to find a dryer patch of grass on which to land next time.

Seconds later, he’d burst through the door and started to take off toward the castle.

“Bash!” you called out. “Not so fast.”

When he turned and spotted you, his face lit up.

“You waited for me,” he breathed.

“Of course I did,” you said. “I believe you’ve won a prize, and the nature of it is time-sensitive.”

He looked like an utter rake with that crooked smile on his lips. He was still in his uniform head to toe, his hair even messier than usual thanks to his helmet. He’d even kept his pads on, so when he reached out to take your hand, you felt impossibly small next to him.

“Shall we?” he asks, and then the two of you were off.

By the time you reach the Room and ensure no house elves are present, you’re both out of breath and panting.

“Come here,” you whine, throwing your arms around his shoulders and messily kissing along his jawline.

“W-wait,” he stammers. “Let me get these pads off, and–”

He cuts himself off, making a face.

“I need to clean up,” he tells you, suddenly self-conscious. “I must look like hell.”

“You look obscene,” you reply, dragging your hands down his chest pads. “Which is obviously a compliment.”

He wraps his hands around your wrists to stop you from attempting to undo the laces at the front of his trousers. “Just – just let me clean off first, the prefects’ bathroom isn’t far and I got the password off of Weasley.”

“No, don’t leave,” you whine, and Sebastian is merely a man, he can’t resist the girl he’s been in love with for years when she’s begging him to take his pants off.

“I must smell foul,” he laughs. “You’re – you’re seriously okay with this?”

“Look where we are, Sebastian,” you croon, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. “Just imagine what you need.”

For your part, you imagine a plush armchair where you can wrangle Sebastian into finally taking a seat, and one quickly spins to life just behind him. You take advantage of his distraction to shove him backwards toward it and climb astride lap.

“It’s the Room of Requirement,” you tease him, straddling his thighs and dragging your nose along his cheek so he’ll tip his head back for you. “If you require something, the Room provides.”

“I require a bath,” he drawls, cursing quietly when you gently bite just over his pulse point. “Quickly, please, Room.”

Sebastian waits patiently while you eagerly strip him of his pads, but the Room doesn’t change.

“I thought you said you’ve taken baths here,” he points out skeptically. “In a huge basin, like the prefects have.”

“I have,” you insist, frowning. “I don’t know why it’s not…”

Then you trail off, your realization making you go red.

“Go on, love,” Sebastian murmurs, sliding a hand up the back of your thigh to lazily palm at your ass underneath your skirt. “I know that face, you’ve figured it out. What’s the problem?”

“W-well, it’s my Room,” you tell him sheepishly. “So it, um… I suppose it defaults to what I require.”

“And what you require,” Sebastian says slowly, “is for me to not take a bath?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“I… I suppose the Room must have deduced that I – I like you like this,” you whisper, dragging your hands across his rumpled Quidditch shirt. “And I don’t need to wait for you to clean off.”

“You don’t?” Sebastian asks, his eyes now impossibly dark. “You’d let me touch you just like this? I’m a mess, I’m covered in sweat and mud and probably some blood, even.”

“Don’t care,” you breathe, sliding your hands underneath the hem of his shirt. “I want you now, Sebastian, exactly like this.”

He says some absolutely filthy words under his breath, sitting back so he can strip off his filthy uniform shirt. You can’t get your hands on his body fast enough, hurriedly familiarizing yourself with his sculpted core, broad chest, and strong shoulders.

He’s less of a mess underneath where his shirt had lain, but his skin is still warm and damp with sweat from the match. You want to put your mouth all over him, everywhere – and there’s so much of him to explore.

“I couldn’t believe it when I first saw you like this,” you confess to him. “You’ve gotten bigger since last spring, and so handsome… how did you become a man in just one summer?”

“You think I’m the only one who changed this summer?” he asks with a low voice. “Look at you.”

“What about me?” you ask dumbly.

His hands go straight for your chest, roughly tugging open your uniform shirt with no regard for the longevity of its buttons.

“Here,” he murmurs, his hands cupping your breasts through your thin brassiere. “I can assure you that I noticed where you’ve grown bigger.”

You gasp softly as he tugs down on the cups of your bra until he can lean in and press his mouth to your skin, sucking on one of your nipples and then the other.

“And here,” he murmurs into your chest, his hands returning to the backs of your thighs and sliding up your ass. “You have all these curves now, love, and they’re driving me mad.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper. “Take off my clothes.”

He helps you wrestle your skirt up over your head and tosses it recklessly as far as he can. When you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, Sebastian wraps one strong arm around your lower back and hooks the other below your hips, easily standing up from the armchair to walk you over to the bed you’d hastily imagined into existence.

Once he has you on your back, he tugs down your last remaining garment and leaves you bare and exposed to him, breathless and flushed all over.

“Your turn,” you remind him, even though part of you wishes he could leave the uniform pants on (despite the impracticality).

Once he manages to peel off the last of his clothes, he settles on his knees between your legs and skims a hand up your body, from the curve of your hip all the way up to your cheek.

“Is this too fast?” he asks you softly. “Did I ask too much?”

Your heart aches. Sebastian always stuns you with his sincerity when you least expect it.

You turn your head to kiss his palm and murmur, “No, love.”

His shoulders drop a little, the last of the tension he’d been carrying all week draining from his body. He wants, he always wants so damn badly and he would never forgive himself if he marred your first time with each other by rushing you.

“Can I touch you?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Please,” you whine, letting your knees fall wide.

(Whether or not the other has ever done this before is still a mystery to you both, and it’s not something you’ll discuss until afterward. But right now, it’s of no importance to you.)

For a while, Sebastian’s hands roam your body without an agenda, acquainting himself with your breasts, your hips, the insides of your thighs. You moan softly when he drags his thumb along your slit, spreading your wetness around until he can easily rub slow circles over your clit.

“How do you feel?” he asks you.

“Good,” you gasp. “So good, Sebastian, like that.”

“Do you want more?” he offers, and you frantically nod, one of your hands fisting the pillow behind your head.

He carefully presses one long finger inside you, glancing between your face and your entrance to make sure you’re comfortable the entire time. One finger quickly becomes two, and when two nearly becomes three, you have to pause and take a breath.

“Enough,” you pant. “That’s enough.”

“Are you sure?” he asks you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving him a few slow strokes while he leaks precum onto your hand and groans helplessly.

“I want you,” you insist. “I’ve wanted you.”

“R-right, yeah,” he agrees, trying to clear his head and focus on the task at hand. “Enough.”

He gently nudges your hand away so he can guide himself inside you, one hand wrapped around himself and the other gently pressing on your inner thigh to keep you still for him.

Underneath Sebastian like this, pinned to the mattress by his hips and hands, he completely overtakes your senses. He’s all you can see, all you can touch — you even taste and smell him.

Masculine sweat. Dark brown eyes. Crisp autumn air. The curve of his collarbone where it meets his shoulder. Woodsmoke. A million tiny freckles. Metallic blood from a split lip. Flashes of copper in his messy curls. Singed pine needles.

Sebastian groans low in his throat as he presses in, his hair falling into his eyes before he frantically brushes it away so he can see you take him for the first time.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he bends down and presses his forehead against yours.

“Tell me,” he begs, his hand curling gently around the back of your neck to hold you close.

“Tell you what?” you whisper, your lips brushing against his with every syllable.

“Tell me that it feels like this for you,” he practically breathes into you. “It feels like you’re — you’re everywhere, like you’re all there is.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper, and his hips snap against yours.

“Say it,” he growls. “Please.”

“You’re all there is,” you gasp. “You’re all mine, Bash.”

He makes a sound like you’ve sucker-punched him, messily kissing wherever he can get his mouth on you – your cheek, your jaw, your lips. All the while he’s fucking you open with relentless, eager thrusts.

He’s not going to last long, but you don’t expect him to. You just want him to feel good – the two of you have already wasted enough time not doing this, so why delay satisfaction?

You wrap your legs around his hips to hold him against you, rocking your own hips upward to meet him and coax him closer to the edge.

“I’m going to come,” he grits out, grinding into you desperately the closer he gets to his climax. “Can I finish inside?”

“N-no,” you whimper. There’s a potion you can drink to make it safe that takes an entire week to brew, and the batch that’s currently bubbling away at your potions station across the Room isn’t quite ready yet.

“Where?” he begs.

“Anywhere else, wherever you want,” you promise him, your mind quickly tossing out mental images of him spilling himself across your breasts, into your mouth, on the curve of your back.

He pulls out of you with a reluctant moan and kneels between your open thighs, wrapping a hand around his cock to finish himself off. You watch his eyes while he takes you in, seemingly torn between meeting your gaze and staring transfixed at your fingers between your thighs as you get closer to finishing yourself.

“Next time, love,” you murmur softly. “The next time you fuck me you can finish in me, I’ll take it all.”

“Promise?” he asks breathlessly, still an incorrigible flirt even when he’s seconds away from his orgasm.

“Promise,” you whine, spreading your legs a little wider when you catch his gaze lingering again.

You’re so close, desperately rolling your hips against your own hand until you tip over the edge, the rush of your release arching your back before you collapse lazily against the bed.

He shuffles forward and groans your name just before he spills, leaving a warm, wet mess all over your stomach and between your hips. You feel properly claimed – especially when he flops down next to you and immediately tugs you against his chest, unbothered by his release smearing between your bodies.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes into your hair. “Merlin, I love you.”

“You love me?” you whisper against his collarbone.

“Enduringly,” he says.

You rest your cheek against his chest and listen to his racing heartbeat for a few moments before you tell him, “I love you too, you know.”

Just then, the Room starts to rumble.

“What’s going on?” Sebastian asks, urgently peering around for his wand.

He quickly settles and even laughs under his breath when he sees the Room shifting around the two of you to provide a spacious, sunken bathtub in the middle of the room, complete with a luxurious amount of taps that undoubtedly offer an array of bubbles, salts and soaps.

“Oh, now you want to let me clean myself up?” Sebastian drawls. “After you’ve completely worn me out, hmm?”

“It’s more for me,” you giggle. “I can’t possibly sleep like this, but you’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

As if Sebastian would ever pass up the chance to feel you up in the water.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #my fic #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #(it's subtle but it's there)#unbeta'd we die like men #how do we feel about “bash” as a nickname because it's my favorite 🥹

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arielstruggles · 1 year

Text

The Dawn of Regret

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem reader

Summary: You have a crush on Joel Miller and he becomes your patrol partner.

W.C: 3.4k

Warnings: Smut (mdni), P in V sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), Katoptronophilia, praise kink, slight dirty talk, breeding kink, big fat age gap (reader is 26 Joel is 56), angst.

A/N: Happy kinktober folks!. I love angst so i incorporate it in everything :| sorry. I honestly don't know if this will be a one shot or not, we will see. I'm sorry i'm not the best for descriptions. And if i have any grammar mistakes, sorry in advance i am not a native English speaker. Anyway, if anyone reads it, let me know your opinions, love you bye!

ch2 ch3

You and Joel have known each other for quite some time now. It has been roughly four months that him and Ellie decided to stay in Jackson, instead of trying to find the Fireflies. Since then, they were joining you at different tasks. Ellie was too young to join the patrols without a training but Joel, as a 56 years old, fearless man; he was the perfect fit. Well, obviously he was a mass murderer too but it was helpful in this situation. But other than that you were nothing to each other. Just a couple of “Hello”s and “How is it going”s here and there. But you couldn’t help to feel attracted to him. Normally, you were teaming up with Maria and Joel was teaming up with Tommy but Tommy and Joel decided that they were "sick of each other" so Maria came up with the solution that you were supposed to team up with Joel. It caught you off guard. You were so used to went on patrols with Maria that you didn't know what to do exactly. Not that you were unable to protect yourself or anything. You were living in Jackson for more than two years now and before that you basically learned how to survive on your own. No, it was not a doubt that came from your skills, it was because of Joel.

You were a little bit, just a little bit intimidated by his presence. He was not a chatty, lively man. His brows were mostly furrowed, well he was grumpy to say the least. Not that he was rude or mean towards you. On the contrary he knew where to stand. So, he sort of knew when to be nice which was obviously not around you. But you were not sure if you were okay where he was standing, you wanted more. He was a handsome man, grumpy old man to be fair but it didn't take anything from his charm. His broad shoulders, warm brown eyes, the dimple on his cheek which is a shame that you could barely see since he was not laughing around you that much. He was big and strong. His hands, his fingers... The thought of it showed itself as dampness on your panties. You were feeling guilty for dreaming about him from time to time but in your defense, who would not? Gosh those Fingers. “What would happen if he wrapped them around my throat?" you thought, on the couch where you were lying at the moment. "What would happen if he kissed me, or better bite me?" you get so worked up that dipped your fingers inside your panties.

After you came imagining it was his fingers inside you instead of yours, a wave of warmth washes your whole body. You are feeling so guilty. You are about to go on a patrol with this man and you masturbated, in your couch, thinking of him. And you had no idea how he felt about you, you saw him flirting with women before in the Tipsy Bison however none of them were as young as you. They were mostly older than forty. You are in your mid-twenties. Also, you know the fact that he had a daughter which if she was alive would be older than you so this was both unethical and impossible. You shake your head due to your own stupid thoughts and realize that it' almost three a.m. that means Joel and you are about the meet in an hour. You fix your clothes and decide to make yourself a coffee, you have limited supply of coffees so even though you really love it you can't drink as much as you want to but tonight, or this morning to be precise, you need to.

While you sip your coffee with the shame on your shoulders you hear a knock on your door, you leave your mug on the table and walk towards the door. “Who is that?” you ask, even though the low and husky tone makes it clear that it is Joel, you are just trying to be careful. “It’s Joel. I was just checking you if you were awake.” To hide the reflection of that stupid grin on your voice, you clear your throat “Yes, I am.” You can’t help the heat that rises from your core. “Okay, be outside of your door in 30.” He says and you hear footsteps fading away. You realize you didn’t even open the door, let alone kindly inviting him but it was probably for the best. You still feel warm and fuzzy because of your Joel fantasies. You grab your coffee and sip the rest while thinking of him.

Once you’re done with your coffee, you step outside of your door with you backpack on your back and gun in its holster, waiting for Joel. After a while his big figures approaches which makes you feel giddy. You curse under your breath for feeling like a high schooler who sees their crush. “Mornin’” he rasps, “morning” you say in return. “We’re heading towards east this time. Tommy claims. There are riders.” It is obvious by his tone that he mocks with his brother. You nod as a response to his explanation and you both start walking. You know, silence is better to search the area but it makes you so uneasy. You want to talk to him desperately. “So, why you and Tommy decided to not to be partners anymore?” you ask, your tone is louder than you expected. “You wanna get attention of clickers or sumthin?” he is not mad, it’s his usual grumpiness but still you feel ashamed. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “sorry.” You murmur, this time your tone is quiet. “He was being a pain in the ass, I’m sick of his bullshit.” He answers your question without looking at your face, you are grateful for that. You hum in return while you keep on walking. It’s still dark outside and cold. You wish you were in your warm bed. But the man who is walking right beside you seems so unbothered. He doesn’t care about the cold or how dark it is. It is as if he is living for the sake of living. You study his demeanor, trying to be sneaky. “Is there sumthin on my face?” “no, i- I’m sorry.” “well, you should focus on the road not me.” his tone is amused this time, not annoyed, not grumpy. You see a smile dancing around his lips, it is not a smile but it’s the best you got which sort of encourages you. “I can do both” “Aren’t you sumthin?” he chuckles, you made him smile.

That little conversation is all you need for you to have a crush on Joel. Not that you had not anything towards him but it was not a strong feeling whatsoever. But the moment you were able to make him smile. Well, it worsens the situation. For the rest of the road, you are mostly quiet. The sun is about to rise, the sky is turning into a lighter shade of blue. The birds chirping. It almost sounds peaceful. In the middle of an apocalypse. You can’t help but laugh audibly. Joel turns towards you with a questioning look on his face. “I was thinking how peaceful it felt. The sky seems so pretty, birds are chirp-“Joel covers your mouth with one of his hands and yanks you to a tree trunk which sends a shock to your body. While you try to grasp what is the reason behind this, he gestures with his other hand to be quiet. You nod in return and both of you listen carefully. You hear the clickers around. High pitched screams of a bunch of them fill the woods. It’s disturbing. You are grateful for it though, it distracts you from thinking how close your bodies are, how one of his hands is on your mouth. After he gives you the que you wait in silence, you kill them one by one. “Morning exercise I guess.” You say. “Yeah, right.” He replies grumpily and rolls his eyes. Here he is again, the Joel you are familiar with. It is saddening honestly. Witnessing a side of him which he only shows people whom he really cares and trusts, which you crave to be one.

You look at your pocket watch it reads 8.45. Morning sun shines through the sky, it is warmer than a couple of hours earlier. You still have more than three hours and frankly, after your last unsuccessful attempt to make him talk, you give up. Morning sun hits his face in a way that invigorates his handsome features. You want to reach his face and caress his cheeks, kiss tip of his nose. Of course, you can’t do any of that, how could you? You don’t even know him, he doesn’t even know you. It’s just your hormones talking, you assure yourself. “Cat got your tongue?” he questions your silence. “Huh?” “You seem lost in your thoughts. You were chatty earlier.” “I thought you would be annoyed if I talk too much.” “Yeah, you thought that right.” Well, he is honest at least. You don’t say anything back. He breaks the silence when you find an old shed. “I know this is safe, I’ve been there before you wanna rest a bit? Before heading back to Jackson?” even though staying in a small space with Joel for a couple of hours seems like not a good idea your feet hurt from all that walking and fighting with clickers was draining so you decide it’s for the best “Yeah, sure.” He opens the door and checks out the shed just in case then nudges his head for you to get inside. There is a mirror at the corner. It has cracks here and there and sort of rusty but you can see your reflection.

You sit on a moldy couch, it’s not the best thing to sit but at least better it is than floor. He sits right next to you, you are pretty close to each other. This surprises you but considering it is the only somewhat comfortable thing in this place it should not. The silence is too loud. You want to speak, to say something but you don’t know what to say. It’s as if you forgot how to talk, as if all the words in you have lost their meanings. The hand on your thigh jerks you awake from your thoughts. You look at his hand on your thigh then his eyes. He looks at you as if he is about to devour you. Even if you dreamt about this before, it feels different when he really touches you. You feel shy all of a sudden. “Darlin’ you thought I didn’t realize how you look at me?” his raspy tone sends shivers down on your spine. You want to give in and let him fuck you senseless but a part of you still wants to resist. You clearly have no idea how this thing is going to work or what he really wants. “What? You must be dreaming Joel.” You chuckle nervously. “I most certainly am not.” His hand moves up and up till your crotch but he doesn’t touch there yet. “Tell me darlin’” he leans on your ear, his breath tickles your neck, you’re sitting side by side but you want him on top of you. “Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll stop.” “Fine, okay. I want you.” you try not to sound so desperate but the last part of your sentence comes out as whining. “Atta girl, was that so hard?” he murmurs and cups your crotch through your jeans. He doesn’t dip his fingers, not yet. He leaves wet kisses all over your neck. You do something bold and climb on his thigh. His large hands find their places on your waist. You kiss him deeply. Your tongues dance with harmony. You get wetter with each passing second and press yourself on his thigh a little more. He moans into your mouth. “Naughty, naughty” a smirk spreads across his mouth. You grind on his thigh more and more; the tension is unbearable at this point. “Joel, do something!” you burrow your face in the crook of his neck “Do what darlin?” “Fuck me Joel.” Your voice comes muffled. You bite down on his neck. he cradles you and take you in front of the mirror which you saw earlier. You are confused. “What are you doing?” you ask him. “Just want you to see everything.”

You are standing before the mirror; Joel is pressed behind you. His cock is nestled between your ass cheeks. His movements are slow, you still have a couple of hours left and everywhere seemed clear so you can take your time. But you are so restless. He takes off your coat, then your shirt, then your bra. You’re half naked. Your reflection in the mirror startles you. You are as much eager as Joel. He cups your right tit. His calloused fingers brush your hardened nipple while he licks your neck. You gasp with the overwhelming feeling. You’re dripping cunt flutters against nothing. You want him inside. “Joel” you moan. He bites your shoulder in return. You both watch your reflections in the mirror. You take one of his hands that are on your waist and slide it into your panties, he takes the hint, an amused laugh leaves his lips but he does not want to tease you so he starts toying with your clit while leaving wet kisses all over your shoulders and neck. While his thumb circles around your clit and he dips his middle finger to your hole. “Aren’t you a slut, hm? Waiting for me to fuck this hole of yours?” You moan to the vulgarity of his words. He adds a second finger, hitting just the right spots. The overwhelming sensation takes over your whole body, you feel weak in the knees and rest your back against his chest more and more. At this point you look like a body with two heads. You feel your first orgasm is about to hit. “Joel ‘m close, I’m so close.” You coo, “let it go baby girl. You’re such a good girl for me, let it go darlin’” he whispers to your ear. You don’t even hesitate to ruin his fingers with your cum. He takes his fingers off of you and licks them. You see the reflection in the mirror. It feels so unholy. You feel as if a sinner, for letting a man who’s the same age as your father, if he was alive, to finger fuck you. “Now darling, I want more. I want to my cock in that sweet pussy of yours. I want to eat you out.” “Yes Joel, please.” Your voice sounds so needy that you cringe. “I want you to watch baby girl. Every second of it.”

He lays down his coat to the floor and then lays you down on it. Unbuttons your jeans and strips down the rest of your clothes. He starts kissing your neck and makes his way down while leaving kisses on your torso. His tongue finds his way on your clit, it moves with ease. You grip a fist full of his hair and press him against your pussy more. The warmth of his tongue mixed with the warmth of your pussy sends shock waves to your body. He eats you out with such ease and pleasantly. Your moans fill the old shed. Then Joel stops, “time to take my cock darling’” he coos and unbuttons his jeans. Cold air hits your glistening folds, makes you shiver. He takes off his jeans and boxers. His fat cock is up against his belly. Your mouth waters, you want to take it to your mouth. He catches your hungry eyes. “Next time darling’”. His tip shines with pre cum. He is hard as a rock. He checks on the mirror, to see your reflections, you do the same. You can’t name the feels in you at the moment because it feels nice. He leans on your body and aligns his cock with your entrance. “You ready?” you nod eagerly. It has been a while-3 years to be precise- since you last got laid and you don’t have that much experience but you want to hide this fact from Joel. Once he pushes himself inside you, you scream. Then you adjust to his size and he picks up his once slower pace. “So wet and tight for me. So pretty.” He mutters in your ear. “good girl, aren’t you a sweet girl for me, darlin’?” you nod, he grabs you by the throat, “Answer me!” his tone is demanding, his gaze is dark. “Yes, yes Joel” you answer but frankly, you don’t even know what was he saying. Your hips move in sync. He is close “Where do you want me to come, darling?” “Inside” you say. You come together. He fills you up. After you’re both done, he lays on you. You wrap your arms around his torso. It feels so intimate. You have so many questions you want to ask. But you don’t know how he will respond. You clearly have a crush on him but you are not sure if he feels something towards you or if it was just a bodily pleasure. You decide to wait for him to take the first step.

You lay there for almost half an hour. Then he speaks “It’s almost 11 a.m., we better get going.” You can’t tell if he sounds distant or not. He helps you to get up and you wear your clothes and he does the same. You leave the shed and head towards Jackson. He does not talk; you don’t want to talk as well. But you have more than two hours of walking distance so after a while you are so bored of silence and curiosity eats you alive. “what’s gonna happen now?” you ask expecting for him to say something positive. “Nothing.” he almost barks. You are stunned by the tone of his. “Oh?” is all you can say. “Look, it was a mistake, I shouldn’t be so reckless. You forget what happened, I’ll do the same.” It hurts you. He is so blunt and there is no emotion behind his words. You feel so stupid for even thinking this could have led to something. You feel tears sting to your eyes but try to hold them back. You have no intention to feel smaller in front of this monster of a man. You are unsuccessful though. He hears you sniffing, does not look at you. He does not want to feel more guiltier than this. “Now, don’t cry on me.” he wants to sound harsh; he wants you to hate him so that you will never like him. It does not help. He wants you to be safe and being closer to him is not the safest option.

You can see Jackson, you’re close. That means you can go to your home and cry for hours. Your sadness leaves its place to anger. “You know, you are a disgusting man. You gave me hope and now you’re leaving me like this.” You know that is not the truth but you want to hurt him. “You are right about that. But I didn’t think you could be this naïve to fall for me.” “You deserve to die alone! If your daughter knew all this, she would’ve hated you.” You can see the burning flame in his eyes. For a second you think he will smack you across your face but he does not instead he grabs your arm tightly. “Just because we fucked does not mean you are something to me. You are clearly desperate for attention. You want someone to love you. But that ain’t me. You’re nobody.” He leaves your arm and walks towards his home. You stand there like a fool you tried to hurt him but he did it. You start to walk as well, Maria approaches you. “So, how was your patrol? You seem pale.” “It was okay, a couple of clickers, nothing unusual.” Your voice cracks, she looks at you worriedly. “please, I don’t want to talk.” You explain and she nods. You open your door and enter your house. The moment the door shut closed you start crying.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller hbo #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #kinktober #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #fanfic #joel miller angst

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stardewsnail · 2 years

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Can you write head cannons of how the bachelors would react when jealous? Perhaps they heard their farmer was giving gifts to other bachelors. Can be NSFW. K love you byeee

This is a bit inconsistent because of how familiar I am with them/how interesting I thought their reactions would be–some of these are head canons and some of them are drabbles. Somewhere along the way I realized I switched from they/them pronouns to she/her so I guess this is about a fem farmer now lol–hope you enjoy!

Bachelors get jealous

MINORS DNI; cw: sexual activity, jealousy, sad boi hours

Shane

- very different if he’s with the farmer or not bc I feel like he’s used to being envious of others

- When he sees the farmer bringing Elliot a bottle of wine or Sam a cactus fruit he feels like he has no valid reason to be jealous. He’s just embarrassed and ashamed of his own feelings.

- Like, obviously the pretty, successful, kind farmer isn’t going to be interested in him? He’s working at the Joja mart and drinking away his money—he’s barely keeping it together and he comes with a kid. Not exactly the biggest catch

- After the cliffs he had come to terms with his crush and is just sort of leaving it because he cannot imagine her reciprocating his growing feelings. That’s fine, he loves having her in his life regardless. He doesn’t have the expectation that they’ll ever return his feelings and that’s okay. He gets a therapist and focuses on getting better for himself and the others in his life

But if they’re together it’s different

- He retreats into himself and has a bit of a mental spiral (ranging from “it was bound to happen eventually” to “oh god our chickens are going to come from a broken home”)

- Fortunately he has a therapist to work through things with so he’s able to actually express himself to the farmer in a healthy way and receive the emotional validation that the farmer does in fact love them and their chickens will grow up with parents who love each other

- He’ll pull her onto his lap or against his chest and if the vibe is right the cuddling might turn into a make out session which might get handsy—Shane is extra needy after all this, lingering through the motions. After sex he stays inside her for a minute, just sharing breath and being as close as possible

- Shane alternates being big and little spoon don’t @ me

I feel like Shane having a therapist pulls a lot of the “drama” out of him being jealous because he’s so focused on developing healthier coping strategies so him talking about his feelings directly is a big step!

...

Sebastian

Pre relationship

“Motherfucker-!” Sebastian snarled, watching his avatar die yet again. In his headset Sam groaned, quickly meeting a similar fate. Abigail, now left alone, didn’t fare much better.

“Okay, it’s 4, I’m calling…” A yawn cut through Sam’s words, “….it.”

Sebastian winced, glancing at the clock, “Damn—yeah. Night, guys.” It was stupid late. He was going to regret this tomorrow. No, actually, he was already regretting it. Now he was just pissed at the game and at—he shoved that thought down, feeling heat rise to his face. He dropped heavily onto the bed, arm thrown over his eyes. His head hurt.

And he really didn’t want to deal with the bolt of anger that shocked him when he saw Alex throw his arm around the farmer. Her face was lit up with laughter as they shared some joke—the jock had only touched her for a moment and sure, it might not actually mean anything—but he was jealous. And even a solid nine hours of league had done nothing to subdue the feeling that boiled in his chest. It wasn’t even like the farmer didn’t talk to him either—and while she brought everyone little gifts, he’d had the thought that maybe his were special. A foolish, hopeful thought. Alex was outgoing, athletic, and only still lived at home to care for his grandparents. Sebastian was a twenty-four year old college dropout living in his mom’s basement filling his time with gaming. God, he really was a loser. Fortunately he was unconscious before he really had to deal with that.

…

Knock, knock, knock

Sebastian groaned, burrowing farther under his pillow. His mom always woke him up when she made breakfast even if he wasn’t actually required to get up. Maybe later he could ask her what she knew about the farmer. He was pretty sure she was still working on upgrading their coop anyway. It wouldn’t be an odd question. He rolled over, trying to relax back down into sleep.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the second knock sounded. If he ignored it, chances are his mom would leave him be. But then she knocked again, a little harder this time. He swore under his breath as he hauled himself out of bed, not bothering to hit the lights before throwing open the door with more force than strictly necessary.

The farmer’s hand was still raised to knock and she froze, looking up at him with raised eyebrows.

Sebastian’s entire brain blue-screened. It crashed. It attempted to restart. It failed. It tried again but all that came up was how he must look—an old band t-shirt, unbrushed hair, stubbled chin, frog-print boxers—holy shit he wasn’t even wearing pants.

“Good morning!” She said, cheeks pink. It certainly wasn’t morning, that much he knew. Sebastian wished the floor would swallow him right then and there. “Sam said you guys were up late playing games so I brought you this,” she held up the coffee in her other hand, “Robin said I was fine to come down, I didn’t think you’d be asleep, sorry—“

“I needed to get up anyway,” he said, a bit too fast. He ran his hand over his hair, trying to judge its state and was quickly dismayed. Fuck, she was pretty. Great impression Sebastian. Great job.

“Thank you,” he added, finally accepting the warm paper cup.

“I started growing coffee beans a while ago,” she continued, fidgeting and definitely noticing his lack of pants, “This is the first of it. Let me know how it is, I’m still experimenting with roasting.”

“Oh wow,” he took a sip realizing not only was the coffee delightful, she’d also added cream and just a touch of sugar–exactly how he took it, “This is really good. Thank you.”

She lit up, “Oh good! I was hoping you’d like it.” She was hoping he’d like it? Him specifically? The caffeine hadn’t hit him yet, but the taste of coffee still got his brain moving. He noticed the fishing pole sticking out of her pack.

“Are you headed to the lake?” he asked, before he could really think it through.

“Yeah–I wanted to do some fishing,” she rocked on her feet, “I’ll let you get back to it–”

Shit, that hadn’t been his intent.

“D’you want company?” he cut her off, flushing when she just looked up at him with a smile.

“That would be really nice–you can tell me about your game. It sounded fun but I didn’t quite understand when Sam was talking about it.”

“Great,” he said, “I’ll uh…meet you out there?” He still wasn’t wearing pants.

Dating

Sebastian trusted his girlfriend. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that seeing her smile and shyly give Elliot a bottle of her mead had shaken the dust off his old companion, jealousy, and now he didn’t know what to do with the itch in his skin.

He’d spent the day working on his bike, music blasting, a scowl etched on his face. At some point Demetrius had come out to say something, but a glance at Sebastian’s face had him simply turning tail back to the house.

It was better he got it all out of his system before he met up with the farmer at the saloon.

Some time and a hot shower later he was entering the saloon, wondering if she had beat him there–and she had.

And Elliot was there, fawning over the farmer who had a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles as the writer told some dramatic story, talking with animated hands.

He was across the bar in a second, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his side. The lazy grin he gave Elliot was more a challenge than anything–he didn’t know where this sudden boldness was coming from–Elliot didn’t seem like the type to pull something but there was a primal need to mark his territory. The farmer was his.

She flashed him a grin, her hand coming to rest in his back pocket, and finished what she was saying.

“Hey, babe,” she said, pushing to her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips, “I got here early–want to get in some practice before Sam and Abby show up?”

“Need a warm up?” he teased, “Think that will help you beat me?”

“One of these days,” she bumped his hip with her own, “I’m gonna win. Talk to you later, Elliot!” she added. Elliot said something in response before slinking back to where Leah was sitting, watching as if this was her very own reality TV show.

...

Harvey

Harvey wasn’t jealous. The farmer was just a friend–she was kind and generous and liked giving gifts! Most mornings she popped by the clinic to bring him a coffee and chat for a few minutes between appointments.

It was only natural for her to prefer someone less devoted to their work, younger and more aligned with the pop culture she was familiar with. Sam was a ray of sunshine, and seeing him light up when the farmer had offered him a cactus fruit had sent a spike of something that was not jealousy through his chest.

He spends all his free time for the next few days pouring over his model planes, completing two kits in record time. Between that and the kids in town catching something nasty and viral, he hadn’t even seen her in a week. Which was fine.

He hadn’t anticipated her to be waiting right outside the door of the clinic, swinging it open as soon as the lock turned. If he had been any slower, she probably would have hit him with it. Her eyes were piercing as she held out the coffee, a small frown on her face.

“Have you been avoiding me?” her words were blunt and heat rose to his face, hands raised as if that would be enough to convince her of his words.

“No–no, I just–well–” he swallowed, looking anywhere but her face, “You just seemed busy and like you were spending time with Sam and–” She was giving him this small smile that had his stomach turn to jelly, and now he didn’t know what to do with his hands. She held out the coffee.

“Want to meet up at the saloon later?”

“Yes!” His reply might have been a bit eager, but he didn’t care because her face simply lit up.

“Great, it’s a date.” and then she turned out the door, going on her merry way before he could even process her words.

...

Alex

- to be honest before they’re dating I think he would just AGGRESSIVELY do push ups where the farmer could see

- or he’ll make a comment about how hot Haley is looking to the farmer

- Either way he tells Haley about “how well he handled it” and she is so, so tired.

Alex doesn’t care that the farmer went all the way into the mines to find that special rock for Sebastian. It wasn’t even Sebastian’s birthday or anything, she was just nice and he was not bothered.

He wasn’t bothered when he was doing push-ups.

He wasn’t bothered when he was squating.

He wasn’t even bothered while doing his deadlifts.

And while he showered, he totally wasn’t thinking about how she looked so pleased when she showed him the gem, mentioning that it was Sebastian’s favorite.

Now they were sitting on her bed, watching some movie that he couldn’t quite parse over his churning thoughts. He’d been inching closer and closer without realizing, and now he shifted to rest his head in her lap watching her instead of the movie.

Immediately her hands found their way to stroke through his hair. She smoothed his brow, and he realized he’d been frowning.

“What’s up?” she asked, ever perceptive.

“Nothing,” he replied reflexively, and she paused the movie, waiting for him to continue.

“You…like me, right?” His voice was quiet, and if it wasn’t her he would be too embarrassed to ask such a vulnerable question.

“I love you, actually.” She said it so casually he took a second to process the confession. Her smile was soft.

Never one for words over actions, he sat up, closing the distance between them with a kiss.

...

Sam

- I feel like Sam would try to cover any jealousy with a smile and positive attitude but something about the farmer “doting” on Alex and making him baked salmon really bothered him

- He asks Shane for advice because that’s his work dad/adult and Shane just looks up at the security camera like it’s the office but does try to give advice because he’s fond of the kid

- His advice is literally just for Sam to make a move because so help him god if he has to head about the farmers eyes one more time

...

Elliot

- He’s in denial that he’s jealous

- I feel like Elliot’s solution to every emotional problem is writing

- He would probably end up projecting it onto his characters writing a scene where somebody is jealous (because he’s not jealous nope. He’s not jealous at all)

- He’s a little moodier, a little more sardonic and eventually the farmer asks what’s bugging him–he assures her that it’s just difficulty with his novel

- He doesn’t say he’s jealous nope

- He's just gonna go full Gomez Addams and make love to them in a bit of a frenzy—I’m talking a trail of clothes, fucking her right on his desk.

- He’s leaving hickies, the farmer is being claimed

- The farmer is being RAVISHED

- He probably won’t bring it up bc he does trust the farmer completely and knows it’s his own anxiety and the farmer more than reassured him on the reg and he can trust that

...

I’m hiding my dumbass notes waaaaaaay down here

I wrote this while zoinked and made up a whole ass bachelor named Mike and sat there for a good min wondering why I could remember anything about Mike, who the FUCK is Mike????

Am I writing Elliot ravishing the farmer on the desk? Yes, but this reply was getting a little long so it’s coming later

I’ve been a little slow on requests lately, but my spouse is going to be out of town for the next month so I should have a lot more time to working on these :) it brings me such joy every time I get that lil notification, thanks y’all <3

#Stardew valley #stardew valley bachelors #sdv harvey #sdv shane #sdv alex #sdv sam #sdv elliot #sdv sebastian #sdv fanfic #sdv fic request #snailwrites #sdv smut #jealous sdv bachelors

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queenpiranhadon · 5 months

Text

A/N: I find it hilarious that this is Bakugou x Reader and he's not even in like 1/3 of the series LMAO Big thanks to our resident beta reader @cashmoneyyysstuff srlsy dunno how she thought I was cool enough to follow ily 😭 Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader is the daughter of Aizawa, Shinso and Eri are biological siblings, Shinso is a year younger than reader, reader is 20 years old, afab!reader, reader's mother is dead, medieval fantasy setting, reader cries a lot, reader started sword fighting at age six, reader passes out from crying, reader drugs her family (JUST HEAR ME OUT LMAO- I DON'T CONDONE STUFF LIKE THAT BUT ITS FOR THE PLOT), bad explanations of anesthetics, reader's nickname is Cactus and Warrior, slight spoilers of the actual show/manga, mentions of crossdressing (it's probably inaccurate, idk man I'm not really experienced with this sorta stuff lol).

Pairing(s): Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ: Bruises

“I have bad news.”

In that moment, you’re pretty sure you felt your heart stop.

You sat there, frozen, unable to move as everyone else at the table starts talking immediately, asking your father was the issue was.

Yet his eyes remained on you, inky coals transfixed on you, unwavering, boring into your soul as if waiting, watching to see what you’d do next.

Your mind tries to wander, briefly remembering the last time your father said that, the slight pain in his seemingly empty eyes and his strained tone of voice. The last time those words were uttered, your mother died.

No.

Now wasn’t the time for that. Now was the time to protect your family, like you always have. Your feelings weren’t important now.

You notice your father rub his index finger against the underside of his thumb, a code you knew to mean retreat. In this case, he wanted to go outside to talk to you, alone.

The table goes silent as you stand up with a word, worried glances being sent you way. Smiling reassuringly at them, you make your way around the table to the door, spinning around to squeeze Ejiro’s shoulder as he was the closest to you and make eye contact with your brother.

“Toshi, you’re in charge in the meantime- make sure everyone has enough to eat alright?” you ask, and he hums in agreement, but narrows his eyes, a look that means you’re telling me everything once you’re done.

You chose to ignore that, turning around again to exit your home to meet your father who was waiting for you outside.

Shutting the door behind you, you see him staring up at the starless sky, covered by clouds and most likely smoke from fires made to provide warmth with the coming winter.

You join him on the steps of your porch, staring up into the night sky with him. It was poetic in a way, the loss of the stars in the sky reminded you of the man by your side.

Shota Aizawa was a swordsman, and one of the finest in the kingdom of Bellorant. Since you were six, he used to teach you, much to your mother’s annoyance. She didn’t want you near anything of the sort, especially when you returned one day covered in bruises, saying "Shota, she’s six! She needs to grow to be a lady, not a soldier or a fighter. She doesn’t need to grow up around violence.”

Yet he still taught you, teaching you ancient sword techniques and sparred with you on occasion, but you never won – unless he let you. Every time, he would stop you at the most spontaneous moments, you could be in the middle of a heated spar when he rubbed his index finger against his thumb, retreat. It was like he had a sixth sense, knowing exactly when your mother would be home, and when she walked through the front door, you would be helping your father with preparing dinner.

It was your secret, only for the two of you.

At least for four years. After your mother had passed away, your father basically fell apart, refusing to teach you as an unspoken promise to your mother following her death.

He could barely look at a sword the same way after he lost both his leg and your mother, like the starless sky - you knew it was possible, yet it seemed wrong. Your father was as empty without his swords as the sky was without stars.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice betraying you, coming out as a shaky whisper.

The raven-haired man sucks in a breath, refusing to look at you, not saying anything, The silence was deafening and suffocating, as waves of anxiety rack your brain and your heart rate picks up.

What in the world could be so bad that he can’t even look you in the eye?!

“I’m being enlisted into the army. The roundup is tomorrow at dawn.”

Time stops right then and there. You feel your heart drop. You couldn’t lose him, you couldn’t. Sending him out there was suicide, and he knew it.

He couldn’t do this to you, not after losing your mother. You needed him, he was all you had left to prevent you from tearing yourself apart from the inside. He was the loose string in the fabric that held everything together but was easily able to be pulled away in the blink of an eye.

You didn’t realize you were crying until a rough hand comes up and brushes a few tears from your face.

“You have to be strong my warrior.” he whispers softly, the name hitting you harder than it should’ve.

He hadn’t called you that since the last time you trained together.

Words fail you, but he understands, holding you tight as the dam breaks, unshed tears falling as years of suffocating pain and stress release you in the form of salty tears that drip down your cheeks and soak into your father’s shirt.

You were going to be all alone again.

Just the thought brings even more tears to your eyes, heaving sobs so powerful that you can’t breathe, there’s just too much and you can’t take it anymore, but you have to.

You have to, for Hitoshi and Eri. If nothing else, do it for them.

***

You’re not sure when you passed out, but you come to lying in your bed, your dad probably carried you.

Your throat feels dry, and your eyes burn. Shivering and burying yourself in your blankets, your heart sinks as the situation dawns on you.

Taking in a shaky deep breath you think, like you always have. Thinking about how to fix a problem that seemed so big that you could never fix it.

But there was always a way.

You tried to remember the last time enlistments happened. It wasn’t the first time your father has been in a war, neither had it been for many of the men in your village. But the rest of the village wasn’t battling a severe disability and trying to cope with even more severe mental health issues.

As per the crown’s decree, the terms for enlistment were the oldest able-bodied man from each household would be sent to join the army out of loyalty for their country.

That didn’t make sense- considering that your father was far from able bodied...shit.

The alternative would’ve been HItoshi. Your father, knowing this, probably created a loophole, saying that the makeshift wooden prosthetic Chiyo provided from him considered the man able bodied, saving Hitoshi from the hardships of war he’d have to endure either way.

Bastard. You curse mentally, somewhat towards your father but mostly at the situation at hand. Shota Aizawa was an intuitive man, and knew exactly how to manipulate a situation to get what he wants. This trait, both helpful and infuriating was one that was passed down to you, which explained how you could read people well enough to know their intentions.

But you knew that right now, what you needed was both your father and Hitoshi, at some, safe.

And for that to happen, you needed some third Aizawa son to step in and take the burden from them both.

Then it hit you, maybe there was.

Cross dressing wasn’t a completely new subject to you- you remembered when you and Ochako snuck into a pub one night, dressed as two boys so no men would try to make a move on either of you.

Maybe it would work again.

Creeping out of your room, you see that everyone’s gone to bed. For once, you’re thankful that you do all the chores around the house, tip toeing into the room where you washed and dried all your clothes, spotting the basket of unfolded clean clothes that needed to be put away.

Sifting through its contents, you find what you were looking for: a yellowed white tunic and some thick black pants that belong to your brother.

Perfect.

This was all going according to plan.

Depositing the clothes in your room, you go into the washroom, finding the medicine cabinet where all Eri’s concoctions lived.

You wince, knowing this was technically drugging your family against their will, but you get to work, finding the balm used for sleep.

Sneaking into Hitoshi’s room first, you take some of the balm, rubbing the substance against your fingertips before rubbing it gently against the skin that covered his temple, herbs that were said to have magical properties allowed a light dosage of melatonin into the neural system.

You felt his body relax, all the tenseness gone from his frame, and you kiss his forehead softly, a tear pricking your eye.

You might never see him again.

“I love you Hitoshi.” you murmur, stroking his hair before doing the same for your father and sister both sound asleep, and they would be for the next twelve hours.

Fingering the paper in your hands, you bring it up to your lips, a final blessing from you before putting the letter addressed to your family on the dining table.

It was almost dawn, grabbing the roll of bandages from the washroom and wrapping your torso with it to make your chest flatter. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, but you persisted, knowing that it would only be a minor inconvienience in the long run.

Slipping your brother’s clothes on, you tie your hair into a wolf’s knot, a hairstyle that your father taught you himself, the mark of a warrior. Slipping on Hitoshi’s shoes, you grab the worn picture of your family ten years ago, looking at it, your mother’s face, and your father’s happy one. Now he’d at least be alive to have the chance to feel like that again

You put the photo in your satchel, along with the dagger you used to train with, and the diary Ejiro gifted you when you were thirteen. It was very thick, enough to only be half filled from 7 years of your living, but then again you never really used it back then. Well, that was going to change now, determined to leave your family and friends a little more than a rushed letter if you die.

Holy shit.

You could die.

The thought had never properly struck you until now, and yet, you didn’t feel dread. You just understood the grim truth that if it wasn’t you, it would be Hitoshi or your dad, and it were more than happy to put your life on the line for them.

You see the sun’s ray start to peak out of the horizon, eyes sweeping your home one last time before closing the door, hand staying on the doorknob for a split second longer than you should’ve, as it trying to subconsciously memorize how it feels.

One step by one, you make your way down the steps of your porch, the same ones you sat on the night before where you cried your heart out in your father’s arms.

That seemed so long ago, yet only a few seconds ago at the same time.

You make your way down the cobblestone path, down to the center of the village, spotting men from the imperial palace with their scrolls condemning their people to death.

You swallow down the pit in your stomach, taking a deep breath and joining the crowd of men that gathered around.

Goodbye, home.

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