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shadowtriovibes · 8 months

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something wretched about this, something so precious about this

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

Word Count: 3k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), PIV sex, language kink, parseltongue kink

Summary: request: "mc finds herself absolutely taken with Ominis and his parselmouth." aka mc is absolutely taken with ominis' mouth in every sense of the word

“But you don’t even understand what I’m saying,” he counters, curious. “N-no,” you whine. « I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it, sweetheart? » he hisses. « You’re a troublesome little thing, you hardly listen to me when you can understand. »

The first time you heard Ominis speak Parseltongue, you’d found it to be almost antithetical. It had sounded so bizarre coming out of his mouth, so different from the gentlemanly manner in which he most often spoke. Yet the strength of his snakelike voice sounded somehow familiar, and the way his sighing, hissing words wrapped around you felt like sinking into a warm bath.

“It worked!” you’d exclaimed, hoping your voice wasn’t trembling. “Ominis, you possess a rare ability indeed.”

Minutes later you’d writhed on the floor in unimaginable pain and all thoughts of Ominis’ potentially disreputable talent had flown from your mind. In fact, you’d been so rattled from being on the receiving end of the Cruciatus curse that it took several days for you to recall that you were no longer the sole member of your little trio with a rare gift.

A month later you’d asked Sebastian about it while you were studying for Charms, lazily levitating stacks of books while he had been pouring over Salazar Slytherin’s spellbook.

“What does being a Parselmouth mean?” you asked him curiously.

“Means you can talk to snakes,” he replied, half listening. “Understand them, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know that, thanks.”

Sebastian looked up from his book with a skeptical expression on his face. “Then what exactly are you asking?”

You shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know, I just… Ominis made it sound like it was a bad thing, to be known as a Parselmouth. Like it’s given him a bad reputation. Why is that?”

Carefully closing his spellbook, Sebastian sits back and considers his words carefully before continuing.

“Well, the answer to that is right in front of you,” he says, gesturing to the tattered book on the table before him. “As Ominis said, most Parselmouths are direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and whether it’s warranted or not, he’s a controversial figure.”

“Sure,” you agree. “But… does Ominis speak Parseltongue much? How would anyone even know?”

“I think most people just assume,” Sebastian replies with a shrug. “His brothers spoke it, and he’s told me that they speak it more regularly at his home. Many Gaunts have chosen to keep a snake rather than an owl or any sort of conventional animal.”

You nod slowly. “Have you heard him speak it before that night in the Scriptorium?”

“A handful of times,” he admits. “Sometimes he’ll slip up if he’s especially angry or frustrated. I’ve also heard him speaking it in his sleep on occasion.”

Eventually, the conversation shifts to the spellbook and you once again forget about Ominis’ rare skill – this time for nearly two years.

By your seventh year, Ominis has learned about your ancient magic abilities, and your friendship has grown from one of rueful kinship to genuine affection. Nevertheless, he still seems to keep so much of himself guarded, even as you’ve shared so many of your worries and insecurities as you’ve grown into your role as the only living Keeper of your ability.

(It doesn’t help that you’ve fallen achingly in love with him along the way.)

These days you spend most nights studying with him and Sebastian. Usually, you’re eager to soak up the years of knowledge they’d accrued before you’d started school at Hogwarts, but tonight you find yourself distracted.

“Are you listening to me?” Ominis suddenly snaps, and you glance up from where you’d been reading the same paragraph over and over.

Ominis looks annoyed, and to his point, you certainly hadn’t been listening. You’ve both been sprawled out on the floor of the Undercroft for hours now revising for Potions. Sebastian had called it a night shortly before dinner, leaving the two of you to continue pouring over theory textbooks in preparation for Professor Sharp’s famously lethal end-of-term exams.

“Y-yes, sorry,” you stutter. “What were you saying?”

In your defense, winter has arrived in the Highlands and the stone floor of Ominis’ hideaway has cooled you to the bone. The weak flame flickering beneath your shared cauldron isn’t enough to pull you out of your daydreams about a nice warm bed, some cozy blankets, and perhaps someone to share it with…

(Someone who can whisper secret serpentine words against your skin, chasing your goosebumps lower and lower beneath the covers…)

“Again?” Ominis asks, more disappointed than angry this time. “You can’t focus on my words for a full minute before slipping into some reverie?”

Merlin, if only he knew that focusing on his words wasn’t the problem at all.

“I’m sorry, Ominis,” you whine. “But it’s getting late, it’s freezing down here, and we missed dinner…”

“You said you’d help me,” he reminds you, perhaps a bit vulnerably. “The exam is tomorrow afternoon, and my Draught of Living Death is still curdling.”

You groan pathetically and rub your eyes. “Ominis, you’re a dear friend, and I simply adore you, but you’re bloody rubbish at Potions. Perhaps we should take a break for the night.”

Ominis’ jaw clenches while he stirs his (admittedly lumpy-looking) brew.

“Ominis?” you ask hesitantly. “...I apologize if I was harsh, but–”

“Don’t,” he interjects. “Just… stop talking. Clearly, you’re no longer interested in helping me, so you might as well go back to your common room for the night.”

Sighing, you shift closer to where he sits cross-legged on the stone floor and gently rest a hand on top of his knee. You know how challenging Potions has been for him, especially lately; N.E.W.T.-level draughts are challenging enough when one can confirm that the brew they’ve already spent hours preparing has progressed to the appropriate color.

“I think you need to take a break,” you say softly. “You’re making yourself too frustrated, Ominis.”

You watch as a bit of the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders seeps away as his head hangs gently. As his fingers nervously twitch in his lap, he takes a slow, measured breath and lets his eyes fall closed.

« I need to do this correctly, even just once, » he says. « Then I’ll be able to sleep. »

You suspect he doesn’t even realize he hadn’t spoken English until you sharply pull your hand back with a gasp.

“Wh-what… did I, um,” he stammers. “I didn’t… say that the proper way, did I?”

“Well, er – you hissed it,” you say carefully. “That… that was Parseltongue again, wasn’t it?”

Ominis carefully nods. Your stomach clenches when you notice him hunch in on himself as if he’s ashamed of what he’s done.

“It’s okay!” you quickly tell him. “I, um. I haven’t heard you speak Parseltongue since fifth year, and – and I don’t understand it, obviously, b-but it’s alright if you want to use it.”

You trail off lamely and try to rest your hand on his knee once more, but he nudges it away.

“I apologize,” he says hollowly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

A wave of nausea rolls over you as you watch him duck his face and turn away from you – not so that he can’t see you, mind, but that you won’t see him.

“Omins,” you sigh. “Please, you – you haven’t scared me, I promise you.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he counters in a deceptively soft voice. “I can tell, you know. Your heart is racing, you’ve gone warm all over… You want to run away. It’s only natural, when one is frightened. I would know.”

You swallow audibly and once more attempt to rest your hand on his thigh, and this time he allows you.

“I’m not scared,” you insist, and as true as your words are, you almost wish you were lying to him.

You think it’s probably less shameful than the truth, which is that Ominis’ brief Parseltongue outburst has your heart racing with desire, not fear.

“Then why…?” he asks before eventually trailing off.

“I find it fascinating,” you tell him softly as you trace your fingertips along the seam of his trousers. “It’s… compelling, Ominis. Perhaps a bit enticing.”

“Enticing?” he repeats softly. “You feel, er.. compelled by my Parseltongue?”

You shyly shrug before remembering a non-verbal answer won’t suffice. “I suppose I do.”

The both of you are silent for several long moments. The only sound that can be heard in the Undercroft is Ominis’ sickly bubbling potion, until he finally asks you, “May I kiss you?”

You hesitate for merely a beat, just to let your mind catch up, but before you can answer Ominis repeats himself in Parseltongue: « May I kiss you? »

This time, your non-verbal answer of crawling astride his lap and kissing him yourself is entirely sufficient.

Ominis moans into your mouth while you grab the lapels of his uniform shirt, brazenly rocking against his lap like one of those wanton witches in Sebastian’s rather foul romance novels. His hands settle on your hips and he helps you grind down onto him until you can feel for yourself where he’s grown hard.

“Wh-what are we doing?” he asks against your lips.

He doesn’t sound scandalized, or even hesitant – rather, he sounds like he’s asking how much you’re going to let him get away with.

“Whatever we want,” you answer him breathlessly. “Ominis, I – I’ve wanted this for so long, we’ll do whatever you want.”

« Whatever I want? » he hisses, and you shiver in his lap. « What I want is to get you on your back for me, sweet girl. »

Carefully, Ominis tips you from his lap back onto the freezing tile, but just as quickly he gently pushes your shoulders back until you’re sprawled out on some abandoned Potions notes. Your skirt falls halfway up your legs and Ominis traces his fingertips along your skin until he finds the hem.

« Spread your legs for me, my love, » he hisses, sliding his hands up the insides of your thighs. « Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you here? »

His unseeing eyes flutter closed as his fingertips brush against the hem of your undergarments. You’re wet – you have been since he’d first slipped into those low, hissing tones of his – but now he knows it. He can feel it.

“Gods,” he groans. “You.. you really like to hear my Parseltongue this much?”

“It’s your voice,” you whimper, grinding your hips toward his teasing fingertips. “You… you sound different.”

“Tell me,” he demands. “How do I sound?”

Realizing that he likely sounds the same to his own ears even when speaking the ancient snake language, you bite your lip and force yourself to focus.

“You – you sound powerful,” you admit. “Like your voice is stronger, or… it’s like I can hear it in my whole body, not just my ears.”

Ominis wordlessly rewards you by firmly dragging his thumb down the length of your core through your panties. You melt into his touch; your skin feels as if it’s on fire now, and the very same icy stone floors you’d complained about not long ago now feel like a soothing balm against your skin.

“But you don’t even understand what I’m saying,” he counters, curious.

“N-no,” you whine.

« I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it, sweetheart? » he hisses. « You’re a troublesome little thing, you hardly listen to me when you can understand. »

You whimper and arch your back. “I m-might not understand Parseltongue, but I can tell when you’re teasing me.”

“Darling, I’ve barely begun to tease you,” he murmurs before leaning down and licking up the length of your body from your navel to the dip between your collarbones.

“Please, Ominis,” you beg.

« You’ve been distracting me all evening, » he continues. « I fully intend to have just as much fun playing with you, since you seem to enjoy driving me mad. »

While he kisses what’s sure to be an impressive bruise onto the side of your neck, Ominis slides your panties down your legs.

“I want you inside me,” you confess.

« You want the first time I take you to be on this dirty stone floor? » he asks lazily. « Are you that desperate to be fucked, sweetheart, or have I made you wait too long and driven you mad? »

You groan frustratedly as he starts to kiss his way down your body, pointedly ignoring your canting hips. “Ominis, I’m begging, please say you’ll touch me.”

Ominis presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss against your hipbone. « Don’t fret, my love. How could I refuse such a tempting offer from such a beautiful, albeit slightly mad woman? »

By the time he traces the tip of his tongue along the crease of your hip, you realize where he’s headed. An irreverent array of babble spills from your lips while you attempt to grind impossibly closer to his face, but he places his hands over your hips and keeps you firmly planted against the stone floor before he presses his tongue flat against your cunt.

If he were still speaking Parseltongue into your skin, you’d never know. Any words of praise or kindly teasing that spilled from his lips were drowned out by a litany of curses you’d never utter in front of a man like Ominis in any other setting.

“That’s it, my lovely girl,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh. « Your cunt is so wet for my tongue, and it’s even sweeter than you are. »

He’s switching between English and Parseltongue so easily that you can’t be sure he’s even doing it on purpose anymore, and you couldn’t possibly say which you prefer more. Being fully aware of every filthy word he says is a dream, but is it as delicious as not knowing what he’s saying as he utters secret confessions inches from your skin?

You don’t bother spending much time considering it while you lie back and let him lick you open. All you can think about is his tongue on your skin, pushing inside you, savoring every inch of your body while he learns you by touch and by taste.

That’s what he’s doing, after all – learning you. He’ll get you off, of course he will, but that’s not why he’s bent over between your legs with your calves thrown over his shoulder.

“Ominis,” you groan. “I need you in me, I… I need you.”

He presses a deceptively sweet kiss to your sensitive clit before he asks, “Is that so? I thought you liked my Tongue, and now it’s not enough for you?”

“Don’t tease me,” you plead. “I know you want me just as badly.”

While Ominis had been coming up for air between burying his face between his thighs, you’d been able to see just how affected he is – you aren’t alone in your eagerness, you can be sure of it.

« Right as always, you are, » he hisses. « Perhaps you don’t understand my words, but you can sense my desire, can’t you? »

He grinds his hard cock against your inner thigh to punctuate his words and you whine pathetically.

“Take me, take me, take me,” you chant while he sits back to undo his trousers and push them down just enough to free himself. You realize he intends to stay fully clothed while he takes you apart, and you shiver against the cold floor.

When he finally sinks inside, you fall helplessly silent.

Every ounce of focus you have is spent on relaxing your body, opening up for him as he buries himself inside you. He’s almost ruthless in his endeavor to fully seat himself in you despite his intimidating length. Save a few breathless not-quite-whines, you’re quiet beneath him.

« Nothing to say, darling? » he hisses at first, and then in a softer voice he asks, “Are you alright? Am I hurting you?”

“N-no, it’s good,” you moan. “Please… keep talking to me.”

“You want me to talk to you, hm?” he asks, grinding in until the flat part of his pelvis brushes against yours. « Do you need a distraction? You’re taking me so well, my angel. »

He starts to fuck you in earnest with a slow, careful rhythm to keep your bare skin from catching along the worn stones beneath your back. As he thrusts inside you, he keeps talking in that low, hissing tone. Soon you realize even his words match the rhythm of his body, rising and falling with his motions.

« Feels so good… Waited so long… I can’t stop, please don’t ask me to stop… »

His back feels feverishly warm to the touch while you drag your hands down from his shoulder blades to the back of his hips. In the years since you’d first heard the snakeline sound of Parseltongue fall from his lips, he’s grown taller and his musculature has changed into that of a lithe, well-built man. Now the strength of that voice suits the body from which it emanates, and both have combined to keep you firmly pinned to the floor beneath their might.

You cling to him as he fucks you harder. You feel so close already, tumbling toward the edge of pleasure beneath him as his serpentine words glide across your skin.

When you come around him, you hear him whisper your name in Parseltongue – it’s the same, you think, but softer, and sweeter.

« When I come inside you, » he hisses just above a whisper. « I want you to keep every last drop inside for me. Will you, my darling? »

“Ominis!” you wail.

“Fuck – fuck,” he gasps, and seconds later you feel the mess he's made inside you threaten to spill out with every slow, greedy thrust in his post-orgasmic haze.

“N-no, stop,” you whimper, and he immediately goes still.

“What is it?” he asks, his English crisp and clear.

You shift shyly beneath him and whisper, “Don’t… don’t keep going. I want to keep it inside for now, and – and when you move, it, um…”

Merlin, you don’t have the words to say you’re just as greedy as he is – you want to stay full of him, just as he’d asked in that ancient, indecipherable tongue.

Ominis presses soothing kisses to your face while you wrap your legs around his waist to hold him in place. His lips brush across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, the curve of your jaw.

“Of course, darling,” he whispers. “I’ll stay right here.”

Then, with his lips pressed to yours, he hisses, « I’ll stay right here as long as you like. »

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy smut fic #parseltongue #parseltongue kink

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chiiyuuvv · 2 months

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[DAY 15] masterlist ᡣ𐭩 !

— " "is it okay.. if i kiss you?" B askes A in front of their doorstep, their hands crading A's face while slowly leaning in " ; mutual pinning

♡list : @lecheugo , @imthisclosetokms , @rizzkisworld , @hyvelxve , @starryriize

The chirps of the crickets and the hoots of the owls were quiet compared to the sound of your shared laughter, walking down the cold sidewalk with your shoulders brushing the other, wanting to encirle their arm or hold their hand — wanting a bit of physical contact for warmth but too shy to ask.

Anton was still counting down the seconds to when he would awake to the sound of his blazing alarm, unable to believe that you — the girl he had been pinning over for months — was walking next to him, laughing along to his stupid jokes that his friends would have whacked him for.

He had to be daydreaming again, chanting to himself "I'm so lucky" as he stuffs his fidgeting hands into his pockets, his head down to conceal his flustered smile and deep laughter considering he was soft spoken, wasting a second or two to steal a glance at your smile; how its engraved with such beauty, almost like it was stuck in its place.

He thinks back at how he nervously gulps, opening your chair with shaky hands so he could sit you down, before pushing you in and doing the same process with himself, taking in the restaurant that was marked as your first date, and hopefully more to come. He prays that everything goes well, almost losing his breath at the outfit you decided to wear today, almost like you were mocking him with your beauty.

But then again, you were always beautiful, and what you were wearing wasnt anything special; just a plain shirt that hugged your curves perfectly, along with your favorite pants and shoes to pair. He remembers trying not to stare at your lips as you talk, but failing miserly, licking his own in anxiousness. He felt like an idiot under your gaze, feeling all warm and fuzzy in his stomach as butterflies swarmed carelessly, yet another stutter leaving his lips. Stop doing that!!

"My house is just down the block," you inform anton, pointing to the array of houses as anton nods, before a frown forms on his lips. He was having so much fun, he didnt want to leave. But it was probably a good idea, so he wouldnt do anything stupid to embarrass himself, and so he can spend the next hour or so screaming into his pillow, kicking his feet like a schoolgirl in the process.

You always liked how happy anton seemed to get whenever you were near, constantly biting his lip to hold back his smile, his head always hiding behind one of his friends or in his arms. It was cute, you adored him; he looked so cool with his amazing talents and achievements, plus, you loved how soft the boy was, never wanting to hurt a fly.

You thought your liking towards him was a little obvious, but maybe the boy was blindly in love, missing all of your hints that drove his friends crazy with annoyance. You wanted to capture the look on antons face when you agreed to go out with him, his jaw dropped and eyes shot open looked a little silly, and you pictured yourself laughing about it with the boy, teasing him for his adorable flusterness.

"I had so much fun today," anton quietly admits as you walk into your driveway, going up the steps in a slow pace, almost like you wanted to savor each and every moment, every feeling of this magical night. "So did i," you share a smile, looking around to think of something that would conclude your time.

"The moon looks so pretty today," you admire what was over antons shoulder, his head turning to acknowledge it before turning back to you, his heart swooning at how perfect you looked. "Yeah.." he says in a lovesick tone, his eyes going over each and every part of your face, studying it deeply like there was going to be a quiz that would be presented the next day. You looked beautiful.

Time seemed to stop when you finally turn your head to say something else to the boy, never expecting him to be already looking at you with so much love in his eyes, like he would protect you from anything and everything, his angel.

His mouth opens to say something but nothing never comes to his dismay, just using the time to admire your presence, his eyes slowly traveling to your pink, parted lips. His eyes move back to your as you unconsciously take a step forward, so close that anton hunches over without a thought, cradling your soft face into his warm hands.

"Is it okay.. if i kiss you?" His sudden words hit you like a train, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you take in how he stares at you like he hasnt touched anyone in years; he needed you. So with a nod, you slowly close your eyes, tilting your head so anton could have better access to your pretty lips, closing the distance between you too.

The feeling of your arms around his neck excites him, setting the pace to a slow movement, but able to convey the want and desire through his lips. His arms slides down to your waist to hold you closer as he presses his lips against yours repeatly before breaking, his forehead rested against yours as his eyes were still closed, basking in the after glow. Oh, how he never wanted to wake up again.

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featherandferns · 1 year

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F.W.B. (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader

content warning: drug use; sex (protected; oral; p in v)

word count: 9k (o god)

Blurb: friends with benefits (phrase) - a friend with whom one has an occasional and casual sexual relationship; no feelings attached.

The first time it happened, it was after a kegger.

Sunset had turned dusk on the beach. There had been the vague smell of smoke from the bonfire, sticking to everyone’s clothes, and beer, liquor and marijuana. Cigarettes and cider. The Boneyard was a free for all: Kooks and Pogues and tourists alike. If you wanted to let lose, maybe have a dance and shotgun a few beers, then you could. If you want to catch-up with your friends, make the most of the summer, then you could. And if you wanted a quick hook-up, be it a fling or otherwise, you could. That was usually the way JJ leaned. It seemed tonight, you had leaned that way too. That was how you had ended up in bed with him.

Now, you balanced on one leg, leaning against his door for support, wrestling on your trainer. You were already dressed.

JJ was watching you from the bed.

“You do this a lot?”

You frowned and looked up from your foot.

“What?”

“Like, do you hook up with people a lot?”

“Why would you ask me that?” you asked, somewhere between offended and confused.

“Just making conversation,” he shrugged.

JJ leant over to grab papers and bud from his bedside table, preparing to roll. His arms flexed when he did. It was already hard to remember how they felt wrapped around you; pulling you closer, tugging you nearer.

“Making conversation by asking if I’m a whore?”

“Woah!” he laughed, meeting your gaze again, wide eyed. “I never said whore!”

“What else could you mean?” you say, going back to tying your shoelaces.

“Just wondering,” he mumbled. When you looked back over, he was concentrating on laying the bud evenly in the papers. Sighing, you stood back on two feet.

“How about you?”

JJ looked up again, brows furrowed in question.

You held back your smirk, putting on an overly sweet, gushing voice as you went, “I bet you get like so many girls, JJ. Oh my God.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, going back to his rolling. “Touché.”

“That’s what I thought,” you grinned.

It was still dark outside. The crickets and owls made a symphony of the banks. Mosquitos hovered around the lamp that was on, having snuck in through the cracked open window. There wasn’t anybody else at the place. You’d followed JJ back to what you assumed was his house about an hour and a half into the kegger. Sighing, you glanced around the room and debated whether to head straight home or go back to the kegger. People would still be hanging around: it wasn’t too late. JJ hadn’t offered for you to stay over and you hadn’t suggested it. You knew that that wasn’t how these things worked. You didn’t mind that.

“You want a hit?” JJ asked, holding up the now finished joint.

You considered him a moment. Bare torso, abs proudly on display, basking in the orange hue from the bedside lamp. Hair messy and damp with sweat from the forehead, which still held a sheen like a freshly waxed board.

“Sure,” you shrugged, taking perch on the foot of the bed.

Crossing one leg under the other, you watched as he lit up and took a long drag. Taking it from him, you did the same, the vapour gently dissipating before your eyes. The smell consumed your senses, the drug slowly taking effect, mellowing you out. Handing it back, you rested back on your arms and took in his room.

“Where’re your parents?”

“Huh?”

“How come you got the place to yourself?” you wondered, looking back to him.

“I don’t. Not really. It’s my friend John B’s place,” JJ said. “I’m just crashing here.”

“John B…John B…Why do I know that name?”

“He goes to the same school as us,” JJ told you. That was something you’d come to learn when you first started talking to him, earlier that night. Gesturing with his free hand to his hair, he added, “brown hair? Kinda long?”

A picture came to mind, of someone you vaguely remembered from one of your classes. The name seemed to match the face well. Angular face and sharp cheekbones. Tanned skin and the strange memory of a bandana, always attached to him one way or another. You nodded.

“Ah, yeah. I remember.”

“We’ve mostly been hanging out here for the summer,” JJ said, taking another hit.

“Doing what?”

“Surfing. Fishing. Odd jobs to fund the necessities.”

With the latter sentence, he smirked and held up the joint. You smiled back.

“So, I’m taking you as a live-by-the-moment sort of guy?”

“I don’t know,” JJ thought. He studied the joint a moment. “I guess I am, yeah. Like a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda guy, I reckon.”

“Ah,” you hummed. When he offered the joint, you gladly accepted, taking another hit.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you a planner?” he wondered.

You took one more hit and handed back the joint. It felt strange, how easy it was to make conversation, and light conversation at that, as if half an hour ago you weren’t as close as two people can get. You didn’t much mind, though.

“Maybe,” you said.

JJ laughed, shifting further up the headboard and messing with his hair. “You always this secretive?”

Giving a small laugh, you shrugged and sighed. “Maybe…”

“Well, I like girls with a bit of mystery,” JJ grinned suggestively.

You chuckled at that. Getting to your feet, heading to his bedroom door, you replied, “don’t get your hopes up, Maybank. I’m not much for commitment.”

“Hell, neither am I,” JJ agreed, almost joyously. He tipped his joint to you as if he were a Victorian gentleman, tipping his hat in farewell. “But I have a feeling I’m gonna see you around.”

Something about that made you pause. You raised a brow as if in challenge. “Oh, you do?”

“Mhm,” he grinned cheekily, tongue pressing against his cheek.

The way he sat, half naked, confident in his skin and his charm: there are few people who hold that sort of aura around them. Noticing this, you began to smirk, eyes narrowing in something akin to suspicion.

“You’re a player, aren’t you? I bet you’ve got hoes.”

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t know me like that.”

“Maybe not,” you said, walking towards him again. “But I know guys like you. Yeah, you like the chase. The feeling of getting someone to fall for you, to be weak for you. The thrill it gives.”

“You psychoanalysing me or something, sweetheart?”

“Wouldn’t be much to note,” you replied easily.

“Why don’t you try me on out? I know you wanna be friends,” JJ boldly said.

Licking your lips, you bit back your smile. Hands on your waist, you rocked on your feet in thought. The weed was giving your brain a nice buzz. Paired with the beer from the kegger (that had mostly worn off), it was a pleasant thrum running through your body.

You sighed, as if he’d twisted your arm and glanced around for a pen. When you found one (abandoned on the desk) you walked over to him and began to write on his forearm. He seemed taken off guard at first, before shamelessly looking down your top as you leant over him. You didn’t mind. It wasn’t like there was anything to hide now.

“You didn’t get a good enough look earlier or something?” you mumbled. You clocked his grin in your peripheral.

“If only I could take a picture. Think it’d last longer.”

“In your dreams, Maybank.”

“Every Goddamn night,” he smirked.

You’d be lying if that didn’t stir your stomach in the most delectable of ways. There was a reason why you’d ended up in his bed and not somebody else’s.

Finishing off the last digit, you capped the pen and placed it on his bedside table. Then, you stole the forgotten joint from his fingers and helped yourself to a drag. He watched you, mild surprise written on his face, and then full-on shock as you grabbed his jaw, fingers somewhat firm as you guided his mouth to yours. Exhaling into his mouth, messily falling into a kiss, you smiled as you felt his body go slightly slack under you.

He wasn’t the only one who liked making people feel weak.

Pulling away, you smiled down at him. His lips were still parted, wet from your spit. The image of it stirred something inside you.

“Text me, if you wanna prove me wrong,” you challenged lightly. With that, you gently patted his face, turned and left his bedroom.

You closed the door behind you, leaning against it a moment as you caught up with yourself.

The smell of weed was weaker out in the hallway. It was also darker, with no moonlight flitting through any windows. Instead, wooden walls, adorned with picture frames. You took the time to passingly inspect them as you went to leave. An older man (bearded and broad) with glasses, and a woman with pale skin and dark, nearly black hair. Another of a man fishing. Several of who you could now confirm was John B, some of which JJ appeared in, alongside a brunette girl and dark-skinned boy. One photo of this consistent gang made you smile. Arms looped over one another’s shoulders, hair wet and body littered with water droplets that twinkled under the sun and camera flash like glitter. Dopey smiles on all their faces. Maybe around thirteen or fourteen. For some reason, the picture stuck around in your head as you left the house, starting your walk home.

The second time it happened, it was after midnight.

“Is this seriously a booty call text?”

JJ was leaning against the doorframe of the porch’s netted fencing. Looking down at you, as you stood at the bottom of the stairs, he glanced at your upheld phone, open on his text message. Your conversation thread was phenomenally short. Impressively short.

You up?

Who is this?

The best sex you’ve ever had.

“Knew it,” he grinned.

You frowned, befuddled. “What?”

“I’m the best sex you’ve ever had,” he sighed casually, stretching his arms out. You finally caught on and immediately rolled your eyes.

“Seriously?”

“How else would you know to come here?”

JJ’s eyes scanned your body, head to toe, then back again. You felt a zip run down your spine, but you didn’t want him to think he was winning. You wanted to hold onto your dignity for a little longer.

“There’s only one person who I’ve hooked up with who’s shameless enough to send a ‘you up’ text,” you told him, beginning up the stairs. “It was pretty easy to figure it was you.”

JJ rolled his eyes and started down the few steps to meet you halfway. Standing over you, blue eyes staring down, he gnawed on his lower lip, slowly letting his smirk shine through.

“Well, it worked. That’s good enough for me.”

His lips on yours was now somewhat familiar. You had a sense for how he kissed. Strong at first, all consuming, and then tender as if he were pulling back, easing off. Then stronger again, possessive even. It was captivating and confusing and messy. When his hands traced around your waist, lower over your ass, cupping just beneath to let his fingers sink into the skin of your thighs, just light enough to avoid bruising, you felt yourself melt into him. Arms looping around his shoulders, tethering around his neck as if threatening to strangle. Grunts and moans and heavy breathing as it all become shamelessly obscene. JJ stumbled up the stairs, tugging you with him, and eventually the two of you were on the porch. He seemed to have a vague idea of where to bring you because soon he was tumbling backwards onto a sofa, and you were being pulled down on top. You chuckled, somewhat breathless, against his lips.

You fingers found his hands that had come up to your waist, scratching at your skin, teasing at your t-shirt. Looping your fingers into his, interlocking them sweetly, you didn’t pull away from the kiss. Not until you took your strength to push his arms above his head, holding them down. You moved to better straddle him, feeling him against your thigh, hard through his shorts.

When he opened his eyes, he looked intoxicated and spent. Wet, swollen lips. Pink cheeked. Muscles straining as you held his arms down. You knew he had the strength to push you off, to break free from your hold, but something about the fact that he hadn’t, that he wasn’t, turned you on even more. The thought made you grind back against him, and you relished in his groan.

“Fuck,” he sighed, closing his eyes.

Leaning down again, your lips found the nape of his neck. It began with kisses. Light and sweet, like a child planting dainty pecks on flower petals. Then, you slowly, sensually, and ever so softly, dragged your teeth against the skin. You felt him inhale sharply beneath you. The way the muscle running up his neck tightened, was as if he’d clenched his jaw. You smirked. Working on a hickey or two, you let him free his hands, body almost sighing in relief as he began to touch you again. Your ass, your waist, your legs. Lasciviously coming to your chest, thumbs circling the underside of your breasts. Dragging over your nipples, sensitive through the thin cotton. You moaned against his skin, feeling yourself clench. This was good.

“You wanna take this off for me, pretty girl?”

“You want me to?” you ask back.

“Why’s everything a challenge with you, huh?”

You could hear the grin in his voice, crooning and sensual. Something right out of a fantasy. You leaned back, sitting back on his waist. As you pulled off your top, his hands came to rest on your waist, fingers skimming the skin patiently. Once off, and tossed to the side, you bit your lip as if pretending to suppress your smile, watching as he took you in. You’d once been insecure of your body, the way any girl had, but you felt unashamed to admit that after sleeping with your first boyfriend, that fear went away. They didn’t care what shape you were or what size. The poor suckers are just so glad to be in a position where a girl is willing to sleep with them, that they have no complaints.

That said, the way JJ took you in, hands carefully inching up your body as if teasing you, cupping your tits with just enough pressure to make you sigh, head starting to tilt back to the sky…You felt like the prettiest girl on the planet.

“Jesus Christ, thank God for that kegger,” he mumbled as if in a daze.

You laughed, shaking your head, and then leant down to kiss him again.

From there, no more time was wasted. His shirt joined yours, somewhere on the porch floor, and as the susurrus of the late night-early morning wind rattled the netting, making some wind chimes attached to a far tree sing-out hauntingly, you ended up on your knees on the porch floor between JJ’s parted legs.

The grin that came to JJ’s face when his brain catches up is enough to light up the night sky. But as you go to finish tugging off his boxers, he suddenly sits up.

“Wait.”

Your hands halt on the waistband, eyes flashing up in concern. He’s glancing around, bare chest rising and falling a little more than natural, out of breath from the antics. Then, he’s handing you a couch cushion that he’d somehow found. You take it slowly, confused.

“For your knees,” he explained, nodding down.

You followed his line of gaze and do as he suggested, shifting yourself so your legs were no longer on the splintering floor. It wasn’t that you’d been particularly uncomfortable before, but it certainly felt nicer. There was something weirdly sweet about it and it made you smile.

As if in thanks, you planted a kiss to JJ’s bare inner thigh. Then another, and another, closer and closer. His boxers join the pile and you take your sweet time going down on him.

On the fifth time, it was tryst.

It was a humid night. The air felt thick with moisture, as if warning of rain tomorrow, and you felt like in the chateau it was ten-fold worse. The sex in the air probably didn’t help the clammy feeling that came over you. JJ seemed to notice your discomfort because, once you were clad in your underwear again, he proposed the two of you go outside for a bit.

On the grass outside was a bench, a little old and wobbly. JJ tossed some couch cushions and blankets your way from the porch, and you barely caught them, chuckling. Once the bench was a little comfier, the two of you settled on either end. JJ pulled out a joint, as per tradition, and lit up. The two of you passed it back and forth, telling dumb jokes and proposing dumber philosophies. The conversation eventually died down, as did the craving for weed, and you stretched out your legs onto JJ’s lap, lolling your head back to look at the stars.

The weed made you feel lax and mushy, and you watched as the sky stretched on for miles. Constellations appeared from thin air, twinkles so dainty and brilliant that it put you in a trance. You vaguely registered JJ lifting your right arm, guiding your fingers to his lips. He pressed kisses against them, one by one, and then to your palm. It’s this that caught your attention; your eyes flitting down from the sky to find his already watching you. Against your leg, you feel him harden slightly under his shorts. A part of you considers teasing him about it and cracking a joke, but the thought gets pushed aside. Instead, you shift so he can climb atop. He kissed up your tummy, over your bra covered chest, up your neck, leaving a hickey. You sigh and go pliant like soft clay. Your hands seemed to find home in his hair and you gently rake your fingers through the messy blonde locks. Kisses to your jaw. Cheek. Earlobe. Lips. Then the two of you are making out. It’s different than the other times; there’s no rush to it and no definitive place it will lead to. There just is.

When you eventually broke apart, JJ rested his head on your chest. Your fingers find home in his hair once more, teasing through some nots, beginning to braid some longer strands together. For some reason, you want to ask him why he is always at John B’s house, and never his. You want a real answer. But you don’t. You know it isn’t the time and he won’t tell you. What should it matter anyway? You’re just hooking up. You preferred it that way.

Commitment wasn’t something that came easy to you. There wasn’t anybody to blame, necessarily. Your parents were fine enough and no ex had severely scarred you enough to traumatise you from another relationship. But those relationships had never lasted long. They’d been built on rocky foundations and delipidated rather easily. Maybe that was what put you off. The feeling that it didn’t matter; that it would all end anyway, with their face becoming another blur in the crowd, and their voice a laugh which could be recognised anywhere. That you’d end up alone, and you never understood why.

“What’s your favourite colour?” you asked JJ, trying to find an end to your thought spiel.

“Blue, I think,” he said against you. “Like the water. Kinda mossy blue?”

“Aquamarine?”

“That’s such a dumb word,” JJ sighed. You chuckled.

“Okay, so not aquamarine. How about turquoise?”

“Just blue,” JJ told you. “A very specific blue.”

“Okay, JJ,” you chuckled gently and began to undo one of the braids you’d made.

“What about you?”

“Green,” you say.

“What kind?”

“Forest green. Like…deep, cosy green,” you explained. JJ hummed as if he could picture the colour.

“Nice choice.”

“Why thank you.”

The two of you fell back into silence again, save for the common sounds of the banks. It’s the softest you’ve ever been with one another. Usually, the moment never strayed from sex and flirting. Sometimes the odd word passed back and forth as you got dressed or shared a joint. This was different. You liked it.

“What do you do for fun?” JJ asked.

“I box,” you reply.

“You box?”

“Mhm. I’m on the team at school. Been keeping practise up at the gym throughout the summer,” you say.

JJ shifts so he’s sitting up, and he meets your eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” you laughed. “Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“I dunno,” he said, chuckling a little. “I just had you pegged as a volleyball girl or some shit.”

“Like a tennis girly? With the little skirts and all?”

“You wouldn’t hear me complaining,” JJ couldn’t help but grin, laughing when you shove at his face. “Seriously, though. What kind of boxing?”

“Competitive,” you shrugged.

His eyes look pretty in the moonlight. You’d never really noticed before. It’s then that you realised you’d never properly seen him in daylight or spent time with him when it wasn’t night or dark.

“You on the team, d’you say?”

“Mhm. Second best.”

“Who’s first?”

“This bitch Samantha,” you muttered, making JJ laugh. “It’s not the best team but coach says he might be able to put me up for a scholarship or something.”

“You smart?”

You snorted. “God no. Thick as shit. But, if I can get into college on a scholarship, then it could be my ticket out of this shit hole.”

“You mean you wanna leave this paradise?” JJ joked, gesturing to the water. The falling-apart jetty and the horizon that had yet to warn of morning.

“Paradise on earth,” you mumbled the infamous tagline of the sign.

Sighing, you laid back down. JJ seemed to agree, resting on your stomach, legs tangled with yours.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you know that when you woke up, JJ’s comforting pressure wasn’t on you anymore. When you woke up, you were outside of the chateau, blinking against the morning sun, alone.

By the seventh time, it was a pattern.

It felt like you were seeing flashes of colour.

Clenching your eyes shut, your mouth was hanging open in silent, insurmountable pleasure. You hopelessly grasped around for some kind of purchase: the sheets, the headboard…You feel your hand being guided to someone’s head, and with that you knot your fingers through JJ’s hair. He groans at the pull. Blue. Somewhere inside of your empty lungs you find a moan, falling past your lips. It only spurs him on. Digging your heels into the skin of his back, just below his shoulder blades, you somehow drive him closer. Green. It’s not enough for him to be going down on you. It wouldn’t even be enough to have him in you. You need him in your veins, in your head, passing through every synapse and invading every molecule. You just need him, him, him.

Red.

When you come, it’s with a shuddering, hopeless, sigh of his name. One of his hands comes to splay across your stomach and hip bone, as if you had begun to lift off the bed and he was guiding you back down. The moans turn to whines and whimpers, lips trembling from the afterglow. Eventually, as your thoughts begin to come back to your head, you let out a small laugh, face burning hot. Lifting one hand to rub at your forehead, raking back your hair, you will your eyes open.

“Fuck,” you sigh through a chuckle.

Looking down, you see JJ falling back on his haunches, chest heaving as if he’d ran a marathon. As if he’d been the one being eaten out. The sight of him, wet lips and damp chin, a cocky grin gradually coming through, it makes you clench around nothing, driving your teeth into your lower lip. You coax him down to you by extending out your arm, smiling against the kiss, moaning quietly at the taste of yourself on his lips.

“Best you’ve ever had?” he asks against your mouth, barely pulling back.

You swat his face away with a tired laugh.

Since that second night, he’d made a habit of asking you it every time. You’d made a habit in doing anything but to tell him the truth: that yes, he was. Nobody needed a JJ with an ego that big, not even you.

“You got some water or something?” you ask him quietly, flopping against the pillows.

“Sure,” JJ says, getting up.

The bed shifts as he walks away. There’s the faint sound of a tap running from another room. You smile to yourself and close your eyes, sighing. The bed dipping with his weight tells you he’s back, and JJ helps you sit up, handing you the glass.

“Thanks,” you mumble before taking several long gulps. When you’re done downing the water, you look to see JJ holding out a t-shirt for you. You chuckle and take it.

“I gotta pee real quick,” you say, routine as always.

He nods and watches as you get up from the bed, pulling on the t-shirt. It’s his, of course. Says something about Kildare County on the back: proud to be from the homeland. You make the familiar route to the bathroom of the chateau. As you go, you make sure to keep the t-shirt tugged down over your modesty. You and JJ had made a habit of you leaving the bedroom in clothes after the infamous run in with John B. Whoops.

Once done, you wash your hands and brave a glance in the mirror. The sight makes you want to laugh. Hair a mess – unruly and untamed – and some leftover mascara smudged under your lower lash line. Swollen lips, rosy cheeked, the beginnings of a love bite already forming on your neck. You want to laugh as a thought comes to your mind: you look like some common whore. Running the water and digging about in the cupboards, you wet your face and hair, finding a random comb and trying to tame some of the tangles. It’s a little better.

When you leave and head back to JJ’s self-proclaimed bedroom, he’s sat atop of the sheets of the bed, rolling a joint. Now wearing boxers, he sits lent against the headboard, one leg bent and the other extended out leisurely.

Sighing, you collapse in a heap at the foot of the bed. You feel him prod at your waist and you bat him away.

“You good?”

“Mhm.”

“How good?”

“Stop.”

“I’ll just keep asking.”

“I’m not gonna tell you you’re good in bed,” you say to the ceiling. JJ snorts.

“Why not?”

“Cause.”

“Cause?”

“Cause it’ll go to your head,” you tell him. You don’t hear a rebuttal (because he knows you’re right). You turn your head so you can watch him. He lifts the paper to his lips and licks it, sealing it shut. “Sides. I feel like it goes without saying.”

“What does?” JJ asks, now searching for his lighter in the mess that is his bedside table.

“You know what.”

The blank look JJ sends you your way tells you no, he does not. Sighing, you clarify. “The fact that I keep hooking up with you. That speaks for itself.”

When the penny finally drops, JJ’s face twists into the most cocky, proud grin you’ve ever seen, and you immediately want to take it back. You tell him this with a groan, tossing your head back, but he’s laughing and basking in the indirect comment you’ve just given him. The comment that he’s pretty God damn good in bed, to have you falling back in it so many times.

“How come you never ask if you’re any good?” JJ wonders. The flick of a lighter tells you that he found one.

“Cause I know I’m good,” you simply say. “And the fact that you keep inviting me to hook up with you also speaks for itself.”

“Can’t argue with that,” JJ mumbles.

You smell the marijuana the moment he takes a drag. Sweet and crisp and only slightly overwhelming. Leaning down with a groan, you begin to lazily search around for your shorts on the floor. Eventually, somehow, you find them, and from the pocket you dig out your cigarettes. You steal the lighter JJ had used from the quilt and light up, lying on your back once more.

“You shouldn’t smoke those, you know?”

You open one eye and look at him. Exhaling out a breath of smoke, you ask, “are you seriously telling me not to smoke whilst you smoke?”

“Cigs, I mean. Gives you cancer.”

“I’ll be sure to tell the government,” you mumble, taking another drag.

“I’m serious. That shit is gonna kill you.”

You sort of smiled. Opening both eyes now, you take in JJ’s expression. You felt as if you knew him well enough to read his face. Something like concern lingered behind his relaxed demeanour. Sitting up, leaning towards him, you took another drag and exhaled it in his face.

“Well, now you’re gonna die too,” you grin.

JJ wafts it away and shakes his head at you. His smile tells you that he’s not offended. “It’s a good thing you’re hot.”

“Is that all I’m good for?” you fake gasp, hand coming to your chest.

“Wait, I thought that what’s all women were good for? Are you telling me women can do more than just be hot?” JJ plays along, gaping in mock horror.

You chuckle and break the charade. Pulling your knees to your chest, you continue to smoke, as does JJ. The floor is a mess. Piles of clothes – some yours and some his – mixed with shoes and hats and abandoned pairs of swimming trunks, probably still damp as he hadn’t hung them out to dry. Scattered around the room was empty cans and bottles. An empty box of condoms in the paper bin. As they catch your eye, a question comes to you.

“Are we exclusive?”

At first you wonder if JJ even heard you, as he doesn’t reply for a while. When you look over to see if he was off in his own thoughts, he’s watching you, as if you were the one who was supposed to answer.

“I don’t know,” he says noncommittedly.

“Okay, lemme ask it another way,” you mumble, putting out your cigarette on the windowsill ash tray. “Have you slept with anyone apart from me since we started hooking up?”

JJ looks away and out the window, as if he doesn’t want to answer. His jaw clicks tighter. You frown. Things suddenly feel tense, awkward even. It never had been that way between the two of you, not even after the first time you fooled around.

“Jayj?”

“Have you?”

When he asks, he’s looking you in the eyes again. There’s a bite to his words as if he’s proposing a challenge. But you’re not shy to talk about it.

“No,” you shrug. “No point, really.”

“No point?”

“Like, you’re not…terrible,” you eventually settle on, careful to avoid boosting his ego more than you already had that night. “And it’s easy.”

“Easy?”

“Are you gonna repeat everything I say?” you wonder sardonically, quirking a brow.

“Why’re you asking me this?”

“Just wondering,” you say, becoming uncomfortable as his tone seems to harden more and more. “Thought we should know who each other’s seeing and stuff.”

“Why? We use protection, it’s not like there’s any point,” JJ practically grumbles.

“Jesus Christ, it really isn’t that deep,” you half-laugh. You start to wish you hadn’t put out your cigarette.

“It’s not like you’re special or anything.”

And okay, ouch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’re just fucking. You’re good in bed. That’s it,” JJ tells you in an even tone.

You stare at him, waiting for the punchline; waiting for this cold façade to break. It doesn’t. He holds your gaze, unfaltering.

“Seriously?” you ask, voice weaker than you want it to be.

JJ doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes one last hit of his joint before putting it out. Then he’s standing up from the bed.

“It’s late,” he says, looking around his floor. He finds a t-shirt (gives it a sniff and seems to think it’s clean enough) and pulls it on. Then he’s searching again, and you watch as he digs out your clothes, holding them out to you. It takes you a moment to catch on.

“Are you serious?”

JJ shrugs. “It’s late, is all. Not like you were gonna stay over anyway.”

Any humour is gone. You knew you weren’t going to sleep over; you’d only done that once on accident. That wasn’t what offended you. It was the way JJ had gone about it, like you were some nameless chick in his bed who he needed to sneak out before his parents came home…It made you feel dirty. It made you feel used.

Snatching the clothes from him, you get up and begin to change. JJ doesn’t watch. Instead, he kicks about things on his floor in some attempt of tidying. When you’re back in your own clothes, his t-shirt now in your hand, you make a point to toss it on the bed.

“Fuck you, JJ,” you mumble, heading to his bedroom door.

“What?”

“I said fuck you.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” JJ snaps, glaring at you.

Something akin to a laugh comes from your mouth, but there’s a bitterness to your tone. “When you’re man enough to talk, lemme know.”

“Get out of my room,” JJ darkly says.

You shake your head. With a scoff, you tell him, “gladly”, and then you walk out of his room. The tears don’t come until you’re outside the house, as if the sting of the wind sobers you up to the situation.

For the eighth time, it was making up.

The house party some random Pogue had thrown was in full swing. Some Kooks had caught wind, naturally, and decided to join the festivities. For the most part, it was Pogues, with the odd, innocent tourist mixed amongst the lot. JJ liked it that way. He felt like he was amongst his people; could let his guard down more.

Kiara was sat outside on a porch swing with Pope, the two seemingly in light conversation. JJ wandered over with a beer in hand and snuck up behind the dark-haired girl. He grinned to himself as he suddenly grabbed her shoulder, shouting in her ear. She let out a yelp, swatting at him as he started laughing. Pope rolled his eyes, also a little spooked, and JJ gave a half-hearted apology through his laughs. He sat between the pair on the swing, encouraging it to rock with his heels dug into the dirt.

“How many are you on?” Pope asked, nodding down to the can.

JJ shrugged. “Who cares? It’s a party.”

“So this has nothing to do with you and your lover having trouble in paradise?” Kie wondered, voice teasing.

JJ rolled his eyes and took a swig. “She’s not my ‘lover’.”

“Hook-up?”

“Bed-pal?”

“Friends with benefits?”

“Alright, alright,” JJ groaned, waving away their synonyms. “Hilarious, guys.”

“What happened with that? I thought you two were hitting it off,” Pope said soberly.

“We were, I guess,” JJ admitted. He looked out to the garden with a sigh and then took another drink. “Doesn’t matter, though. It’s done now.”

“Done?”

“The ‘best sex you’ve ever had’ is just done?” Kie checked.

“Yep,” JJ said, flashing her what he hoped was an unbothered grin. He held up his can as if in cheers. “Use them and lose them, is what I say.”

“JJ—”

“No commitment, no sha-mittment.”

“Wise words, Aristotle,” Pope mumbled.

JJ finished his can in several large gulps and crushed it beneath his grip.

“Need a refill,” he announced. He staggered to his feet, swaying when he stood. He could see Kie’s concerned gaze from his peripheral and pointed at her - just. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’ll be sure to have the ambulance on standby,” Pope assured sarcastically, watching JJ walk away. He kindly flipped them off as he went.

“Assholes,” he muttered to himself.

The world was dragging, taking too long to catch up with him, and he struggled to find the kitchen. Had someone moved it? What the hell?

When he found himself in a hallway which he hadn’t yet been in, JJ knew he was both lost and hammered. Whoops.

“JJ?”

He spun around, blinking slowly and rapidly, all at once.

It was you, stood in a sundress, worn down with a grey zipper cardigan and trainers. You frowned at him.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked.

“How much have you had?”

“Just a couple,” JJ said, shrugging. “What’s it to you?”

“It…isn’t,” you say, looking off.

JJ suddenly panics - scared you’re going to walk away - and he finds himself grabbing for your wrist. You make a move as if you’re going to take it from his grip, but then you don’t. He aimlessly guides you into a quieter room, where the music isn’t so blaring and the chatter of others doesn’t bounce of the walls. It happens to be a bathroom.

He locks the door and spins around, immediately feeling green.

“You okay?” you tentatively ask.

JJ nods, but that only makes it worse, and in a matter of seconds he’s darting for the toilet.

There’s something so wonderfully humiliating about throwing up.

“It’s alright,” you say, rubbing his back. He feels the weight of your hand move up and down against his damp t-shirt. JJ cringes into the toilet. So. Embarrassing.

“Sorry,” he gasps, preparing for more to come.

“You don’t gotta be sorry,” you mumble.

He hears you shift around and notices as you sit down, back against the wall. You’ve taken your hand from his back and instead have placed it in his hair, rubbing his scalp soothingly.

“Feel better?”

“Maybe,” he sighs. You nod and lift your arm to flush the toilet.

After a few more bouts of vomit, JJ’s sure there’s nothing left. He leans his cheek against the seat of the toilet, the porcelain cold on his skin, and watches as you get up and head to the sink. You find an abandoned solo cup and rinse it out, filling it with water and offering it to him.

“Here,” you say. He drinks.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to help.”

“Sure I did. If you died, I would’ve been the last person to see you alive,” you tell him, making him laugh.

“Nice to know your heart’s in the right place.”

“You don’t sound so drunk now,” you say.

“Thanks,” he repeats, less grateful.

He sighs and sits up, leaning against the bathroom wall. The room’s spinning less. His ears aren’t rining as badly. There are the remnants of booze blurring the lines between what he wants to say and what he doesn’t.

Someone tries the door and you yell at them to leave. JJ’s never heard you yell before. It sounds unnatural.

“I’m sorry for the other night.”

His eyes shoot open.

Looking to you, wondering if he misheard, he finds you’re already watching him. You’re fiddling with your knuckles, picking at some scabbing, probably the aftermath of training. He still can’t wrap his head around the fact that you box. You’ve always had an edge to you but picturing you fighting someone…The thought was sexy as hell, he was unashamed to admit.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, as if worried he hadn’t heard, and he comes back to reality.

“About what?”

“About the other night. About asking if we’re exclusive. Like you even owe me that sort of explanation,” you say. “We had a good thing going. It worked for both of us, and I messed it up.”

JJ doesn’t say anything. You sigh, taking his silence as space to continue, and you look down to watch your handiwork as you go on.

“I’m not great at relationships. I mean, I don’t think I am. Every single one that I’ve been in ends up in flames, so…Not the best track record.”

JJ watches as you sigh again, tossing your head back to stare at the ceiling. Your throat is empty of love bites and it looks foreign.

“I try my best in them. Try to be the good girlfriend. Fun and unassuming and pretty and funny. Present and thoughtful. I think I’m doing a good job, and then…Boom. Another one in the shitter. Guess I’m just the common denominator.”

“Denominator?”

“I’m the common thread,” you clarify, looking to him again. You shrug. “But, all cards on the table, I felt like I didn’t have to try with you. I never felt like I was needing to put on a show or think about things as much. Maybe it was because we were only hooking up, but there was never any pressure to be the better version of me. Maybe there is no better version of me. Maybe I just…am.”

JJ stares at you for a minute and you seem to hear back what you’ve said, cause then you’re cupping your face and laughing, embarrassed.

“God, that was so cringey,” you chuckle beratingly. “I promise I’m not high.”

“It wasn’t cringey,” JJ tells you.

Your laughter dies down. You don’t make a move to remove your face from your hands, though. It’s easier for JJ that way, to tell you the truth without having you watch him. If you can lay all your cards out, then so can he. Thank God for vodka, he thinks.

“My mum and dad weren’t the best role models,” JJ admits, clearing his throat. It feels raw after throwing up. “She dipped and my dad’s…a mess. It’s a lot and I won’t bore you with it all but…I just don’t do well with relationships. I barely do well with friendships. Half the time I wonder why my friends hang around with me, and the other half I spend wondering when they’re gonna leave. When they’re gonna realise that I’m nothing special, or important.”

“JJ,” you whisper, going to lift your head. JJ panics and dumbly shoves your face back into your palms. You let out a bark of laughter, and then start nodding as if in understanding. “Okay. Go on.”

JJ takes a breath, removing his hand from your hair.

“I hook-up with people cause it’s easy and there’s no strings and all that crap, and it makes me feel good. But you’re different to the other people I’ve slept with. You’re funny and witty and would say these really nice things out of the blue. You’d do nice things, too. Like when you made me mac and cheese one time after we’d fooled around cause I said I’d been craving it for days. Nobody’s ever really done anything like that for me. I wasn’t sure how to react.”

Here it comes – crawling up his throat. The thing he was terrified to admit. The thing he was so scared to tell you, that he threw whatever thing you had going down the drain, and then apparently let you believe that it was you that steered them off the road.

“We were exclusive. I didn’t want to sleep with anyone else when I was with you.”

JJ doesn’t give you time to react or respond. The words are falling out of him now.

“I didn’t want to leave, and I didn’t want you to leave, and it freaked me out cause I’ve never felt like that with a girl before. All my God damn thoughts were about you, like I was brainwashed. Fuck – they still are! It’s like I wake up and think about it. Think about what you’re doing and where you are. Think about getting you off. Think about how you looked when I told you to leave. How fucking scummy that was of me.

But I got scared. I got scared when you asked me cause it meant we’d have to actually acknowledge that there was something more there, and that things would change, and that terrifies the shit out of me because when things change, it’s usually for the worst. You’d see the real me and my life and learn about all my shit, and you’ll see that I’m nothing good. And I just start thinking about when it’s gonna end. How I’m gonna mess it up, cause I always do.”

He catches his breath. The words hang heavy in the air. JJ stares at you. You still have your face in your hands.

He leans back against the wall and looks down at his fingers, twisting some of his rings. He slowly lets out a breath, pressing his eyes shut.

“Sorry. That was a lot.”

Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

“Can I look up now?”

JJ can’t help but laugh. Looking to you, he quietly tells you, “Yes, you can look up now.”

When you do, JJ immediately spots the tears on your cheeks. His heart clenches. It’s a new feeling. Strange and unpleasant, though not for the reasons he thought it would be.

“Not everyone leaves, JJ,” you say, wiping your face.

He shrugs.

“I mean it,” you affirm. He sees when an idea comes to mind, your beautiful face lighting up. “There’s this song I like. I guess it’s spoken poetry. It’s called Sunscreen. In the song, the guy says something. He says, ‘accept that some friends will come and go, but hold on to a precious few.’”

JJ frowns, unsure where you’re heading.

“And whilst I agree that you yourself have to hold on, there’s also the other person holding on for you. Sticking their feet in and telling you that they’re not gonna leave when things get just a bit tough. I mean, I feel like you and John B have been friends for ages. One of the pictures in the chateau is of you guys really young.”

“Since the third grade,” JJ quietly says.

Smiling back, you take a breath then say, “I can’t promise you that everyone’ll stay, but I can promise you that I want to. I want to stay, with you. I want to know all the ugly things and I want you to know the ugly things about me. Nobody’s whole and nobody’s perfect, and everybody’s shit scared of opening themselves up because the moment you do, you can get hurt. But sometimes to live, I think you’ve gotta get a bit hurt. So, I want to stay, but only if you want to me to.”

JJ slowly began to smile.

He did. He wanted you to stay. He wanted you to meet his friends and to watch him surf. He wanted to have you stay over and have the balls to be there when you woke up. He wanted to see you in the morning, eating breakfast, and after sex, spent and tired. He wanted to watch you train and box, and cheer you on and kiss the bruises. He wanted to know the things you hid about yourself, and the things that made you somehow imperfect. He wanted your smile and your dumb jokes and the way you like to have the control, the way you fight him for it. He wanted the way you made him feel and the reassurance just your company brought, that somebody wanted him too.

JJ wanted you.

“I want you to stay,” he said. He swallowed and smiled, properly. “I want you to stay with me.”

Your face glowed with your smile. Crinkles by your eyes and a slight girlish giddiness as you quietly laugh down at your hands, bashful all of a sudden. Bashful like you didn’t know that his dying wish was to be baptised in your spit. Like you didn’t get off on being on top; of having him weak under your spell.

“If I hadn’t just thrown up, I’d fuck you right now, right here,” JJ says.

You bark out a laugh, tossing your head back before smiling at him. “Oh really?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna toss me out on the streets after like a hooker?” you risk in a joke.

JJ rolls his eyes and tries to shove away the shame he feels for doing that. He knows it’s in the past now. Can tell by the way you bite your lip through your smile.

“Shut up.”

“Wow. Incredible come back,” you push. He laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m serious. Shut up.”

“Make me.”

The look in your eye becomes almost dark. There’s a quirk to your smile that makes his stomach clench and shrink. He gnaws on his lip. Somehow dragging his eyes from yours, he looks to the bathroom sink and cupboard. He forces himself to his feet and tugs it open, looking around for something – anything – that’ll get rid of the vomit taste stuck on his tongue. A toothbrush. Fuck yes. Maybe God doesn’t hate him after all. When you catch on to what he’s doing, you start to laugh. He quickly brushes his teeth and tongue, rinsing out his mouth.

“Seriously? Guys and their dicks, Jesus.”

“Shut up,” he gurgles, pointing at you with the brush. You laugh harder and JJ can’t help but smile. The best goddamn laugh.

Spitting out, he wipes his mouth, tosses the toothbrush to the side, grabs your hands and tugs you up to your feet. His lips are on yours in a second, clumsy and frantic, and your laughter doesn’t die off immediately. It does when he picks you up, lifting you onto the sink. You gasp against his mouth, somewhat caught off guard. Hands wrapping around his neck, fingers tangling into his hair, JJ feels as you wrap his legs around his waist and tug him closer.

“Fuck,” he sighs, pulling back. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavy. You open your eyes slowly and smile, sweet. You’re so sweet. “I missed this.”

“Damn right you did,” you smirk.

There you are.

As you start making out again, there’s something deeper at play. His hands move to your thighs, working up your sundress, and your fingers tug at his hair in the most delicious way. He groans against you. He’s hard and desperate and horny and still somehow a little tipsy. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Everything about this is just…

“You gonna eat me out or what?”

The words, whispered right down his ear…JJ’s surprised he doesn’t come on the spot. Somehow, he finds his control, enough so to reply, “didn’t anybody teach you manners, princess?”

When you kiss, it’s teeth and tongue, and dirty and messy, and fucking delectable. JJ begins down your neck, over your chest, finding enough space on your collar bone to suck a love bite. It was driving him crazy, seeing your skin unmarked. You shrug off your cardigan and lean back a little, hands scrambling to not slip on the damp sink’s porcelain. You watch him as he makes his way to his knees, shoving up your skirt, and lift yourself off the edge of the sink enough for him to slide your panties down your legs.

“You’re so pretty,” you tell him in a pant.

JJ’s eyes glance up to meet yours. Sees the way your teeth are sunk into your lower lip, a small smile adorning your flushed face. The beginnings of a love bite forming already. It’s the feeling of one of your feet digging into his shoulder blade, urging him to you, that spurs him on.

He takes his time eating you out. Savours the moans and bathes in your whimpers. The sinful sweetness of you on his tongue. His fingers dig into the skin of your thighs, trying to find some self-control. They’ll probably bruise. It’s a nice thought. It’s ephemeral, over too soon; you come with a near-silent moan, ankles locking around him, holding him against you. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

“JJ,” you sigh, sounding desperate. He feels you shift and falls back on his haunches, wiping at his face. Licking his lips. Closing his eyes, he tries to level himself. He has to make it last, at least just a little longer.

The feeling of your hand prying at his shirt has him coming back to reality. JJ looks up at you, panting a little, and smiles lazily at the fucked-out look on your face. He helps you pull him to his feet, kissing you the moment he’s standing above you, smirking as he hears you moan from your own taste. You’re fucking filthy. And it’s only for him. The thought makes him desperate to fuck you.

It seems your mind is on the same track because your fingers start fumbling with his short’s zipper. He pulls away to help you tug them off, dragging his boxers with them.

“You got anything?” you ask, voice no more than a breath.

JJ scrambles through his thoughts and nods, shoving a hand through his damp hair and grabbing for his wallet; digging about with shaking hands, retrieving a condom. You take it from him and open it - giggling in a way that’s too sweet for the salaciousness of the moment - and put it on him, rubbing for longer than you need to. Somehow, he forces your hand from him.

“Can’t do that or I’m not gonna last,” he breathlessly chuckles before pressing a kiss to your lips.

Your arms loop back around his neck, tongue slipping into his mouth, and JJ’s hands slip under your legs and pull you to sit on the very edge of the sink.

The moment he sinks into you, both of you sigh against one another, body’s singing as if in reverence. The sex is rough and rushed and rapturous. Your head rests on his shoulder and your moans fall straight into his ear, as if coming straight from God’s mouth.

And once again, it’s all over too soon. You finish first, JJ soon after, gasping against your shoulder, damp and clammy with sweat. As he fucks you both through it, slowly coming to a stop, your fingers thread gently through his hair, rubbing soothingly at his scalp. He rests in you for a while. The two of you slowly catch your breath, arms tangled around one another, a head on the other’s shoulder.

You’re the first to move, and you do so only enough to kiss him. Tender now. Almost loving. JJ sighs into it, stroking your back gently. The thought of having you near again…It’s almost like he has air back in his lungs. It’s a strange feeling, a bizarre and new one, but JJ’s no longer scared of it like he was before. How can he be when you’re right there with him?

Breaking apart, your foreheads rest against one another, and JJ braves opening his eyes. You’re already looking at him. The two of you smile at the same time, and you begin to laugh.

“Not bad, huh?”

JJ grins.

“Best you’ve ever had?”

“Oh shut up.”

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yuusishi · 30 days

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Hi how’s it going? I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if I could request a headcannon of how Kaeya, Diluc, and Dainsleif react to reader saying “I can get it, just don’t ask how”? Can be either platonic or romantic, whichever you prefer. Thanks in advanced!

. . . SWEET SECRETS

pairings : Kaeya Alberich , Diluc Ragnvindr , Dainsleif x gn!reader

genre : fluff

cws/tws : implied violence but it’s rlly short

a/n : warning this is lowkey ass cuz I didn’t really know how to go about the whole plot so sorry if it’s messy 😭. I’ll be putting the headers later cuz I’m not on my pc rn and that’s where I make them !!

KAEYA ALBERICH !!

He thought you were just trying to lighten up the mood seeing his stressed expression upon walking in his office, but seeing your dead serious face he couldn't help but get curious about what your "way of finding the missing artifact" could be.

You weren't part of the knights, just a simple adventurer from the guild, and definitely not on par with the Traveler.

He mentally weighed his options until giving up and leaving it in your hands.

He really wasn't expecting much, possibly a lead or two, but the entire missing artifact that the knights were searching for for weeks showing up at his office definitely woke him up without any need for caffeine that morning. It was safely tucked in a basket too...

Letting out an amused chuckle, he walked towards the basket. The fragile artifact was encased in a bundle of blankets to prevent any breakage, as well as a note tucked in the corner.

“I spent all night getting this so you owe me! The map to the thieves’ den is on the back of this note” signed with your name, even then he could probably recognize your handwriting at a glance without the need for your signature.

Sure enough a shockingly detailed map was drawn at the back of the small note. That was the day Kaeya considered recommending you to Jean as the Knights’ private investigator.

DILUC RAGNVINDR !!

You need to have one hell of a way with words if you were to ask Diluc to even remotely involve you in his investigations. He’s well aware the dangers his nighttime escapades pose if he were to bring others with him, that’s the whole reason he works alone in the first place.

He had mentioned in passing that his messenger owl had gone missing for the past few days, no longer answering his calls or bringing back any letters, that’s when you had an amazing conversation with Dawn Winery’s owner.

“I can give you the lead but…” “But…?” “I want to go instead” “Not a chance” “Please!” “Then tell me how you’ll be doing it” “I can’t tell you” “Then it’s still a no” “I promise I can do it myself! The only thing you have to do is swear not to ask questions tomorrow morning”

A heavy sigh left Diluc’s lips as you wait expectantly for his answer, “Should you harm yourself in any way while you’re out, you’re getting banned from the tavern, alright?”

If he had to be honest, he stayed up later than usual that night (at least when he doesn’t need to be the darknight hero). He wished you would stroll up to Dawn Winery in the middle of the night and said that you gave up on the investigation, but you didn’t.

He had work the next morning, he went to sleep and hoped to the archons that putting faith in your abilities was a good idea. Sure enough, that very morning he found his owl on a bench outside Dawn Winery with a note attached to its foot.

“No questions, alright? Just get me something from Good Hunter as a thanks!” Usually he’d find your letters amusing, but he couldn’t help but let his heart drop ever so slightly upon seeing the speck of blood on the corner of the page.

DAINSLEIF !!

You had met Dainsleif enough times to be considered more than an acquaintance to him. As he travels across Teyvat, he still manages to frequent the tavern you work in. Every couple months you’d see the familiar tuft of blonde hair accompanying his eccentric appearance.

You were just an ordinary bartender, so Dainsleif wouldn’t dare try to involve you in his plans against the Abyss even if you held a vision. All of his plans managed to endanger even the Traveler after all.

He mentioned something about a precious item related to Khaenri’ah that he needed, and just his luck you knew a couple visitors to the tavern that could aid him. But they weren’t the most approachable people.

“I can get you a couple leads, only catch is that no questions will be asked, ‘kay?” A bad feeling buried itself in your stomach every time he mentioned something about the fallen kingdom, yet you still offered.

After giving the offer a moment’s thought, he agreed, warning you to be careful.

The next week he came back, but you weren’t there, instead Dainsleif was greeted by another bartender covering your shift. Curious, he asked what happened with you, the only answer he received was that you managed to overwork yourself and got sick. The bartender swiftly handed him a paper filled with leads for the item.

He swore to come back to properly repay you after he completes his investigation.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif x you

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leftduck9986 · 8 days

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Foreshadowing, out of order?

In storytelling, is there a single word that means "the opposite of foreshadowing"?

WARNING: in trying to wrap my head around this, there will be wittering!!!

Wikipedia tells me that a flashback is a method of foreshadowing.

The Bullet Catch in the NZF minisode, being a flashback as well as told before the "present day" [speculated] event it sets up a clue for, well, that's what I've understood foreshadowing to mean until now, because isn't foreshadowing always presented before the event it foreshadows comes to pass?

The flashback/memory minisode, A Companion To Owls, is told after the "present day" event it foreshadows. Does that still count as foreshadowing, or is it instead considered "the big reveal" because it is told after?

And is this all that is meant by various things in Good Omens 2 being "out of order"?

The Hiding Miracle and the Memory That Both Foreshadows and Reveals It?

Indeed, it was a tiny miracle - as titled in the soundtrack - that worked as planned and "barely moved the dials" (but still a miracle in which "Noone will have noticed A Thing" however tiny it was, and that "Nobody notices he's here (...) Nobody can spot him, (...) especially if they're looking for him").

I believe it was the first of three events that happened that night, which, became the main focus of this "quiet, gentle, romantic" season, but paling in comparison to the other two events. Moving on!

Returning to how A Companion to Owls isn't told until after The Hiding Miracle and clues us in as to what was actually going on: this tiny miracle was made to appear far more powerful than it actually was, with the use of showmanship:

The ceremonious setup of being positioned on the circle in the middle of the room hidden under the carpet, between Aziraphale and Crowley; he could have been standing, but instead, "Jim... Sit in this chair." And it's a beautiful chair, like a throne, but Jim being taller wouldn't have worked for the image of the 'W' (similar to the 'W' shape made with Shadwell standing between Aziraphale and Crowley at the airbase, in the book Good Omens.)

ta-da!-look-at-this-very-complicated-and-powerful-miracle-that-we-are-doing

Why perform at all then, for an audience of none?

Ah, they're not alone, oooOoOoOOOoOoOooo, spooky. Go and see for yourself: check out the bottom left area of the screen when Crowley returns to the bookshop and says, "I'm BACK" (this is to do with the "framing opportunities" secret mentioned in the Gavin Finney BTS article https://britishcinematographer.co.uk/gavin-finney-bsc-good-omens-2/) Aziraphale calmly replies, "Yes, I can see that" and later gasps, reacting to something happening off-screen at 40m41s.

So this performance, not yet knowing who their audience might be, could be as a precaution, just in case.

Gabriel instinctively crosses his hands and is confused when Aziraphale and Crowley uncross them - or likely because Aziraphale was even standing there at all - because he remembers, or rather, in his mind's eye, sees the shape left behind by a missing piece of furniture.

The ceremonious setup of being positioned in the centre, between Sitis and Job, this time in the background to have Bildad appear a little shorter in height for the stylized 'W', then crossing his hands. The pot containing Sitis and Job's children being the circle, hidden by the circle of carpet (robes) made as Sitis and Job embrace.

ta-da!-look-at-this-very-complicated-and-powerful-miracle-that-we-are-doing

Had we seen Jim's and Crowley's conversation about memory before The Hiding Miracle instead of much later in episode 5, then it would have been foreshadowing, yes?

*temper rising* A "reveal," or "out-of-order foreshadowing"? (VBUAXNAUSX*keyboard smash*NYVIFGNOMAI) grrrrrr!

...

After the Job story is told, (save for the final scene) and Aziraphale calls for Crowley, my head-cannon used to be that Aziraphale wanted to talk about hair -

Aziraphale: Crowley, I gave you lovely long locks in my retelling of this story, how about you? Crowley: Nah, "shoulder-length bouncy 'bob'" is what I put - a "Lob" I think is what they're calling it these days.

But now I think that, to book-end Crowley's beginning with, "Your boss said that to Job, do you remember?" (imo they are so good at blending in, they can act human better than any human can act human! So, while feigning the memory span&loss&retention of a human, of course they can remember most everything. Angel stock: constitution of an Ox, memory of an Elephant.) Aziraphale may have wanted to remark on Jim's crossed hands from the night before and how similar it was to Crowley's doing so; that it was evidence of Gabriel still somehow being able to connect with images from his memory. "Crowley? You also did that thing... does Gabriel remember?"

If each minisode contains something that foreshadows or reveals what magic tricks occurred during this season's present day events, I feel that the only thing left is from "The Resurrectionists" minisode, where Crowley Goes Large (woah, woah, woah, another case for The Song Is The Clue?!?) ... or makes himself, something or someone else tiny.

"Size and shape are simply options" after all, so I do wonder about Hell's Usher, where the only time we've seen him is when he is small enough to fit in a bathtub and yet he is HUGE in the opening title sequence of season one. Behind him, Noah's Ark stranded between two damaged buildings (or one damaged building and maybe the Pleasure Cruiser Morbillo?)

Something else that may be revealing of stories yet to be told of the past, while also foreshadowing a near-future event:

Based on what Crowley said, this is not the first time Crowley and Aziraphale have performed a half-miracle together! Whatever biiiig miracle they're about to do (speculated event #2) could still be completely balanced and undetected, but then a plume of miraculous activity emerging from the circle gateway (privately speculated event #3) is what poor Aziraphale will appear to take the blame for.

Things being out of order may have started with the question, are season two's present day events being told out of order? There are other things appearing out of order as well, for example a change in the order of colours in the Rainbow (for "present day" episode two only I think, beginning Violet then Red, etc.) Or, in this case, narrative devices being so intertwined, one flashback-event can contain images and phrases that both foreshadow something yet to happen as well as to reveal what happened in a part of the story already told.

As always, please no asking or tagging Mr Gaiman as this blog post contains theory and speculation, thank you.

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bbnibini · 6 months

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Random Cocytus Hall Headcanons

Mornings start late. Breakfast is lunch, lunch is dinner and dinner are some random snacks in the middle of the night–small and bite-sized, especially made for one particular sorcerer who has a tendency to forget his meals once he’s deep in his research.

Solomon gained a habit of eating anything that’s put in front of him, your pen? Gone. MC? Why is the steak crunchy? Man’s literally pavloved to do this because he wouldn’t eat otherwise. (Thanks, OG!Timeline, Simeon.)

Your weekends are spent scouring for magical items that will be considered rare in the original timeline/future. An "investment" if you will.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” “Am I also a worm, MC?” “No????” “Can I be one too? 🥺👉👈” (He doesn’t want you to be alone)

“Pretending” to be a couple to get couple’s discounts in everything. Purposely making a scene in public for clout. (Fake proposals, wholesome pranks and polite catcalling). You both like the chaos. Responsibly (because Barbatos is watching). Sometimes, Asmo joins in too!

Every day is a marathon to outrun Solomon to the kitchen. It’s rather unfortunate that most of the time when it’s his turn to do the cooking, something goes wrong and you have to eat out. Not like he minds (a date is a date<3).

This is you everytime you try to wake Solomon in the morning. (He’s a notorious night owl and also a light sleeper, so he made some precautions to get a good rest by casting several layers of sound blocking spells that activate once his brain waves fall into a specific frequency range. And yes. You have to disarm them One.By.One. Every.Morning.) As much as you want him to sleep longer, unfortunately, RAD doesn’t have night class. :’( (What is even “night” in Devildom if it’s always dark? Don’t mind me having an existential crisis over a fictional realm lmao)

Solomon isn’t the type of person who voices out his grievances. He’s the type who endures and always tries to act “maturely”, especially in situations he considers unfair. (Please protect this man. He doesn’t know a thing about receiving compassion nor affection. It’s a very touchy subject to him; he would rather give and get nothing in return. Because that's what always happens. Kindness makes him vulnerable and being vulnerable scares him. )Why would he make his dearest apprentice worry? You are a person meant to be loved(unlike him), and he is painfully aware how he would have to share your attention with everyone else. What you might not know is how much he beats himself up over feeling “petty emotions”. Jealousy? Loneliness? A few swigs of liquid courage would make him forget, even just for the night. He is Solomon the Wise, not Solomon the Fool.

Is the type who answers you in person every time you try to text him in Decommunication:

You Hey, do we still have some bread? seen 1 hour ago

Then when you got tired waiting for him to text back he just: *Teleports behind you* “I bought some now! Did we forget anything else?”“SOLOMON I AM LITERALLY IN THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW! HOW DID YOU GET HERE? WHY CAN’T YOU ANSWER MY TEXTS LIKE A NORMAL PERSON?!”“But…what about the bread? :( I got it for you.” "GET. OUT." "Do you need toilet pap-" "GET OUT!!!"

Contrary to Solomon’s defeatist beliefs, you crave his presence as much as he does. The little traces of him in Cocytus hall that lingers there even in his absence brings you so much comfort and reassurance. He is the first person you turn to in difficult times. “If Solomon is here, everything will be okay.” is a mantra you like muttering to yourself when you are especially troubled. Perhaps if a certain, depressed and inebriated soul would come to hear it, his own heart’s worries would finally be silenced.

WE GET IT! YOU’RE MARRIED!! <; —----- everyone when you talk about each other

----

Happy NB Remix Release! Take this late tribute (AO3 mirror)

#oops forgot to put this as a scheduled post #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #obey me headcanons #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #shall we date obey me

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hyatoro · 1 year

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Hwang Minsu

NightShift!Yandere (Omegaverse)

Last, First: Hwang Minsu (Minsu Hwang)

Appearance: 5’9, Medium-long black hair with thin bangs that go past his eyes but can still see through, black eyes, pale as hell cause he’s only active at night, baggy clothes, scrawny build. (Picrew Image at bottom)

Setting: South Korea convenience store

He looks like someone that doesn’t see the light of day and that’s because he doesn’t. He’s not greasy but he looks like he would be.

He's an omega but he's generally considered undesirable cause his scent is weak to the majority of people. His heat is when it's the strongest of course. Most people assume he's a beta because of this.

It wasn't like he was directly bullied for this back in school. His presence was faint in general so he tended to be left out of things. His quiet demeanor and lack of drive meant he kept to himself.

He was raised by a single mother who loved him dearly, but she died when he was 17, leaving him scrambling to support himself when he had nothing prepared.

He found his job at the convenience store and working the night shift got him more money than the day job. He didn't have any reason not to, so he changed his schedule to become almost nocturnal. His apartment is small and cramped, having saved whatever he could of what his mom left him.

He's just cruising on autopilot, like a soulless husk.

Being left alone is nice because he doesn't deal with bullying, or getting targeted by alphas. Even when he's on his heat, if he uses suppressants and scent patches he's good to go. He uses the patches regularly though as it's still safer to do so when working late shifts.

But it's lonely. He is so achingly lonely.

Even though the night shift is worth it financially, it's awful for his mental health. But because he's stuck in this gutter he can't find the drive to look for anything else.

Then you move into the area. You're a night owl with a weird schedule and you find yourself going to this convenience store more often than not. You become a regular and that's not really a weird thing. The night shift is pretty much mostly frequented by regulars.

It's the fact that you hang out in the place sometimes. Making conversation with him. Bringing up your hobbies and other entertainment to fend off the boredom.

And you smell amazing.

It's cliche, but he genuinely did not give a shit about how other people smelled, because no one cared about how he smelled (aside from initial confusion when they realize he's not a beta).

When you enter the store and your scent wafts by suddenly it's all he wants in his lungs. He finds it an odd thought and behaves, brushing it off as him finally going insane from the lack of sunlight. It wasn't like he's never met great smelling people before. It wasn't uncommon for a nice scent to be a pleasant surprise.

What was weird was how he could feel his heart thumping in his chest.

You come pay for your things and you give him a pleasant smile, grateful that you live nearby a 24/7 convenience store. You tell him as much and thank him for working here so you were able to buy things.

He drinks in your every word like water and gives you every ounce of his attention. It isn't till you leave that he starts to breathe "normally" again. Which was when he realized just how gray his world was compared to those fleeting moments with you.

Eternally grateful when he figures out you're a regular, and he takes note when you explain what days you'd show up. Then you throw off his schedule by coming in on an off day, where he was prepared for it to be bland.

It's the first time you see him smile, albeit through a mask, and you tell him how cute his eyes are when they crinkle like that. He replays those words constantly.

You also notice how he's wearing a scent patch that day. You ask him why since he's not usually wearing one. He makes up the excuse that his heat was coming up, signaling to you that he was an omega if you hadn't already noticed. It's actually because he purposely doesn't use them on days you show up in hopes that you might find his own scent pleasant.

You reveal to him that you'd actually been getting over a cold and that you couldn't smell anything until today when it finally cleared up a decent chunk. You ask politely if you could smell him, telling him you'd understand if he refused since his heat was allegedly coming up.

He rips the thing off instantly.

You wince at how fast it happened and lightly tap the spot that the patch was ripped off of with two fingers. His hand grips the counter so hard as he tries to stay still.

When you lean in and get a whiff of him he is bombarded with you and it's the most emotion he's felt in years. Shaken to the core, he is stockstill.

When you finally pull back you thank him for indulging your curiosity (no, thank you) and note how pleasant his smell was. Grateful he's wearing his mask to hide his red blush (though mad because he didn't get to inhale your scent directly). You explain to him how before your cold you have an amazing sense of smell, and that most people are too overpowering. You tell him how he's refreshing compared to the rest and that it's a shame he had to cover it up today.

When you go back to shopping and come back to pay, he scrambles to go get you a bunch of freebies, piling them into your shopping bag.

Can't stand not being around you anymore so he figures out where you live and bumps into you on "accident" many times.

Hides the fact that he didn't have his heat that time so you don't figure out he lied to you, which isn't hard considering that you weren't paying as much attention to him as he was you.

When he finally hits his next heat it's the most intense one he's ever felt. He didn't think it was possible and he's a crumpled mess in the walls of his home, furiously getting off at the thought of you claiming him.

The next time he sees you is after this heat and it's like when a thirsty man sees an oasis.

Makes it his goal to spend his next heat with you. However that works out.

https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1806920

#sub!yandere #dom!reader #dom reader #oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #Hwang Minsu #omegaverse #nightshift!yandere #sub yandere

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eddieschains · 5 months

Text

Drift

TW// slight mentions of abandonment issues if you look closely, not proofread, fluff

Eddie was always a night owl. At least that’s what he told himself to make him feel better. But you knew it was more than that. Once the sun went down and he was left alone with his thoughts, they ran all around his head and wouldn’t stop.

He tried his hardest to sleep at a decent time, but he had given up years ago. Most of the time, he wasn’t able to drift off until Wayne got home. And considering he didn’t get home until about 3am, that was definitely a problem. But something about just knowing someone was there with him was enough to let himself drift off into the safety that was sleep.

You took notice immediately when you started dating. You would wake up in the middle of the night to get a drink or use the bathroom, and he’d still be awake. He always said he had woke up in the middle of the night too, but you knew that was a lie.

You tried to give him ways to help him sleep like humming his favorite songs over the phone at night, telling him to watch some boring cable movie, drinking sleepy time tea, and none of it worked. You hated seeing him so awfully tired in the morning, his eyes bloodshot and puffy from lack of relaxation. You just wanted him to be happy and healthy in every way possible.

Wayne had to go away on a work trip, leaving Eddie alone in the trailer at night. You knew that meant he wouldn’t be sleeping at all. You took it upon yourself to come over, at least for a few hours of the night to help hopefully soothe him to sleep before sneaking back home before your parents noticed you were gone.

You were both sat on the couch, holding each other under the blankets as you watched whatever late night show you landed on while channel surfing. You rested your head on his shoulder, looking up at him to see if there were signs of exhaustion yet.

“Feeling sleepy yet?” You ask quietly, rubbing your thumb over his wrist. He looks down at you with a soft smile, shaking his head and kissing the top of yours.

“No. But it’s okay, sweetheart. You know I don’t sleep until late.” He holds you closer to him, squeezing you a little bit tighter.

“Yeah, but then you wake up more tired than you should be.” You frown. “And Wayne is gone… I just don’t want you to be a walking zombie in the morning.”

“Honey, I’m a walking zombie every morning.” He chuckles, placing another kiss to your forehead. “Plus, you’ll be leaving soon too. Even if I fell asleep right now, you know i’d wake up eventually when I realize i’m alone.”

You sigh. You knew Eddie had a problem with being alone, and that it contributed to his sleeping problems. He just needed someone there with him to make him feel safe.

You decided that whatever trouble you would get in with your parents for not coming home was worth being able to take care of Eddie. You wiggle out of his grip and stand up, holding your hand out for his.

“C’mon. I have an idea.” You smile as he looks at you with furrowed brows. He grabs your hand and stands up with you, allowing you to lead him to his room.

You grab one of his favourite books, The Hobbit, and take a seat on his bed, patting the mattress to tell him to sit next to you.

He takes a seat next to you, pushing the hair out of your face and kissing your cheek. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Gonna read to you.” You say as if he should’ve already known. “M’not leaving until you fall asleep.”

“But your moms gonna get mad at you.” He answers concerningly, continuing to kiss your cheek down to your shoulder.

“Let her be. My boyfriend needs me.” You smile and turn to kiss him softly. “Now c’mere.” You pat your lap as he moves to lay his head in it.

You comb his hair out of his face with your fingers, massaging his scalp lightly as you open up the book.

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit…”

You continue reading before you start feeling tired yourself. Your yawns interrupting your reading, so you set the book down on the bedside table and play with Eddie’s hair some more.

You look down to see his eyes are closed, his breathing is steady and there’s a slight snore coming from him. You giggle to yourself and kiss the top of his head before pulling a blanket over the both of you, drifting off into sleep with him.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

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asa-do-your-thing · 3 days

Text

Among the ferns

18+ MINORS DNI Halsin x F!Reader 2.6k Warnings: SMUT, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, size kink, fluffy smut as always no proofreading no nothing this is for you bby :3 @foxyanon

As the night grew colder, your companions retired to bed one by one. All except for Halsin, who had made a promise to stay up with you. He didn't mind avoiding Lae'zel's loud snoring; he preferred talking with you anyways, and sleep wasn't coming easy for him this night.

“Tav, may I ask you something?” he asked gently, looking down at you with a small smile. The full moon illuminated the small clearing in the woods where you had set up camp and a soft breeze played with the undergrowth.

The fire that had once crackled and danced with life was now reduced to glowing embers, casting a warm, orange glow on Halsin's face. His eyes twinkled with curiosity and earnest sincerity, making them as captivating as the night sky above.

"Well, Halsin," you responded, cradling your cup of warm cider between your hands. "You can ask me anything." Your tone was light, playful even. This was not the first intimate conversation you’ve had with him, nor would it be the last.

His brow furrowed slightly under his tousled locks. "It's just..." he hesitated, looking slightly unsure of how to phrase what was on his mind.

You chuckled lightly to yourself, finding his uncharacteristic shyness amusing considering that he was normally so confident and outspoken. With his muscled frame and towering height, he was often mistaken for a brute by those unacquainted with him. But you knew better than most that there was a lot more to him than met the eye.

"Why have you never spoken about your romantic partners before?" he finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. A breeze rustled through the leaves overhead, adding a symphony of soft whispers to the stillness of the night.

A hush fell over you both as you considered his question. The forest around you teemed with life – crickets chirping in the underbrush, an owl hooting in the distance – yet all sound seemed distant as you pondered your answer.

"Truthfully?" You start, shifting your gaze from the dying fire up into the night sky, blushing gently. "I suppose that is because I've never… had a romantic partner before.”

The revelation hung in the air, ungraspable as moonlight. Halsin took a moment to truly absorb your words. His head tilted slightly, the glow of curiosity was now replaced with surprise. "You mean…" he stumbled over his words, a rare occurrence for him indeed, "You've never…?" He didn't need to spell it out; his meaning was clear.

You found yourself shaking your head in confirmation, your cheeks heating up. The confession had left you feeling lighter somehow, liberated even.

"I know it's unusual," you admitted, your fingers idly tracing the edge of your cider cup. The warm ceramic felt grounding against your skin amidst the otherwise ethereal atmosphere of the night.

Halsin, still overwhelmed by the revelation, defaulted to silence as he stared at you with intense concentration, as if trying to understand an enigma. His gaze seemed to penetrate beyond your skin through to the very essence of who you were. It was a gaze that could make anyone feel seen for perhaps the first time in their life.

The silence lingered but didn't feel oppressive; instead, it held a certain comforting intimacy that carried an odd tranquillity with it. Perhaps it was due to understanding that sometimes words were superfluous and that silence spoke volumes more than any spoken language ever could.

Finally, as if breaking free from a trance, Halsin shifted his gaze away from yours and stared into the almost extinguished fire. His fingers absent-mindedly picked up a stick and prodded at the glowing coals – it seemed like he wished to say something, but held himself back out of respect.

“Halsin, I… Look, it’s not like I have no desire for… it, it’s just that no-one ever, uh… invited me for…,” you stammered out and looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

"I see," he finally answered, his voice just above a whisper and filled with an understanding that you hadn't expected. He looked back at you, the light from the dying fire dancing in his eyes. “Well, under any other circumstance…” he trailed off, looking at you with a softness you hadn’t seen before.

His gaze held yours as he continued, “I would have invited you for...” he paused as if searching for the right words, “a quick, intimate encounter.”

Your cheeks heated up further at his admission. The mere thought of it sent a jolt through your body, making your heart flutter.

"But," he quickly added, seeing your reaction, "given what you've revealed... I think I would be entirely satisfied sharing just an innocent cuddle." His words settled over your ears like a soothing balm, calming your anxious thoughts.

It was a simple offer — one of warmth and companionship without any expectation or pressure.

You felt a burst of adoration and gratitude for him. It was as if Halsin was offering to meet you at your pace, to hold space for you in a world that often demanded too much too soon. He understood, perhaps better than anyone else ever could.

“Halsin…” You couldn’t help the soft smile that graced your lips. The tension that had been building dissipated into the cool night air.

He smiled back at you then – not his usual mischievous grin but something far more genuine and tender.

Together, you sat in silence once more, the crackling embers providing a warm glow to your faces.

“Actually, I… uhm… wouldyouliketoteachme?”, you pressed out and immediately looked away, afraid that he would reject you.

“I mean, everyone’s asleep, you know this forest well, you are a gentle man and as far as I know you you are a very good teacher and I’ve liked you for so long and you’re good looking…,” you rambled, sure that your cheeks couldn’t heat up even more than they did in that moment.

Halsin blinked, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Then he laughed, a rich and warm sound that echoed softly in the quiet of the night. “Easy,” he said, his voice gentle yet laced with amusement, effectively cutting through your rambling. His gaze softened even further as he reached over and took your hand into his.

"Thank you for the compliments," he said, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles. His touch felt like a spark in the darkness, both startling and comforting at the same time. "And for trusting me enough to ask."

There was an earnest sincerity in his eyes that made you feel seen – really seen – for perhaps the first time in your life. It was as if he truly understood the depth of what you’d asked him. That he grasped how much courage it must have taken you to let down your walls and bare a part of yourself you’d kept hidden away for so long.

The silence that followed was pregnant with anticipation, each moment stretching on as you waited with bated breath for his response.

“Alright,” Halsin finally said, breaking the silence. His tone was somber now, filled with a level of gravity that reflected just how seriously he was taking your request.

“If this is what you want... If it’s something that feels right for you…” He paused to give you one last chance to change your mind. However, seeing no hesitation in your eyes, he simply nodded and continued, “Then yes, I’d be honored.”

A sense of relief washed over you at his words. It was as if a weight had been lifted off your chest - a wide smile spread over your cheeks and you hugged him, losing yourself in his warmth and scent.

Gently, he cradled your head against his shoulder, the rhythm of his heart a soothing lullaby as you relished in this newfound intimacy. It wasn't long before he scooped you up into his arms, rising from the bed of moss and ferns to carry you further into the forest. Your heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as pine needles rustled beneath his feet, creating a symphony with the nocturnal creatures singing their songs.

The forest that had seemed so intimidating before now felt like a safe sanctuary under Halsin's guidance. He deftly navigated through the complex labyrinth of towering trees, guiding you through dappled moonlight that slipped through the rustling canopy above.

Eventually, he came to halt in a hidden glade awash with soft silver light. It was an enchanting spectacle - fireflies danced in the air while a gentle brook murmured in the distance, providing a harmonious backdrop to this still moment. Here, beneath the vast expanse of stars, Halsin laid you down gently on another bed made of moss and ferns.

Halsin hesitated for just a moment before beginning to remove his clothing, piece by piece. His movements were unhurried and deliberate, affording you enough time to adjust to each new revelation of skin and muscle underneath. He was beautiful in all senses of the word – not just physically but in his vulnerability too.

Once he stood undressed before you, it was his turn to ask for permission. His voice was low as he asked, "May I?" His respect for your comfort evident in that simple question.

“Y-yes, you may,” you muttered and gasped as you felt his hands working on the laces of your dress and the feeling of his lips on the nape of your neck. “You may do anything you wish, as long as you… are gentle,” you whispered, drawing in a big breath as he bared your breasts, gently tracing his hands over the gentle curves.

"Yes," he murmured against your skin, "always gentle." His voice was a soothing rumble that reverberated through you, making your heart flutter in response. His hands were warm against your cool skin, his touch so tender and careful it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

He guided you to recline on the mossy bed, his strong hands supporting your back as you did so. The moss was surprisingly soft underneath you, nature's own cushioned bedding. Halsin continued to worship your body with his hands and mouth, his every touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You gasped as he traced kisses down your neck, over the valley between your breasts, and then lower still.

You gasped and blushed at the sensation and bit your lip as you felt his big finger gently slipping between your wet folds. Gods, it felt so good, and the longer you looked at him pleasuring you through half-closed eyes, you felt your inner fire burning hotter and hotter. Everything about him drove you wild. From the way he loomed over you, to his strong, yet gentle hold on you, not to mention the way he caressed you - it drove you to the brink of insanity.

“Let go, my love… moan for me, my sweet thing… let nature hear your call…,” he muttered, alternating between rubbing your pearl, licking and kissing it gently.

Gasping, you struggled to breathe as the pleasure coursed through you like wildfire. You'd never felt anything like this, and it was all too much and not nearly enough at the same time. His touch was electric, igniting every nerve ending in your body and sending sparks of ecstasy ricocheting along your spine. Moans tumbled unbidden from your lips, mingling with the chorus of the forest around you.

"Halsin," you whimpered, arching your back off the cushiony moss beneath you. "Oh gods, Halsin... it feels... it feels..." Words failed to do justice to the sensations he evoked within you.

He chuckled against your damp core, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. "That's it, darling. Let it out. I want to hear every little sound that escapes those pretty lips of yours."

Emboldened by his words, you did just that - moaning louder as he continued his ministrations. His tongue flicked and swirled over your most sensitive spots, teasing and taunting you until you thought you might combust from the aching need building within. Every stroke of his tongue or caress of his fingers seemed to send you higher and higher still, until you were certain your heart would beat right out of your chest.

"Halsin... Halsin... I... I'm..." You panted, but could not finish your sentence, as a huge wave of pleasure crashed over you. You cried out in unadulterated bliss as your body shuddered and arched beneath his touch. Halsin continued to caress and kiss you, milking every last shudder and gasp from your body until at last, your cries subsided into satisfied pants.

“You did perfect. Now… are you ready for me? Or should I let you rest?”, he asked sweetly, pulling himself out from between your thighs and up to you.

It felt like you were dreaming - and could do nothing else but to shake your head and hold your chest, gazing wantonly up at him. “No, no rest, I… I need you, I want you, but… are you sure that it is going to fit?”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Oh, my love, I've imagined this moment for so long... and I assure you, I will fit. Just…” He leaned in to replace his words with a fiery kiss, his tongue teasing yours as he gently slipped his hardness between your wet folds.

It felt like he was right - it stung for a second, but it was a perfect fit, and he filled you up completely as he entered you inch by inch, stretching you to the limit, even though he was still holding back from plunging completely into you. "Feel how perfect we fit together?", he whispered into your ear, gently kissing the top of your head.

"Y-yes," you panted, arching your hips against his. "Halsin... please... don't stop." You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him onward.

He obliged, slowly and steadily, surging into your depths as if he had all the time in the world. The sensation was unlike anything you'd ever experienced - a delicious friction of stretching and heat that bordered on pain but was oh so exquisite. His every movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through you anew, his length hitting places inside you that had never known such stimulation before.

As he rocked his hips against yours, a primal, animalistic growl escaped his lips, and his grip on your hips tightened just enough to leave marks. You didn't mind, though - if anything, it spurred you on further. Your hands tangled in the moss beneath you, nails clawing at the ground as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

"You feel so good... so tight... around me," Halsin groaned between gasps, the pace of his thrusts increasing marginally with each breathy moan that escaped your lips. "I... I've wanted this... for so long... You, bouncing under me… in the woods…"

The way he spoke to you - so guttural and raw - was enough to send you over the edge a second time. Your climax washed over you like a tidal wave, hot and consuming, leaving you reeling in its wake. "Halsin!" You cried out his name as your body clenched around him, contracting around his hardness and milking him for all he was worth.

"Gods...," he panted, his thrusts growing erratic as he too lost control. "I... I can't... much more... So tight…"

With one final, earth-shattering thrust, he stilled inside you, his essence welcomed within your depths as you both shuddered through the climax together. Halsin collapsed atop you, his breathing ragged in your ear.

"That…" He finally managed between breaths. "Was… better… than I ever imagined."

You smiled up at him, your insides still convulsing and hugged him tight, not minding that he squished you under his large, shuddering body. “You’re… you’re a good teacher. The best.”

#asas fics #halsin #halsin smut #halsin fluff #halsin bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction

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cryptomiracle · 4 months

Text

what type of lover is sam winchester?

sam winchester x reader (fluff headcanons)

"Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Now this is an open-shut case

Guess I should've known from the look on your face

Every bait and switch was a work of art"

-willow by taylor swift

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WARNING(S)

I'm just on season 14 atm, but I took a break from watching it to focus on other things, so I apologize if his character is inaccurate.

gender neutral reader

this is my first time writing for supernatural, please be understanding of this

This is kinda short

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psychical touch

he's not very big on PDA, other than hand holding or a simple little peck on the cheek/hand every now and then.. but in private? this man cannot get enough.

If you're a night owl, he's the type to sit on the couch with his head laying on your lap at like 2 am, trying to fight off sleepiness just so he can be with you. when you two sleep together, he pulls you as close as humanly possible and sleeps with his face in the crook of your neck.

he's constantly showering you with kisses on your nose, on your mouth, on your cheeks, on your hand, you name it.

He's the type to kiss you goodbye, then pull you back into another kiss, and then another, and then another, until you have to psychically pull yourself away from him.

Sometimes when he gets spooked he'll involuntarily grab your hand.

Now don't get me wrong, he enjoys when you give him the same energy, he loves for you to comb your fingers through his hair, or when you wrap your arms around his arm when you two are walking around (it doesn't matter where you're going)

if you were to randomly walk up to him and hug him, he would literally melt into you, he would do all he could to prolong the hug as much as possible, just to stay in your embrace.

When you two are cuddling, he's a little spoon (I will die on this hill.)

love language

words of affirmation

This man is a poet when it comes to you, he will wake up in the morning and just start telling you the sweetest things you have ever heard.

he will quite literally have you swooning over him, and he means every bit of what he says.

Although I wouldn't call him an insecure person, you would have to return the favor, even if it's just little confirmation that you still love him.

He's constantly worried that his line of work would cause you to get hurt, or worse.. so you would have to remind him that you don't have any second thoughts, that you can take care of yourself and that you don't want to be with anyone else.

acts of service

He loves doing things for you, whether it's carrying your bags, or running you a bath.

he'll do things without you even having to ask.

if you show any interest in something in a store, consider it yours.

Quality time

hes fine with going out to a nice restaurant, but he's also okay with just having a homemade dinner with you. He's happy as long as he gets to spend time with you.

He's an okay cook. but he likes to cook with you, it's his favorite way to spend quality time with you

Sometimes though, he would rather go to a restaurant he enjoys seeing you get all dolled up, it makes his heart melt.

When y'all first started dating, he definitely had to ask dean for date ideas, but once y'all finally got fully secure in your relationship, he'd just ask you what you wanted to do.

He enjoys sitting at home and reading with you, or doing research on whatever case him and dean are working on at the moment.

He greatly appreciates if you help him with his research as well, if you were to find something before him, he'd compliment you and tell you how smart you were, & how much of a help you were to him.

He's just a little sweetie pie

(I love him so much YALL DON'T EVEN KNOWW)

fights

Honestly, fights with him aren't that bad.

He will let you vent out all of your emotions, but if he thinks you're being irrational he will let you know.

He does have a habit of storming into another room, or going quiet whenever he feels himself get genuinely angry, mainly because he doesn't wanna yell/blow up at you.

After he cools down, he will attempt to resolve whatever it was that caused the fight to begin with.

Oftentimes, he will try to avoid conflict with you all together.

I can just imagine the two of you fighting in front of dean and Castiel, and them just standing there like "🧍🏼‍♂️👀"

If it's a really bad fight, he'll need a little moment alone to settle down.

jealousy

imma give him a 4.5/10 on the jealousy scale.

He's secure enough in himself, and your relationship to where he doesn't feel jealous over little things.

but if somebody tests it, he will let it be known that you're his.

Like, if a cashier at a store were to flirt with you, despite him being right next to you he'll shoot them a confused yet humored look while sneaking his hand around your waist & pulling you closer.

what kind of lover is sam winchester?

overall, sam winchester is such a great lover his love is so bittersweet, kind, patient, and understanding. He's such a sweetheart ♡

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #supernatural #gender neutral reader #tags for reach #cutie patootie #sam winchester x you #fluff #supernatural fluff #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x y/n

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lex-hj0519 · 8 months

Text

My priority is to ensure your safety

I often see Sirius positioned as the irresponsible godfather who "constantly" encouraged Harry to break rules, be reckless, and get into trouble. But when you look at the bigger picture and look at all of his interactions with Harry, that's far from the real story.

The times Sirius told Harry to be careful, to not be reckless, and/or to keep his head down and stay out of trouble:

Nice try, Harry. I’m back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that’s going on at Hogwarts. Don’t use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don’t worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don’t forget what I said about your scar.

Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual.

Don’t get complacent, though, Harry. You’ve only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament’s got plenty more opportunity if they’re trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open — particularly when the person we discussed is around — and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble. Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual.

“Now listen . . .” He looked particularly hard at Harry. “I don’t want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you’re not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you.”

Harry — what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed. Your name didn’t get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone’s trying to attack you, they’re on their last chance. Stay close to Ron and Hermione, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn’t go amiss either. There’s nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I’m waiting for your letter giving me your word you won’t stray out-of-bounds again.

If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, he wrote, my priority is to ensure your safety. He cannot hope to lay hands on you while you are under Dumbledore’s protection, but all the same, take no risks: Concentrate on getting through that maze safely, and then we can turn our attention to other matters.

Sirius, at least, seemed to understand how Harry was feeling; admittedly his letters were just as empty of proper news as Ron and Hermione’s, but at least they contained words of caution and consolation instead of tantalizing hints: “I know this must be frustrating for you…” “Keep your nose clean and everything will be okay…” “Be careful and don’t do anything rash…”

Arthur’s just told us what’s happened. Don’t leave the house again, whatever you do.

“Don’t lose your temper,” said Sirius abruptly. “Be polite and stick to the facts.”

versus

The times Sirius encouraged something that could be considered reckless (at least one of which was for justifiable reasons, in my opinion):

“When’s your next Hogsmeade weekend anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn’t we? I thought I could —”

[Re: the DA] “But — last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks —” “Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!” said Sirius impatiently. “This year we know that there’s someone outside Hogwarts who’d like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!”

Sirius spent far, far more time encouraging Harry to be on the watch, stay out of trouble, and not be reckless than he spent time encouraging Harry to be reckless and break rules. Harry's safety was his priority, and it shows in all of his letters to Harry. I'm so tired of seeing him judged entirely on one interaction (when he wanted to visit Harry in Hogsmeade in OOTP) rather than on the full scope of all of his interactions with Harry.

#sirius black #good godfather sirius black

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ohthewh0rror · 6 months

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BREATHTAKING.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — Will a small act of jealousy lead to an accidental confession of feelings?

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Word Count: 800

You had just made your way out the door of Arithmancy, planning to head straight to the library. Your Arithmancy grade was finally back at an A, thanks to the help of Tom, and you planned to meet him at the library at your usual spot. You weren’t sure how you managed to get Tom to help you with Arithmancy, but you were forever grateful. Without him you would be making an ‘N’, and grades aside, you gained a friend.

At least, you think he considered you a friend too. You doubt he’d ever admit it, but his actions alone told you he was at least fond of you. From the way he waited for you at your spot in the library every monday and wednesday evening, how he willingly partnered himself with you in Potions, and the occasional late night owl asking you about your day.

You managed to make it just outside the library doors when you heard a masculine voice call from behind you, “Y/N! Wait!”. You stopped in your tracks, whipping around to see who had called out to you. You didn’t recognize him at first, but as the boy got closer, it hit you that it was Wardell, the Hufflepuff that was seated next you in DADA. He came to a stop in front of you, slightly out of breath, seemingly having jogged to you in hopes of not losing you in the crowd.

“I know you’re busy, but I wanted to ask you—” Wardell was cut off by the chilling tone of a certain Slytherin making his way to you from the opposite direction, “she’s busy.” The look on Wardell’s face told you he was conflicted, because as much as he needed to speak to you, Tom Riddle was not someone you wanted to cross. Tom and his ‘friends’ were people who could easily make his life hell.

You gave Wardell an apologetic smile as Tom came to stand behind you. You could smell the faint scent of his cologne as his chest brushed against your shoulder, his hand coming up to rest on the small of your back. “Its okay, Tom, what did you need, Wardell?” You asked, taking pity on the boy. You weren’t sure what Wardell saw in Tom’s eyes, but as the boys eyes darted from yours to Tom’s you saw him clam up even more. “Forget it,” he gave a slight shake of his head, “I’ll just see you in class tomorrow.”

You watched Wardell walk back into the dwindling crowd before you turned to face Tom. It only took a second of observing the look on his face, and though you’d never seen the look on Tom himself, it was still a familiar gaze nonetheless.

“You’re jealous,” you said, crossing your arms and staring at him incredulously. The fact that Tom was able to even experience the feeling of jealousy was enough to make you want to laugh.

“And you’re delusional,” he could try to deny what you said, and you might have even believed it 7 months ago, but you knew him better than that. The look in Tom’s eyes told you that if given the chance, that poor boy wouldn’t live to see tomorrow. Giving a small roll of your eyes, you turned and made your way into the library, Tom falling into place right beside you as the two of you made your way towards your usual spot.

You threw your tote on the table, “you know, you could at least try to look a little less murderous when another guy talks to me?”. Tom elected to ignore you as he took his seat opposite of you, laying out his parchment and quill. As you stared at him, waiting for him to speak to you, you watched him set his things on the table. It wasn’t every day you sat and observed Tom, but you were always waiting on the chance to do so. Because, as intimidating as he was, you couldn’t deny that Tom was extremely handsome. Finally, Tom looked at you, his eyes catching yours. The look of anger had since faded from his eyes, “stop staring; it’s rude.”

Your face grew hot with mild embarrassment, “I can’t help but stare at you because you’re just so…” you trailed off. You were trying to salvage your pride, but now you’ve just dug yourself a deeper hole. “So?” He asked, his interest seemed to be piqued as he gave you his undivided attention. You thought about pulling the silent treatment on him like he did to you, but you knew he wouldn’t let you drop it. He would poke and prod until he got the answer out of you.

“Handsome. You’re handsome.” You confessed. You're sure that this was far from the first compliment he got from a girl, but it was still satisfying to see the faintest hint of a blush on his face. He held your gaze for a few seconds longer before looking away, clearing throat, “I don’t have time for this, open to chapter 16.”

You felt a smile tug at your lips, feeling mildly proud of yourself; you actually managed to fluster Tom Riddle.

You deserved a medal, truly.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine

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toournextadventure · 1 year

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everyone but her pt.17

Summary: You're spending the first month of summer with the Addamses, which Wednesday initially loved until you started a war that you couldn't finish. Maybe you were officially indoctrinated into the Addams family? There's no time like the present.

Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: Addams Family-esque violence (in pranks, no one is harmed!), internal guilt, swearing, making out, suggestive themes Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @n0p35 @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @asters-abditory @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn

“Where is he?” You asked for the 21st time in the past five minutes.

“A watched pot never boils,” Wednesday said as her fingers turned the page of her current novel.

“I’m not watching a pot,” you mumbled, “I’m watching for my best friend Lurch.”

From her spot at her desk, Wednesday finally dared to look up in your direction. You were practically leaning halfway over the balcony, your wings flapping every now and then to lift your feet before placing you back on the ground. You were both waiting impatiently for her family’s car to pull up. All the bags were packed, your family had already given their okay for the month-long stay, and now it was simply a waiting game.

If Wednesday had a dollar for every time you had mentioned Lurch during the last few days of the school year, she would have been able to single-handedly pay for your college tuition. Not that you were going, she thought with a frown that, thankfully, no one could see.

“He’s never gonna get here,” you grumbled again, your wings drooping along with your shoulders.

“Why are you so eager to see Lurch?” Wednesday asked. She finally closed her book and put it aside right as you turned around with the biggest smile on your face.

“I just think he’s neat,” you said.

“I was under the impression that you wanted to fight him,” she said with a tilt of her head.

“Oh I do.” Your smile dropped and you turned deathly serious. “He’s my mortal enemy,” you said with a nod of your head. “And I am going to beat him this time.”

She said nothing, just raised a single brow at you which in turn caused your smile to come back. It was fleeting, however, as you quickly turned to look back over the balcony to watch for the signature Addams family car. You looked childish standing there in your shorts and too-big t-shirt, genuine excitement on your face. The sight brought those spiders back to her stomach, something she hadn’t felt in a while.

But they turned vicious when she started to consider the implications of your eagerness for her family to appear. You hadn’t explained much to her, but she knew your biological parents weren’t necessarily part of the picture. When was the last time someone had picked you up from Nevermore? Her own family not included, when had someone last come to take you home?

"They're here!" You shouted, drawing Wednesday out of her own thoughts.

She didn't even have the chance to breathe before you vaulted yourself over the balcony. Her heart nearly ripped itself out of her chest before she could remind it that you had wings. That didn't stop her from running to the railing to make sure. Just in case.

You were already saying your hellos to everyone as Lurch made his way inside. It wouldn't take him long to get up to her dorm, but it still gave Wednesday plenty of time to watch you interact with her family. There was a twisting feeling in Wednesday's stomach at how physical you were with everyone. A hand on Pugsley's shoulder, allowing her father to hug you, leaning into her mother's touch on your cheek. You certainly weren't usually that physical with her.

The door opened behind her and she quickly pushed that thought down. Lurch nodded at her once before grabbing the luggage, following her out and downstairs to where you all were waiting. She didn't miss the way your smile softened when you met her eyes.

Pugsley and her father gave her their usual hugs - she wouldn't admit it was a welcome gesture - while Lurch put the luggage in the back of the car. Everyone's voices carried across the air, riding only on the occasional sound of your wings ruffling.

"Aren't you coming?" Wednesday asked when you scuffed your feet in the dirt. Everyone else was already situated in the car.

"I- I can't," you said as your fingers played with the hem of your shirt. "It's too soon."

Too soon. Wednesday didn't need to ask what you meant; your birthday was only a week ago. It was still a new piece of information to her, something she hadn't yet incorporated into preparations. She berated herself for not considering it sooner. There were plenty of other ways to get back home, yet she hadn't even attempted to think of any.

"I'll be good," you said with a slight upturn of your lips. "I'll fly overhead."

"Are you sure?" Wednesday asked. Please just get in the car.

"Yeah," you shrugged, "I could use the exercise." A real smile quickly replaced the uncertain one. "I'll even race you."

"You'll exhaust yourself and plummet to the ground," she answered quickly. “And you’ll still lose.”

“I think you’re just scared, Addams,” you taunted, leaning down to be on even eye-level with her. It was demeaning.

She loved it.

“If you leave now,” she said with a glare in her eyes, “you can have a 30 second head start.”

“I expect a reward when I win,” you said with a cocky smirk that, if it had been from anyone else, would have made Wednesday nauseous. And not in a good way.

You made up for it with a wink that very much made her nauseous. In a good way.

The muscles in your legs tensed before you launched yourself into the air with a powerful push of your wings. Without getting the chance to brace herself, Wednesday shamefully felt herself stumble back a step, her eyes blinking frantically to clear the dirt from around her. You were already nothing more than a speck in the sky when she managed to look up.

The race was on.

It was a long car trip, which was to be expected, but what made it all the more torturous were her parents' incessant questions. Didn't they know she was anxiously watching the sky, trying to find you to know you were safe? There was nothing to inform them of, they had talked only last week. Quite frankly, Wednesday believed it was the longest car ride of her life.

You were leaning against the front door frame with grandmama beside you when they finally pulled up to the house. Wednesday could see the sweat still dripping down your face and the pitiful attempt to keep your eyes open. All defiance was wiped from your posture as your shoulders and wings drooped pathetically.

Yet, she would admit, you had beat them to the house.

“Well, well, well,” you spoke slowly once Wednesday finally walked up the porch stairs, “look who finally decided to show up.”

“You need a bath,” she said without bothering to look at you for too long. She didn’t want you to notice that she had missed you.

“Not until I’m done gloating,” you said, “Grandmama even congratulated me for my speed and skill."

"Unlikely," Wednesday said, brushing past you as she entered the house. You followed behind her like a puppy.

"She did," you argued, "we're actually best friends now."

"You've gloated enough," she said, stopping herself short and feeling you walk into her because, as expected, you weren't paying full attention. "Go bathe."

"Do I get my winner's prize afterwards?" You asked. She didn't have to turn around to know you were smiling.

"You can find that out after you stop smelling."

The speed at which you ran to your bathroom was impressive, Wednesday wouldn't lie. It was almost worthy of a smile, but she settled for a soft exhale. You were acting rather childish and you hadn't even been at the house for more than an hour. What was it about this trip that was clearly easing your nerves?

"The gift is on her bedside table," her mother said once you were far out of hearing range.

“Excellent,” Wednesday said before walking off to her room. She was more than happy to use your absence as the perfect time to unpack.

Once you got out of the bath, you stood in the middle of the bathroom and huffed. It was times like this where you wished Wednesday - or any of the Addamses for that matter - used technology. Your wings were soaked to the bone, your hair was dripping down your spine (which tickled), and you just wanted to blow it all dry so you could be warm again. Was that really too much to ask?

Yes. Yes it was.

You shook viciously, your feet lifting off the slick ground for a moment. It took a few more shakes before your wings felt a little lighter, a little too fluffy again, but at least they were (mostly) dry. Much better, you thought as you wrapped one towel around your waist and used another to dry your hair. Sure, it would look funny later in the day, but that was a future-you problem.

All of your bags were already in your room by the time you stepped out of the bathroom. It was easy to dig through and find some comfy clothes, and you got dressed quickly, struggling to pull your shirt on and fit your wings through their respective slots. You might have bumped into a few things in the process, but that was alright; at least nothing broke, right?

The dresser drawer slid shut, signaling your completion of unpacking. With a satisfied grin, you looked around the room, just to double check. But your eyes landed on a small box sitting on the bedside table. A box that you hadn’t brought with you.

A black box.

Hesitantly, you walked over to the bedside table and looked down. It had a small black bow wrapped around it and was resting on top of a card. You grabbed the box first, carefully untying the bow and lifting the lid. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. The brilliance of the crystal inside was what caught your eyes first as you picked it up with shaking fingers.

A simple black crystal pendant hung from a golden chain. The crystal itself was smooth and cold to the touch, and you could almost see your reflection in it if you turned it just right. It was heavy when it swung from between your fingers, almost hypnotising in its pattern.

Your chest hurt at how expensive it looked.

You gently placed the pendant back in the box and set it aside to pick up the card and read the cover; One year closer to the sweet release of death. Pretty on point for the Addams. Rough fingers flipped the card open but froze when something fell out onto the desk.

Your head tilted to the left as you reached for it, reading the words on the card first: Happy first Addams birthday. Birthday. That prickling pain settled in the back of your head again, and you shook your head to try and physically get rid of it. It didn’t work.

“If you loved me, you would take me hiking for my birthday,” you said to Nicky as soon as you found him after class.

“You’re so demanding,” he huffed, but you could see the smile. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself with another shake of your head.

It’s a sweet gesture, the voice in your head said. You knew it was a sweet gesture; painfully aware of it, in fact. A sigh left your lips as you put the card down and looked at the other item in your hand. It took a few seconds of staring at it, your eyes blinking excessively, before you could actually comprehend what it was.

A check. It was a check. An empty check signed “Gomez Addams” on the bottom right corner. An empty check addressed to you and the memo line stating: Medical Expenses.

Once you were aware of the burn in your lungs, you let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t known you were holding. A million thoughts were running through your head, none of them good. Your eyes screwed shut as they echoed in your mind, getting louder and louder.

Another debt to repay?

You could repay it. You knew you could.

You’ve become a burden to yet another person.

No, they were nice, you weren’t a burden. Were you?

That pain in the back of your head grew, quickly turning into a migraine that you knew would make you sick. The strain of your clenched jaw certainly wasn’t doing you any favours either. Fuck, why would they do this? No, why would Wednesday do this? She knew better, she fucking knew better.

With a groan, you grabbed the check and amulet and walked downstairs. You didn’t know where anyone was, but you could find them easily enough. The size of the mansion was infuriating when you were looking for someone, you realised. It was far easier to find someone when there were only a handful of rooms.

You found Morticia and Gomez alone in the greenhouse. Thankfully they were clothed.

“Ah,” Gomez exclaimed when he saw you enter the greenhouse, “you found the gifts!”

“Shall I help you put it on?” Morticia asked, indicating the pendant with her eyes.

Please take them back.

“I- that- that’s actually what- what I- what I wanted to- to talk to you about,” you stuttered. Only imbeciles stutter, stop it.

“Sit, please,” Gomez said, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. You promptly sat, your back straight and both gifts laid bare on the table. “Do you not like them?”

“No!” You shouted a bit too loud, a bit too fast. “No, that’s- that’s not it.” You cleared your throat. “It’s- it- it’s stunning,” your eyes darted away from the check, “and generous.”

“Then where does the problem lie, little bird?” He asked, leaning back in his chair. Morticia had now joined him on the other side of the table, her hand resting on his shoulder.

Well now it just felt like an interrogation.

“I can’t accept them,” you said without meeting their eyes. “I could never repay you.”

“Darling, they’re gifts,” Morticia said, “not something to be repaid.”

I have to repay you, you thought. I have to. How could you explain to them that they were wrong? Nothing is free even if it’s a gift. Everything comes with a price. School, gifts, love. It all comes with a price, and if they were serious about that damn check, you would never be able to erase that debt.

“I could never repay you,” you repeated.

They were silent, and that was almost worse than their attempt to get you to reconsider. They needed to say something; they needed to talk so you could move on and get off this horrid topic.

The migraine grew worse.

“How about a compromise,” Gomez said softly. You looked up, finally, to see them both giving you a painfully soft look. “Keep the pendant, we’ll keep the check.”

“It is a birthday gift, after all,” Morticia finished.

Stop saying birthday.

Your eyes trailed down to where the pendant was sitting on the table. It was stunning, you wouldn’t deny that. But it looked expensive. Could you repay them for it? Surely you could, you were working a bit over the summer and you could probably do some things around their house. It couldn’t be too hard to repay, could it?

“Okay,” you finally managed to squeak out. “Thank you.” You would accept the gift.

But you were definitely going to have a talk with Wednesday about it. She meant well, but this was a bit too far. What was she even thinking? She knew you hated people spending money on you, didn’t she? And she had told them about Nicky? No, no she needed to know. Gently. Hopefully.

You didn’t see the sad smiles the Addamses gave you as you walked off to find Wednesday.

—---

Wednesday hadn't understood your insistence on not gifting you things, nor did she understand your anger at her parents offering to help with Nicky. You were practically on your own, were you not? So why would you be so against help when everyone knew medical bills were preposterous in size? She knew you weren't ignorant enough to believe you, a freshly graduated high school student with no job, could pay them on your own.

But you had insisted, and she had nodded in understanding, and eventually you came to an agreement. Nothing expensive, only things that could be repaid in favours or equal monetary value. Although as you allowed her to clasp the pendant around your neck, you hesitantly agreed you wouldn't attempt to pay them back for the birthday gift. That was a week ago, and she had silently adored every moment of peace that had come with it.

But now you were her mortal enemy once again, and she was not going to lose to the likes of you.

It had just been a normal morning. You had snuck into her room and woken her up with what had started off as a simple kiss. A simple kiss that had quickly turned into multiple kisses. She grabbed the fabric of your shirt and pulled you down until you were hovering above her on the bed and she could tangle her hands in your hair. It was quite a wonderful way to wake up, she would admit.

The smell of you, fresh out of the bath, invaded all of her senses. You smelled like her thanks to using her supplies, but with the faintest underlying smell of dirt and trees. Something she had come to associate with home. It sent her mind reeling, eliminating every thought except for one: you. She hated you for it.

She loved that she hated you for it.

One of her hands trailed down your neck, following the chain of the pendant you now dutifully wore until she could grab the crystal and pull you closer. Knowing you were wearing something from her family, something from an Addams, was intoxicating. Almost like you were now officially part of the family.

"You should get ready," you mumbled against her lips, "I'll meet you downstairs."

You gave her one last kiss, making it count, before pulling away and standing back up. She refused to look at you, refused to let you see what you had really done to her. How you had gotten her heart racing and her skin flushed and hot. Not until she heard the door close did she finally get up, surprisingly eager to start the day.

Until she opened the closet and saw that all of her clothes had been replaced.

Frantically, Wednesday went to her dresser and opened all the drawers there too, hoping it was just her imagination. But no, it was real. She wasn't imagining it, this wasn't some horrifying dream. It was real life.

Every piece of clothing she owned had been replaced with brightly colored versions. It looked like a rainbow had thrown up in her closet and dresser, and she had nothing else to wear for the day. Grumbling to herself and already plotting revenge, she grabbed a pair of pants and a too-large shirt that smelled suspiciously like coffee and chalk.

Rightfully, everyone looked horrified when Wednesday made her way to the downstairs common room. It was as if the world had come to a stop and hell had frozen over. The room filled with gasps of fear and disgust from everyone.

Everyone, that is, except for you.

You, who was sitting in one of the armchairs with a cup of coffee in one hand and the pendant in the other. You, who was making direct eye contact with her even as you took another sip from your mug. You, who's smirk only grew as you continued to watch the realization dawn on her very face.

"You look absolutely dreadful," you said as everyone looked back and forth between you both.

"You'll regret this," Wednesday said, "it will be a slow and painful revenge."

"I'd like to see you try," you shot back.

And thus, your rivalry was reignited and Wednesday was determined to win.

She started gentle, she really did. After all, you weren't Pugsley, she couldn't very well electrocute you for the sake of winning a war. Well. Not yet. So it was a gentle war, one of silly little nothings.

Gods, what were you doing to her?

Gentle. As gentle as handing you your coffee in the morning when your eyes are still half-closed and your wings are nearly knocking everything over. With a sleepy smile and barely-working fingers, you take it and instantly take a big, deep drink of salty coffee that she had made special just for you.

You choke. You choke and your eyes go wide and you make eye contact with her over her own mug of black coffee. But then your eyes narrowed and you continued drinking, never once taking your eyes off her until the coffee was gone.

"Make this yourself?" You asked in a hoarse voice.

Wednesday blinked at you once.

"As a thank you," she said with a half-smile and the slightest tilt of her head, "for the wardrobe change."

"So that's how it's going to be," you stated simply.

"Unless you surrender."

"Never."

You were quick to get your revenge; that same morning, in fact. She had poured her cereal and had gotten up to get the milk, but when she came back her spoon had been replaced with a fork. A simple prank, harmless, juvenile at best. You still smiled to yourself anyway when her first bite of breakfast ended up being a disappointment.

But things ramped up quickly after that. Harmless pranks turned a little more courageous. A bucket of water dropping on your head when you entered her room. An explosion of rainbow glitter when Wednesday opened a new book. Still fairly harmless, all things considered.

It was only when Wednesday found out you had enlisted Pugsley to help you that she realised this was no longer a fun war. This was to the death, and you were gathering backup. Oh, but she could use whatever she wanted on Pugsley, and if you just so happened to be in the way, then so be it.

Your first true Addams prank was good, Wednesday wouldn't deny it. With hands held up in surrender, you had invited her to follow you for a nice picnic. As she followed behind you, you were telling her all about everything you had packed; meats, cheese, apples, oranges, practically an entire feast.

She saw your step falter when you passed through a doorway. Just the slightest lengthening of your stride, just enough for her to notice. You however didn't notice her stop, stretching her leg out to touch the barely-visible trip wire.

A guillotine blade fell where she would have been walking, and you turned your head expectantly, disappointment clearly filling your face.

"You tried to kill me?" Wednesday asked in a more deadpan tone than usual.

"Don't be so dramatic," you rolled your eyes. "I tried to maim, not kill." With a sigh, you turned around. "Pugsley said it would work."

You didn't see Wednesday's smile.

So you were going to play by Addams' rules, were you? Well if that's how you were going to be, then Wednesday wasn't going to hold back either. Of course she wouldn't hurt you. Too badly, that is. It wouldn't matter, there was still plenty of room for creativity.

Although she would admit, she was surprised you fell for the same thing twice. You were just humming to the song in your head while trailing your fingers over the spines of the books in the library. When she handed you a cup of tea, you smiled and instantly took a drink.

And froze.

"What have I told you about drinking anything without thought?" Wednesday asked.

"What did you put in this?" You asked.

"If you hurry, you can ask your new friend Pugsley for an antidote," she said with another smile before walking away.

The glare you gave her when you came back down for dinner was more than worth it.

Yours and Pugsley's pranks weren't as well thought out as they should have been. It explained why they never worked as well as intended. She would give you the benefit of the doubt; this was your first time building Addams contraptions. You didn't have the same knack for it, but you were learning.

Out of all your attempts, you never quite managed to execute them correctly. Not for lack of trying, of course, but you had a lot to learn. For instance, if you were going to sneak up on her, you needed to keep your wings tucked away so you didn't knock something over in the process. Which you did. All Wednesday had to do was turn and look at you for you to groan and drop what appeared to be a bucket full of… spiders?

"You're ruining it, Addams," you mumbled as you walked off, coincidentally in the direction of her next trap.

Your high pitched scream echoed down the halls when you encountered the trap. It sent a thrill down Wednesday's spine. This was becoming so much more entertaining than she had ever imagined.

She did feel bad at first, admittedly. Not everyone could handle the Addams' form of admiration or love for each other; she knew it was unconventional. She didn't care that it was unconventional, but she was aware of it nonetheless. What if you had thought it was too much? Too unusual? Too violent by most standards?

But the morning she woke up and opened her door, feeling her pulse race when an arrow buried itself into the doorframe by her head? And when she took a step back before hearing you cheering down the hall because yes, you had surprised her? Or you high-fiving Pugsley and rushing him off because you hadn't truly realised you had gotten caught yet. It gave Wednesday a feeling in her stomach that wasn't spiders or nausea but something else entirely.

Oh.

Her eyes narrowed. How dare you.

She stayed furious with you when you left for two days to go stay with Nicky.

"Here," Wednesday said as she held a book out for you, "in case you need a new book."

"Oh thank god," you sighed. "I don't know how many more times I can read Lord of the Rings." You looked at the cover, and a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips. "I think he'll like this one."

"Just bring it back in one piece," she said, to which you only replied with a wink.

Your absence gave her peace and yet simultaneously filled her with an anger that she couldn't quite place. On the one hand, she couldn't deny that you made her… happy. Your presence alone, even when you were being far too loud and creating chaos, gave her a sense of peace. She looked forward to being around you, whether you were talking or just enjoying each other's company.

But on the other hand, she was furious with you. Furious because not only had you made her feel these things to begin with, but the moment she had come to realise those feelings, you left for two days? Now she was forced to stew in her own uncomfortable mixture of thoughts and emotions. You knew how much she hated emotions, they were gateways to weakness.

And the worst part?

She missed you. Your absence around the house was felt by all. Her father no longer had you around to mentor about fencing or the ways of life, instead just moping around. Her mother has resorted to doting over her instead of you now, and that’s just an impossible situation. And Pugsley, dear misguided Pugsley, now had no one to talk to whenever he wanted.

Your presence had become such a normal thing in the house that, now that you were gone, no one knew what to do.

Wednesday would call everyone delusional if they noticed her waiting on the porch for you to finally get back. If there had been no chance of her getting caught by family, she would have gone to greet you out in the yard. Maybe even hold your hand and drag you back to the house where you belong.

Instead she just waited until you saw her, shooting her a quick smile, before walking back inside without you.

From the moment you walked back into the house, the war was back on. Just because you had gone to see Nicky didn’t mean she had admitted defeat. No, she was an Addams, she would never admit defeat. So when you were standing in the doorway and looking down at the dagger in Wednesday’s hand, you scoffed.

“What are you gonna do with that?” You asked. “Stab me?”

Wednesday simply smiled at you and took a step to the side, revealing a rope that was tied to the railing of the stairs. Your eyes narrowed when she looked back at you. Oh, this was going to be enjoyable. With a single swipe, she cut the rope and let the axe swing down. You screamed - that same high-pitched, childish scream that was starting to become comical - and fell to the ground just as the axe swung above your head.

“You’re sadistic!” You shouted.

Wednesday just left you there to wait out the deadly pendulum above you. This isn’t helping, she thought as she marched up the stairs to her room. Against all odds, she still had that forbidden feeling weighing heavy in her chest. She would need to go bigger.

It was time to get serious.

—---

Morticia couldn’t stop herself from eavesdropping whenever you and Wednesday were together. Of course she gave you both your space, but when she walked by and saw you sitting in Wednesday’s homemade electric chair? Letting her strap you to it without a single care in the world? Well, she couldn’t help it.

“What if I die?” You asked as you watched Wednesday tighten the helmet. There wasn’t a single ounce of worry in your face.

“Then I’ll have the opportunity to practice my dead-raising skills,” Wednesday said simply. She walked over to the wall and grabbed the switch.

“I don’t like how you said “practice”,” you mumbled, but otherwise settled back into the chair.

Morticia left the doorway before Wednesday pulled the switch. She knew how personal the situation was, she was no fool. Oh the times she and Gomez had used electrocution for their own fun evenings. If Wednesday was anything like her parents, then Morticia would keep her distance.

Your scream echoed through the house, and Morticia sighed dreamily.

Oh, young love.

She took note of the pranks slowing down while you willingly let Wednesday rope you into more and more despicable experiments. Testing out the larger-scaled steam powered guillotine, which did not work as it should have. If you and a bowling ball were dropped from the roof at the same time, would you reach the ground first? Could you truly catch an arrow if fired at you from a dozen paces away?

Then there were the more entertaining conversations that she walked past. Take, for instance, when she walked by the library while you and Wednesday were having tea.

“I bet they were all so incredibly repressed,” you said, your voice muffled from the walls of books.

“Why?” Wednesday asked, sounding so entirely disinterested.

“They couldn’t even show their ankles!” you answered.

“I believe I briefly showed you my lower leg once,” Wednesday said after a moment’s hesitation, teasing (and maybe even a smile) evident in her tone.

“I remember that, it was pretty scandalous,” you said, “definitely got me all hot and bothered.”

The sound of a slap and your muffled “hey!” resounded to where Morticia was still standing in the hallway. She smiled to herself before walking off. If that was how you were both going to discuss your blooming love life, who was she to judge? At least Wednesday was tolerating such behaviour in the first place.

Little steps.

One certain moment of listening in happened to teach her to stay far away whenever you two were alone. Even though it was hard to believe, she wasn’t intentionally searching for you both when you were alone. She just had a habit of roaming the house, and once she heard Wednesday’s voice or your laughter, she just couldn’t help but listen.

This time you were both in your room watching a movie of some sort.

“Am I ever going to get my sweatshirt back?” Wednesday asked.

“Only if you take it off me yourself,” you snorted.

There was silence, the calm before the storm, before Morticia heard you scream “wait no!” and ruffling ensued, of course accompanied by your little squeaks and screams. She didn’t plan on hanging around to see how far you two took your movie night; if you were anything like she and Gomez were, then she was definitely going to put distance between herself and your room.

Although hearing the laughter coming from your room was more than worth it.

—---

Wednesday was starting to despise having to compete with her family for your attention. She had felt the same way when you had visited for Spring Break, but this was simply preposterous. Why on earth should she have to be the one to demand your attention when you gave it so openly to everyone else? After all, you were the one who insisted on officially labeling her as your girlfriend.

She was no expert, but that didn’t seem proper.

After interrogating her mother on your whereabouts, she marched her way to the cemetery where, just as her mother had said, you were sitting on the couch and looking up at the stars. You looked almost peaceful, with your wings out and your overly large sweater. How you had a sweater so big on you, she had no idea.

It was… cute.

You didn’t look up when she sat down beside you, just simply continued to look up at the stars while she looked at you. At the faintest scar by the corner of your eye that she suspected was from the full moon incident. Then at your hair, which was getting a little unruly but for some reason it fit you perfectly. Or your fingers which, for once, were simply fidgeting with each other instead of picking them apart.

“I like it out here,” you said after a few moments of sitting in silence.

“Outside?” Wednesday asked. Her eyes never once strayed from your face.

“Your house,” you continued. She took note of the smallest movement of the corner of your mouth. “It’s peaceful.”

Wednesday had to hold back a scoff at that. What part of her family, of all the pranks and experiments, was peaceful? They were chaotic, loud, they had a disembodied hand as family, for heaven’s sake. Nothing about the Addamses was peaceful, she didn’t comprehend how you could think such a thing.

“I think,” you continued slowly, your voice soft, “I think this is where I feel happy.” Wednesday’s eyes shot back up to look at you and the slightest shimmer in your eyes. “I don’t have any sad memories here.”

She would kill anyone if they found out, but she almost felt her black heart break. You were still talking, explaining. It didn’t matter because she was so focused on the movement of your lips, the tears welling in your eyes that were refusing to fall, the gentle, even rise and fall of your chest. Aside from the teary eyes, you looked at peace.

“Thinking about murder again?” You asked, drawing Wednesday back to the present where she finally noticed that you were looking at her. It was infuriating that you could get her so distracted.

“I was listening,” she said defensively, but you just gave her a soft smile.

“I know,” you said. “But you had that twinkle in your eye that usually means you’re thinking about some sort of crime you’re gonna commit.”

She narrowed her eyes at you and sighed. If you were going to notice her distraction, at least you hadn’t noticed the true reason behind it. Although, admittedly, she felt a swell of pride that you had noticed her enjoyment of crimes. Maybe you paid more attention than she thought.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, taking Wednesday aback.

“Why are you asking?” She asked in return. “You’ve kissed me before.”

“I’m trying to be polite, Addams,” you chuckled. “But fine, then I won’t-”

“-you can,” she interrupted a little too quickly.

The embarrassment eased slightly when you didn’t hesitate to cup her cheek and pull her in for a kiss. It was soft, far softer than normal. There was no urgency but kept all the passion. Your fingers scratched lightly against her jaw and as humiliating as it was, she melted into your touch.

Her own arms wrapped around your neck and pulled you down until her back hit the couch cushions. Your hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head protectively, and her heart tried to jump up through her throat. Damn you and your gentle hands for making her feel this weak. All she wanted to do was pull you closer until there was no space between you and-

“-hey!”

Wednesday’s eyes flew open at your exclamation, fear coursing through her veins. Were you hurt? Had she done something wrong? Her eyes trailed over every inch of you as you moved your free hand around, digging into the couch cushions until finally pulling out a dagger.

“And here I thought you were just excited to see me,” you teased. Wednesday rolled her eyes and slapped you lightly before taking the dagger from you.

“Are you done?” She asked, holding the dagger so it pointed at your side while you hovered above her.

“Are you threatening me with a knife?” You asked. “Cause I’m into that.”

“I will leave you here,” Wednesday threatened with another roll of her eyes. You were preposterous.

“No, wait,” you said quickly. You took the dagger from her and tossed it aside on the ground. “See? All better.”

Wednesday wanted to tease you, to leave you hanging and hopefully force you to reconsider your stupid jokes. But when you were looking down at her with those eyes, and that lazy half-smile, she couldn’t help herself. She just pulled you back down to feel your smile against her.

A sigh fell from her lips when your fingers gently scratched against her scalp. Such a soft gesture from rough fingers, you truly had her wrapped around your little finger. Her own hands moved to rest against your neck, feeling your racing pulse under her touch. Just that feeling alone, the proof of what she did to you, was more than enough to get your own pulse rushing in return.

You kept one hand planted beside her head as your other removed itself from her scalp, trailing down her neck so softly it left her shivering. It came to a stop on her hip, hesitant, before slipping just under the hem of her shirt. Oh. Oh that was different. That was nice.

She pulled you impossibly closer when your thumb started to rub circles on her bare hip. Your lips were rough but soft, which was quite the conundrum. But it was perfect for you because it was you. The perfect mix of rough and soft, gentle with a purpose. Rough fingers that trailed so softly over her skin, leaving an inferno in their wake.

Your hand tightened on Wednesday's waist when you moved your head to the crook of her neck. She could feel your lips brushing against her skin, right over her pulse, but you just stayed there. Every now and then she would feel you press a kiss to her skin, on her neck, under her ear, on her slightly exposed collar bone. Each kiss sending another light shiver down her spine that she desperately hoped you couldn't feel.

"Come home with me," you said in a thick, gravelly voice. "Come meet my family." You left another kiss on her neck.

If her heart could have physically skipped a beat, it would have at your words. She grabbed your face and pulled you back to look at her. Your pupils were blown and you were breathing heavily through parted, kiss-swollen lips. Her answer was leaning up to kiss you again.

Your smile told her you understood.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #everyone but her au

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