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sweetbans29 · 1 day

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Feud - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin navigate a long-standing basketball feud (based on THIS, THIS, and THIS request)

Warnings: mentions of injury, slight angst, happy ending

Word Count: 4.4k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I am saying this now, I do not think I will be doing a part 2 for this. Not anywhere in the near future at least.

If someone were to tell you by your senior year of high school you would have a rivalry going on between you and some girl from Iowa, you would call them crazy.

You grew up in Southern California - attending Mater Dei High School and playing ball year-round. You were looked at as one of the most promising college recruits alongside girls like Paige Bueckers and Caitlin Clark. As exciting as it is to be named alongside these girls - it also came with its challenges.

The media caught wind that you were talking to Iowa. Talking initially all about how Iowa was going to be a powerhouse of a team having both you and Caitlin. When you announced that you committed to South Carolina - that is when they immediately pitted the two of you against each other.

It was all funny to you since you had never met the girl. You were encouraged to not look into what the media was saying but there were times that just wasn't possible. You saw how they compared the two of you - never showing the full truth. Even in the facts, they would only take bits and pieces of it and try to show the world how one was better than the other.

When you got to college - it only got worse. You remember your first game against Iowa. It had been all the media could talk about - seeing you go up against Clark for the first time. You saw headlines that went from saying how you didn't want to live in Caitlin's shadow or how you couldn't keep up with Caitlin's growth. Other headlines talked about how she hated you so much that she made you choose a different state to go to school. All of it was a load of bull in your opinion.

At your first game against the Hawkeyes, you were more nervous about all the talk surrounding you and Caitlin than the game itself. You couldn't get the last headline out of your head - 'Caitlin Clark to run circles around SC's freshman'.

"Hey, don't let any of what they are saying get to you," one of your teammates Aliyah says breaking you from the trance you were in.

"Ya, no. I'm good," you say coming back to reality. Aliyah just nods, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

The team goes and plays an incredible game. You were up at the half and were ready to take the second half which is exactly what you did. It was probably your best game yet and you couldn't be more proud.

At the end of the game, someone comes into your locker room and asks you to step outside. You follow before heading to the pressor to find Caitlin standing in an empty hall.

You are surprised and nervous all of a sudden but make your way over to the girl.

"Hi," you say not really sure what to say.

"Hi," she says back. As if just as nervous as you, she awkwardly extends her hand, "I'm Caitlin." You shake her hand and introduce yourself. She continues.

"I wanted to meet you in person in a controlled environment," she says with a little laugh eluding to hiding your first meeting from the media.

"Ya, they have been sort of insane," you say with a laugh of your own. "You had a really solid game today - I can see why so many people love you." You look at the girl standing before you and see her begin to fidget.

"Me?" She says on the verge of shock. " You dominated that court today - I was having a hard time keeping up with you. If anyone had a solid game it was you." She says.

"Well, thank you CC." You say with a smile. "That means a lot coming from you."

"Of course..." She says.

"I am really glad you came here," you begin. "If I'm honest - the media has been a lot recently and I know you are nothing like they are making you out to be. I don't know how you have felt about it but I truly appreciate this gesture. We don't need to be the best of friends, but we don't need to be strangers."

"I like that, although I will never stop trying to beat you on the floor." She says.

"Oh, I expect nothing less. Now knowing you are a sweetheart, I have no problem keeping up this 'feud' the media is creating - it's what the people want." You say playful giving her a little push.

"Oh that won't be hard considering the second we step onto the court my only goal is to bury you into the ground," Caitlin says with a smile. "I am sure we can keep this up and give them what they want with ease. Just know, it is all love off the court."

The two of you exchanged numbers and went on your way. Over the course of the next few years, both of your paths crossed several times. At games, award events, and random camps. Every time the two of you were in the same building the media would eat it up - always posting photos of the two of you giving each other death stares (which never really happened, they just timed it perfectly to make it seem like that or take snippets completely out of context). Since you first met her, the media hasn't taken such a big toll on you. It also helped that she would text you whenever something overly threatening or mean came out. It had you falling for the girl every time - deciding to push the feelings aside, thinking it was just her being sweet.

It was your junior year when things heated up in the media even more than they had in the past. Going into March Madness, all they could talk about was you against Caitlin so much that it brought back all the drama that started when you were going into college. Through it all Caitlin had reached out and reminded you none of it was real. It was very sweet of her.

Your two teams were facing off in the final four and you could not be more prepared.

The game was a close one the entire time - neither team had more of a 5-point lead at any time. It all came down to the final quarter.

Tied going into it - both teams fought to go to the championship game. Two minutes into the quarter things took a turn for the worst.

You were guarding Caitlin - staying vigilant on defense, ensuring she didn't get a good shot. When she went up on a jumper you hit her arm while trying to block the ball drawing the foul. You cursed at yourself for allowing her to go to the free-point line.

She makes the first one with ease and sets back to the line for a second. Everyone anticipates it going in but the second she releases, you can see how her eyes shift as she begins to make her wait for the ball. You cut in front of her, jumping up going for the rebound as she does the same. You get your hand on the ball trying to hold onto it as you make your way down to the ground.

What you weren't expecting was to be shifted so much that when you came down you landed directly on your knee, causing you to let out a murderous scream. Your hands immediately let go of the ball and make their way to the center of the pain - your knee.

The stadium silences immediately - leaving only your cries as you curl up into a ball.

Caitlin - being the closest one to you is hunched over you with her hands on your shoulder while your teammates run to get medical.

"You're okay, you're okay." She keeps muttering as she really doesn't know what to do to comfort you. She knows she is the one who knocked you off balance in the air but never imagined this to happen.

"They are coming," she says trying to restore hope in you.

The medical team comes up and instantly knows they need to get you out of there immediately. They call for a stretcher which comes within seconds of them asking for it. Your eyes are glued shut as you bite the top of your jersey to avoid letting out any more screams.

The pain has blocked out anything and everything happening around you. You can't even remember how it happened, all you know is the centralized pain.

Caitlin watches as they remove you from the floor. She has never been this distressed when it has come to someone leaving the floor due to injury - not even girls from her own team. Cait makes the mistake of looking up at one of the monitors as they replay what happened and tears begin to form on the brim of her eyes as she clearly sees she is the cause of your injury. The media is going to have a field day with this but even more so - all she could think about was how she could ever begin apologizing to you.

Kate makes her way over to the shaking girl and pulls her into a hug.

"That wasn't your fault," she says in her ear. "Don't carry this."

Kate had been the only person on the team who knew the friendship that had been growing into more than Caitlin knew how to put into words. Kate could also see, Cait was very much at fault for what happened but knows how much Caitlin keeps in her head and shouldn't shoulder this right now.

Once you are taken through the tunnel - everyone does the best they can to regroup from the traumatic scene that had just taken place.

Your team was trying to regroup as they had to make adjustments on the court after losing their star player, also just trying to remain composed after seeing and hearing you go down. Kate was trying to get Caitlin to calm down and get her head back in the game. The crowd at this point remained silent until play resumed.

Your team lost to Iowa by 4 and no one could blame them. It was a hard loss but everyone was more concerned what the outcome of your injury would be over the ending of March Madness.

Once you were taken back, they decided it would be best to take you to the ER to get checked out. Shortly after arriving, they determined it was a transverse patella fracture which meant your patella broke into two and it would require surgery to fix if you ever wanted to play again. It was a no-brainer.

The next few days were a whirlwind for you - they kept you in the hospital as they prepped for the surgery and you started recovery after.

Your team came to visit and took turns rotating so you wouldn't be alone. Your manager thought it would be best to stay off of social media which you didn't argue with one bit. The last thing you needed was someone saying how your career was over. You went so far as to get a secondary phone and phone number just to communicate with the team and your family.

Once you were let go from the hospital to recover at home, you finally got your phone back and it was filled with messages. You scanned through them stopping at the one that caught your attention the most.

Phone in hand, you stared at the dozens of missed calls and messages from Caitlin. You clicked into her messages and began to read about how sorry she was and how she wanted you to let her know when you were home. You fought with yourself to listen to all of the voicemails she had left and settled on listening to the last.

You click on it and bring your phone up to your ear.

"Hi," she sounds completely defeated. "I know I have left you countless voicemails but I just really want to see how you are doing. This was never meant to happen - I...I don't know what was supposed to happen but it was not this." You hear the shakey breath that she takes before continuing. "I don't want to keep bugging you if you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I wouldn't even be listening to this and would have just deleted it but I know you are better than I am and just pray that this gets to you. That this gets to you before any of the media gets to you or spins the story into something it's not. Not that you owe me anything, but I ask that you don't listen to any of it. Don't do that to yourself because none of it is true. It is all lies that they have spun to their own narrative." She is crying now but does the best she can to cover it up. "This was never supposed to happen, I am so sorry." She struggles out and hangs up.

You imagined the first handful of messages were similar to this one and decided not to listen to them. It wasn't out of anger or resentment but you knew that in order for you to move on you couldn't hang on that moment.

The next few months consisted of recovery. You were determined to come back for your senior year and were going to come back stronger and more prepared than you have ever been. When the season started - you were back to training but weren't jumping back into games until the third week into the season.

Your manager did a really good job of keeping you out of the media - per your request leading up to the season. The first time you were brought back into the light was during your team's first game of the season. You were on the bench - coaching and encouraging your team. It wasn't the first time the media had seen you but the first time they got to talk to you. There were preseason training videos that were released that showed you back in practice but always highlighted other players on your team.

During this first game though, you were going to be mic'd up for a midgame interview.

"We are so excited to have you on the air as your team kicks off the season, can you give us insight on how recovery went for you?"

They were really just jumping in. You let out a little laugh and proceeded to answer the question.

"I am excited to be back - recovery was not easy and challenged me in more ways than I expected it would but I can honestly say it has grown me in more ways than playing would have." You say as your eyes are glued to the game happening in front of you. "That a way Tessa! Get back get back!" You yell to your team.

"We got word that you will be back on the court in a few weeks, are you excited to be playing for your senior year?" Was asked next.

"Of course. I have been itching to get back on the court - YES PAOPAO! AND ONE! - sorry, yes I am ready to get back out there and help my team on the court. We have a single mission and are ready to conquer." You say.

"Does that one mission have anything to do with Caitlin Clark?" One of the anchors asks, curiosity getting the best of them.

You take a second to compose your answer.

"I wish nothing but the best for the girl. She has really elevated the game and visibility of women's sports in general. If our paths cross again, which I can see happening - there are no ill intentions." You say and then give your exit, going back to the game.

Caitlin was watching and couldn't stop replaying the video. You never responded to any of her messages - even the ones that came further along in your recovery. You had cut her off knowing it was what you needed. She couldn't blame you but really wanted to pick up where the two of you left off - during your time of not talking she realized how much she wanted you in her life. You were one of the only people she met with the same mentality as she had and could share in the craziness that the media spat out. You brought out the best in her without even being in the building.

Cait watched you for what felt like the hundredth time and really hoped that your paths would cross this season.

Both of your teams went the whole season without playing the other. This only built the tension for the NCAA tournament. You had jumped seamlessly back in with your team and contributed to their undefeated season. Caitlin and the Hawkeyes fought hard coming back for redemption. As the tournament heightened and both of your teams kept winning - the media kept circulating articles about the faceoff everyone has been waiting a year to see, Caitlin and you on the court again.

Right before the Final Four - videos of your injury circulated again and pitted Caitlin as the villain in this completely made-up narrative. When hearing them - it took everything in you to not reach out to her. Everyone was telling you not to talk to anyone about Caitlin. Your manager also strongly advised you to not make any contact considering everything was under a microscope.

You did really well until you saw that Iowa was playing UConn in the final four. You had been friends with Paige for years now and knew they were ready to take on Iowa but something in your heart was rooting for Caitlin.

The morning of the Iowa v. UConn game you did it. You pulled out your phone and sent a quick message. It was a simple text but carried more weight than just the words present - it was the first contact you had initiated since before your injury.

Caitlin was still in her apartment when she got the message. She was straightening her hair with cameras on her for a documentary coming out on ESPN. She puts her straightener down and picks up her phone, trying not to show the message's effect on her knowing she was being recorded. Looking at the phone for longer than needed her eyes were glued to it.

[Other half: You got this.]

She doesn't know how to respond but she wants to. As she is thinking through how, her phone rings. It's Kate. She answers and quickly makes her way out of her apartment knowing she is picking up Kate before heading to the stadium.

Caitlin didn't mention the text she had gotten - not that she could mention anything with the camera crew still present but her mind was going crazy.

The Hawkeyes went in and took UConn by two points, sending them back to the championship and facing off SC in the championship. The face-off every sports fan has been waiting for.

The celebration was grand but Caitlin's mind kept wandering back to how she was going to respond to you.

When she was finally able to make it back to the locker room, she sat and responded to you.

[CC: Can we meet up after we play?]

Caitlin sent it and sort of regretted asking but she wanted to talk to you face to face. You responded faster than she had expected.

[Other Half: Yes]

The championship game comes faster than everyone anticipated. Both teams preparing for one final game. Up to this point - you alongside a Kamilla had committed to the draft. From Iowa - Caitlin had made her statement saying she was going to the draft. Both of you know this last game is a significant one. It would be the last of your college career.

The game is a crazy one - buckets exchanged with the leads fluctuating between your team and hers. At final buzzard it was your team that came out on top.

The celebration was epic as you saw Caitlin and her team make their way to their locker. Pictures were taken and confetti was thrown. When things begin to die down you see Caitlin emerge from the tunnel looking for something. You have an idea that she is looking for you and are proven right when she spots you, nervously making your way to you.

When she approaches you - the two of you nod to one another saying little good jobs. The amount of cameras surrounding you is insane as they get the content of you two together.

You want to put this college feud behind you as you both head into the W so in one swift movement, you remove your jersey. Caitlin takes the hint and does the same leaving you both in your undershirts.

You pass your jersey to her and she does the same with you. You both hold them up and let the media get all the photos they want of the two of you. Once you are done, you pull her in for a hug.

"Meet me in the coach's room," you whisper in her ear. She nods and the two of you part.

You finish the celebration and interviews and head back to grab your stuff. Before heading out, you make your way to meet Caitlin.

When you get there you see a girl sitting in a chair, looking down at her hands as she picks at her nails. She doesn't hear you enter but looks up when you close the door. She immediately stands and makes her way to you not really knowing what to say.

You look at her and pull her into a hug. You never said it but you missed her more than anything.

"I am so sorry," she says, her words muffled as they are spoken into your neck.

"Stop apologizing." You tell the girl in your arms.

"It was all my fault - I was mad and didn't realize my strength when I went up. You were out because of me and I will never forgive myself for that," she says not wanting to let you go.

"Caitlin lighted up on yourself." You say and pull away to look her in the eyes. "If I am honest, I blamed you at first. I was upset and frustrated and blamed you. But as time went on, I realized I only had myself to blame. You were playing the game - I would have done the same exact thing. As I was recovering - I started to be thankful for what had happened because it forced me to grow up. No one likes to be injured but I wouldn't be who I am today if I didn't have that time."

Caitlin nods along to everything you say. You bring your fingers to wipe away the tears that fall.

"If anything I should be the one apologizing," you say and Caitlin shakes her head from side to side.

"No, you have nothing to apologize for."

"I do, I cut you out and I shouldn't have. I am sorry." You say. "Friends?" You ask sticking your hand out in a joking manner.

She takes your hand and shakes it. "Friends." She confirms.

The next week is a whirlwind as the two of you part ways to get ready for the draft. You two talk at least once a day trying to figure out what the next chapter of your lives could possibly look like.

When the night finally comes, it is more than you can imagine. Seeing so many congregate to highlight the sport and get ready for another great season while welcoming the new rookies is something you will never forget.

Caitlin is picked first - heading to the Indiana Fever. You could not be more excited for her. You were mentally prepared to head to the Phoenix Mercury or the New York Liberty.

It comes as a complete shock when you are picked by the Indiana Fever as well. You head up to the stage and go through your initial interview.

As you make your way back - you barely get to the hall before you see someone running up to you. Before you know it, Caitlin is in your arms. Her body is flush against yours as her arms wrap around you, squeezing you with everything she has. You lift her off the ground and squeeze her right back.

You could care less about who is watching - the only thing running through your mind is that you are about to spend the next four years with the girl in your arms.

When you place her on the ground she doesn't let you go but rather buries her face into your neck. You smile and let her hug you for as long as she wants.

It's in this moment that things begin to stir inside you. Your heart swells and you feel whole. Your hand comes up to hold the girl's head. There is no way the two of you are just friends and this moment solidifies that for you.

Weeks pass after the draft and you are getting situated in Indiana. You and Caitlin decided to find an apartment together.

The night of the draft the two of you found your way back to each other after going your separate ways to celebrate. That is when Caitlin admitted to having feelings for you dating back to your sophomore year of college. You sat there in complete awe of the girl and admitted that you had just recently realized your feelings for her but could probably date it to your recovery. From then on the two of you decided to take it slow - knowing how the media has been towards the two of you up to this point.

That sort of flew out the window when she asked you to find an apartment together when you both moved to Indy. And you were sure as hell glad she did.

After four years of the media pitting the two of you against each other, you were finally able to change the narrative. You were no longer rivals but now the new power team ready to take on the W.

AN: Tried to get a little of everything in here, I hope you enjoyed it! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark concepts #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark masterlist #iowa hawkeyes #iowa wbb #wnba #wnba basketball

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revehae · 1 day

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weak (r. fantasies)

warnings: smut, noncon, virgin!jisung x (f) anemic!reader, drugging

wc. 990

i been writing this on and off for 24 days and youre telling me its only 990 words im not a serious person at all… fake news its longer now cause i suddenly added one (1) sentence. thank you @neocentral for holding a gun to my head

for two entire days, jisung was antsy. even the mere thought of you, no matter how brief, made a cool wind sweep over his shoulders and his gut tighten uncomfortably.

he knew what he was going to do, and he knew how he was going to do it, but even more so, he knew that it was wrong.

but if he knew that it was wrong, then why did he resolve himself to do it anyway? why did he smile in your face as if he didn’t know that he was about to hurt you? why didn’t he give jeno back his stuff, instead of holding onto it all this time?

jisung didn’t have any idea what it was, other than what jeno had told him while pressing the tiny bag into his chest. colorless, odorless, tasteless, and she’ll be out long enough for you to do all the dirty, perverted stuff you’re too scared to do while she’s awake.

but the truth was that compared to the thought of doing it while you were awake, this terrified jisung tenfold. would it still hurt you, bother you? would you feel the soreness between your thighs and instantly know what he had done? would you hate him more because you wouldn’t remember?

those were the thoughts hurtling through his head when you got up to use the bathroom. but if he was going to do it, he had to act quickly. your nightstand was littered with prescriptions pills and jisung knew you took the iron supplements every night. he poured the powder into your water bottle, watching it disappear as he shook it.

jisung’s heart raced at a rhythm he never knew could be possible when you came back and grabbed a hold of your water bottle. you didn’t make a face, drinking it like nothing was the matter. and he was surprised by how quickly you were out. in the few minutes it took to take effect, you didn’t even have time to become sleepy.

for a long minute, jisung didn’t even seem to remember why he had done this anymore. he was staring at your face, poking your cheek to see if you would react, but you didn’t stir. he worried that maybe you were dead, but when he put his finger to the base of your neck, there was still a normal pulse.

jisung’s breath quickened when he realized all of the things he could do to you right now. he didn’t dive in headfirst like he thought he would, his fingers absentmindedly trailing your soft skin first. he started with your neck, since his hand was already there, gently tightening his fingers around it. he wanted to mark you so badly, but he couldn’t.

he brought his thump up to your bottom lip, overcome by the formerly suppressed urge to kiss you, and with nothing to stop him, he pressed his lips to yours. he was mildly annoyed that you couldn’t kiss him back, but on the bright side, he still had the opportunity to touch you.

to do all the dirty, perverted stuff he was too scared to do while you were awake, as jeno put it.

his words always echoed in jisung’s head, influencing him in ways that were less than healthy. you could easily take her, if you weren’t so weak in the knees, jeno would tease, nudging jisung painfully. she’s anemic, for fuck’s sake. she can’t be that strong.

jisung pulled back to gape at you in your night gown. he always thought you looked good in them. the way they gave away your collarbone and the little lace ribbon where your cleavage stopped, and the way the cute sleeves cuffed at your wrists was endearing to him.

but right now, as he gingerly bunched up the dress and caught sight of your lilac, cotton panties, the only thing he could think about was how desperately he ached to be inside you, to feel your sticky, throbbing walls cling around his virgin cock. to prove that he wasn’t a coward, that he wasn’t weak like you were.

and for that reason, he couldn’t be slow and steady anymore. he knew there was no clock on him, nothing pacing him and nothing threatening to tear him away from the warmth of you, but his self-restraint had already worn thin and he was running on empty.

jisung convinced himself that you wanted him as he sheathed himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, every impatient inch of him. it may not have come from your mouth, but the slick somewhat facilitating his entry was answer enough. you may not have known what was happening, but your body was hyper aware.

god, jisung’s was, too. he couldn’t resist the tight squeeze, the way your pussy gripped him for dear life, and he tipped his head forward as his hands gripped your thighs to anchor himself before he fell too deep. even they were warm, the most cute and supple pair.

his eyes were completely closed, winced shut at the first pulse of your warm and tight cunt around his dick. he knew you would have loved him, if you could feel him. he knew he was big enough to please you. the guys too often teased him, saying he had all those inches, but not a hint of what to do with any.

but jisung knew right now. driving his hips passionately into yours, big hands clasping at your soft, moisturized skin, he knew he could make you feel things unimaginable. the sounds you were unknowingly yanking out of his throat, he could easily pull out of you. the way his face tensed with pleasure, he was certain he could make short work of you, too.

“so weak,” jisung whispered into deaf ears, burying his face in your neck, and breathing in your ravishing scent. he imagined you calling him sungie like you always did, and it only made him grunt. “it’s okay. i’ll protect you. like i always have.”

#tw: noncon #tw: drugging #park jisung smut #nct jisung smut #jisung smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct dream x reader #park jisung x reader #nct dream hard hours #revehae fantasies

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princessbrunette · 12 hours

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when lamb!reader had suggested a video call with jj instead of hanging out at her house, it felt simply preventative. she’d been having urges lately, feelings — ones she’s not used to feeling. sometimes when she was around jj, it was like her body had a brain of its own. an unholy and disgraceful brain that went against what she thought she was wishing. she was beginning to believe if they were to hang out in person one on one, she might act out of impulse to sate the desire that had built inside her.

you’d been feeling this way since he’d gifted you that stuffed lamb. he was technically just a friend, no different from the other pogues you’d been hanging out with since trying to find your feet in the obx — but there was a different sort of simmering tension you felt with him and only him. what started as annoying teasing and jabs became warm fluttering in your stomach and unholy thoughts about his hands and mouth. it was like he knew it too, jj always seemed to have this look in his eye, a curl to the corner of his mouth — like there was something about you on the tip of his tongue that he was withholding. it made you want to set yourself alight.

as the call sound rings on your screen, you ponder why you’d made your hair all pretty, and why you’d chosen your best white nightgown. it felt and looked innocent at best, but as much as you’d hate to admit it — the fact there was nothing beneath gave you a rush like no other.

your thoughts were interrupted by his handsome face on your screen.

“fancy seeing you here, lamb chop.” he smirks, that same knowing look in his eye that he always had. without thinking you fiddle with your cross necklace.

“didnt i tell you to stop calling me that?” you respond, feeling as though you hid the hitch in your throat pretty well.

“and why would i listen to you?” he jokes, shuffling in his desk chair — bedroom a mess in his background. you’re about to comment on it, tell him to tidy it on instinct to nag him but he speaks first. “lookin’ real good tonight. you get all pretty for me?”

something about the way he asks that sends heat to your lower regions, something that felt forbidden and wrong and yet addicting.

“i’m just wearing what i sleep in. i figured id check in with you before i get some rest.” it’s an attempt at sounding casual, something you’d clearly applied much time and thought to.

“you wear that to sleep? pan down for me real quick?” you hear him shuffle closer to the screen like he was really trying to get a good look, and without thinking you obey — showing him the white lace of your night gown, from the straps to the way it falls on your upper thigh. he chuckles with a quiet “mm.” sound, and you’re panning back to your face quickly — glancing subconsciously at the door, wondering what your mother might say if she saw you showing your night gown to a boy.

“thats real pretty lil lamb. like you.” you hate how smooth he was, how every compliment had heat rushing to your centre.

“no need to flatter me.” you shrug a shoulder, and he doesn’t miss the way your tits jostle a little at the movement. he even leans on his elbows at his desk, eyes pointed downward unabashedly.

“right, right so… little limbrey… talk me through your night time routine. i wanna step into your shoes for a lil bit.” he settles, always insanely good at making conversation from nothing. you purse your lips in thought, looking around your room.

“well… i showered, changed, and usually before bed i do something stimulating but relaxing to get me ready to sleep and tire me out.” you list, staring at the book going unread on your bedside table. he huffs a laugh through a smirk and his brows shoot up.

“oh yeah? you stimulate yourself? tell me more ‘bout that.” he jokes and you furrow your brows, adorably in his opinion.

“what do you mean?” you question and jj licks his lips, trying to hold himself back from laughing anymore but failing miserably.

“ah, i’m just playin’ with you babydoll— carry on.” he waves a hand but you’re curious now. perhaps you sensed there was some innuendo behind it, but you pushed anyway— your inner excitement getting the better of you. you shift on your bed to lay on your side, getting more comfortable.

“i wanna laugh too, tell me what it means?” you pout grumpily which makes him relent instantly.

“nah… i was just makin’ a joke about… you know… you playin’ with yourself. ‘lotta people do that before they sleep.” he dismisses, and usually you’d scold him or make a face — but tonight, you’re not sure what possesses you — you ask,

“do you?”

jj blinks in surprise at the question for a second.

“do…uh, well,” he coughs awkwardly and you already regret asking. you cast your eyes downwards. “yeah, i do. you don’t ever… indulge?”

you’re quick to shake your head, though you’re lying. you’ve tried a few times.

“its a sin.” the words are instinctual when they leave you, and it only deepens jj’s amused expression that forms once more across his handsome features.

“yeah uh, no shit honey. you gotta release sometimes though right? s’better that way… keeps the sinful activities at bay so you don’t go out n’make bad choices. preventative procedures n’all that shit.” he converses, scratching his temple — a habit you’d pick up on when he’s a tad nervous or apprehensive.

you’d never thought of it that way before, so you take a moment to stare into space — a rush of relief coming over you. he was right. it had to be better than going and sleeping around, surely.

“wow, that’s… uncharacteristically insightful.”

“i’on know what that means—”

“you’re right. i don’t feel so bad anymore.” you chime, looking rather elated. his smile returns and he tilts his head.

“yeah? so you do indulge?” he drags it out, like he wants to tease you but he doesn’t wanna push too hard and shut you down again. you bite your lip, mulling over his question.

“m’not great at it, but yes.” you try to remain prideful, sticking your nose up a little.

“comes with practice i guess. i’mma beat around the bush here — i’d say i know my way around lady parts pretty good so like, if you ever need any pointers… on how to… y’know, suppress your urges… i got’chu.” he tries to sound nonchalant, careful, even shrugs for added effect. what he doesn’t see, is your hand reaching blindly to your bedside table and turning the framed image of Jesus to be face down.

twenty minutes later, and you’re hot in the face with your back propped up against a load of frilly, fluffed pillows. the laptop sits between your spread legs, displaying your open glossy cunt centre screen, your fingers stroking circles over your throbbing bud as you try to suppress your whimpers.

“uh-huh, juuuuuust like that. you wanna try rubbin’ it up and down? or do you wanna stick to the whole circle thing.” beneath his desk, jj slowly rolls his fist over his cock. he felt kinda weird about it, but he didn’t wanna alert you to the fact he was helping himself too— thinking it might freak you out and make you call it a night.

“‘like it like this!” you squeak, being mindful of your volume. you knew the pain meds had likely knocked your mother out clean by now, but you could never be too careful. you buck your hips against your hand, and even through the quality of the video call jj can see the arousal pooling between your spread legs. you had no idea how needy you could be.

“god damn, mama— you needed this, huh?” he chuckles, but it’s kind and he’s not teasing, infact there’s a softness to it. an affection.

“mhmmm.” you release in a whine, and jj is thrilled. he loved that he got you like this, letting go of all your beliefs for a while, forgetting it all because your head is so hazy with pleasure.

“keep rubbing just like that, yeah? just like i’d do it.” he mutters the last part, but he knows you hear it when your eyes flutter open, hand slowing. shit. he didn’t want you to come to your senses about just how sinful this whole thing was— he was barely teaching anymore, more so talking you through it.

his eyes widen a tad and his own hand freezes. “shit, uh— sorry ‘bout that. that’s my bad, i got carried away.”

in a whisper, with furrowed brows like it pained your very being to ask, you come forth with “keep talking like that.”

it stuns him for a few second, and his thumb swipes over his tip again. “wait… for real?”

“unfortunately it’s…mmph— it’s the only thing that’s gonna get me there. i’m tired, jj… i just wanna… i wanna—”

“cum?” he tries to stop the grin by pressing his tongue to the corner of his mouth, and his expression softens when he sees the way you melt, more arousal dribbling from you.

“yeah.” you groan, causing jj to pout in faux sympathy.

“yeah? i got you mama. keep strokin’ that pretty thing. i’mma tell you right now, you’re missin’ out on this tongue. i could make you feel things you never thought you could feel. would make you cream so hard you’d have tears down them pretty cheeks. that what you wanna hear, lil lamb?”

“oh… oh god!” your toes clench, everything clenches.

“nah baby, it ain’t god. s’just me.”

#jj maybank prompt #lamb!reader #tw religion #tw jesus idk #idk how to tag these things guys please

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poppy-metal · 10 hours

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dilf-next-door! art has me 😩 i just feel like he doesn't understand how good he looks. he knows that his body is bad. i mean he's an athlete after all. he's trained for years with the best personal trainers, had the best diet, still works himself to the bone, but he just doesn't see himself as super hot dilf. after years of his body just being a machine for tennis and all the choices for it being made by others, it doesn't feel like his body. it's just a vehicle to get things done. thinking about how infuriating and baffling it would be to hear him talk about himself like that. so you'd have to show him how wrong he was. you have him lay back on the bed and sit in between his legs. trace your fingers all over his arms and chest down to his stomach. rub his abs while you coo at him. he'd stare at you in awe because it all feels unique. being complimented so much and his position, it'd look submissive to an outside eye but everything you do is for him to recieve.

"most handsome man i've ever seen, art. so strong and fit. love it when you wrap your arms around me. make me feel so close to you and safe. and your legs, they're so strong too. feel hard under me. most guys my age don't even take care of themselves like you do. but all you do is work... and i think you deserve a reward."

just worship his body for the night. lick from his abs up to his chest and then kiss his neck. rub yourself on his thigh and tell him how good it feels. don't let him do any of the work aside from being able to feel you up however he wants. take his hands into yours when he grabs at your tits or hip, tell him how thick his fingers are and how good they feel when they're inside you. make it slow and thorough before you move on to the very hard thing in his boxers.

-☕

cock worship with art..... head fuzzy..... he's so used to giving, and he prefers it that way - you can tell he's not used to it. his body is tense and nearly buzzing with the urge to sit up, to put his hands on you, but you'd looked up at him with your big doting eyes and pleaded with him, genuinely pleaded - like it was something you wanted (it was), to take care of him, to please him - and that doesn't really compute to him - cant work his brain around it - but he can't deny you anything, is the thing. telling you no is worse than getting a blowjob, he's not so deep in his issues with self worth that he'd make a big fuss about you putting your mouth on his body. its the staying still that he has trouble with.

you can tell with every twitch and jump of his muscles as you skim your mouth down his toned body. he hisses and jolts when you lick around the hard peaks of his nipples. "sorry," you giggle, moving down to his stomach. his hard stomach - god - "they looked cold. wanted to warm them up."

"jesus." you peer up at him to see his gaze is cast to the ceiling, like he cant look at you. it makes you smile, you know he doesn't get it but you're having the time of your life here. his perfectly toned, tight, rigid body. warm and solid under you, you cant help rubbing your cheek against his hip, nuzzling into the toned muscle of his thigh. he's so beautiful. theres so much power here - locked tight under skin and bones and muscle mass - all perfectly crafted, because even still he cares about his body, cares to keep it fit. and you'd love him no matter what he looked like, soft and round, short and stout, but just as he is - an athletes body, hes a marvel.

so much care and time spent into looking this way, and he expexts you not to appreciate it? not to drool over him? insanity.

"you're so strong," you coo at him. rub you hands up his twitching thighs. he doesn't have alot of hair - but he has some fuzz. your fingers find the band of his boxers, his hips lift the slightest bit with an inhale and you smile again - knowing that he loves this, needs this even if he wont admit it - he loves this - he wants this so bad - to be selfish. to be worshipped and shown love. to be desired and hungered for. and you're so hungry. "i think about you all the time, you know. your body - your cock -" your voice sounds like you're waxing poetry, your nose nudging up the cotton of his boxers, "i think about it all the time. drives me crazy. you drive me so fucking crazy."

"baby," he sounds pained. you see his hands twitch on the sheets, curl into fists, the effort not to touch you has to be driving me just as insane. "fuck, you dont - y-you dont have to say - "

"im not just saying it." you interrupt. "i mean it. i love -" the heat of his cock radiates from the thin cotton - you press your face against him through it. feel the hard organ jump under your lips. "-your big fat cock." your cunt is throbbing. you don't tug his boxers down yet, mouthing at him, your lips find the tip of him through the fabric and you pull it into your mouth, dampening the cotton - tasting the salt even now. moaning around it.

"oh god," he's trembling. he loses the battle and you feel his hands touch you, you don't ask him to keep still anymore, because you know hes not fighting this anymore, fighting you. one of his hands card through your hair, big palm cradling the back of your head. the other coming up to tug at his boxers. "please - "

you lift your chin, help him in shoving his boxers down - until they're resting under his balls, you take a moment to admire them - fat and plump and pink - try not to drool at the way his hard cock bounces free and rests against his hard stomach. a bead of pre already pearling out from his slit, leaking.

you fail on the not drooling. your mouth filling with spit. "please, what. what do you want me to do art?"

because he'll feel so free once he says it. admits it. gives in.

he meets your eyes and you try not to be turned on by the desperate almost panicked look in his gaze, like the enormity of his own desire scares him. his lips are puffy and bitten red and he naws and naws on them, before he lifts his hand, fingers feathering over your cheek. reverent. you watch his adams apple bob as he swallows.

and then art donaldson demands something from you for the first time. the hand cupping the back of your neck, urging you forward, towards his hard aching cock thats been neglected for far too long.

"make me cum."

#ask #WEEEWOOOOWEEEEWOOOOWEEEEEWOOOOOO #gotta train art to be more selfish #☕️ anon #HEHEHEHE #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader

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blue-jisungs · 3 days

Note

hello! i hope 2024 has been treating u well!

can i request where jaemin is ur new roommate and ur sorta pessimistic abt him for awhile cuz of his cats? then one day its just u and his cats and then u start warming up to them, not knowing that jaemin was watching the whole time please!

so sorry if this is too specific but thank u if u see this!!

cats and pizza

author's note. hi anonnie! sorry it took so long :( 2024 has been quite nice for me teehee, i hope it has been for u too <3 also this was so fun to write as someone who absolutely adores cats 😭

setting. vet med student !jaem x fashion designer student!yn

warnings. one of the cats pisses lol, pizza, swearing, yn doesn’t like cats and talks bad about them >:(

“oh come on, it’ll be fine! he looks nice and he’s a veterinary medicine student? come on, he must be… normal… i think” renjun hummed, looking through your shoulder at the text you got.

you rested your forehead against his arm and groaned while he took your phone and replied to the message.

“you need a roommate. stop being picky… besides, he’s not gonna be any weirder than the chenle guy… probably. hopefully” renjun cheered you on and patted your head.

your previous roommate, karina, had to move out so now you were in a desperate search of someone at her place because there’s no way you could single-handedly afford the rent. the landlord didn’t mind as long as it was paid so you could choose whoever you wanted.

but once you put the offer online, the amount of people and interviews crushed you. the rent was almost due and you had to hurry up – but it wasn’t your fault that all the interested individuals were… specific.

but getting a text from a guy named jaemin drew your attention. he wasn’t dry like all the previous guys and said that he’ll adapt into your schedule to come see the place – unlike others who set up the date and you didn’t have much choice.

you agreed to meet today and brought your bestie, renjun, as a moral support. and additional eye of judgement.

a knock on your door caused you to jerk up.

“it’s probably him” you sighed and ran to open the door “hi—”

your voice got stuck in your throat as your eyes met with a very handsome guy. a gummy smile bloomed on his lips as he reached his hand out.

“hi, i’m na jaemin! y/n, i assume?” he asked, voice full of positive energy. renjun appeared behind you.

“i… oh, right, you know my name. yes, y/n” you cleared your throat and shook his hand. it was warm and bigger than yours.

“renjun” your friend grunted and accidentally nudged your shoulder.

“i’ll show you around. do you want some water or anything to drink?” you asked nicely, stepping aside to let him in. while jaemin and you couldn’t take your eyes off each other, renjun let out a sigh.

“do you have any questions?” your friend asked, crossing his arms.

“oh, yeah! are pets allowed? cats specifically?” jasmin asked and you froze.

well, technically yes.

but you just weren’t a big fan of felines. they are just… mean. and ignorant.

but jaemin is so cute and–

“no”

“yes”

you looked at renjun surprised when you two spoke out at the same time. jaemin laughed (and goodness, if it wasn’t the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard), throwing his head back slightly.

“yes they are. i’m just more of a dog person, you see” you hummed. jaemin sent you a warm smile.

“don’t worry, they’re lovely” he reassured you and renjun urged to show him the room.

and you blame renjun to this day for that because if you were to listen, you would’ve paid attention and noticed that jaemin had said ‘they’.

was one of your main factors to settle for jaemin the fact that he was charming and handsome? yes. did you think he only has one cat? yes.

much to your surprise, along with a new roommate you got three cats as a bonus.

standing terrified in the middle of kitchen you watched one of them snuggle against your leg as jaemin watched with amusement.

“they are real angels. i promise they won’t cause any trouble” he hummed.

you moved away from the cat but it followed you, looking at you with its big, blue eyes.

“just for the love of god please… make sure they don’t shit in the kitchen. or come anywhere near my room” you murmured, jaw clenched. if that furry thing of a demon is going to brush against you again–

the cat must’ve somehow understood that and it purred, tail wrapping around your leg.

“go… away…” you whined, stepping back yet again.

“luke, c’mon” jaemin sighed and grabbed the cat in his arms. the beast animal was looking at you with a mischievous expression. a shiver run down your spine as you looked away, and a meow came somewhere from the distance.

the sound of happy little feet kept you awake at night. lucy, luna and luke (it was hard not to remember the names since jaemin had them engraved on almost everything) were playing around in the hallway. at 3am.

pressing a pillow to your ear and pulling the duvet over the other, you cursed mentally at your own stupidity. you hated cats, why would you even agree? sure, jaemin is really cool and there certainly is something between you two but the goddamn furry beasts…

a loud meow came from under your door.

and then a scratching sound.

“you have to be kidding me” with a groan, you left the bed and opened the door only to be met with a pair of evil looking cat.

“luna- lucy, whoever you are… get your ass out of here” you grunted and tried to whoosh the cat away. but it only meowed and tried to come into your room “no!”

it was middle of the night, you should be asleep and getting your well needed rest for today’s exam.

but you’re closing the door and fighting with a feline.

great, just great.

“jaemin!” you yelled out, not bothered by the fact that you’ll wake him up “na jaemin, get ahold of your goddamn furry devils!”

you heard his hurried footsteps and when he reached to hold the cat up, you noticed he’s not even angry in the slightest.

“luke, c’mon, no scratching the door. sorry, y/n. sleep well” jaemin hummed softly and walked away with the pet in his arms, scratching it’s head gently.

as much as you’d like to say that you warmed up to the cats it just wasn’t… very true. you just accepted their presence. you even refilled their bowls a couple of times or threw them a squeaky toy.

as long as they didn’t interfere with your personal space, you didn’t with theirs.

which you were glad for.

“i’m back! i have some leftover pizza if you’d like!” you yelled out, not even sure if he was home.

you went to leave the pizza in a safe space (you totally didn’t save it because you knew it was his favorite) and walked towards your room.

something was off - it was very quiet in the apartment. and… it smelled…

pushing the door open you saw lucy jump off your bed.

“what?” you grunted, noticing how the cat ran past you. before you realised the smell, you saw the source: cat urine.

on your uni project.

“no, you’ve got to be shitting me” your voice broke, walking up to the handmade material for a dress. it was certainly pissed on.

but how did the cat end up here? you closed the door to prevent exactly such thing from happening.

tears were falling from your eyes, feeling helpless.

lucy was peeking at you from behind the door cautiously. maybe she sneaked in before you left and then you accidentally locked her in? yeah, that’s the only possible reason.

but that doesn’t make the situation any better (or the cloth any less stinky)

“ew… y/n…”

you heard jaemin’s mocking voice but the moment you turned around and he saw your quivering lip, his face dropped.

“what happened?” jaemin asked, walking in.

“i… lucy peed on my dress… which was my project for tomorrow… i don’t know what to do…” whines and sobs ripped out of your chest. jaemin sighed, eyeing the situation.

the said cat meowed as if saying sorry.

then, you felt two warm arms wrapping around your shaking body.

“it’s going to be fine, i’ve dealt with this countless of times before” he said calmly, fingers caressing your hair “let me handle this”

you sobbed into his chest – maybe from the stress of relief – and jaemin continued to soothe you, his cat watching you two curiously.

this day was shitty as hell. it’s been two weeks since the pee accident and luckily you managed to save your project. and whereas that made your mood lighten up, today was just a bad day.

you lost $20, dropped your phone and cracked its screen, and on your way back home rain started pouring and soaked you completely.

the warmth of your place was nice and made you feel secure. the second you stepped inside, you broke down.

everything just snapped and you sat down on the floor, careless to the fact that all the water is pooling around you.

cries left your lips, tears mixing with the raindrops on your face.

suddenly, something warm and fluffy crawled on your lap.

at first you wanted to push it away but upon meeting luna’s blue eyes staring at you cutely, you didn’t. you let her stay, unsurely resting your hand and her head. when she purred, you took it as a sign to let her.

sobs mixing with purrs drew the other two, lucy snuggling next to you, pawing the material of your sweats, and luke staring at the scene.

the cats silently comforted you, it hit you.

because of that, you started crying even more; feeling bad about the way you treated them before.

the quiet sound of door opening fell deaf on your ears.

jaemin looked down and his heart warmed upon the scene. he was proud of his kids, they reacted the same way he would.

“i have some pizza, i figured you’d want some” he announced quietly and you nodded.

maybe that’s all you needed after all: cats and pizza.

masterlist <3

taglist. @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @w3bqrl ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @haecien

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shakingparadigm · 2 days

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Seeing all those analysis posts about how Till liked Mizi because she was gentle while not giving the same attention to Ivan because he wasn't... how Ivan might have made Till uncomfortable because he expressed his admiration for Till through violence because he liked how Till had the courage to fight back...

I was wandering if Ivan ever realized that the way he went about showing his feelings wasn't positive for Till and he fucking did. "I wish I had been kinder" he fucking regrets dude, fuck me man.

(This veered wildly off-topic I am so sorry.)

Coming back to this ask after the most recent R6 update is interesting.

I've always wondered why they chose the title Cure in particular. I was expecting a song title along the lines of Star or something abyssal. Then I thought about Till's affiliation with experiments and drugs and the various ways he was hurt. Cure... It also brings to mind how the content for Ivan highlights his "oddness", how he's framed as someone different, almost wrong in a sense. There's something that he lacks, something that he feels the need to fix, to cure.

In the recent ROUND 6 production post, the true meaning is revealed. You're right on a certain level, but as always, it's complicated.

Both Ivan and Till seek a certain type of "healing", maybe to compensate for their pain, their oddness and their loneliness. They wish to be cured of their suffering somehow and they seek the solution in other people.

QMENG states that Till desires a type of healing that Ivan cannot provide, and vice versa.

It goes without saying, pretty common knowledge at this point, but Till is a lot softer under his rebellious front. As someone who's been beat and abused his whole life, it makes sense that that type of love he'd want is something gentler, something stable. It's incredibly obvious in the way he acts towards Mizi. She's so genuine, so bright, untainted by the cruel reality of the world. Till softens around her, since she has only showed him kindness he in turn shows her the sweetest side of himself. He's had nothing stable to cling onto before, so he immediately becomes attached to this idealized version of Mizi. He believes she's the only person who can provide him with what he needs, the only one who can "heal" him.

It's outright stated that Ivan cannot provide that type of "healing" that Till is looking for. Ivan does try, of course. Unfortunately, he lacks something fundamental. Because of this he expresses himself in rather childish ways, which may involve a little cruelty and attention-seeking. A lot of Ivan's actions are muddled by his complicated feelings as well, as its stated that his true emotions and intentions are difficult to grasp. With Till, Ivan wants to save and be saved, hurt and heal him, keep him and set him free. Live for him and die for him. He criticizes Sua on the ethics of self-sacrifice and then goes on to do the same himself. With Ivan, everything contradicts.

He tries desperately to be the cure that Till needs, but due to his incredibly complex nature that "healing" will never be just healing. It may come with more pain and confusion despite his best efforts.

I don't think Till refused to give Ivan attention because he wasn't gentle enough, rather I think it's because everything was so complicated whenever Ivan was involved. Ivan is there for him in his times of need and causes a fair bit of trouble during the rest. He's strange and hard to grasp, but he's familiar. Calling each other "friends" seemed like such an inadequate label because they're simultaneously too close and not close enough. Ivan does wish he was kinder, though. Not only to Till, but to Sua and most likely a few other people as well. There's a lot of aspects in which Ivan wishes he were different, and it's tragic to hear how he deprecates himself in his final moments for it.

There's the second half of QMENG's statement as well, "vice versa". Till cannot provide what Ivan needs either, but Ivan desperately desires it anyway.

Ivan views Till as his cure. He wants to not only "heal" Till, but to be healed by him as well. This desire can be seen in the lyrics of Cure:

Notice my pain

And mend me right now

To quiet my fears

I'll drown in you

(The wish for "healing" is stated.)

In your gaze, where I’m seen

Consume me, yes, me, oh, oh

(Ivan urges Till to "consume" him like medicine, he wishes to be what Till needs.)

Ivan lacks something, and he believes that Till can make up for that lack which is why he's so fascinated by him. If Ivan is a black abyss, Till is a supernova, bringing life to an empty void. Unfortunately, Till is explosive and rather inept at handling his own extreme emotions, which causes him to either lash out violently or retreat further inward and push Ivan away. He's also a thoroughly destructive and hurt individual, seeking his own cure in another form. He cannot provide what Ivan needs.

Both Ivan and Till are incredibly volatile. That's not to say they don't have their gentler sides, but overall they've been doomed from the start. Ultimately it's no fault of theirs, they did what they could with their complicated feelings and fought through their own respective hells.

In the end, Ivan had to come to terms with the fact that he couldn't get the "healing" he needed and could never be what Till needed, either. That's why he finally acted on his impulses and let his complicated feelings win over, resulting in his death. Despite all the heartache, his final thoughts are a statement of gratitude. Truly a tragedy.

#eughh sorry for all that anon. thank you for the ask!#i dont even know if this is coherent anymore im sorry #alnst #alien stage #alien stage ivan #alien stage till #ivantill #alien stage round 6 #asks

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yu-huuuu · 3 days

Note

Hey there! How about having the madara, hashirama and itachi's way of celebrating an anniversary with his wife as headcanons? Thank you!

[ 🌸 ] oh...! If I were married I would like to go to a beach to do you know what thing… that's right, I'm talking about drinking pineapple with my partner while I tell him the gossip that my grandmother told me the other day-

characters: itachi uchiha, madara uchiha, hashirama senju

genre: fluff with a touch of comedy

warnings: none, spicy parts, reader being pampered by three adult men, happy married couple

...

Itachi Uchiha

—My sweet boy.

—He sleeps a little longer than usual to enjoy the warmth of the morning by your side, even though he has a whole list of plans of what he wants to do with you. —When he feels he's had enough rest, he gets up quietly and heads to the kitchen.

—When you wake up, he brings you breakfast in bed with a smile so beautiful and bright that it makes you fall in love with him for the thousandth time.

—He gives you a shy smile if you decide to share something from your plate with him (he'll eat it, but, don't expect him not share from his own plate with you too).

—In the end, the two of you end up feeding each other while laughing like lovestruck teenagers.

—After that, he takes you to the bathroom for both of you to take a shower before starting your day.

—He is gentle as he scrubs your shoulders, back, and chest while you just sigh relaxed with his soft touches.

—Of course, he'll let you help soap up his back.

—In the end, he wraps both of you in towels before carrying you in a princess style to the bed.

—Things… happen when you get there.

—Let's just say your legs wouldn't stop trembling for a good few minutes.

—Anyway!

—You both go out to eat at a nice place.

—While eating, Itachi's free hand plays with yours under the table.

—When your stomach is satisfied along with his, you go out holding hands and walk through the park (which was surprisingly empty) before sitting on the grass under a tree. —And now it feels like a dream to Itachi. You by his side as he feels the fresh breeze. —Your head fits like a puzzle piece on Itachi's shoulder while he wraps his arm around you, resting his head on top of yours. —You stay like that for a while until Itachi tells you he has a little surprise for you. —You’re a little surprised when he takes you to a spa. —And Shisui suddenly appears, telling him that the Hokage is calling him for an emergency. —He kisses you on the forehead before telling you he'll come back for you and to relax at the spa in the meantime, giving you some money before disappearing. —You stay there, trying not to feel too disappointed but thinking it will be quick. —When you're relaxed and your hair is styled and shiny, you're surprised to see Itachi outside the place. —Waiting for you with one of his lovely smiles along with a bouquet of flowers, as if he hadn’t left you there for two hours. —"Shall we go?" he asks, giving you his hand and the bouquet to take. —On the way home, you wonder what has him so smiley until you enter the house and find out why. —He made you dinner. —Well, it looks more like a buffet with your favorite foods combined with his. —He guides you to the table and pulls out the chair for you to sit before sitting next to you. —That's when you realize it's impossible that Itachi could have done all this by himself in such a short time. —"The Hokage didn’t call you, right?" "No, but I made you dinner." —Enjoy his food, please. —He had a great time enduring Shisui’s cheesy jokes on the way home. —When you’re both satisfied, he gives you something he’s been working on for several months as a gift. —As a gift, Itachi gave you a small book in which he wrote some poems that perfectly describe the love and affection he feels for you. —Every feeling that your words, touches, and voice evoke in him is written in its pages. —It’s a very personal and special gift for him, one that he made exclusively for you and only you, and no one else. —Please! Don't cry or he might get alarmed. —Anyway!

—At night, when you enter the hallway leading to the bedroom, you’ll see a path of petals.

You let out a soft laugh when you saw the petals on the wooden floor. Your heart was pounding hard against your chest, making you feel excited.

A small blush crept up your face as you imagined what Itachi had prepared for you. "Itachi! What is all this?"

"Another gift for the most special woman in the world," he replied with his own quiet laugh while leaving several kisses on your shoulders, as far as his position behind you allowed him to reach.

The walk to the bedroom felt relatively much shorter than it had all the previous times.

You let Itachi guide you, feeling so in love while feeling his hands over yours, caressing them with his long, cold fingers as he accompanied you.

A gasp of awe escaped you when you saw the bed. There were several petals on the bed and the floor, the window curtain was open, letting the angelic moonlight into the room, making it look ethereal and so intimate.

Your heart skipped a beat when Itachi cupped your face with such tenderness. He kissed you so gently that it almost made your knees want to give out. You smiled when you felt his hands slowly and methodically undress you.

He was definitely the man of your dreams.

...

Madara Uchiha

—Many will say that Madara is already prepared to celebrate your anniversary four days in advance.

—Well, that is half true and half false.

—Don't look at me like that, the man has been preparing since the beginning of the month.

—Although…

—Don't get me started on your first anniversary (the poor guy was running around like a headless chicken since the beginning of the year. He was like that until you saw him nervous because he couldn't find a good gift for you… and there were still five months left).

—He will want to give you a special (and expensive) gift. —Although sometimes he runs out of ideas or has them but doesn't know if they are good and if you'll like them, the poor man is like: "😦, now what?"

—Sometimes he goes and asks Hashirama for suggestions (once the good man suggested for some reason that he bake a cake and bring it to you in bed as a nice surprise, he even offered to help him… it didn't go well).

—Sometimes he goes to the cemetery to talk to his brother's grave and ask for advice. He knows it's useless to ask a dead person for help, but somehow it makes him feel better and gives him more confidence with the ideas that come to his mind.

—And, in turn, it fills him with energy to continue. —Because your man may be stubborn and confident when he's on the battlefield or when he's face to face with a tailed beast, —but then you come along and weaken him, and he doesn't know what to do, aww! —Going back to before! —Girl, you hit the jackpot. —It's like it's your birthday. —He spoils you a lot, he just wants to pamper his beautiful woman (not that he doesn't do it every day, though). —He takes you to eat wherever you want and buys you whatever you want, because you know, in his words: "My wife's happiness is my happiness." —When you get back to your house, he'll ask you to stay in the room for a moment while he disappears into the bathroom. —And when he comes out with a big smile, you know he's up to something.

“What are you doing?” you asked, letting out a small breathless laugh as he held out a hand to you, which you took with amusement.

Madara smiled at the sound of your little laugh. “It’s a surprise,” he replied, looking into your eyes with love, his own body trembling with anticipation and longing at seeing the subtle playful glimmer in the rich color of your eyes.

He gently guided you towards the bathroom door while still holding your much smaller hand compared to his. Before entering, he turned to look at you, “close your eyes”

You made an ‘o’ with your mouth as you did what he had asked; to tell the truth, you were excited, very excited in fact. You heard the soft sound of the door opening and then felt the gentle warmth of the steam on your face and a smell that at first, you couldn't distinguish but had escaped when the door was opened.

A smile spread across your lips from the excitement, but you held back, not wanting to ruin the surprise your husband had prepared for you.

You quickly identified the smell, it was… lavender? A soft laugh wanted to escape you, it was your favorite and your husband’s too.

You felt his body press against yours from behind, giving you a different kind of warmth than the steam. His chest found its place pressed against your back while his strong arms wrapped around you. His chin rested perfectly on your left shoulder.

When it came to him, everything felt like a puzzle; every piece always fit in its place, your hands when you interlaced your fingers, when you both hugged or when your lips met, it felt as if the world had made you for each other.

“Open your eyes”

You did.

Your eyes opened to see several petals on the floor and on the water in the bathtub. The candles lit up the bathroom, the light was soft, giving the bathroom a special and romantic touch.

“Happy anniversary, dear,” your lover whispered before making a trail of kisses on your shoulders and back. You squeezed his arms as his hands moved over your beautiful body with the sole mission of pleasing you.

...

Hashirama Senju

—Fun guy.

—He has several gift ideas he wants to make (I feel like if Hashi-Hashi had Pinterest, he would have a board specifically for ideas to make for your anniversary).

—In fact, in modern times, I can see him making ice cream with milk and crushed cookies just because he saw it while browsing the internet looking for easy desserts to make 🥺 Hashi-Hashi solves.

—Okwy, okay, okay

—Let's get to it!

—My handsome guy will wake you up a bit early to make the most of the day (he managed to escape after signing all the papers the day before and somehow left his younger brother in charge of the Hokage Tower).

—Also, he is somewhat excited and nervous about what you will say when you see his wedding anniversary gift. I mean, he spent a few months making it with such care that he fears something might go wrong.

—He insists on making you breakfast as a reward for all the times you have kindly made and prepared food for him when he has to go to work.

—But it doesn't turn out so well, you know?

—Poor thing, my boy 😭.

—Please avoid the burnt part of the egg and the overly toasted side of the bread. He did what he could 😭✨.

—After eating, you both wash the dishes (you insist on helping him after the last time you let him wash the dishes alone, he managed to break a cup… and it didn't even fall to the floor to begin with, you are still trying to figure out how he managed to break it).

—After that, you both stayed on the porch enjoying each other's presence until lunchtime.

—He will take you to the forest for a picnic lunch in nature ✨ The guy has some ideas.

—He will lean on your shoulder while nibbling on his ham sandwich (he leaves some crumbs on you, although he removes them afterward).

—After eating, he will ask for permission to lie on your thighs, he simply loves the feeling of being with you.

—You both stay talking for a while as you gently run your hands through his hair, relieving all the accumulated stress he has from his job.

—Sometimes, the leaders of other villages drain all his energy, but he keeps going, for you and for all his people!

—After that, he takes you to another place.

—He looks nervous yet excited. When you reach a part of the forest, he is practically smiling from ear to ear.

“Close your eyes”

“Why?” you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Just do it, I promise you won't regret it”

You smiled. Although you were nervous, you trusted your husband— whatever he was planning in that head of his.

You felt his rough hands gently taking yours to start guiding you. Some giggles escaped you when you heard him nervously trying to guide you and tell you not to trip over a rock.

Although, to be honest… you didn't feel as many leaves under your feet— could it be that Hashirama had cleaned the path you were now walking on?

Your heart bubbled at the thought of your husband trying to keep the path clean and perfect for you, and suddenly you understood why Tobirama was sometimes alone in the Hokage Tower and seemed a bit nervous when you asked about your husband's whereabouts.

A laugh threatened to escape your throat, but fortunately, you held it back. Both brothers were terrible liars, maybe it was in their genetics.

“We're here, darling,” Hashirama said excitedly. You could practically feel him bouncing a little with excitement, like an impatient child wanting to show something he was proud of.

“Alright… open your eyes”

You opened them only to marvel at the variety of vibrant colors dazzling your sight.

In front of you was a landscape with several flowers of different shades and colors. The soft scent that filled your lungs made you sigh with pleasure, freeing your mind. You vaguely wondered how you hadn't noticed the smell of the flowers before; maybe you were so focused in your mind that you didn't pay attention to it.

The gentle squeeze of Hashirama's hand softly brought you out of your thoughts. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was tinted with various colors, which only added to the beauty of the landscape before you.

“Shall we?” your husband asked, excited to show you around.

Your eyes shone, “Yes...”

And if you both did something else that afternoon, well, that would stay between you two and the flowers surrounding you.

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biolumien · 15 hours

Note

Hi!! Your rooftop smoke fic with Hoshina was just superb. 😭💖

Was wondering If could request a scenario where they had been mutually pining for one another. And they'd, on more than one occasion catch each other's eyes across the room. And a handful of people from the Defense Force notices. Cause could they be more obvious?

Whether that would end up angsty or with a happy ending is up to you! I love the way you write for Hoshina. You capture him pretty perfectly haha

Stay safe and healthy!!

notes: omg... thank you for your compliments... it means smsm! uhh... well. this kinda took on a life of its own, i'm sorry. i hope you don't mind ;-;;

say it! come on, say it!

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader alternatively: romcom except then i smacked it so hard with angst at the end. sorry. word count: 2400

“you need to close your mouth when you’re staring.” you feel the ice-cold touch of a can press against your cheek, and you shriek as you stare up at–

“ah, fuck. i’m not staring, narumi,” you mutter, taking the soda can from him. narumi seemed less than convinced, his eyes barely visible from underneath his bangs.

“o-kay. and you’re totally not ogling hoshina with googly eyes.” narumi cracks open his own soda, taking a long sip from the can. “why don’t you just date already? i’m gonna be honest, i’m sick of you looking at him like that. it’s boring, bland, predictable… fuckin’ hate that will they won’t they bullshit.”

“i can’t,” you complain dramatically.

hoshina, from the other side of the room, was talking to captain ashiro while examining some paperwork. occasionally, okonogi would come over, point out some new development, and there’d seem to be another heated debate between the three. you always liked seeing hoshina in his element—whether it be instructing other officers, training with his blades, or awkwardly not making eye contact with him when he spoke to you.

“like hell you can’t!” narumi hissed, reaching out to put you in a headlock. “stop looking at him like that!”

“like hell what? who’s looking at who?”

hoshina had come over, staring at the two of you, right as narumi’s arm was beginning to wrap around your neck. narumi immediately flew back from you as you laughed nervously.

“uhh, like hell i, umm…” you fumbled for an answer, staring up at hoshina nervously. why had he just come over? why was he looking at you like that? your lips quiver for a moment.

“oh, relax!” hoshina clapped you across the back, laughing. “you look so nervous! like you’ve just confessed you had some very, very personal feelings or something! that’s adorable…”

let me die, you think furtively as hoshina’s hand brushes your shoulder. narumi’s face was pinched.

“don’t let narumi bully you too much; he’s just a little lowlife, after all,” hoshina said with teasing venom in his voice.

“you bitch,” narumi growled. “i have no idea how they see anything in y—” his face paled as the words left his lips, and you think you almost see god for a minute. you hide your face with your hands, waiting for hoshina’s verdict, and you swear that the next moment you get, you were going to make narumi very sorry for spilling your metaphorical, hell, call them literal at this point, guts out in the open.

“hmm?” hoshina hums. the world fell silent—at least silent to you, in any case, your eardrums pounding in time with your heartbeat. “well—”

“vice captain hoshina!” mina ashiro’s voice was sharp and piercing. “time to go.”

“huh?” hoshina cocks his head. “ah, of course, captain. be right there!”

he turned to you and narumi with a small smile, one of his fangs peeking out for a moment before waving his fingers.

“see you.” he nods his head to you specifically before he turns away.

you wait until you are absolutely, absolutely sure he’s out of earshot before turning on narumi, throwing your soda can at his head.

“fuck!” narumi swore. “what the fuck was that for?”

“you idiot! why did you basically confess to him for me?!” you hiss. “i’m trying to count on you to not run your damn mouth!”

“hoshina’s an idiot,” narumi says sullenly. “i bet he didn’t even notice.”

[…]

the walk through the hallway was silent, up until—

“you’re red,” mina says, her hand reaching for her skirt pocket to pull out her phone.

“stop,” hoshina’s voice is strangled, far more strangled than he’d like it to be. “no, i’m serious. no photos. you’ll need to talk to my PR agent about that.” hoshina’s ears were tinged pink, and he raised his hands to try and hide the flush.

“hoshina,” okonogi sounded disapproving, “why don’t you just confess already? i’m getting tired watching you get so concerned over them…”

“ha! confess,” hoshina laughs. “and what good would that do? i’m not exactly peak romance material, you know this…”

“the only one not noticing that is you, hoshina,” mina mutters. “you get all sullen when they leave and happy when they come back, but you have to act like a… hmm… what does he act like, okonogi?”

hoshina’s eyes went wide as okonogi hummed.

“a cat!” okonogi declares emphatically.

“yes. you’re right,” mina says decisively. “that’s a good fit. you act like a cat about it. you try to—”

“stop. stop it, stop it, i don’t want to hear it. stop analyzing my personality. this isn’t some kind of joke,” hoshina says, his voice sounding more flustered as he went on. “they’re never gonna say yes. it’s stupid. confessing like this… it would only be a burden on all of us.”

mina and okonogi exchanged a look.

“besides, i’m a bad boyfriend. remember that last girl, from operations,” hoshina laughed. “broke her heart in three seconds flat.”

“… if i remember correctly, you liked her quite a lot, though,” okonogi said hesitantly.

“ha! so what if i did?” hoshina asked. “she only just left when i… hm.” his smile seemed to falter somewhat, but he laughed. “it’s fine. it’s fine. i’m fine.”

behind his back, mina and okonogi exchanged another look.

but his mind flickered back to his hand on your back, and wondered if you leaning into his touch was a fluke.

[…]

you stare at hoshina from across the room. he’s eating by himself, half a piece of melon bread in his mouth as he stared down at some papers in his hand. you’d have asked to sit next to him, if only you were braver. but you were a coward, so here you were. you stare down at your own food, tearing off a corner of the red bean bun you were eating, popping it in your mouth.

your crush on hoshina was about as subtle as a freight train. which is to say, you felt it coming on, and then by the time you’d fully reconciled it, you were already being run over repeatedly. it was just grappling, mostly, with how cool he was, endlessly.

you wondered what it would be like to live under the intensity of his stare, as it enveloped you whole.

would it be like a benevolent fire? or would he raze you so wholly that there’d be nothing left?

you wanted to find out. you wanted to find out, but you were so scared he’d burn you before you could even get close. but what was important was that hoshina, for sure, didn’t even bother to reciprocate your feelings. that’s what you were so sure of—because why would someone like him give you the pleasure of his time? surely his time was more valuable than wasting it on a nobody like you.

his intensity, sharpened to a fine point, was better spent figuring out how to permanently eradicate the kaiju threat altogether.

right?

you sighed miserably.

“now that sounds like a miserable sound to me,” hoshina’s voice rang out right next to your ear.

you nearly jumped out of your skin as soon as you heard his voice, too focused for a second on the soft, tickling sensation of his breath against the shell of your ear. your face bloomed bright red, and you immediately backed away from him, your heart pounding loudly in your chest.

“hoshina!” you stammer. “what—what are you doing?”

“eating?” hoshina raises his eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his lips. “noticed you were staring. take a picture, by the way, if you want. they do last longer than the momentary glances.” he sat down next to you, continuing to eat.

so he had noticed you staring.

“s-sorry. for staring,” you say.

“huh? why are you sorry?” hoshina asks, cocking his head at you, one of his eyes opening a bit wider. “i don’t mind. if i minded, i woulda said something.” your face flushed a little more at his words, and you looked away as he laughed.

“you really are cute,” he says fondly, reaching out a hand to pat your head.

… huh?

“what?” you ask weakly.

“huh? did i say something weird?” hoshina asks, the picture perfect image of innocence—or so you’d say, if his eyes weren’t narrowed at you, and the smile on his face a little too much like a smirk, waiting for how you’d react.

“no…? i guess? it’s just not something i thought you’d say. to me,” you say falteringly, looking away for a moment.

“mm. i guess i should make a habit of saying it more, huh?” hoshina teases, removing his hand from your head.

and as you fluster a little more, you curse god for your crush on soshiro hoshina.

[…]

“you need to quit fucking around,” narumi says, pointing a dumbbell at hoshina in the training room.

“fucking around? i’m doing nothing of the sort,” hoshina says, that mask of innocence still on his face. narumi’s brow furrows.

“sure, and you don’t also ogle… you need to get your shit together and confess, or swear to god, i’ll kill one of you. or, hell, why don’t we just kill both of you so i don’t have to fucking look at you?” narumi scoffs, anger spiking in his voice.

“ha, yeah, maybe if you do that i’ll finally be free from hearing your annoying, grating voice,” hoshina says, prodding narumi in the chest.

“yeah, but then you won’t confess your feelings and then i’ll have to die knowing i broke up a couple that hadn’t even gotten together,” narumi grumbles. “i’m not a monster.”

“huh?” hoshina asks.

narumi looked like he was about to blow a gasket.

“wait, so you didn’t know they reciprocate?”

“i–well, i… hoped?” hoshina says, realizing how stupid he must sound. his mind flit back to your reactions the past few days–hell, the past few weeks? maybe the past few months? “oh. shit.”

“oh. shit. indeed,” narumi mocks. “so, are you going to tell them?”

“i…” hoshina suddenly realized how terrified he was. his face paled, his hand coming up to his mouth. “i… shit. wait. this is–fuck. i…” he ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs up past his face, a shaking sigh passing his lips. “no. this is… how would i even begin to explain it? i’m not… i can’t. i’m not–i can’t be a good partner. not in this line of work. my judgement could be compromised! that wouldn’t–”

“your judgement is already compromised,” narumi says, a bared snarl-turned-smile on his lips. “you know, hoshina. this is probably the most interesting you’ve ever been. you’re always facades, niceties. pretended you were untouchable, swimming in that sea of self-loathing and ineptitude. but maybe you’re beginning to live a little, aren’t you?”

hoshina’s eyes widened.

living?

[...]

it’d always come to the worst, you thought. you coughed up a mouthful of blood as another round of rubble began to creak overhead. you tried to force your body to move, and your suit pulsed in response to your movements, attempting to close the bloody gashes across your body from the kaiju attack.

“command, come in,” you gasped out, holding up a shaking hand to your in-ear. you winced as there was only a clicking static in response–was no one coming? were you all alone? were you going to die like this, your limbs barely even able to hold up their own weight even with most of your combat power unleashed? is this all you were good for? your knees buckled as you collapsed onto the ground, coughing out a mouthful of blood.

were you going to die like this?

you couldn’t.

you didn’t want to.

your vision swam a bit as you coughed out another mouthful of blood, your mind lingering.

hoshina had touched your back right before you’d left, a small smile crossing his face.

“don’t die,” he’d said.

and here you were, stumbling through the rubble, hurting so badly that you might as well be dead.

it was utterly and painfully cliche to think about letting hoshina down. you didn’t want to, and yet there was a horrifying possibility that you would. and as you buckled again, collapsing onto your knees, you coughed out another mouthful of blood.

fuck.

“command,” you repeated, in a weaker voice. “please. if someone–if anyone can hear me–i need help. suit damage is–” you cough again, wiping blood from your mouth. “--critical. please.”

and as your vision swam, you felt a hand press against your shoulder.

“there you are.”

you blinked hard, staring up at the face of soshiro hoshina, who’d pulled his mask off, leaning down to pull you into his arms.

“hoshina,” you whisper. “i’m sorry–i shouldn’t have… i got…”

“why are you apologizing?” hoshina asks, his voice sounding more choked than you’d like it to be.

“i didn’t mean to–i didn’t mean for this to happen.” you think you’re bleeding across hoshina’s suit, across his gloves as you press your head against his shoulder.

hoshina laughs desperately, wetly.

“you didn’t mean to–of course you didn’t mean to!” hoshina protests. “the attack was more than any of us could have predicted–of course you didn’t mean for any of this happen–i don’t want you to apologize for that.” his hand reaches up to swipe some blood away from your brow. “come on, love. i have to tell you how i feel–that bastard was right, after all. my judgement was compromised from the beginning, around you.”

“that bastard? narumi?” you ask, coughing a bit. why did it feel so cold? your eyes fluttered for a moment, “what does he have to do with any of this–”

“i love you,” hoshina says. “i’m sorry it took me this long to tell you. and i’m selfish, for waiting until you’re bloodied, like this, to tell you.” you didn’t like the desperate look in his eyes like he was convinced you were going to die. you leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“you bastard,” you muttered. “couldn’t you have thought up a better time and place for all of this?”

“no,” hoshina admits. “because i’m selfish, after all.” he smiles at you, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. “come on. let’s get you to the medbay. i’m not letting you die on me yet.”

“okay,” you whispered weakly. “okay.”

#kaiju no 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #x reader #kn8 x reader #my secret weapon... hoshina blast #i hope that narumi was written okay. i like writing dialogue banter. idk if u can tell. rolls my eyes

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faithfulren · 1 day

Text

care in every explosion

the reader takes care of bakugo when he's injured, showing him a different side of their relationship. despite his initial gruffness, bakugo slowly warms up to the reader's care and companionship. as they spend more time together, the barriers between them begin to break down, and they share moments of laughter and understanding. one evening, bakugo surprises the reader by thanking them for everything, showing a rare moment of vulnerability. the reader realizes how much bakugo means to them, and they both acknowledge the growing bond between them. despite their differences, they know they can rely on each other and support each other through thick and thin.

----

the sound of bakugo's gruff voice filled the air as he hobbled into the dormitory common room, his face twisted in a grimace of pain. you glanced up from your book, concern instantly etching across your features as you took in his disheveled appearance.

"what the hell happened to you?" you asked, rising from your seat and rushing over to him.

bakugo waved you off with a scowl. "it's nothing," he muttered, though his slight wince betrayed his words.

you weren't convinced. "sit down," you commanded, gently guiding him to the nearest couch. "let me take a look at that."

grumbling under his breath, bakugo complied, allowing you to inspect the injury on his leg. It was a nasty gash, deep and bleeding profusely. your heart clenched at the sight, but you pushed aside your unease, focusing on the task at hand.

with practiced hands, you cleaned the wound, ignoring bakugo's protests as you worked. despite his tough exterior, you could see the tension in his shoulders ease slightly as you tended to him.

"there," you said finally, applying a bandage to the wound. "all done."

bakugo's gaze softened as he looked up at you, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. "thanks," he muttered gruffly, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

you smiled gently, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. "anytime," you replied softly.

over the next few days, you found yourself spending more time than usual by bakugo's side, helping him with everyday tasks and keeping him company during his recovery. despite his initial protests, he seemed to welcome your presence, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by either of you.

as the days passed, you found yourself begrudgingly tolerating bakugo's presence more than usual. his explosive personality seemed to mellow in your company, and you discovered a side of him that few others got to see. you shared sarcastic banter and competitive challenges, finding an odd sense of camaraderie in your constant bickering.

one evening, as you sat beside bakugo's bed, he reached out to take your hand in his, his grip firm yet oddly comforting. you raised an eyebrow, surprised by the uncharacteristic gesture.

"thanks," he grumbled, his voice rough but sincere. "for not being as annoying as usual."

you chuckled, giving his hand a playful squeeze. "you're welcome, i think," you replied, a smirk playing on your lips.

in that moment, as you sat together in grudging companionship, you realized that maybe, just maybe, there was more to bakugo than met the eye. and as his grip tightened ever so slightly around your hand, you knew that despite his rough exterior, he valued your presence more than he let on.

together, you would navigate the ups and downs of hero training, supporting each other in your own unique way. because in the end, all that mattered was the bond that held you together, strong and unbreakable, just like the friendship that blossomed between you.

----

btw to the person who told me i shouldnt use x readers if the character isnt attracted to them pls tell me what should i put bro like damn u dont gotta call me an asshole n shi 💔💔

#anime #mha #mha bakugou #bnha #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #faithfulren

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javier-pena · 2 days

Text

in plain sight, chapter ii

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader | Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Word Count: 9.7k (idk what happened there)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Tommy invites you over to dinner and you meet a man you thought you'd never see again.

Notes: I know that no one updates stories as slowly as I do, considering I posted the first chapter all the way back in February. But this fic is on my mind constantly, and the one thing I'm always thinking about is Tess. So I hope I did her justice in this chapter - at least Dani @alexturner thinks so 🤭 and no spoilers, but the next chapter is going to be wild, so stick around ...

[Chapter I] [Masterlist] [Chapter III]

***

“When will you be back?”

The question makes you roll your eyes. “I don’t know,” you answer with a sigh. “He’s making dinner … I don’t know what he has planned.”

Your sister glances at the tidy front lawn, the grass neatly cut and dark green in the evening light, and beyond it at the bungalow with its cream-colored façade and dark gray roof. Behind the windows, light is burning, but you don’t see any movement.

“If you’re going to be later than ten, don’t count on me to pick you up.”

“I’m sure Tommy will drive me,” you reassure her. Those logistics aren’t even on your mind – you’re not counting on going back home tonight.

“Well, have fun,” your sister says, the look on her face telling you she thinks you’ll have anything but.

“Thanks,” you reply, checking your makeup in the tiny mirror in the sun visor before climbing out of the car.

Your high heels clack loudly against the driveway as you make your way past Tommy’s red pickup and a black one that probably belongs to his brother up to the front door. You’re very aware of your sister’s gaze on you – at least she didn’t comment on your outfit this time, but you know she wanted to. The dress you’re wearing is longer than the one you had on the last time you met Tommy, but it’s still tight, even though the skirt is slightly flared. You went for an innocent, floral pattern, hoping it would keep your sister from commenting, and it did. Still, you were anxious the whole drive that she would turn the car around and make you get changed.

Before you ring Tommy’s doorbell, you turn around and wave at your sister, a broad smile on your face. The last thing you need is for her to see Tommy sticking his tongue down your throat because you wouldn’t hear the end of it. But she’s set on staying until you’re safely inside. With a small sigh, you ring the doorbell and await your fate.

“Wow,” is the first thing Tommy says when he opens the door. He’s wearing jeans and a checkered shirt, a big belt buckle with a snake on it, and he’s holding a dishtowel in one hand. As soon as he’s standing in front of you, nothing else matters. “You’re …,” you see him swallow hard. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re very –,” you start, but he interrupts you by grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside. As soon as the door closes behind you, he presses you up against it and claims your mouth like a starved man. You’re dimly aware of a car speeding off.

It’s so easy to get lost in him for a while. One of your hands finds his chest, the other the back of his head. This is such a new experience for you, that things between the two of you are never awkward. There is no, “Hi”, no, “How have you been?”, no hesitation as you’re trying to figure out if Tommy missed you as much as you missed him. Every single time you see him it feels like a lightning strike, and every single time he sees you he treats you like you’re the most important person in his life. It takes some getting used to that this summer fling feels like the most grown-up relationship you’ve ever had.

“I missed you too,” you tease once he lets go of you, and you watch a flush creep onto his cheeks.

Tommy takes your hand and leads you toward the kitchen. It’s only then that you notice the smell of a charcoal grill. “Do you want somethin’ to drink?” he asks you. “Beer? Wine? Water? Juice? I have some sodas too.”

You laugh. “I’ll have a beer,” you answer, then kiss his cheek. “Don’t be so nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” he protests with a huff but hides his face behind the refrigerator door.

You walk to the kitchen window and glance outside at the tidy backyard framed by a low, brown picket fence. There’s an unlit firepit in one corner, a smoking charcoal grill in the other, and in the middle there’s a table, already set for four people. You thought you’d have Tommy all to yourself tonight.

“My brother Joel is havin’ dinner with us,” Tommy says, handing you an ice-cold beer bottle. “He’s bringin’ his girlfriend Tess along. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” you answer with a shake of your head, but the truth is you do. Well, some warning would have been nice, at least. Maybe you wouldn’t have worn a dress that displays quite so much of your back. Maybe you would have worn more sensible shoes. Maybe you would have told your sister to pick you up at ten. And maybe you wouldn’t have counted on a romantic dinner followed by mind-blowing sex.

“Joel’s older than you, right?” you ask, swallowing your disappointment.

“That’s right.” Tommy laughs. “Don’t call him older to his face though.” He lowers his voice. “I’m not older, I’m more mature.”

Just like that your disappointment vanishes into thin air. “It has to be quite a few years. I don’t remember him from high school.”

Tommy takes a swig from a half empty beer bottle on the counter. “That’s because he graduated before I started. He’s five years older.”

You nod, quickly doing the math in your head. He has to be almost thirty then. “And you work together?” you ask next, but the last two words get drowned out by the sound of an engine growling like a pack of wolves.

“That’s them!” Tommy quickly empties his beer bottle. “Let me check on dinner real quick.”

You stand there, watching him hurry off into the backyard. Should you follow? Should you pretend to be busy in the kitchen? Does he expect you to greet Joel and his girlfriend (Tina, was it?) on your own? In the end, you find yourself walking back toward the living room, straightening your dress, tightly clutching your beer bottle. Meeting Tommy’s big brother … it sounds so official, like you’re taking the next step in this relationship.

Outside the living room window, a motorbike has pulled up in the driveway. It’s big and black and chrome, long enough for two people to sit behind each other, loud enough to alert the whole neighborhood. A man and a woman sit astride it, he in front, she holding onto him. They’re both wearing dark leather jackets and dark helmets, and big heavy boots, and you never felt so overdressed and like a fish out of water. They’re going to take one look at you and think you’re a silly little girl.

No! You straighten your back. This goes both ways. They probably want to make a good first impression just as much as you want to.

The woman takes off her helmet first and undoes her low ponytail that kept her long, auburn hair out of her face during the drive. She’s … you wouldn’t call her “pretty” but she’s stunning in a way that makes your mouth go dry. When she runs her fingers through her hair and laughs at something Joel says you wish you could just disappear. No matter what you do, you could never compete with someone like her. But when Joel takes off his helmet you know wishing you could disappear won’t be enough. You’ll have to find a way to actually do it. Because you know this man, there’s no doubt about that. You could never forget those eyes and the way his gaze pierced into yours while he was fucking a woman you couldn’t see. This is going to be the worst night of your life.

Joel unzips his jacket, exposing a tight, white shirt underneath it, while his girlfriend waves to a neighbor on the opposite side of the street. Then she holds out her hand for Joel to take and they walk toward the front door; she’s chatting away while he watches her, a neutral expression on his face.

It’s like that one time you were eight years old and your mom picked you up early from school because lunch had made you throw up. She was driving home along the freeway, switching radio stations and checking your temperature with the back of her hand pressed against your forehead. The car in front of you suddenly swerved to the left and into another car. It lifted into the air, spun around, and crashed down on its roof. Your mom screamed and veered off to the right, avoiding the wreck but almost landing in the guard rail.

The funny thing was you could see it all happening in slow motion, convinced that if you just focused enough, you could skip forward and backward in time, maybe even prevent the accident altogether. You weren’t scared, you didn’t cry; you thought your mom was overreacting when she stopped the car on the side of the freeway, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Later, you found out you were in shock, and later still you couldn’t stop crying until you threw up for the second time that day.

You’re convinced now that if you just focus enough, you could make those two people outside Tommy’s front door walk back to the motorbike and drive off. All you need to do is close your eyes and …

The front door opens and heavy footfalls make the ground beneath you shake. “Tommy?” a deep voice shouts and you flinch. “Tommy?” it repeats and then, in a softer tone, Joel says, “Oh, hey.”

You open your eyes. Joel has taken off his jacket and discarded it over the back of the couch. He has placed his helmet on the windowsill and is now looking at you with mild surprise on his face. “Hey,” he repeats, and you’re not sure whether it’s a greeting or a complaint. Then he closes the distance between you, easily wrangles the beer from your grip with a, “Thanks, sweetheart,” and then walks off into the kitchen.

He doesn’t remember. You’re not sure if you should feel relieved or disappointed.

“Hi, I’m Tess.” His girlfriend kisses you twice, once on each cheek. You heard about people greeting each other like that in Europe, but still your face heats up. “Don’t mind him, he’s annoyed because he just lost a bet.”

“What kind of bet?” you ask, the sound of your breathy voice foreign in your ears.

Tess takes off her jacket and places it on top of Joel’s before answering. “I bet him ten dollars you’d be pretty,” she says with a big smile. “He lost because he thinks no pretty girl in her right mind would go out with his brother.”

Then she takes your arm and leads you toward the backyard and the two men waiting for you.

*******

He doesn’t remember … but how could he not? How could last Friday not have meant anything to him? Shit! Does it mean something to you? It shouldn’t, should it? No, it definitely shouldn’t. But still, you wish he’d give you just one sign that he remembers.

Or maybe you’ve got it wrong. Maybe Joel isn’t the man from the other pick-up truck at all. Maybe Tommy has another brother, maybe he’s Joel’s identical twin. No, that’s ridiculous, this isn’t one of those soap operas your mom loves to watch. No one in real life has an evil twin.

“What are you smirkin’ at?” Tommy asks, handing you a bowl of potato salad.

Your cheeks heat up. “Nothing.”

Joel is the man from the other car, you’re certain about that. You keep coming back to how his eyes looked that night, how they look fixed on you now. It has to be him. Even though he’s relaxed and there’s an easy smile on his face, Joel looks at you as if he wants to see inside of you, right to your very core, and figure you out. And if he isn’t the man from the car, why would he be doing that?

And if he is, why did he brush you aside earlier?

You slump back in your chair. What were you expecting? Did you want him to say, “Oh, it’s you! Tess, it’s the girl who watched us fuck last week, do you remember?” Of course not. You want to forget the whole thing, pretend it never happened. It’s bad enough you let it happen in the first place, but it’s even worse now you know who that stranger is … he’s no stranger at all, he’s your boyfriend’s brother.

Boyfriend? Where did that come from?

“You okay?” Tommy squeezes your hand. ��You barely touched your food.”

“I know what’s the matter,” Joel announces, and your entire body freezes up. You hear the blood rushing in your ears. “Now that she’s seen my bike, she’s realized she’s dating the wrong Miller brother.”

“Joel!” Tess protests, but laughs. Is she mocking you? She is, isn’t she?

Tommy rolls his eyes. “A man needs more than a bike to make him interestin’.”

“Like what?” Joel challenges. When Tommy opens his mouth, he quickly adds, “No, never mind, whatever it is you ain’t got it.”

Tommy lets go of your hand (you hadn’t even realized he was still holding it) and turns to Tess, who is sitting opposite you. She’s trying to hide a smirk, but she’s failing miserably. “Tess, please control my brother.”

“I’m sorry they’re like that,” Tess says, ignoring Tommy. “You’ll get used to it though.”

Joel turns to you. “Do you have siblings?”

You sit up so fast you bump your knee into the table and topple over your beer bottle. “Shit!” you swear. “Sorry. Let me –,” but Tess stands up.

“Don’t worry about it.” And she’s off to the kitchen.

You don’t want her to clean up your mess so you make to follow her, but Joel pins you in place with a glare. “Well? Do you?”

“Do I what?” you ask, watching Tess come back with a roll of paper towels.

“Siblings,” Tommy says with a laugh. Then he turns to Joel. “Yes, she has an older sister. She’s even less of a people person than you.”

“Well, this one could do with a little loosening up herself.” Joel nods toward you.

Your stomach curls tight with annoyance, but before you can say anything, Tommy replies, “She’s pretty loose, thank you.”

Tess, mopping up your spilled beer, throws you a pitying glance. “Guys, stop embarrassing her.”

“They’re not,” you say quickly, but it gets swallowed by Tommy shouting, “I’m embarrassin’ her?”

Joel winks at you and you wish the ground beneath your chair would open up and swallow you whole. He has to remember, right? And he’s tormenting you to test you or to get you to crack. You just can’t figure out why.

You clear your throat. “I have two older sisters,” you say, and when Tommy raises his eyebrows in surprise, you quickly add, “One lives in Europe, and I never get to see her. My parents … they had a falling out, and she doesn’t talk to any of us.”

Tess squeezes your shoulder sympathetically before going back to the kitchen to discard the used paper towels. Tommy and Joel glance at each other, unsure of what to say. You didn’t mean to make them feel uncomfortable with your complicated family dynamics, but you do feel some subdued glee at their speechlessness.

When Tess comes back, none of you have said anything yet. “I think every good family should have drama,” she says, sitting down in Joel’s lap instead of her chair. “There’s no point in surrounding yourself with boring people.”

Joel tickles her and she squeals. “Says the only child whose parents would do anything for her.”

You look at Tommy, a question on your lips, one you haven’t asked yet because it didn’t seem important in the whirlwind of the last few weeks. But before you can ask it, Tess changes the subject.

“So, how’s college?”

This time, you manage not to jump out of your skin when being addressed. “How do you know I’m in college?”

“Because Tommy boy can’t shut up about you,” Joel answers, flicking a potato wedge at his brother.

“Hey!” Tommy protests loudly, but to you it sounds like he’s far away, maybe somewhere below water. You try to focus on something solid, like the plate in front of you, but everything is blurry. You’re feeling about a million feelings at once, and yet your inside is an empty void that is longing for something to fill it. Tommy has been talking about you to Joel and Tess. A lot, apparently. And yet here you are, your head spinning from the cocky way Joel teases his brother, the protective way he holds onto Tess, longing for his attention on you. This is wrong.

“It’s good,” you answer Tess’ question, taking a sip from a fresh bottle of beer that makes you cough.

“That’s it?” Tess asks. “What are you studying? Where do you live? Do you have a college boyfriend who dreams about you raising his babies?”

You laugh loudly and Tess beams. “I don’t know what Tommy told you about me, but one man is about as much as I can handle.” You smile at Tommy. “He’s all I need.” Tommy’s chest swells with pride. “But I live in a dorm, and I want to go on to law school.”

“Wow.” Tess sounds genuinely impressed, but there’s a strange glint in her eyes. “We have to watch what we say around you then.”

“As if the law has ever kept you from doing what you want,” Joel teases.

“Oh, shut up.” Tess laughs and kisses him, hard, a hand in his dark curls. Joel’s eyes flutter shut, and your stomach flutters in response.

Tommy clears his throat and you jump. “We have company.”

Tess bites Joel’s bottom lip and you think you hear him growl. “What are you, my mom?”

For some reason, Tommy’s comment rubbed you the wrong way. You’re not a child. You can handle two people kissing in front of you. “I’ve been to frat parties,” you laugh. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Tess lets go of Joel’s hair. “Really? What was it like? I always wanted to go to one.”

“They can be fun,” you answer cautiously, glancing at Tommy. “But they’re also … if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

“So they’re not like in the movies?” Tess presses. “You know, strippers and booze and then someone draws a gun?”

Joel turns to her, one eyebrow cocked. “What kind of movies are you watching?”

“Never you mind.” She pats his cheek.

“There are no strippers and no guns,” you answer seriously as if you’re used to answering questions like that. “But there’s a lot of alcohol. That’s why they’re all the same. People get drunk, punch each other, and then throw up.”

“Sounds like a typical Tuesday night for us, doesn’t it, Joel?” Tommy winks at his big brother.

“Can you take me to a frat party?” Tess asks suddenly. You’re not sure if she’s mocking you, but her face is serious.

“I …,” you start slowly, not sure what to say.

“Oh, come on.” Tess laughs. “You’ll be the most popular girl, bringing a cool older woman like me.”

Now that you know she’s mocking you, it’s easy for you to play along. “I don’t think those frat boys are into older women,” you say with an apologetic smile.

Tess’ mouth falls open. “You’re just gonna let her talk to me like that?” she asks, turning to Joel.

Joel shrugs, then looks directly at you. The hairs at the back of your neck stand up. “I like her. I think she’s funny.”

*******

“Sorry about my brother,” Tommy says, a crooked smile on his lips. “And Tess.”

It’s later. You’ve moved from the backyard into the living room. The heat of the June day still lingers in the slight headache you have, but it’s nice and cool inside. Still, your cheeks feel hot to the touch and you’re lightheaded, your heart hammering in your chest, even as your head is comfortably resting against Tommy’s shoulder. It’s the heat, you tell yourself. Nothing more. Certainly not Tommy’s brother who watched you come a week ago and doesn’t even remember it.

You laugh. “It’s alright. I like them.”

You do. It’s not important that your stomach curls tightly whenever Tess touches Joel. That’s an understandable, reasonable reaction, one no one could blame you for, one you can easily ignore. It’s not important. It doesn’t matter. What’s more important is the fact that you’ve survived the dinner without embarrassing yourself, that the panic you felt when recognizing Joel was completely unfounded. You did well, all things considered, and there is absolutely no reason why Tommy should ever find out about your little secret.

You lean in closer to him. “Do you think Tess likes me?” you ask.

He shifts against your cheek. “What makes you say that?”

“She was making fun of me, right? When she asked me to take her to a frat party?”

Now it’s Tommy’s turn to laugh. “No, she was completely serious. Tess has a very … direct way that makes her sound like she’s not being serious. But believe me, you’d notice if she wouldn’t like you. She’s also very direct with that.”

“And Joel?” you ask carefully.

Tommy slings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer. “Joel is … he’s … he’s very protective of me. It’s annoying, believe me, but it always takes him a while to warm up when I bring someone home.”

Your heart stutters. “Protective? How?”

“He doesn’t want me to get hurt. As if I can’t take care of myself.”

“Has that happened before?” you ask carefully, but you might as well have asked the wall. Tommy doesn’t reply, he doesn’t even shake his head or shrug his shoulders. Maybe that’s a conversation for another time.

“I think I’m gonna get myself another beer,” Tommy finally says, and shifts to get up.

“No,” you protest. “Let me. I wanted to get one for myself anyway.”

You stand, and Tommy smirks up at you. “I could get used to that.”

“Well, don’t.” You give him a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll be right back.”

You make your way to the kitchen, taking pleasure in Tommy’s wistful sigh as you walk out of sight. He probably has been hurt in the past, you decide, but that doesn’t stop him from opening himself up to another person. Is that fun summer fling you wanted to have about to get much more serious than you had planned? At the threshold to the kitchen, you turn around to look back at Tommy lounging on the couch and return his soft smile. You’re not prepared for anything more serious between the two of you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do your best to treat Tommy right.

The kitchen isn’t empty. Tess is standing by the sink, taking care of the dishes. Maybe you should feel bad for not having offered to help her, but it’s obvious your help isn’t wanted. Behind Tess there’s Joel, pressing his chest into her back, holding her tightly against his body. Tess makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan when Joel nuzzles her neck and simultaneously moves an open palm downward against her stomach. You stop, your smile frozen on your lips, your hands cold and clammy, balled into fists against your sides. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before (and what is there to see, really?), but you should leave or make your presence known at the very least. You don’t.

Joel bites down onto Tess’ neck and she gasps. You almost do too, but the sound gets stuck in your throat. Joel’s other hand finds its way to Tess’ throat and he lightly closes his fingers around it, moving her head to the side so he has better access to her neck. Her neck disappears under his broad palm and big fingers and your chest tightens with adrenaline. You hadn’t noticed the size of his hands before but suddenly it’s all you can think about. That, and what it would feel like to have them around your neck, to feel the callouses on his fingers against your skin, to feel the heat radiating off of him.

With a low growl, Joel presses his crotch against Tess’ backside and she sighs. You feel both sounds all over your body; it’s as if Joel and Tess aren’t caressing each other but you. You wonder what it would feel like to … You take a step forward and bump your foot into a box that’s stowed against the wall. Its contents rattle insistently and Tess straightens her back, her head snapping in your direction.

You can’t read the look on her face but you know you’d feel embarrassed if someone caught you and Tommy in such an intimate situation.

“Joel,” she says. Is it a warning?

Maybe he doesn’t hear her, or maybe he doesn’t care, but he doesn’t stop. The hand that’s been resting against Tess’ stomach moves lower and lower, and you can’t really tell from where you’re standing but it looks like his fingers are disappearing inside her jeans. And she’s still looking at you, her green eyes sharp in the dim kitchen light. What should you do? Stay and watch? You almost laugh at the ridiculousness of that idea, pushing aside an ever-growing desire to do just that, but there’s also something else – an irritation bordering on jealousy that you have no right to be feeling. The smart thing to do here would be to avert your gaze, get the beers from the fridge, and leave.

But then two things happen at once and you can’t move a single muscle in your body.

The first one is that Joel’s fingers inside Tess’ pants must’ve reached their destination and she moans, her eyes still locked to yours. Then she nods at you and smiles and you think … you think she might be telling you to join them. That thought terrifies you. You won’t cheat on your boyfriend who’s waiting for you only a room away, but there is an insistent pressure between your legs that’s harder and harder to ignore.

The second thing that happens is that Joel whispers in Tess’ ear, loud enough for you to hear. “I know, baby. You’re doing so well. You’re drenched, do you know that?” The way he says drenched captures your attention much more than Tess’ presumed invitation ever could. He knows you’re there, he must know it, and yet he … A hungry, growling desire awakens in you and you realize that no matter how hard you try, you can’t play down the encounter in the parking lot; you can’t even walk away from this, even if it would be so easy.

“Joel …” Tess’ eyes flutter shut when he cups one of her breasts with his big hand.

You want to say his name too, want to make him look at you, but then Tess’ fingers go slack and she drops the cutlery she’s been holding into the sink. It hits the steel with loud clanks and shakes you out of your stupor. Hot shame rolls through your stomach and up into your throat, settling there in the form of a lump. You stumble toward the fridge on unsteady legs like a newborn fawn, ignoring Tess’ giggles and Joel’s breathless pants that could also be a chuckle. You grab two beer bottles and rush out of the kitchen without looking back.

The last thing you hear is Tess saying, “Shit, Joel. Do you think we scared her?” and Joel replying, “Who cares?”

*******

The joint between your lips helps you relax and you sink deeper into the couch, hoping it will swallow you up. Tommy takes it from you and takes a drag, sighing happily. It doesn’t matter, really, that Joel and Tess don’t like you, that they were trying to rile you up. Let them think you’re young and stupid and inexperienced. What does it matter to you? You giggle and pull Tommy, who was just trying to pass the joint to Joel, toward you. You take it back instead and inhale deeply.

“Careful, darlin’.” Tommy laughs. “Ain’t no need to impress me.”

You ignore him and kiss him instead, letting him taste the sweet aroma of the weed on your lips. He returns your kiss but takes the joint from you and finally passes it on to Joel who’s sitting on a chaise longue, legs spread widely, Tess on his lap. You don’t know what happened between them after you left the kitchen, but the flush on Tess’ cheeks when they finally emerged left no room for imagination. You feel a stab of jealousy.

“First time?” Joel asks you with a smirk.

You shake your head. “I’m not as innocent as you think.”

Joel’s eyes glide over your body, from your relaxed eyelids down to your exposed thighs where your dress has ridden up your legs. “Who said anything about innocent?”

“I know you think I’m young and stupid.” Under different circumstances, the words might have sounded like you were hurt but the big smile you can’t seem to turn off softens the blow.

Joel laughs, and it sounds real. At least the flutter in your stomach is real. “I don’t,” he says. “But it’s funny you should think that.” He places his hand possessively on Tess’ knee and Tess leans into him. “I’m just making sure you’re alright. And that you’re not getting yourself into a situation you can’t handle.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I can handle more than you think.”

“Oh, I’d like to see that,” Joel teases.

Next to you, Tommy sighs. “Can you flirt with your own girlfriend, please?”

Your reaction to the weed dampens the feeling of shame that would have consumed you had you been sober. Joel tightens his hold on Tess and Tess closes her eyes, a happy smile on her lips. Is she saying, “He’s mine”? He is, that’s obvious. She doesn’t have to rub it in though. Wait. Why do you care? You’re with Tommy … you don’t care who Joel is fucking.

“If that’s flirting to you, I’m surprised you got her to agree to go out with you,” Joel retorts.

Her … why does your stomach flutter when he talks about you like you’re not in the room? You turn to Tommy, a seductive smile on your lips … or at least you hope it looks like that. “Tommy’s very good at flirting … he had me wrapped around his little finger in no time.”

Tommy kisses you and you close your eyes to focus on the glide of his lips against yours. He manages to sneak a hand between your shoulders and the backrest of the couch, and cups the back of your head, pressing you closer to him. You melt, forgetting why you felt so irritated and somewhat lost only a few seconds ago.

But then Joel’s voice bursts your warm and happy bubble. “That’s just because you’ve never dated a real man before.”

“Joel,” Tess warns, but you’re already confronting him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, your chin raised in defiance.

Joel’s eyes flicker with triumph at how easy it is to get a rise out of you, and you wish you had ignored him. But it’s too late to go back to making out with Tommy and pretending you haven’t heard him.

“You’re what … 19? How many boyfriends have you had? And they were probably kids like you.”

Your face heats up with anger but before you can say, “Why is everyone so obsessed with my dating history?” Tommy snaps, “That’s enough, Joel.”

You watch as Joel’s shoulders tense and for a moment you expect him to ignore his brother but then he laughs. “I’m just messing with her.”

For some reason, you focus on Tess’ confused face – not Tommy sinking back against the cushions or Joel’s raised palms. She looks as lost as you feel.

“Wouldn’t hurt you to be nice for a change,” Tommy grumbles.

Tess leans forward and extends her hand holding the joint out to you. You take it from her with a grateful smile, your hands briefly touching over the coffee table. “Thanks,” you whisper.

“Tommy’s right,” Tess says and looks down at her boyfriend. “Relax, Joel.” And before Joel can protest, her hand is on his jaw and she kisses him. Just like before, his eyes flutter shut, and just as before, your stomach flutters in response. You ignore it, the irritation you feel now palpable in a pressure on your chest.

“He ain’t always like that.” Tommy’s voice is low as he plucks the joint straight out from between your lips. “He’s –”

“Hey!” you protest. “I wasn’t done with that yet.”

Tommy only smirks at you, takes a drag, then passes it on to Joel. “He’s quite nice once you get to know him.”

Joel snorts. “You make me sound like a dog.”

“Well, you’re behaving like one,” you snap.

Everyone turns to you and you clap a hand over your mouth in shock. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud, hadn’t even meant to think it. It must be the weed talking. Or the alcohol. But you haven’t had much of either.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, bracing yourself for the inevitable cruel response.

Joel only laughs, his chest vibrating, head thrown back. “Please, you have nothing to apologize for,” he snorts between two laughing fits. Tess smiles, whether at your discomfort or his amusement you can’t tell. Tommy puts one possessive arm around your shoulders. Joel manages to catch his breath eventually. “Where did you find her, Tommy?”

When Tommy doesn’t respond, you turn to him. His face has gone dark, and you feel like you’re missing something. “Joel, that’s enough,” he repeats and you don’t quite understand what’s going on.

Joel sighs. “Oh, come on, Tommy.” He drags on the joint with practice movement, then passes it on to Tess without looking at her.

After that, everyone is quiet. Is it your fault? Is Joel angrier at you than he lets on? But why is Tommy staring at his older brother like he’s planning on slashing the tires of Joel’s truck later? You don’t quite know how to save the evening but you have to try.

“We went to high school together actually,” you answer Joel’s question. You lean into Tommy. “I had the biggest crush on him but he never noticed me.”

Joel smirks mockingly, but it’s over in a flash. “He can’t keep his eyes off you now.”

A warm tingling sensation crawls down your spine. “Well, he ain’t half bad to look at himself.”

“He has your full attention then?” There’s something in the way he says it that makes your blood run cold. And for the first time since Joel walked in through the front door this evening you wonder if he might remember after all.

“I enjoy every minute I spend with him, if that’s what you mean,” you answer.

Before Joel can make things worse, Tess climbs off his lap and stands. “I’m going to the bathroom.” Then she looks at you. “Are you coming?” she says with such authority you don’t even have time to think about it before you find yourself following her down the hallway.

Tess pulls you into the bathroom and closes the door behind you. “Listen to me,” she starts. “I love Joel but he can be an asshole. Especially where Tommy is concerned. I don’t know if Tommy has told you this, but their parents died young and Joel feels responsible for him. He thinks no girl is good enough for Tommy. Ignore him. I can see the way Tommy looks at you. Everyone can.”

You’re stunned into silence by Tess’ words, but the longer you wait to say something, the denser the tension between you grows. “We’re just having fun,” is what finally comes out of your mouth.

“And Tommy knows that?” Tess presses.

“We haven’t talked about it yet.” Or have you? You don’t remember everything you said to him in the heat of the moment. “But I’m going back to college in the fall.”

“No one is trying to keep you here,” Tess assures you. “And if Tommy is just after a summer romance, then that’s none of Joel’s business. Just be honest with him. And don’t hurt him.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” Then why does guilt gnaw at your conscience?

Tess smiles at you softly, unaware of the churning in your stomach. “I know you weren’t. Just don’t dump Tommy because his big brother was weird to you.” She grabs one of your hands and squeezes it. Then she opens the door and winks at you. “But I know you’re too smart for that anyway.”

You have a few seconds, no more, to try and make sense of it all. You fail. Your feelings are all over the place and you wish you could sit down somewhere quiet for a few hours and sort through them. Why does it feel like everyone expects certain things from you and you can’t seem to keep them in their place because you have no idea what you want yourself? When did this summer fling get so serious?

Before you can find an answer for just one of these questions, Tommy is calling for you, and you make your way back to the living room, your heart hammering in your chest.

*******

You wake up with a start. At first, you think you’re back in your college dorm, but your surroundings don’t make sense. The dresser is standing against the wrong wall, the window isn’t where it’s supposed to be, the bed is so big … and you’re not sleeping in it alone. You’re at Tommy’s place! The world rights itself as you regain your sense of direction. It’s so dark in Tommy’s bedroom that you can barely make out the shapes of the objects around you. It must still be the middle of the night or very early in the morning, but you can’t be certain.

Your head hurts, your mouth is sticky with thirst, and you have no memory of how you ended up in Tommy’s bed. You remember that dinner, you remember Tess asking you to be careful not to hurt Tommy, you remember Tommy’s hand under the hem of your dress, his hand climbing higher and higher, the way Joel looked at you … You inhale sharply, and Tommy stirs but doesn’t wake up.

You need to get some water. Once you’re not thirsty anymore, it’ll be easier to make sense of it all. Carefully, you climb out of the bed, your eyes glued to Tommy’s naked chest to make sure you don’t wake him. The last thing you need is some deep talk at 2 AM that has you making promises you can’t keep just because the late hour makes you feel closer to Tommy than ever before. Tommy sleeps on though, even when you open the bedroom door with a creak that makes you jump.

Outside, the dark hallway reminds you of how unfamiliar you are with Tommy’s house. Yes, this isn’t your first time sleeping here, but the last time you weren’t trying to find the kitchen in the middle of the night, sneaking around the house like a burglar. Maybe Tommy’s bathroom is the safer option if you don’t want to wake everyone. You remember it being on the right of Tommy’s bedroom.

You haven’t taken more than three steps before you hear it – the creaking of a bedframe. At first you think Tommy has woken up but he doesn’t call out for you. And then you realize the creaking is coming from the other bedroom – Joel’s bedroom.

No! It’s no business of yours to find out what’s going on behind that door, no business at all. You’re going to get some water and then you’re going back to bed. For once you’re going to follow your sensible brain and not …

There is a soft moan your body immediately responds to by setting butterflies loose in your stomach. The voice that says, “No,” is fighting, but it’s growing weaker. Your hand on the bathroom doorknob feels sweaty but you make no motion to turn it, listening into the quietness of the house. For a short while, everything remains quiet and you think maybe all you heard was someone moving in their sleep. You feel a hot wave of embarrassment when you realize you’re disappointed – what is wrong with you? You should feel relieved instead.

It’s the drugs and the alcohol that make you feel and think and act like this. Once you’ve sobered up, everything else will be fine. One hand pressed against the bathroom door to prevent any creaking when you open it, you finally turn the knob, suddenly missing the warmth and comfort of Tommy’s bed. Just a quick glass of water and then you’ll be back with him, falling asleep in an instant.

It’s not the creaking or the moaning that makes you halt in the doorframe, but it’s the deep rumble of Joel’s voice this time. You can’t make out the words, but they still make you freeze, dry up your throat and set your heart pounding. There is no way you will be able to ignore that, not with your mind still clouded and your body humming with a desire impossible to control.

The bathroom door quivers when you let go of the knob but doesn’t fall shut. Nothing seems to be moving in the house except you, as you carefully tiptoe to Joel’s bedroom door. You don’t know what it looks like, that room behind it. Tommy didn’t include it in the house tour and you’re not one to snoop. You giggle at how wrong you were about yourself, but there’s no merriment in it, just a dry realization. There is only so much you can blame on drugs and alcohol.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Joel’s voice hits you in the pit of your stomach like a bullet. Before you know what you’re doing, your ear is pressed against the thin plywood, eager to hear more.

Tess’ answer is an appreciative moan that rushes down your back in a pleasant shiver. The bedframe creaks again before she sighs, “Oh, Joel! Fuck!” and then gasps as if coming up for air.

You almost gasp too, but the sound gets stuck in your throat when you hear Joel chuckle. “You’re making this too easy for me.”

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Tess begs, and in her eagerness makes it all sound like one long word.

What comes next is a series of wet sounds mixed in with Tess’ moans and pants. It’s only when Joel moans too, and it’s a muffled sound that you realize what it is they’re doing. You press and open palm against the door to steady yourself while your other hand hangs down at your side, your fingers flexing eagerly. Your core feels like it’s on fire and when Tess sighs, “Yes, yes,” and Joel growls like he’s too far gone for human sounds, you whimper desperately. But you won’t touch yourself, no matter what, you won’t …

“No, no, no, Joel, don’t stop,” Tess suddenly groans and Joel replies, “I don’t want you to come yet. You taste like heaven.”

Maybe a stronger woman would be able to walk away from this. Maybe a stronger woman wouldn’t press her fingers against her clothed clit and swallow a dry sob of relief. Maybe a stronger woman would feel guilt and shame. But you’re not that woman. And you have never felt this alive.

Tess whimpers and groans and the bedframe creaks and creaks. Joel is eerily quiet now except for the occasional sigh. And you don’t dare to move; only when you hear his voice do you press your fingers tighter against your clit. It makes you feel closer to him.

Tess’ moans are slowly but surely reaching another crescendo, the bedframe seems to be fighting for its life, and you exhale shakily when –

“Do you like what you hear?”

You twist around so fast your elbow bumps into Joel’s door, but they don’t hear the noise or they don’t care, because the sounds don’t die down.

“Tommy,” you whisper, your face burning with the shame and guilt you were supposed to feel earlier.

He’s leaning against the doorframe of his own bedroom door, arms crossed in front of his chest, hair rumpled from sleeping. He doesn’t look angry or disappointed or disgusted. Instead, there’s a cocksure grin on his face that you can’t read properly in the darkness of the hallway.

“Again, darlin’, do you like what you hear?” he repeats.

Your throat is completely dry and you don’t dare to move, afraid your legs might give way if you do. Tess’ moans fill the silence between Tommy and you; they heat up your cheeks and make it impossible for you to form a single, coherent thought. A single, coherent thought that would get you out of this situation unscathed that is.

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, as if you just climbed innumerable flights of stairs. Your heart beats as if you did, too.

The cocksure grin on Tommy’s face doesn’t flicker. “Thought so,” he says with a superior tone, as if he just proved a point. “Knew you weren’t as innocent as all that.”

You wish he would keep his voice down. “But it’s not what you think it is.”

“It’s exactly what I think it is.” He takes a few steps toward you until you feel trapped between his body in front of you and the lewd sounds behind you. “I’m sure they’d let you watch if you asked.”

That same terror you felt in the kitchen earlier grabs a hold of you again. “I don’t –” you start but Tommy interrupts you.

“You’re allowed to want that,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, breath hot. “Doesn’t mean I’m willing to share you.” His hand closes tightly around your wrist and when he pulls you toward his own bedroom with sure steps, you stumble after him. The moans have stopped and, with a slight irritation, you realize you miss them. When you pause to close the door behind you, Tommy takes your other hand in his and shakes his head. “Leave it.” Those two words send a bolt of excitement through you, the irritation forgotten.

Tommy pushes you onto the bed, not forcefully but not gently either, and you lie there, propped up on your elbows, watching him. His naked chest is heaving, and even though his words were nothing but steady, a storm is brewing inside of him. A shiver runs down your spine as he pushes back his hair with both hands, his eyes flickering lower to where you let your knees fall open for him.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he sighs, falling onto his knees at the foot of the bed.

You’ve been called other things before, more eloquent things, but never before have you actually believed those words. With Tommy it’s different. With Tommy, you feel like he means what he says and isn’t just using lines on you that he picked up from a bad porn movie. You take off your underwear without him having to ask.

His left hand lands on top of your right thigh, his skin warm against yours, the callouses on his thumb brushing against one of the most sensitive spots of your body. You flex your fingers, fighting hard to keep your hips steady. With his right thumb, Tommy brushes all the way from your opening through your drenched folds up to your clit in a slow pace, as if he’s cataloguing every inch along the way. Self-consciously, you trap a desperate groan in your chest by biting down hard on your bottom lip.

Tommy laughs incredulously. “You’re drenched, you know that?”

It’s not the first time tonight you hear those words, the memory making your hips twitch against Tommy’s grip. You nod.

“Should I be jealous?” he asks and you sit up so fast something in your neck cracks.

“No!” you blurt.

Tommy chuckles. “I’m just teasin’ you. Nothin’ wrong with a bit of healthy competition.”

Maybe your attraction to Joel isn’t all that bad, you think, lying back down, eyes firmly fixed on the dark ceiling. Maybe it’s something Tommy wants to encourage even.

Tommy’s thumb is circling your clit now, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing. With a soft moan, you try to relax against the mattress but can’t stop yourself from listening for sounds from the other bedroom.

“Relax, darlin’.” Tommy presses a soft kiss against the side of your knee, then rests his cheek against it. “Let me hear how much you’re enjoyin’ yourself.” Then he adds, under his breath, “Let them hear.”

When he pushes a finger into you, you groan loudly, but immediately bite down on your wrist to stifle that sound.

“Come now, none of that,” Tommy says. “Don’t you want to get back at them?”

There is something in the way he says it that makes you pause. For a few moments, you allow yourself to imagine Tess, lying in Joel’s arms, giggling at something funny he just said, the sounds dying in her throat when she hears you groan. Maybe she would tell Joel to be quiet, startled by your gall, maybe Joel would pretend not to care but secretly commit every single one of your sighs to memory, no matter how little. Maybe he’d even be impressed with you, telling Tess, “Sounds like Tommy finally has a fun girlfriend”.

What you want him to be, though, is jealous.

Tommy adds a second finger and this time you don’t try to stifle the sound that escapes you. You shift, so Tommy can reach deeper, transfixed by the wet sounds of his fingers moving between your legs. You meet Tommy’s thrusts with small rolls of your hips, eager for friction, panting under your breath. Your forehead feels clammy with sweat, the air in the room is stifling, but you don’t care about any of that when Tommy licks from where his fingers are buried inside of you up to your clit, the sensation of his mustache brushing against your most sensitive spots overwhelming.

Still, you’re not all there. Your ears keep straining to hear sounds from the room across the hall, any sounds. You’d be happy with a door creaking in its hinges. At the same time, you’re reluctant to give voice to the pleasure you’re feeling, no matter what Tommy told you, no matter how much you want to be that girlfriend. What if Tess isn’t impressed? What if Joel isn’t jealous? What if they’re over there, laughing at you? What if –

“Darlin’,” Tommy mumbles from between your legs, “you’re thinkin’ so loud I can barely focus.”

“Sorry.” You shift with a sigh, forcing your thoughts to focus on Tommy’s fingers in a way that usually makes you turn into an incoherent mess. Tommy kisses your thigh, the prickle of his mustache making you squirm. “Don’t you ever apologize to me. Just tell me what you need.”

To your annoyance, his kindness makes your eyes sting with tears. “I don’t know,” you whimper.

“Close your eyes,” Tommy orders.

You do as you’re told. The loss of one sense makes your others heighten immediately, especially your hearing. To both your relief and disappointment, you don’t hear any sounds from Joel’s room.

“Stop thinking.” Tommy chuckles. “Tell me how this feels.”

He changes the angle his fingers push into you, stretching you with each slow thrust. It feels amazing. You tell him so.

“Shhhh,” Tommy makes. “Don’t use your words. Tell me with your body.”

“I don’t –,” you start, but he interrupts you.

“Yes, you know how. Just give it a try.”

It’s only then that you realize how desperate you are for him to hold you in place and make you take whatever he gives you. That thought alone is enough to make you shiver.

“Good,” Tommy encourages you. “Now –”

It’s your turn to interrupt him. “Hold me down,” you say so fast it makes it sound like just one word.

Tommy obliges you immediately, pushing you down, palm planted firmly on your hip. You groan in response, your worries from earlier only a dim memory at the back of your mind.

“You like that, huh?” He gives you three vicious thrusts before slowing down again, leaving you gasping for breath.

You sigh in confirmation, but your voice breaks in the middle of the sound, making it come out like a sob. Your hips twitch against Tommy’s hold, eager to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Stop moving.” Tommy squeezes you hard. “You’ll take what I give you.”

Your responding moan is loud enough to make Tommy lose his rhythm, but not loud enough to satisfy him.

“We could do a bit better, don’t you think?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know.” You feel the pressure of a mounting orgasm brushing against the base of your spine. Your heart is beating so loudly, all the way up into your throat, that you couldn’t hear any sounds from the other bedroom even if you tried.

Suddenly, Tommy’s fingers are gone, and so is the hand on your hip. You sob with longing. “Tommy …”

“I’m here,” he mumbles, climbing onto the bed. “Just give me a sec.”

You watch as he rolls a condom onto his completely hard cock, and swallow hard. For some reason, the evidence of how much he’s enjoying this leaves you speechless. Still kneeling, he pulls you toward him and right onto his lap. He’s so much bigger than two of his fingers, but in your heightened state of arousal him pushing you down onto his cock barely scratches a superficial itch.

“It’s your turn now.” Tommy’s smile rekindles the prickling at the base of your spine.

You roll your hips tentatively and immediately feel the pressure mount. Tommy’s eyes flutter shut and he groans, a sound you can feel deep within your core.

“Fuck.” The word slips out from between your lips before you can stop it. And Tommy’s eyes fly open.

“What was that?” he growls.

Now it’s your turn to ask, “You like that?”

Tommy wraps his hand around your throat, framing your jaw with his thumb and forefinger. You roll your hips faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the bedroom. You don’t need him to reply; you know the answer already.

Tommy brushes his thumb along your bottom lip and then pushes it into your mouth, pressing it down against your tongue. Eagerly, you close your lips and suck on it, watching as Tommy’s eyes widen in surprise. The air between you is so heavy you can feel it weigh you down and you lose your rhythm, your hips stuttering.

With a jerk, Tommy pulls his thumb out of your mouth. “Look at you.” He tightens his hold on your throat, making you gasp for air, before pushing his index and middle finger back into your mouth. When you taste yourself on his skin, you moan, a sound that turns into a gag when he brushes his fingers against the back of your throat. “Joel is wrong. There’s nothin’ innocent about you.”

The mention of his brother catches you by surprise, as does that moan that rises out of your chest when you imagine Joel looking at you with condescension in his eyes. Luckily, Tommy flicks your clit with his thumb at the same time, giving you an excuse for the lewd sound you’re making.

Tommy eagerly licks his lips. “Louder,” he demands. “I don’t care that they’re in the other room.”

You wrap your hand around Tommy’s arm to steady yourself, your body screaming for release. All you manage is a soft moan, muffled by the fingers pressing down on your tongue.

“You can do better than that.” The note of condescension in his voice makes you clench around his cock. “Let them hear how well I’m fucking you.”

With a sob, your head falls forward, your forehead connecting to Tommy’s almost painfully. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth while rolling your clit under his thumb at the same time, and you lose yourself in whines and groans and pleas that don’t make any sense. You can’t even tell if you’re being loud enough for Tommy, if they hear you across the hall, but just the thought that they might, so daunting a short while ago, finally pushes you over the edge. All you know with absolute certainty is that you scream Tommy’s name when you come, loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood, and that he fucks you through it relentlessly, lowering you down with one smooth motion until your back is pressed into the mattress and he pounds into you with desperate thrusts.

“Tommy,” you groan, holding onto his hips. It’s too much; you want him to stop but you can’t form a single, coherent thought. “Tommy, I don’t …” You feel raw, coming down from the high of your orgasm, but he isn’t done with you yet.

“You’re mine,” he growls into your ear. “Say it.”

Despite your guardedness when it comes to this relationship between Tommy and you, and despite your refusal to apply a label to it, you catch yourself replying, “I’m yours, Tommy. Just yours.”

With that, he empties himself into the condom, twitching inside of you. He kisses you, you kiss him back, your muscles relaxing around him. And from somewhere in the house you think you hear bright laughter.

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #in plain sight

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empress-simps · 3 days

Text

Self-Destruct [Two]

Pairing: James Potter x Fem! Reader, Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Y/n Holstein tends to self-sabotage when something good happens, such as James Potter who came into her dark and dreary world like a ray of sunshine that she never knew she needed.

CW: Mentions of Blood Prejudice and implications of abuse.

Note: Hi everyone! Any thoughts on the previous chapter? This chapter is a bit short compared to the last one, that being said, hope you enjoy! (2.1k words)

The Wrong Sort

James ultimately decided that you were one of those snobby, posh, and entitled pureblooded kids.

The frown was still etched deep in his face as he saw you being dragged by a boy away from him, all the while shooting a warning glance to his direction.

James absolutely loathes people like you.

Although— he also concluded that you were absolutely breath taking; the good kind. Despite the somewhat permanent emotionless expression on your face, he definitely feels his cheeks heat up thinking of you. He really doesn’t know why.

Maybe he’s getting too worked up because he’s annoyed by your attitude?

Yeah, that’s probably why… It’s the only plausible idea that his eleven year-old mind could wrap around.

“James, darling! Something wrong?” Euphemia calls to her son, catching his attention and ultimately breaking the eye contact between both of you.

He shaked his head, trying to rid of thoughts that were filled with you.

“Nothing mum, a bit pre-occupied is all.”

He was sure you wouldn’t even interact with him again— Hogwarts has tons of students, right? Also, you might be an incoming student of Beauxbautons!

James Fleamont Potter has proven himself wrong when you’re sitting directly across him in one of the compartments of the Hogwarts Express.

He blinked, took off his glasses to rub it with the hem of his shirt then placed it on his face again, blinking multiple times to make sure he isn’t hallucinating. Merlin, were you haunting him? Maybe you are right— he needs to get his glasses adjusted.

Your sigh made it very much clear that you are certainly real and actually in front of him.

Since when did you get here? Why are you and the boy here?

“The other compartments are already full.” You simply told him, as if reading his exact thoughts before pulling out a book and making yourself busy.

He could only blink in response as Sirius looks at him. As if sizing him up. “Erm, may I help you?” He asked, unsure of what to make of Sirius who seemed to take on the role of being your personal protector.

“Sirius Black.” He holds out his hand to shake, James looks down and quickly shakes it back. His charming grin making its way to his face.

“James Potter. Pleasure to meet you.”

“ Potter? House of Potter? I would say the same, but you slammed into my wife a couple weeks earlier.”

James sputtered, eyes nearly bulging out.

Excuse me, what?

Surely Sirius is wrong, right? He can already feel the dismay entering his system and— wait, why would he even be disappointed? He even finds you annoying when you sassed him at Diagon Alley!

“W-wife?” He managed to choke out, eyes darting back and forth between you and Sirius— staring at the both of you incredulously.

You glared, slamming the book as you stared at Sirius before kicking him under the table, eliciting an ‘ow!’ from him. “We are not yet married, Sirius. Please refrain yourself from calling me your wife.”

“But we’re going to be!” He reasoned out childishly, looking like a kicked puppy.

“And we are currently not.” You grumbled, opening your book again and looking at the page you bookmarked before the bespectacled boy turned to you.

“I haven’t caught your name. I’m James Potter, you?”

You felt your eyebrow twitch in annoyance. This Potter boy surely loves to yap, huh?

All you want is some peace and to read without any interruptions, but it doesn’t seem like a viable option. “Y/n Holstein. Pureblood?” You shot him a question, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

James furrowed his brows, “Pureblood. What does blood status got to do with this?” You hummed in a somewhat approval tone before closing your book gently and crossing your arms over your chest as you stared at him. Noticing the Potter crest signet ring on his pointer finger, you concluded he is the heir of house Potter.

Hm, wouldn’t hurt to talk to him.

“It tells you everything about what a person is, Potter. Didn’t Lord Fleamont Potter and Lady Euphemia Potter ever tell you that?”

James blinks, surprise evident in his features. “How did you know my parents’ names?”

Sirius wasn’t all that surprised, he knew Walburga ensures that his studies are rigorous—drowning him with the history of their family, sacred twenty-eight, dueling, and the dark arts.

Ludwig Holstein took it up a notch, much more intense than his mother. He started training you and grooming to be the successor of the house and the Winzengamot seat ever since you were merely five years old.

You frowned, seriously? Was he never educated or was he living under a rock?

“It’s common knowledge to know the Lords and Ladies of a noble house, Potter. Tell me, were you off dilly dallying when your tutor taught you that?”

James can feel annoyance brewing in his chest yet again as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to come up with words.

You sighed, mock disappointment adorning your features. "My my, Potter. I suggest you brush up on your lessons before we reach Hogwarts? I think that would be fantastic."

You smiled at him politely before opening your book and ignoring how he stumbles over his words.

"Y/n, what house do you think you'll get sorted in to?"

Sirius asked, trying to mask the nervous edge in his tone with curiosity as you and fellow first year students line up in front waiting for Professor Mcgonagall call the names of each student one at a time to get sorted.

"Why Slytherin, of course." You replied coolly, an air of sureness surrounding you. He looks at you wearily, "What if... What if we don't get sorted in Slytherin?" Sirus voiced out his worries to you. His grey eyes glancing at the sorting hat warily, as if it’ll expose his darkest and deepest secret.

"You should never dream about not being in Slytherin, Sirius. You aren't foolish, you know what can happen." You uttered lowly, casting a glance at the boy beside you. Walburga and Orion will not be pleased with the heir of house Black being sorted into a house that isn't Slytherin. Certainly, Ludwig Holstein also doesn't welcome that idea.

"Y/n Holstein."

The chatting amongst students suddenly stilled, everyone's focus was directed towards you, the Holstein heir. Merlin, even Dumbledore himself was looking at you!

Normally, you are able to handle other people's gazes directed towards you, but as you walk towards the stool where the sorting hat waits for you, you can't help but feel the twinge of self-consciousness nibbing at you.

Holding yourself up with such elegance and grace, you sat down and felt the sorting hat placed on top of your head.

'Oh? What's this? Another Holstein?' The hat mused, you kept a straight face and looked ahead, not bothering to respond to its comments. It would be useless anyway; you already know which house the sorting hat will pick.

'Where shall I put you...? I have been longing to put a Holstein in Ravenclaw.' It hummed, you felt your stomach drop, cracks were forming on your composure the longer the hat doesn't announce your house.

'You'll do great in Ravenclaw, young Holstein.'

Merlin, no! You tried your best not to grit your teeth as you try to relax your shoulders.

'Do not even try to put me in that house, I am a Slytherin, through and through.' You thought, 'It will be a shame to the Holstein name. A stain.' you added, making the hat droop down, disappointed yet again. It seems that the Slytherin traits run deep in Holstein’s bloods.

Sensing the reaction, you were rather quite pleased with yourself knowing you had already won.

"Very well, SLYTHERIN!" The hat roared, not even a second had passed, loud and boisterous cheers were heard from the Slytherin table, quite uncharacteristic for them but who cares? The Holstein heir was in their house, it gave the Slytherin house more prestige and power.

You let a small smirk appear on your face as your fellow housemates welcomed you warmly and with open arms, if you say so yourself, they look like they're ready to kiss your arse.

"Narcissa, thank you." You smiled, reaching the table and nearing the girl as she saved two seats, you assumed one was for you and the other is for Sirius.

"Welcome to Slytherin, Y/n." Andromeda piped up, smiling at you. You returned her action and uttered out a 'thank you'.

"James Fleamont Potter."

Now that spiked your interest, your eyes observed him as he walked towards the stool in front as if he's just strolling through the gardens of their estate. He sat and not even five seconds in, the hat has already decided his house.

"Gryffindor!"

Cheers erupted from the respective table as they welcomed Potter with open arms. You hummed, "As I've guessed."

Narcissa turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised, "You know him?"

"Barely, he bumped into me in Diagon alley, and he shared a compartment with me and Sirius earlier." You replied, turning your attention yet again in front as Sirius' name was called.

"Sirius Orion Black."

Similarly to you, the chatter stilled and hushed whispers were heard all over the great hall. You noticed how Sirius' shoulder visibly tensed as he sat in the stool while waiting for the hat to announce Slytherin.

You placed some of his preferred dishes on the plate beside you, marking it as a seat saved for him. Narcissa and Andromeda noticed this which made them giggle. Ah, young love.

You raised a questioning brow to them, but they didn't bother to respond, just motioned you to pay attention to the sorting ceremony. You'll be sure to tell Sirius about his older cousin's antics as soon as he joins you in the Slytherin table.

Except he didn't.

He wasn’t placed in Slytherin like everyone expected.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat thundered; the raggedy thing looked proud— almost smug as it announced Sirius' house. You felt time stilled, your eyes and Sirius' grey ones connected for a split second. His eyes screamed at you.

Terrified.

Absolutely terrified.

Surely this must be a mistake?

The cheers beside your table fell to your deaf ears as your attention was solely focused on Sirius. You didn’t notice how the Black sisters wearily exchanged a glance as their eyes darted to their younger cousin who walks towards the Gryffindor table hesitantly.

The feeling of dread entered your system as you faced Sirius— tables and houses apart.

Sirius really felt like throwing up. His head was spinning. His thoughts are in a jumbled, flurry mess, heck— he was even surprised he didn’t stumble on his way over to the Gryffindor table.

The claps from his house can be compared as an annoying ringing in his ears, they all look quite unsure, but still clapped nonetheless. He really couldn’t blame them.

The black sheep of the family.

A lion in a snake’s den.

“Black!” He quickly scanned the table and saw James calling for him and patting the space next to him— at least he won’t worry where he’ll sit for dinner now.

Nearing the glasses-wearing boy, he saw two boys who roughly looked the same age as them converse with James.

One was littered with scars, both old and new. His arms were also noticeably covered in bandages even with the school robes concealing most of his injuries— poor thing.

The other boy, well— forgive Sirius but he reminds him of a rat. You know, if a rat becomes a person, it will look like the bloke sitting beside scar boy?

“What an unexpected surprise.” James grinned, Sirius fought the urge to scoff. This was hell for the Black heir.

Both you and Sirius are uncertain on what this exactly entails, nervousness festering in your stomachs as this was way off from what both of you pictured.

He should be sitting beside you, eating and conversing with his older cousins. Instead, you both were staring at each other, a gap that seems impossible to conquer creating distance between you both.

#james potter x reader #marauders fanfiction #james potter #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #marauders fic #harry potter

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