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hatethysinner · 17 days ago

Note

I’ve been reading stories where Remmick meets the reader whose in a bad marriage with a cheating spouse. They’re good but I now want a different kind of AU, I want to see Remmick meets pregnant reader which the baby’s father dipped the moment he heard the news so basically Remmick steps in to take care of the reader and the baby. If it’s no trouble can you write it please? I don’t mind if you do or don’t add smut in the story

ɴᴏ ᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀʀʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

ᴡᴄ: 5.1k

ᴀ/ɴ: title taken directly from this incredible song. I LOVE THIS IDEA ANON UR SO SMART! i was kind of hesitant to write this for some reason but the more i thought about it the more i was like oh my god this is gonna be so good! one thing led to another and well... is 5k words still a drabble? i'm not in love with my writing in this but i truly hope y'all enjoy it. as always, white girls you can have your fun with this too! i don't do taglists personally, so just follow me if you want to be updated when i post c:

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: familial abandonment, grief, light religious mentions, birth though i don't think it's that graphic but mileage may vary, excessive divider usage, amateur knowledge of maternity(!!!), domestic lonely!remmick fluff

fanart!

You hadn’t planned to be alone.

Not like this.

Not with your belly round and aching, your fingers too swollen for the ring he slipped on with shaking hands that spring. Not in this creaking old house with lace curtains and porch swings and enough room for a family that hadn’t come.

The Mississippi heat hadn’t let up in weeks. It clung to your neck like grief, heavy and humid, the cicadas too loud to ignore and the crickets too quiet to trust. You moved slower now, out of necessity, not grace. The floorboards groaned beneath your bare feet as you made your way from the bed to the kitchen as if the house missed a second set of steps too.

You still caught yourself reaching for him at night.

Still caught yourself dreaming of the way he used to hold your waist like it anchored him. The way he kissed the back of your neck in the kitchen when you were stirring something sweet. How he'd whisper that you were going to be the best mother Mississippi ever saw.

He loved you.

Didn’t he?

But the day you sat him down, palms damp, breath caught somewhere between hope and dread, and told him you’re gonna be a father, everything shifted. Not all at once. Not with shouting or slamming doors.

Just silence.

First, he started staying late at the shop.

Then the notes stopped showing up with the groceries.

Then you woke up and he was gone.

No suitcase. No goodbye.

Just the weight of knowing his absence wasn’t an accident.

You’d told yourself it was a mistake. That maybe he was hurt. Maybe something happened. But the bank hadn’t seen him. The rail station hadn’t, either. He left. Left you.

Left this.

The whispers in town followed you like gnats. Women with their husbands at church, nodding politely, eyes drifting down to your stomach before flicking back up with something like pity, or judgment, you couldn’t quite bear to name. No one said it outright, but you heard it anyway.

Poor girl.

What a shame.

You still sat in the same pew. Still sang the hymns, even when your throat ached. Still held your chin high. But it was getting harder. Harder to feel beautiful. Harder to feel strong.

Harder to believe there’d be anything left of you once this child came into the world.

You’d made peace with that, sort of. With being a mother, even if you couldn’t be a wife.

Until the night he showed up.

It was late. So late, the world felt folded in on itself. The moderate rain only exemplified the quiet. The porch light had burned out weeks ago, and the only glow came from the oil lamp you kept near the window. The town had gone quiet save for the occasional bullfrog croaking out near the creek, and you’d just settled into your rocking chair, fingers pressing gentle circles into the small of your back, trying to coax the ache away.

Then the knock.

Soft. Barely a sound at all.

You startled.

Knocks didn’t come this time of night. Not unless someone was dead or dying. You wrapped your robe tighter and eased yourself upright, hand on the edge of your belly, heart already ticking faster.

You stood slowly, one hand on your lower back, the other braced against the wall as you moved toward the door. You didn’t bother to make yourself look presentable. Just adjusted your chest, padded barefoot to the front of the house, and peered through the fogged glass of the window beside the frame.

There was a man on your steps.

Not your husband.

A stranger.

Tall. Lean. Barely cloaked in a threadbare coat. He stood crooked against the porch railing, eyes tilted toward the sky like the rain was speaking to him. His hair was damp and clung to his forehead. His hands were empty.

You should’ve locked the door.

Should’ve turned off the light and walked back to bed.

But something in the way he looked up when you touched the knob, like he’d sensed it, like he’d been waiting, froze you in place.

You opened the door.

He didn’t move.

“Sorry to trouble ya, miss,” he said, voice rough, worn down like old gravel.

You didn’t answer.

He cleared his throat. Rain had slicked down the collar of his coat and soaked through the fabric at his shoulders.

“I ain’t askin’ for much,” he added. “Just a night. I won’t touch nothin’. I just-” He hesitated. “It’s cold.”

You looked him over.

The way he stood didn’t scream threat. Didn’t scream drunk or high or desperate. But it didn’t scream safe either. He looked pale. Tired. Gaunt in the cheeks, but not unwell. Just… small, somehow, despite his size.

You shifted. Felt the baby stir gently beneath your ribs.

He noticed.

His eyes dropped to your belly. His whole face changed. Not pity. Not disgust. Just something sharp and unfamiliar, like recognition.

“I’ll sleep on the porch,” he said quickly. “Didn’t realize... I wouldn’t’ve knocked if I’d known. Honest.”

You didn’t know what possessed you then. Maybe it was the ache in your ribs. The absence of someone who should’ve been there to keep you company through all this. Maybe it was how needy he sounded. How soft his voice got when he said honest.

Or maybe it was the look he gave you when you gave him permission to step inside.

He didn’t smile.

Just nodded. Like you’d saved him from something you didn’t have a name for yet.

“Thank ya,” he said, voice almost hoarse now. “Thank ya kindly.”

You still didn’t ask his name.

You didn’t ask where he came from.

You just shut the door behind him, gestured toward the blanket chest by the hearth, and said, “There’s a quilt in there. Floor’s all I’ve got.”

He nodded again. Didn’t complain.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he lowered himself down, slow and careful, folding the blanket once before curling beneath it. No pillow, no cushion. Just wood and wool and whatever weight he’d carried in with him.

And when you eased yourself back into your rocker, listening to the soft tick of rain on the windowpanes, the baby shifted again, sharper this time. Like it knew something had changed.

You didn’t sleep well.

But when you woke the next morning, he was still there.

And that was the last night you ever spent alone.

It started with the dishes.

Not all at once. Just one plate, then another. A rhythm, like he'd done it a hundred times before. You’d woken from your afternoon nap to find the washtub full and your best rag already soaked, the scent of lye soap and something copper-tinged filling the air.

He hadn’t even looked up at first. Just kept scrubbing slow circles into a plate with that strange, methodical care of his. You’d stared at him for a full minute, waiting for him to stop, to say something, maybe even look guilty. But he didn’t. He just nodded toward the table, where he’d made a small spread of breakfast, only for you.

“Thought ya might be hungry,” he said.

That was all.

You didn’t ask him why he’d done it.

You didn’t need to.

He’d been quiet like that all week. Hovering without hovering, close but never quite imposing. You noticed the way he watched you when you moved around the house, hands tucked behind his back like he didn’t trust himself not to help too quickly. He'd fixed the door latch before you'd even thought to mention it, patched the hole in the roof where the rain got in, even dusted your kitchen shelves with one of your old slips of cloth tied around his wrist like a makeshift cuff.

You hadn’t asked for any of that either.

But maybe that was what made it bearable. Strange, yes, but not frightening. Not threatening. He wasn’t a loud man. Wasn’t messy, either. He stepped light, didn’t slam doors, always kept his boots by the back steps and his sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows.

He didn’t touch you.

But he looked.

You caught him at it often enough. When you were washing greens, when you were folding linens. His gaze always softened around the edges, like he was watching something breakable and didn’t trust the room to keep it safe.

At first, you’d looked away.

Now you didn’t.

You weren’t sure what changed. Only that something about the way he moved, how slow and deliberate it all was, made your chest ache in a way you didn’t expect. Like you’d forgotten what it meant to be seen without being expected to perform.

He watched you differently than your husband had. That man, gone now, though not without taking a piece of your heart with him, had looked at you with something close to love. Maybe it had been love. You still didn’t know. But there had always been a shadow in it. A hesitation. Like he was trying to hold on to who you were before. Before the baby. Before the curve of your belly started showing in every dress. Before you started humming lullabies under your breath.

He didn’t do that.

He just brought you warm water for your feet in the evening and kept the fire going when the wind picked up through the walls. He hung herbs on the porch rail to dry, even though you hadn’t taught him how. Got it wrong the first time. Rosemary bundled with sassafras, but corrected himself without complaint. He had sharp eyes. Paid attention. Knew your schedule by heart now. When you took your walks. When you liked your tea. When the baby liked to kick.

And Lord, the way he fussed over that baby.

He listened for the kicks like they were gospel. Dropped to one knee anytime you winced or shifted, one hand already hovering like he could ease the weight of your belly just by being near. He’d murmur soft nothings to it sometimes, voice low and warm as molasses. Called the baby sweetheart, sugarplum, his little dove, like it already belonged to him, like he'd been waiting for it longer than even you had.

When the baby turned in the night and made your whole spine ache, he was already there with warm cloths and gentler hands. He never made a show of it. Never asked for thanks. Just laid his hand where it hurt most and waited until your breath evened out again. Sometimes you’d wake to find him asleep beside your chair, his head resting lightly against your thigh, still half-dressed from whatever he’d been doing before he heard you stir.

He carried buckets of water in the mornings without you asking, swept the porch, patched the leaks. Cleaned the chicken coop even though he hated the smell. Anything to spare you the strain. Anything to make things easier.

And he never touched your belly without permission. Not once. Always waited for a nod, for some small sign that it was alright. Then he’d press the flat of his palm against your skin like it was sacred.

He didn’t ask for much in return.

Just to be close.

Just to stay.

It was strange, all of it.

You’d said that to yourself more than once, lying awake with your belly high and heavy under the quilt, the fire crackling low in the stove and his footsteps creaking through the kitchen. It wasn’t fear that kept you up. It wasn’t discomfort either, not exactly. It was something quieter. Thicker. A feeling like you’d wandered into someone else’s story, someone else’s life.

You’d never expected company. Not after what happened. Not after the man you married, the one you’d whispered vows with in a sun-warmed church, turned pale and silent when you told him about the child growing inside you. You weren’t stupid. You’d known it would be hard. But you hadn’t expected the look he gave you, like you’d broken something between you. And then he left. Just like that. Like the baby had made you unrecognizable.

But he didn’t seem to flinch.

He hadn’t run, hadn’t stared at your stomach like it was a problem that needed solving. Hadn’t looked past you like he was trying to remember who you used to be before the swell of your belly changed the silhouette of your body.

He just stayed.

And that was strange.

So was the way he moved through the house now, your house, though it hadn’t felt like yours in a while, with a sense of purpose that made no sense. You never asked him to scrub the floorboards or polish the handles or oil the hinges, but he did. Quietly. Methodically. Like he wanted to earn the space he took up.

Strangest of all, though, was how he spoke to your belly.

He didn’t talk to you about the baby. Not directly. But he murmured to your stomach like it was a person already. Asked questions. Told it things. Ran his hand, cool and callused, gently over the curve of you like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

“Evenin’, little one,” he’d say, crouching to place a soft kiss right above your navel after bringing you tea. “Ya givin’ your mama trouble again?”

And when the baby kicked, he lit up like a man who’d just heard the voice of God.

The first time it happened with him, just a nudge, a little flutter against your ribs, you’d gasped and pressed your palm to the spot. He'd rushed across the room with a towel in one hand and a pail in the other, dropping them both like they were meaningless and was at your side in an instant.

“Was that ‘em?” he whispered. “Did they move?”

You nodded. And he reached for your hand so gently it made your throat ache. Placed it over his own, right where your skin had jumped. You watched his eyes flicker red in the dim candlelight as he waited. Then brighter. Brighter still when the baby kicked again.

You didn’t mention the glow. Not then.

You’d noticed it before. Brief, flickering, like something hiding behind glass. His eyes weren’t blue the way other white men in town had them. They weren’t even just blue. They had depth. Layers. Like river water after a storm, with light trapped somewhere deep inside. The red only came when the light hit just right, and was brightened when he was emotional. Happy. Or upset.

Or something else.

His teeth, too, were strange. White, yes, but sharper at the corners. His canines lingered a little too long. He didn’t smile often, but when he did, they always showed just a little too much. He never seemed to eat, not really. Said he had odd hours. That his stomach didn’t take kindly to most food.

But he cooked for you. Always. Carefully. Like the act of preparing your plate meant more to him than eating his own.

All of it was strange.

But you didn’t stop him.

Because when he sat beside you and ran a hand over your belly, there was nothing selfish in it. Nothing claiming or hungry. Just awe. Just devotion.

That was the word that kept coming to mind lately. Devotion.

He followed your pace. Matched your rhythm. Learned your moods before you even knew them yourself. If you sighed, he brought a shawl. If you shifted, he offered his arm. If you cried, when the tears came without warning, in the middle of cooking or brushing your hair or just trying to read, he said nothing. Just held you. Let you soak his shoulder and said your name like it was a promise.

Sometimes you caught him watching you.

Not in a lurid way. Not even in the way your husband used to, back when things were good between you. He looked like he was trying to memorize you. The way your breath hitched when you laughed. The way your ankles swelled at night. The way your fingers danced over the pages of your herbal guides even when you were too tired to really read.

You didn’t ask why he stayed.

You told yourself it was pity. Gratitude. Maybe a sense of guilt.

But something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only tether he had left to something real, made you wonder.

And more than once, you found yourself leaning into him just a little longer than needed. Letting your hand rest on his when he passed you a cup. Letting the silence stretch between you when the fire burned low.

It was slow.

It was strange.

But it was real.

And maybe, just maybe, it was enough.

It had been almost a month.

Four weeks of him sleeping on the floor beside the hearth. Of you waking up to the scent of ash and chicory. Finding the kitchen swept, the kettle hot, your shoes waiting near the door like you had a man who knew where you liked to go. Four weeks of strange cohabitation, of watching each other without asking too many questions, of wordless routines built out of necessity and slow, quiet trust.

And yet, still no names.

You knew the cadence of his footsteps. The shape of his shadow in the yard. How he always tucked his hands behind his back when he thought too hard about something. You knew the way he’d squint at the firewood pile before choosing a piece. And he knew you. When your hips started to ache. When your breathing changed. When the weight of everything, not just the baby, but the world, got too heavy and you needed silence more than you needed talk.

Still, he had never asked for your name.

And you had never asked for his.

It should’ve been strange. Should’ve felt unfinished. But it didn’t. Not really. Because whatever he was, he had never felt like a stranger. Just something old. Something waiting.

That morning, the sky had opened up with thunder and mean gray light. A storm sat heavy over the treeline, wet wind slicing through the cracks in the wood. You stood barefoot at the back door, mug in hand, and watched the trees sway like dancers out of rhythm. He was already outside, boots deep in the mud, securing the herbs he’d hung on the rail.

You saw it before he did. The string snapping, the whole bundle of thyme and yarrow whipping into the wind. He reached for it too late. You nearly called out.

But then he moved.

Fast.

Not just quick, but wrong. Not human. A blur of striped clothing and sharp motion. His feet barely touched the porch before he was in the yard again, herbs in hand.

He caught them. All of them.

And when he turned back toward the door, he looked surprised to see you watching.

His smile faltered.

But he walked toward you anyway, hands full of dripping stems and his coat soaked through to the elbows.

You opened the door.

“Got ‘em,” he said, like that explained anything.

You stepped back to let him in.

He didn’t speak again until he’d shaken the rain off his shoulders and laid the herbs gently on a dry cloth near the stove. You were still watching him. Something you’d been doing more lately. Not because he made you nervous. Not exactly.

But because you didn’t understand how someone could be so careful with the smallest things and yet move like that. Unnatural. Unsettling. And beautiful, somehow. Like a storybook thing.

He noticed your eyes. Of course he did.

“What is it?” he asked, quiet.

You didn’t lie.

“Just thinkin’ how strange this is,” you said, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. “You. Me. This.”

He didn’t answer.

“You sleep in my home. You touch my things. You know how I take my tea. And I don’t even know your name.”

That made him blink.

He stood there in the center of the room, rain still clinging to his lashes, one hand trailing over the spine of a chair.

“I suppose ya don’t,” he said after a beat, almost sheepish.

You raised a brow. “What is it, then?”

He looked at you a moment longer, then stepped forward and said it in a voice like wet moss and river stones:

“Remmick.”

You let it sit between you for a second. The shape of it. Strange and clean. Like something unspoken finally made solid.

Then you nodded.

“Alright.”

He tipped his head, that small, half-hopeful smile curling at the edge of his mouth.

“Ya got one for me?”

You didn’t smile back.

But you said it, soft. Like you were reminding yourself it belonged to you still.

And maybe to him now, too.

You watched the way he turned it over in his mouth after you gave it to him. Like a word he’d chew through all winter, rolling it on his tongue like a secret, like a prayer.

He said it again.

Once.

Like a promise.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the ache in your lower back sharper now. You pressed your hand gently to the curve of your belly. He noticed. He always noticed.

Without needing to be told, he crouched in front of you and helped guide you to the rocking chair near the stove. His hands were still cold from the rain, but his touch was steady. He adjusted the cushion. Draped a shawl over your knees. Then sat beside you on the floor, arms draped loosely over his knees like always.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

The rain softened. The fire popped.

He reached toward your ankle, thumb brushing where your skin met the top of your sock. Not asking for anything. Just anchoring.

“I’m glad ya let me stay,” he said.

You didn’t answer.

But you reached down and covered his hand with yours.

Because somehow, so were you.

The pain started low and slow, like a tug at the deepest part of you. You were in the kitchen, barefoot and brushing dust from the windowsill, when it hit hard enough to make your breath catch. You gripped the edge of the counter, then looked down.

Water.

A slow trickle at first, then more, pooling between your feet.

You didn’t panic. Not really. You’d read enough, listened to enough, prepared enough. Still, your heart kicked up in your chest like it was trying to warn you of something big coming down the road.

And it was.

“Remmick,” you called, steady but loud enough to shake the rafters.

He was there in an instant. Not from the garden or the porch like he usually was this time of day, but already in the hallway, already moving toward you with that eerie stillness he had when he was trying not to look like he was floating.

His eyes snapped to the floor, then to your face. "It’s time?"

You nodded once, slow.

Then the contraction hit, sharp enough to knock the air from your lungs.

He caught you before your knees buckled.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. His hand was at your back, the other already slipping under your knees. He lifted you like you weighed less than the apron still tied around your waist. “I've got you.”

You didn’t ask how he moved so quick. You didn’t ask how he got the basin already filled, or how the towels had been laid out on the bed before you even stepped inside the room. You barely remembered the lamp being lit.

But it was.

Everything was ready.

Remmick had prepared.

He moved with a purpose that didn’t belong to a man who had never done this before. There was no fumbling. No panic. He worked like someone who had learned the rhythms of birth from midwives long buried, had seen a thousand labors begin and end under candlelight and wood smoke.

He guided you through it all. Let you curse and sob and grip his arms so tight you left bruises.

"Good girl,” he whispered, again and again. “You’re doin’ so good. Keep breathin’, baby. Just like that.”

You didn’t have the energy to wonder how he knew what to do. You couldn’t ask. Not with the pain hitting like waves, not with the pressure bearing down. But somewhere in the middle of the storm, when your vision blurred and your body ached in ways you didn’t know it could, his voice was still there.

Low. Calm. Constant.

“Push now. There ya go. You’re safe. I got you.”

His hands were slick with water and blood, but steady as stone. He never looked away. Not once.

And when the final push came, sharp, terrible, blinding, he caught the baby in his hands like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it.

There was a moment after. A long one.

Where everything stopped.

And then, the cry.

Thin, high, beautiful.

You fell back against the pillows, sobbing harder than you thought you would. Not from pain. Not from fear. Just the release of it all.

Remmick didn’t speak at first. Just held the baby in both hands, his face unreadable.

And then he looked at you.

“It’s a girl,” he whispered, voice cracked and full of something you couldn’t name. “She’s perfect.”

You let out a breath that rattled your whole body.

He brought her to you, wrapped in a cloth so soft it must’ve been hidden in the dresser for weeks. And there she was.

Dark skin. Curling hair already damp against her forehead. Tiny hands twitching with life.

And Remmick, pale, bloodstained, glowing faintly in the dim lamplight, looked down at her like she was something holy.

She was.

To you both.

His fingers shook as he touched her cheek. Shook like he wasn’t sure he deserved to, like the smallest movement might shatter the moment into pieces he couldn’t gather again. His knuckles were bloodstained, and his hand was far too large, too scarred, too rough to be so gentle, but it was. He moved like a man touching glass.

“I’ll take care of her,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I’ll take care of ya.”

There was no promise in his voice, no boast, no plea.

Just fact.

You looked at him then. Really looked. Not through the fog of pain or the veil of exhaustion. Not with the wary glances you’d grown used to offering him in the first weeks. But truly. Fully.

His eyes were still wet. Still glowing. Not bright, not loud, but pulsing softly. Faint and sure, like something not ready to die.

His shirt clung to him in wrinkled, clumsy lines, soaked with sweat and streaked with all the effort he'd poured into your labor. The collar was limp and stained with blood, yours and hers. His sleeves had been rolled back at some point, but they'd slipped again, damp fabric bunched at the crook of his arms.

There was blood under his nails. Streaked across his jaw. A smear dried along the side of his throat like he'd wiped his face without thinking.

And his teeth, those strange, terrible things, peeked through when he spoke. Elongated. Cuspate. Pressed just barely over the curve of his lip like he hadn't remembered to pull them back yet. Like maybe, in this moment, he didn’t care to hide anything at all.

But they didn’t scare you.

They never really had.

This strange man. This mystery with calloused hands and a voice like river stones. This creature who could build fires from the dampest wood and wash clothes better than you ever had patience to.

This father to your child.

You nodded. Slow. Steady.

“I know.”

The way his shoulders dropped then, just slightly, made your chest ache. As if he'd been holding the weight of that doubt for weeks. Maybe longer.

He held the baby again, arms curling around her like she was the most delicate thing he’d ever seen. Like she might disappear if he looked away too long. She made a soft, squeaking sound in her sleep, and Remmick’s whole body tensed around her as though the world might threaten her simply for breathing.

“She’s yours,” he whispered, voice crumbling at the edges. “And now she’s mine.”

You didn’t correct him.

Didn’t want to.

There was no logic that could define this thing between you. No words that could make it neat. But you weren’t looking for neat anymore. You weren’t looking for anything.

Except this.

This house. This moment. These people.

There was no sense to be made of it. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. But the three of you, somehow, you fit.

Remmick settled beside you on the bed. Not with the hesitant edge he used to carry, not like he was afraid you might change your mind and ask him to leave. But with something close to reverence. He moved slowly, gently, as if even sitting beside you might unmake the calm if done wrong.

One arm stayed curled protectively around the baby. The other slipped behind your back and pulled you close, cradling you like he didn’t know where else to put his warmth. You let your head fall against his shoulder, heavy with everything you’d just endured. Your body still ached, hollowed out and raw, but it wasn’t empty.

It was full in every way that mattered.

The fire popped in the next room, slow and lazy now, just embers and ash. Wind rattled the windowpane above your heads. The familiar kind of wind that came in every winter, dry and loud and aching through the trees.

But everything else was still.

The hush of the house held you like a lullaby.

Remmick kissed the top of your head, his lips barely brushing your damp hair.

The kiss wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even expectant. It was steady. It was sacred. Like sealing something between you.

“My girls,” he said, voice breaking just a little at the end. “My girls.”

His hand cupped the back of your neck. His chin rested against the top of your head. The baby shifted against his chest, small and soft and unaware that her world had just been born with her.

You closed your eyes.

Let the weight of him, the heat of her, the ache in your body, all of it,anchor you.

And for the first time since that long, lonely night on the porch when the world had changed forever, you didn’t feel afraid. Or alone.

You were home.

And Remmick would never let you forget it.

#remmick x reader #remmick #black!fem!reader #black!reader #remmick x black!reader #remmick x black!fem!reader #remmick sinners #remmick x you #sinners #sinners 2025 #inboxxx #remmick fluff #request #for some reason i feel so insecure abt this one sorry if its bad yall 😭😭😭#here she comes world please be kind to her

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woniedarlin · 2 months ago

Text

Shared Custody

Pairing: Ex! Jungwon x reader

Synopsis: Breaking up with Jungwon was one thing. But agreeing to co-parent a dog afterward? That was how you ended up in the weirdest post-breakup situation ever. Because what kind of exes still see each other at precisely 10 a.m?

You broke up. You’re sure of it. So why does it feel like your relationship never ended? Just… got a schedule and a leash?

Author's note: Another fic has been sitting in the drafts for too long. I finally decided to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

Warnings: This story contains equal parts fluff and angst, with a dash of unresolved feelings, awkward ex moments, and a dog that might steal the spotlight. Reader discretion is advised! 🐾

Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

Here’s the thing no one tells you about breakups:

When you two bought a dog together while you were still dating, breaking up isn’t just about parting ways with a person. You get partial custody of an emotional support furball with no idea why mom and dad stopped living together. The breakup was mutual. There was no shouting, no ugly crying, no one storming out at 2 a.m. with a suitcase and a dramatic one-liner.

It was a quiet and tired conversation on the couch. Some nods. A few long silences. And Maeumi, curled up between you, unaware that his life was about to get complicated.

You probably should’ve fought over him. Or at least discussed like rational adults. Instead, you both just… didn’t let go. Now, you set schedules like divorced parents. Only with more awkward small talk and a lot of pretending it’s totally normal to see your ex every other day at exactly 10:00 a.m.

It started with meetups. Hand off the leash, say a polite hello, smile as if it doesn’t sting anymore. Then it became coffee afterwards. Then breakfast “because he looks hungry and I’m already here anyway.”

Then, last weekend, Maeumi ate an entire bag of chips and got sick all over Jungwon’s living room, which somehow led to you arguing about brand-name kibble.

“You were the one who said he needed variety!”

“Variety doesn’t mean junk food!”

“They were organic!”

“He threw up on my socks, (name).”

And you’re not proud of it, but you laughed. A little too hard. Then Jungwon laughed, and it felt like nothing had changed for a moment.

But everything had.

Now, you’re waiting for Jungwon in the usual meeting spot, Maeumi’s leash wrapped loosely around your wrist as he trots in excited little circles. Jungwon’s late. Not by much, just five minutes. Enough to make you wonder if he’s okay. Enough to make you check your phone. He shows up a minute later, hair a bit messy, holding two coffees. “Sorry,” he says. “I stopped by that place you like. The one with the stupid tiny straws.”

You take the cup without a word.

Maeumi barks, happy as ever, tail wagging because it was the best part of his week. Seeing his divorced parents together! ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა

“Did he eat?” Jungwon asks.

You replied. “Yeah. But he thinks spinning in a circle gets him more food now.”

Jungwon sighs. “You didn’t.”

You shrug. “It was funny. He almost knocked over my lamp trying it this morning.”

There was a slight pause before, “He seemed to miss you a lot when he was with me last week. A good thing he has spent with you these past few days.” Jungwon says, nudging Maeumi’s head.

You nod, eyes on your coffee cup. “I missed him too.”

You’re not sure which of them you’re talking about.

🍎

Maeumi planted his butt on the floor and refused to move. You tugged the leash gently. “Come on, it’s Dad’s turn.” Maeumi looked at you. Then looked at Jungwon. Then flopped onto his side. You sighed. “He’s being a brat again.”

Jungwon crouched beside you, holding out a treat from his pocket. “Maeumi, let’s not do this today.”

Maeumi sniffed the treat, stood up halfway, then turned around and pressed himself against your leg.

You and Jungwon exchanged a look.

“I think he’s made his choice,” you said.

“It’s not even a choice. It’s supposed to be my weekend.”

“You tell him that.”

Jungwon sighed and looked down at Maeumi, who was now rolling over, belly up, smug as ever. “You’re a traitor. You know that?”

Maeumi sneezed in response.

Eventually, after five minutes of bargaining and light bribery, Jungwon stepped inside your apartment to get him moving. One minute turned into five. Then ten. Now you were both sitting on the couch, a lukewarm mug of tea in his hands, Maeumi curled between you like a peace treaty in dog form. “You know,” you said, watching as Maeumi kicked his leg in his sleep, “he wasn’t like this when we first got him.”

“Nope,” Jungwon muttered. “He used to listen to me. Now he acts like he pays rent.”

“That’s your influence.”

He shot you a look. “My influence? You’re the one who started giving him tiny portions of your dinner because he’s a spoiled prince.”

You shrugged and grinned. “He deserves nice things.”

“He eats better than me.”

Jungwon glanced at you for too long, then looked away and sipped his tea.

You didn’t notice.

Well, yeah, you did, but you were pretending not to.

Jungwon leaned back a little. Then he looked toward the kitchen. And then he saw it. The mug. The one he bought for your birthday two years ago. You loved it to the point that you used it daily while you two were still dating. He nodded toward the cupboard. “Didn’t think you still had that.”

You glanced over. “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything else, but his eyes stayed on it. That dumb, ceramic memory sitting there as if it had every right to exist in a post-breakup world.

You added, “It’s a good mug.”

Jungwon barely smiled. “Yeah. Real high quality.”

You didn’t reply.

He looked back at Maeumi, who was still fast asleep between you, snoring lightly. “I keep one of your spoons in my drawer,” Jungwon said suddenly.

Your head turned. “What?”

“You left it after that one trip. The one where we bought those instant noodles that tasted like cardboard.”

“Oh. Right.” You stared ahead. “That was a good weekend.”

“It rained.”

“I like rain.”

You both nodded and pretended the conversation didn’t sting a little.

Maeumi snored louder as if he were trying to cover the silence.

🍎

Your phone buzzed at 11:42 p.m.

You were half-asleep. Maeumi had gone home with Jungwon hours ago, but the apartment still felt…full.

You grabbed your phone.

Jungwon [11:42 PM]

Thanks for taking care of him this week. He seemed extra happy. When he saw you, his tail wagged about ten times per second.

You smiled without meaning to, your thumb hovering over the keyboard to send a quick "anytime" or maybe a "he missed you too."

But another message came in before you could type.

Jungwon [11:43 PM]

You’re still the easiest person to talk to.

You stared at the screen.

You didn’t know what to say. Or perhaps you did, and that was the problem.

So you… didn’t reply.

🍎

Jungwon sat on the curb's edge, nursing a canned coffee. Sunghoon was sipping from his drink, watching him spiral in silence. “I’m losing it,” Jungwon finally said. “She still knows how I take my coffee. Didn’t even ask.”

Sunghoon glanced over. “She made it the same way she used to? Back when you two were together?”

Jungwon nodded slowly. “Exactly like that.”

“And you’re upset because…?”

“I don’t know,” Jungwon shaked his head. “She laughs at my jokes the same way. She still says ‘bless you’ when I fake sneeze for attention. And today, I saw the mug I got for her birthday two years ago, sitting in her cupboard like it never left.”

“Maybe it’s just a good mug?” Sunghoon offered.

Jungwon stared at him. “That mug has a whale on it saying ‘whale you be mine.’ It wasn’t just a mug.”

Sunghoon choked on his drink and wiped his mouth. “Okay, yeah, that’s tragic.”

“And she still wears my hoodie,” Jungwon added. “She likes that hoodie.”

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna ask for the hoodie back and confess your undying love in the same breath?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I was over her. I thought we were fine being exes who raise a dog together.” Jungwon let out a long sigh and tilted his head back. “I don’t know when it started feeling like this again.”

Sunghoon crumpled his empty drink can and tossed it into the bin beside them. “You mean the part where you show up with her favorite foods, sit on her couch like you never left, and keep pretending Maeumi’s the only reason you’re still hanging around?”

Jungwon looked at Sunghoon. “…Okay, rude. But not wrong.”

“Exactly. Look, man.” Sunghoon turned to face him fully now. “You two broke up. Sure. But you’re still texting her late at night, still wearing the cologne she once said smelled nice, and still looking at her like she’s the only person in the room.”

Jungwon groaned. “She’s just being nice. She always was.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “No one’s that nice, bro. She has your hoodie. She made you pancakes last week. You said she cut the strawberries the way you like them.”

“She always cuts the ends-”

“Exactly.” Sunghoon gave him a look. “At this point, you’re not just co-parenting a dog. You’re toeing the line of a romcom reboot.” He added, “Seriously, who even does this? Shared custody over a dog? With your ex? This is the weirdest post-breakup dynamic I’ve ever seen.”

Jungwon didn’t even deny it. He muttered, “…Yeah, but it’s kind of working.”

Sunghoon nodded solemnly. “You’re doomed.”

Jungwon groaned. “I think I’m accidentally falling in love with her again.”

“No such thing as accidental. You just never stopped.”

🍎

Maeumi wasn’t himself. You noticed it the moment he refused his dinner. He moved slowly, dragging his paws across the floor, and his eyes looked distant. Something was off. He usually had a healthy appetite, but tonight, nothing. You knelt beside him, gently rubbing his back. “Hey, Maeumi, what’s going on?”

He let out a weak whimper. Panic rose in your chest. You didn’t know what was wrong but knew you needed help. You grabbed your phone without thinking.

Jungwon picked up almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” His voice was concerned, even though he wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Maeumi’s sick. He won’t eat, he’s not moving much… I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Don’t worry. I’m coming over.”

It didn’t take long for him to arrive, his face tense as he crouched down to Maeumi’s level. The dog barely acknowledged him, enough to make you both nervous. “We should take him to the vet,” Jungwon said after a moment.

You nodded, already on the phone, setting up an appointment. The drive was tense, your hand gripping the door handle while Jungwon kept one hand on the wheel, his eyes between you and Maeumi.

When you finally arrived at the clinic, it was quiet. You and Jungwon waited in the sterile, cold waiting room. Maeumi was lying on your lap, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. You rubbed his head absentmindedly, trying to calm yourself. “He’s going to be okay,” Jungwon said quietly, glancing over at you.

You nodded but didn’t answer. He touched his hand lightly near yours as he reached for the water cup beside you, and for a fleeting second, you felt his warmth. You looked at him, but his gaze was somewhere else, not meeting yours.

For a brief moment, you wondered if he missed this. If he missed you. But before you could even entertain the thought, the door to the exam room opened, and the vet emerged, pulling your focus back to Maeumi. Jungwon stood up. “He’ll be fine,” he said.

And you weren’t sure what to make of it, but for the first time since your breakup, you couldn’t ignore how much it stung to see him so close yet still so distant.

🍎

By the time you and Jungwon returned from the vet, Maeumi was already dozing off on the couch, wrapped in an old blanket and looking much more himself. The panic had eased. You stood by the kitchen, hands on the counter, watching Jungwon kneel to check Maeumi. You glanced at the time. “It’s late. You should eat before you head back.”

Jungwon looked up. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I was gonna cook anyway,” you said, opening the fridge. “Don’t expect a five-course meal, though.”

“I never did,” he said, smiling as he joined you in the kitchen. “You still burn rice, don’t you?”

You gave him a light shove with your elbow. “That happened once. And the pot betrayed me.”

Then, he washed the vegetables while you stirred the soup. It was annoyingly comfortable.

By the time dinner was done, the table was set. Jungwon set down the last dish and glanced over at you. “This… feels like we never broke up,”

You froze. Then, you replied, “We never used to have this much garlic.”

He huffed a small laugh but didn’t push it. And for the rest of dinner, neither of you brought it up again.

🍎

The dishes were washed. The leftovers are packed. Maeumi, finally feeling a bit better, had claimed his usual spot at the foot of your couch, tail thumping gently as he dozed. You stood near the sink, drying your hands on a dish towel, when Jungwon spoke from behind you. “I didn’t just miss Maeumi, you know.”

“I miss…” He let out a soft breath. “I miss all of it.”

“Do you still think about us?” he asked.

The silence was deafening. You felt him watching your back, waiting. And if the room had stayed that quiet a second longer, you would’ve said something honest. But Maeumi barked as if he’d sensed the tension rising and decided to cut it clean. You both jumped slightly. You turned with a light laugh, avoiding his gaze. “I think someone needs his water refilled.”

Jungwon didn’t press. He nodded before crouching to check Maeumi’s bowl.

Neither of you said anything else.

But the question stayed.

🍎

It happens on a night that should’ve been uneventful. A regular handoff. Maeumi is snoozing on your carpet, belly full. Jungwon’s quiet tonight. You notice it right away, but you pretend not to. You handed over Maeumi’s leash, but he didn’t take it. “You still have my hoodie,” he says.

You glance up. “What?”

He gestures vaguely toward the coat rack. “The gray one. I saw it last week. You used to sleep in it.”

You shrug. “It’s comfortable.”

His jaw tightens, but he laughs a little. “Everything I gave you is ‘comfortable,’ huh?”

You don’t answer.

“I saw your story the other day,” he adds. “Looked like a date.”

Now, you furrow your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Jungwon runs a hand through his hair. “Forget it.”

“No,” you say. “You brought it up. So say it.”

“It’s confusing. For one moment, we laughed as if nothing had changed. Then, in the next instant, I remember how you used to fall asleep on my chest or steal all the blankets.” His voice wavers for a moment, but he pushes on. “I just can’t tell if I’m the only one stuck in the past or you’re better at pretending.”

You hesitate, then quietly. “I wish I could say I moved on, but I haven't.”

Jungwon’s shoulders drop a little. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He looks down. “Because you looked like you were doing okay. And I didn’t want to make it harder if you were healing.”

“I wasn’t okay,” you say softly. “I’m still not.”

Jungwon lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours. “Neither am I.”

“I miss you,” he says. “Not just Maeumi. Not just Saturday mornings. I miss… talking to you. I miss knowing how you’re doing without having to ask.”

You look away. “Then why are we doing this?” you whisper. “Why are we acting like we’re fine?”

He lets out a breath. “Because maybe we don’t know how to be anything else.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He says, more gently this time, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start an argument.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t.”

He bends down and clips the leash onto Maeumi’s collar. The dog wags his tail, clueless, happy just to be loved by both of you. Jungwon straightens up but doesn’t turn to leave right away. He looks around your apartment. His eyes land briefly on the hoodie by the coat rack, then the familiar mug on your kitchen shelf.

“I still love you,” he says suddenly.

You freeze.

“I didn’t think I should say it. I didn’t want to make this harder. I thought… maybe it’d get easier if I stopped talking about it. But it didn’t.”

He’s not asking for anything. Not a hug. Not a kiss. Not to come back. He was standing there with his hand gently resting on Maeumi’s back because it kept him from breaking. “You laughed at one of my jokes last week,” he says softly. “And for a second, I forgot we weren’t together anymore. That’s how easy it is to fall back into you.”

You swallow hard. But he keeps going.

“I didn’t want to make you feel guilty. Or corner you. I just needed you to know. It wasn’t because I stopped feeling everything when we broke up. I was scared. And tired. And maybe I thought it’d hurt less if we ended it on our terms.”

He finally looks at you. “But it still hurts.”

Maeumi lets out a soft bark. Jungwon reaches down and scratches behind his ears; for a second, it’s just the sound of his hand brushing fur. Then he straightens again, but now you notice his eyes are a bit glassy. “I’ll take him tonight. I’ll text you tomorrow. If you need anything, or if… you want to talk more, I’m one call away.”

You nod. Slowly. You can’t get your voice to work. But your eyes say enough.

Jungwon opens the door and glances back just once. “Goodnight,” he says.

And then they’re gone.

🍎

Jungwon sits on the edge of his bed, hair slightly damp from a rushed shower. Maeumi is curled beside him, his head resting on his paw, and his eyes blinking up at him as if he understands more than a dog ever should. Jungwon takes a small breath and runs a hand through Maeumi’s fur. “You don’t have to look at me like that,” he mutters. “I didn’t yell.”

Maeumi blinks again.

“Okay,” Jungwon sighed, leaning back a little, “I maybe said too much.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Maeumi,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “She just looked at me like I was someone from a different life. That sucked.’’ Jungwon glances down and smiles sadly. “Don’t worry,” he says quietly. “Mommy and Daddy were just having a little disagreement.”

He lays back on the bed. “I’ll bring her back,” he whispers. “I swear, Maeumi. I’ll bring your mom back to me.”

Maeumi lets out a soft woof.

🍎

The rain had been pouring since morning. You didn’t expect anyone when the doorbell rang, especially not Jungwon. But there he was. Standing at your doorway, drenched from head to toe, Maeumi dripped beside him and looked more like a soggy mop than a dog. “Uh,” Jungwon offered sheepishly. “He refused to walk anywhere else.”

You said in disbelief. “You could’ve called.”

“I did. You didn’t answer.”

You step aside. “Come in before Maeumi gets mistaken for a wet sock.”

Towels came out. You wrapped one around Maeumi, rubbing his fur as he wagged his tail. Jungwon was quieter. You handed him a dry hoodie from your closet, which was his, actually. It still smelled like him, though it had sat folded for months.

He changed. You made tea. He sat across you on the couch, rubbing Maeumi’s ears absently. “I’ve been thinking,” Jungwon started, voice gentle. “We weren’t ready back then. But maybe now…”

You looked at him, guarded. “I’ve changed,” he continued. “You have too. And I don’t just mean getting better at feeding Maeumi actual food.” You smiled a little. He took it as permission. “I guess I want to say I’m sorry. For everything I didn’t say before. For not knowing how to stay when things got hard.”

You met his gaze. “I’m sorry, too. For pushing you away when I didn’t know what I needed.”

“Do you think Maeumi would be okay if we lived together again?” Jungwon asked suddenly, eyes hopeful.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking for the dog or for you?”

A sheepish smile curved his lips. “Both.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned into his shoulder, your head resting there like it used to. “Maybe we could try again,” you said quietly. “For real this time.”

Jungwon’s hand found yours.

Maeumi snored at your feet.

And outside, the rain kept falling, washing everything clean.

951 notes · View notes

burningflash · 2 years ago

Text

My dad texting me this with no context. He knows me so well

#it’s led too so i could put it on my bedside table as a reading lamp bc there’s no power outlets nearby #and only $29.95 too…

1 note · View note

misswynters · 7 months ago

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Ma Meilleure Amour

featuring. ekko x fem!reader

a/n. doing my duty as a writer to fill the ekko tag with fics of him only (it’s translated to my best love)

inspired by. the song Ma Meilleure Ennemie and the scene with ekko and jinx in act iii (listen to it while reading)

Everything felt different. The streets of Zaun had the ever-present haze of smog seem softer, its grim edge dulled by the warm hum of neon lights. The streets bustled with life, as they always did, but the night gave the chaos a certain charm. The glow of green and pink signs reflected off damp cobblestones, while the occasional flicker of a malfunctioning lamp sent ripples of color through shallow puddles.

You walked side by side with Ekko, your steps slow and aimless, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. You didn’t, of course. With how Zaun always had a way of reminding you that the clock never stopped ticking. But right now, under the swirl of lights and the faint hiss of steam vents, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

Ekko’s hand brushed against yours every so often, and though he wasn’t one to initiate touch easily, you could tell he didn’t mind the closeness. He always had this way of being effortlessly cool, his swagger and wit making it seem like nothing fazed him. But you knew him better than most. You saw the weight he carried, the pressure of being a leader, a fighter, and a kid all at once. And tonight, you were determined to remind him what it felt like to just…be.

“Ever think Zaun’s kinda pretty at night?” you mused, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ekko glanced at you, one eyebrow raised, before looking around. “Pretty? Dunno if I’d call it that. More like…gritty with a side of a green glow.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the one waxing poetic about this place,” he shot back, his grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, maybe I’m seeing it through rose-colored glasses. Or maybe I just like walking around with you.”

That earned a chuckle from him, the sound low and warm. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned closer to you. “Well, when you put it that way…” The two of you wandered through winding alleys and across rickety bridges, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil. Every so often, Ekko would point out a shortcut he’d used for one of his time-bending escapades or share a story about an adventure with the Firelights.

But then he led you down a narrow path you hadn’t noticed before, his fingers brushing yours briefly to guide you. At the end of the path, you stepped into a beautiful hidden oasis. A rooftop garden tucked away from Zaun’s usual grit and grime. The first thing you noticed was the lights. Strings of mismatched lanterns crisscrossed the space, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. Tiny fairy lights were woven through the vines that climbed up makeshift trellises, their warm flicker like little stars in the night. The plants themselves were a mix of scrappy greenery and surprisingly vibrant flowers, their colors popping against the muted tones of the city below.

“Woah…” you breathed, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a spot I’ve been working on.”

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filled with awe.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from yours. “Figured it’d be nice to have a place to get away, y’know? Somewhere quiet.”

You stepped forward, taking it all in. A small wooden bench sat in the center of the garden, its surface worn but sturdy. Around it, the plants swayed gently in the cool breeze, their leaves catching the light just enough to shimmer.

“Come on,” Ekko said, his hand lightly brushing the small of your back as he guided you to the bench. “I didn’t bring you here just to stand around.”

You sat down, the wood creaking softly under your weight. Ekko settled beside you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the lights and the distant sounds of Zaun filling the space. It was a working pattern. There was always a comfortable silence between the two of you.

“How long have you been working on this?” you asked softly.

“Couple months,” he said, leaning back with his arms stretched across the bench. “Takes a while to get plants to grow in a place like this. But I dunno…it feels good to build something, y’know? Instead of just tearing things down.”

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his voice. Ekko didn’t let people see this side of him often though. I mean this was the boy who dreamed of a better Zaun, the one who carried the weight of his community on his shoulders.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “Just like you.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and a little shy. “You’re laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just telling the truth,” you said, closing your eyes as his warmth seeped into you.

The two of you sat like that for a while, wrapped up in the stillness of the garden. Ekko’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, like you were always meant to fit together.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For, y’know…being here.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Of course,” you said softly while winking. “You’re worth it, Ekko.”

His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, the golden light casting shadows across his face. Then he smiled. It was real, genuine smile that made your chest feel light and full all at once.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you leaned into him.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little muffled. “It is.”

There it was again, the comfortable silence. The garden was quiet, bathed in the golden light of the mismatched lanterns. You rested your head on Ekko’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you. His fingers were still intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing small, absentminded circles against your knuckles.

It was peaceful, almost too perfect for Zaun, where tranquility was a rare luxury. The hum of distant machinery and the faint chatter of the streets below were a backdrop to your own private world. You thought this was it, that the night couldn’t get any better. But Ekko had other plans.

Suddenly, he shifted away from you, his weight leaving the bench as he stood. His warmth leaving your body. You blinked up at him, confused as he turned to face you, his signature grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He extended a hand toward you, palm up, the glow of the garden lights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice soft but brimming with an irresistible playfulness.

You tilted your head, a laugh escaping you. “Dance? Here?”

“Why not?” He wiggled his fingers, urging you to take his hand.

You hesitated, glancing around. “Ekko, there’s no music.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Reaching into his pocket, Ekko pulled out a small, beaten up speaker, a relic salvaged from some forgotten corner of Zaun. He fiddled with it for a moment before a warm melody crackled to life, filling the air with a gentle rhythm.

You stared at him in disbelief, your lips parting in surprise. “You planned this?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but failing miserably as a proud smile broke through. “Maybe.”

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his palm grounding you. “Alright, Clockstopper,” you teased. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Ekko pulled you to your feet, guiding you to the center of the garden. The music swelled around you, soft and sweet, a contrast to the chaos of Zaun. His other hand found its place on your waist, and he held you close, his movements easy and unhurried. At first, you tried to match his rhythm, your steps tentative as you followed his lead. But it wasn’t long before your foot accidentally landed on his.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, pulling back slightly.

Ekko winced dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “You’re killing me here,” he said, his voice laced with mock pain.

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Baby?” He laughed, spinning you unexpectedly. You stumbled slightly but caught yourself, the sound of your shared laughter echoing in the garden.

The two of you continued like that, swaying and spinning under the lanterns. Every so often, you’d step on his foot again, and he’d exaggerate his reaction, making you laugh until your cheeks hurt. But then, as the song shifted to a slower melody, Ekko’s movements became gentler, more deliberate. He pulled you closer, your bodies impossibly near. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the faint scent of zauns atmosphere lingering on him. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The golden light reflected in his eyes, making them shimmer like they held their own constellation. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something raw and real that made your heart stutter.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with everything words couldn’t express. Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around your waist. The world seemed to tilt, the glow of the lanterns and the soft hum of the music swirling around you in a haze of light and sound.

Time felt irrelevant—ironic, considering who you were with. All that mattered was the way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lights around you. Smiling, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too,” you said, the words as natural as breathing.

Ekko grinned, his hands tightening around your waist as he pressed a series of quick, playful kisses to your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. Each kiss was accompanied by a soft giggle from you, his affection spilling over in a way that was so uniquely him.

“Ekko, stop,” you laughed, trying to pull away as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Never,” he said, his voice full of mock defiance as he caught your lips in another kiss.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. The music played on, the lights flickered, and Zaun’s ever-present hum seemed softer, almost distant. As the night stretched on, you found yourselves back on the bench, your head resting on Ekko’s shoulder as he absentmindedly played with your fingers. The garden felt like a dream, a little slice of peace carved out of the chaos. And in that moment, with Ekko by your side and the glow of the lanterns above you, everything felt right. Almost perfect.

banners. @anitalenia

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

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id-lights · 2 years ago

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violetrainbow412-blog · 8 days ago

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No one else [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x fem!reader

wc: 6.8k

summary: Bob agrees to join you at a bar with your friends, but a stranger’s gesture unsettles him more than he expected. Later that night, in the quiet of your apartment, he finally lets himself be vulnerable—and loved.

masterlist part 1 (can be read as a standalone, it's only useful if you want some context!)

warnings: explicit sexual content (MDNI), oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, praise kink, mild jealousy, emotional vulnerability, references to past abuse, trauma triggers, mention of addiction/recovery, aftercare, soft!dom reader (if you squint)

There was no special reason for the invitation. You had turned to Bob on one of those afternoons you spent together.

“Some friends are going to a bar tomorrow. They told me to join them. Do you want to come with me?”

Bob took a couple of seconds to answer. Not because he didn't want to—he was already sure he'd go anywhere if it was with you—but because the question unnerved him a little. With me? he thought. As if that word, said so casually, carried a weight you didn't notice, but he did.

“Sure,” he had said, trying to sound casual too, though slightly excited to be hanging out with you.

It was just a bar. People laughing, glasses in hand, dim lights. But to Bob, it meant more. It meant you weren't hiding him, that it wasn't just a get-together between you two when everything stopped. It was you bringing him into your world, even if it was just for a few hours.

You had agreed to meet the guy there. That night, you arrived a little early, ordered something cold to start the evening, and sat down to wait for him at one of the tables your friends had set aside near the window. There was music playing, but not so loud that you couldn't talk, and the warm light from the hanging lamps gave the whole place a more intimate feel than you expected.

You were checking your phone when you saw him come in.

Bob walked through the door with his hands in his pockets and a slightly uncertain gaze, searching the crowd until his eyes found you. He was wearing a white T-shirt that subtly outlined his shoulders, with an open blue flannel over it. His hair was a little messy, as if he'd hastily arranged it with his fingers.

He approached you slowly, but without hesitation.

“How do I look?” he asked, half-jokingly, as he stopped in front of you.

You stood up from the chair, placing a hand on his chest without thinking twice.

“Stunning”

Bob blinked, surprised by the directness of the response, and lowered his gaze slightly. If he'd been told that a sentence like that would disarm him so much, he wouldn't have believed it.

“You look... wow,” he murmured, not very subtly, as his eyes scanned your loose black blouse and light-colored jeans, which revealed just enough to make him briefly forget you were in public.

You laughed, amused by his reaction.

“Come, I’ll introduce you to them.”

You took his arm, gripping those muscles well hidden in everyday life, and led him toward a group of people. There were eight or nine of them, maybe, men and women. Each of your friends greeted him and said their names. Later, you spoke. You introduced him simply as Bob, without titles, but with a loving smile that was hard to ignore.

“You were right when you said this guy of yours is quite the cutie, huh?” mocked one of your sassy friends.

Bob blushed violently, and when he looked at you, something in your expression told him he'd have to get used to that kind of interaction. He didn't know how much you'd told them about your relationship, so he tried to stay as discreet as possible.

To be honest, all his attention was reserved for you. You looked dazzling, not in an exaggerated way, but like someone who looks beautiful on her own no matter what she wears. When the flow of conversation returned to the table, you leaned toward him to whisper something. He didn't hear you the first time, so you decided to lean in close to his ear.

“If you get bored, just tell me and we’ll go, okay?”

He just nodded, swallowing that tenderness with a lump in his throat. Because he wasn't bored. He was trembling inside, yes, but he wanted to make an effort to make you happy.

You ordered a beer for you and one for him, making sure he was comfortable with it. You knew, very vaguely, about his history with drug abuse, but you didn't know if abstinence included alcohol as well.

He remained attentive to whoever was speaking, and occasionally answered questions someone asked him. His tone was ambiguous, of course, as he tried to keep his powers and the evil entity he harbored within him hidden.

At some point, you slipped your hand under the table and placed it on his thigh. Bob tensed at first, more out of surprise than discomfort, as the contact unsettled him; not because he didn't want it, but because he wasn't used to someone touching him like that. So openly.

While you continued talking with your friends, laughing, passing a napkin, or sipping from your glass, your hand remained there. It moved up, and down, and played with the fabric as if it were an automatic gesture. As if you'd done it a thousand times before.

He wondered if you were pretending not to notice his gaze or if you just thought you wouldn't affect him the way you did. So he forced himself to keep his composure, to laugh when someone said something funny, to pretend his skin didn't burn beneath where you brushed against him.

“Want another beer? It’s on me.”

You leaned slightly in his direction, taking advantage of the fact that the others were distracted by other conversations. The scent of your perfume, combined with that of the beer, permeated his nostrils.

“I still have one”

“But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m fine for now.”

You nodded, understanding.

"And something to eat? Fries?"

“Whatever you fancy is fine. We can share.”

One thing is certain: Bob, in and of himself, made you want to kiss him. But that night you felt even more attracted, probably because of the atmosphere, the drinks, or simply because he was twice as handsome as usual.

“And what do you think of them so far?”

“Your friends?” he murmured, and you hummed a nod. “They’re nice. Very playful.”

“They are. But you get used to it over time.”

“Are they usually like that with the people you bring?”

“What people?” You pretended not to understand, taking a sip from your glass while making sure to look him in the eye.

“You know… like me”

“You mean mysterious boys who don’t talk much?”

“And you have no idea how social gatherings work,” he snorted, not reproachfully, but with a hint of acid. You squeezed his thigh affectionately.

“You’re the first one I’ve brought, so I wouldn't know.”

“I feel weird,” he suddenly confessed. “I mean, not like it’s a bad thing, but… you know, I want them to like me and stuff.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” you retorted back “You’re quiet, yes, but that’s not a crime. Your style is more like… interesting silences.”

“Interesting silences?”

“Yeah. Like when you're thinking about saying something, but decide not to. It's sexy.”

That curious sound that pleased your ears so much, a laugh that seemed to hurt him escaped from the back of his throat.

“It’s not on purpose”

“That doesn’t make it any less sexy,” you insisted.

A tiny blush spread across the boy's face as his arm slid down your back, wrapping itself around your waist and thus shortening the distance between you.

“Well, if that’s what we’re talking about,” he murmured in a deep voice, almost hoarse from the closeness, “I don’t think I’m the one who should hold that title.”

His eyes scanned your face with a mixture of admiration and barely contained desire, as if he were trying to memorize your features.

“Robert Reynolds,” you raised an eyebrow, half amused and half incredulous, “are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe.” he gave you one of those smiles of his—unusual, soft, a little crooked as if he still didn’t quite know how to do it. “Is it working?”

As he spoke, his fingers traced a slow circle in the fabric of your shirt, right at the base of your back, causing an involuntary shudder.

“Pretty good, I’d say.” You brought a hand to his neck, caressing the warm skin with your knuckles, moving just a little closer. “Now give me a kiss, will you?”

Despite the chuckle he let out at your request, he didn't hesitate for a second to please you. He gave you a short but deep kiss that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

After your intervention, he relaxed considerably. Although you couldn't say he was participating enthusiastically, he at least seemed calmer. At one point, he took your hand, which was on his thigh, perhaps looking for a form of regulation or simply because he wanted to feel closer to you.

The evening continued peacefully. You chatted, laughed, and even they told a few stories that you were sure were meant to embarrass you—in the best possible way—but Bob listened with joy. He couldn't quite interpret the feeling bubbling inside him. It was happiness, yes, but also a strange satisfaction at feeling like he was uncovering a few of the secrets you harbored.

It was amid this harmony, just as the general laughter began to die down, that a waiter walked confidently up to the table. He carried a tray laden with small glasses of clear liquid, they trembling slightly with each movement. His appearance was so sudden that for a second everyone remained silent, confused.

“We didn’t ask for that,” you exclaimed at that moment, stopping him with one hand as you frowned, “Maybe you made a mistake.”

“Someone sent them to you. From the table over there.”

Every head in the group turned in the indicated direction, and then a rather cocky guy winked at you through a half-smile. Your stomach lurched at the gesture, and a disgusted expression quickly appeared.

“I don’t want them”

“That’s not true, leave them here.”

Apparently, your friend's answer carried more credibility, and the waiter simply ignored you. Like birds around crumbs, everyone swarmed to get a shot of vodka. They seemed amused by the situation.

“Seducing strangers again, huh?” someone quipped, raising an eyebrow as they brazenly took one of the shots.

“Again?” Bob hurried, glancing at you with a mixture of surprise and a barely contained expression of annoyance. Although he had intended only for you to hear, his voice came out louder than expected.

“Oh, let me tell you,” another voice chimed in, amused, nudging the blue-eyed man with a knowing elbow. “It’s not the first time someone’s sent her a drink.”

“I’m starting to wonder if that ass of yours is really worth all the madness,” someone else joked, raising their glass before taking a gulp “But hey, if it gets us free stuff, I’m not complaining.”

Most of the group took the matter with amusement, and you simply decided to ignore it. They were right when they said it wasn't the first time something like this had happened, but each time, rather than feeling attracted, you were surprised that there were men dumb enough to spend their money on a stranger and her entire table.

Considering the matter to be stupid, no further discussion was made. By this point, you'd already had enough beers for the edges of the evening to begin to blur, so it was no surprise that when the conversation turned to something more trivial, it seemed irrelevant, almost like a detail not even worth remembering.

You didn't notice the change in Bob right away.

He didn't say anything. He didn't make any obvious gestures. But when you turned to meet his eyes, they weren’t as open as they had been a moment ago. He wasn’t looking away, but he no longer held your stare the way he had before. His hand, once resting confidently on the curve of your waist, was no longer there; he had withdrawn it. Not abruptly, but with a movement as silent as it was meaningful.

You, however, didn’t see it as a bad thing. In fact, you didn’t read into it at all. You simply assumed he was just tired.

You'd been there for a while, your voices mingling, and the warmth of the place was beginning to curl like a thick blanket over your skin. You took another sip, barely savoring it, and then approached him without thinking much. One of your hands slid over his thigh, as you had before; naturally, affectionately. He didn't move away, but his body didn't react the same way.

He was there. But something in him wasn't there.

“Is everything okay?” you whispered softly into her ear.

Bob nodded once, without looking at you, while he hummed his response. That was enough to set off a small alarm in the back of your mind. Not because you feared anything bad, but because you knew that specific type of pause. It was like a way of collecting himself when something touched him too much.

Maybe he felt exposed, you thought. Maybe the meeting was too much, or he was suddenly overwhelmed.

It was easy to forget: he wasn't like your friends. He didn't like being the center of conversation, nor being surrounded by comments he couldn't tell if they were meant to be funny or not. And, as always, his instinct wasn't to complain, but to shut down a little. To retreat inward.

Without forgetting the matter, you rested your forehead on his temple, brushing his skin with your lips.

“Do you want us to go now?”

The question wasn't meant to offer a clear conclusion. Rather, it was a way of holding him back, of offering him a way out before the silence became awkward.

“No, I'm fine,” he murmured.

But he didn't mean it. And you, even if you didn't fully know it, were starting to feel it.

You stroked his leg again, more slowly this time. As if you could reconnect with him with that gesture. As if your body knew it needed him close even when your head still couldn't understand the reason for his distance.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

His face was a little more serious, his jaw clenched like someone holding back. You didn't know yet that it wasn't the meeting, it wasn't the music, your company, or the noise. It was something more invisible to your eyes.

For a while, you sat there, trying to act naturally so he wouldn't feel guilty or uncomfortable. But as soon as you saw an opportunity to escape, you took it.

“Let's go home, okay? My head hurts a bit, and I've already had too much to drink,” you said quietly, as one of your friends began to tell a rather boring story for the third time.

Bob barely looked up from his glass. He didn't object, didn't even ask if you were serious. He just moved as if grateful that you were the one who said it first.

You said goodbye with hugs, some more effusive than others. There were jokes, laughter, someone asking you to invite him back, and another shouting something about taking care of your boyfriend. Bob didn't respond. He merely smiled with his lips closed.

Outside, the air was fresher, and the silence, was like a truce.

You called a taxi as you walked toward the corner. He kept his hands in his pockets, his steps a little slow. He seemed calmer than he had been at the bar, but still withdrawn. You brushed his arm with yours as you walked, and he moved closer, as if by reflex.

“Are you going home, or…?” you asked carefully.

Bob didn't respond right away.

“I think so,” he said, without much conviction.

You looked at him. In profile, his eyes looked sad. You didn't say they were, but there was something there, something that didn't fit with the night or the times he'd kissed you with his heart in his throat.

You moved a little closer, with that kind of affection that doesn't ask permission.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

He turned his face toward you, just a little, and narrowed his eyes as if he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.

“You could stay at my place,” you added, with a calm smile.

Bob swallowed. It wasn't an invitation with ulterior motives. Or maybe it was. But not the kind he usually feared. It was an invitation to breathe in a place where he didn't have to pretend.

“If you’re tired, we can sleep. If not… that’s okay too,” you said, glancing at him. “I just want to enjoy you a little longer. You look so pretty today that I can’t just let you go.”

He smiled. One of those smiles that barely cuts, but is worth twice as much for being so rare.

“Okay,” he accepted, quietly, as if it were a surrender.

And you, silently, intertwined your fingers with his. The taxi arrived shortly after, and when he opened the door to let you in first, your eyes met his, and you knew—without needing words—that he was ready to open up to you.

The ride was more pleasant than you expected. You leaned into him for warmth, and Bob didn't deny you his embrace, where the gentle beating of his heart felt almost like a lullaby.

As you stood at the entrance to your apartment, the jingling of your keys replaced the silence between you. As you entered, the comfort welcomed you, and you felt you could finally breathe more freely.

You asked Bob to go ahead to the bedroom while you quickly went to the bathroom. You wanted to remove your makeup and also brush your teeth to get rid of the taste of alcohol in your throat. You thought about taking a shower, but discarded it because of the thought that Bob might fall asleep before you could talk to him.

When you finally came out, he was sitting on the edge of the mattress. He'd already taken off his shoes, leaving him in only his thick gray socks, and he raised his head slightly when he noticed your presence.

“Okay, honey, what's wrong?”

“What’s up with what?”

“With you,” you whispered.

He looked away as you approached him.

"Nothing”

“Bob,” you insisted, more firmly this time. However, he didn’t seem to want to budge.

The preceding silence made you frown, and you thought it was time to intervene, although now with more determination.

“Bob, what’s going on? You’re acting weird. Did something bother you? Were my friends rude?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “It’s not like that.”

Testing the waters, you closed the distance and settled onto his lap, straddling him. It was a low move, but you knew your lover always became more compliant when your body was that close. His body reacted—of course it did—but his arms stayed limp at his sides. So you reached up, cupping his cheeks, gently guiding his face toward yours to make him look at you.

“So? What is it, huh?” you asked gently. “You can tell me. You know I won’t get mad.”

“It’s not that I think you’ll get angry. It’s just… it feels really dumb to say out loud.”

“Your feelings aren’t dumb, Bob,” you corrected him. A gentle kiss on his lips was enough to make his shoulders relax and his hands finally settled on your thighs. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…” he murmured, his gaze fixed on some indefinite point, “I think I felt bad about… you know, the man thing.”

“What man?” you asked, tilting your head in genuine curiosity. It was a simple gesture, but it puzzled him. He couldn't tell if it was confusion, indifference, or tenderness.

“Who sent the round of shots to our table. The one who was flirting with you.”

You didn't say anything right away, but the way your eyes searched his seemed to say too much: you didn't understand why this affected him so much, or maybe you did, but you wanted him to say it.

“I'm not your boyfriend, I know... but...”

The phrase hung in the air, like a loose thread that threatened to unravel what you had woven that night. You watched him for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, without responding immediately.

“Is that the problem?” you asked softly. “Do you think because you’re not my boyfriend I’ll go with someone else?”

Bob didn't say anything. He opened his mouth, as if about to explain, but then seemed to change his mind. He looked down again, his brow furrowed, as if in pain. Then you lifted his head and plastered on a smile meant to inspire confidence.

“You could have anyone you wanted,” he complained, a mixture of frustration and surrender in his voice “Anyone. Just need to smile at them like that and you’d have them in the palm of your hand.”

At first, you looked puzzled, but after a second, your expression changed. With determined tenderness, you reached up and caressed his cheek.

“And you think I don’t know?” you exclaimed. “But I invited you. Why do you think I did that?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Because I like you, Bob. Very much.”

The words hung suspended for a moment. You didn't need to repeat them; you'd already said it all with that tone, with that body leaning toward his, with that warmth that emanated from the closeness.

You smiled sweetly at him. Then you kissed the tip of his nose, his cheek, the line of his jaw. You hugged him, still feeling him stiff beneath your hands. He didn't reject the gesture, but he didn't fully surrender himself either.

“I’m not usually good at reading signs,” he said hoarsely.

“And what do you think mine says now?”

Bob looked at you for a moment, his pupils dilated by the mixture of emotions, desire, something he could barely name. Then he replied in a low voice:

“For me to stay”

You nodded, barely smiling.

"Exactly"

You kissed him again, this time slower, deeper. A kiss that didn't seek urgency but clarity, as if each caress of your lips could erase the doubts he'd been carrying since the bar.

“I love that you get so nervous when I touch you,” you whispered against his skin. “As if you don’t understand yet that you can have me all the way. Whenever you want, however you want.”

Bob swallowed. His hands moved to your waist, not with impulse, but with an unspoken longing. He hugged you as if he feared that by holding you tight, you'd disappear.

“You know what I like best?” you added, brushing your nose against his. “That you don’t realize what you do to me. But I do. I see it. Every time.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling as if he could finally let something out. And then you kissed him again. Short, soft kisses, repeated over and over again, intended to fill an old emptiness. Kisses that mingled with words, murmurs, and soft laughter.

“I like the way you look at me. I like the way you listen to me. I like that when you're with me, the world falls into place. And I want you to make sure that sticks in your head, got it?”

Bob wrapped his arms around you. His fingers trembled a little, but now they didn't flinch. He didn't seem afraid to touch you anymore.

“You’re so hot, Bob. It’s painful to see how you don’t realize that more than one girl would kill me to kiss you like I’m doing now.”

You leaned gently toward him, until your bodies were chest to chest. With a gentle push of your hips, you made him lie back on the mattress. Bob let himself go, his eyes fixed on you, as if he were suddenly struggling to breathe.

"But I'm the one who does it, aren't I? Lucky me”

You leaned a little further into his chest. Your hair fell to the side, caressing his neck as your lips continued to explore it. Kisses on the corner of his mouth, on his jaw, on his neck. Kisses that didn't ask for permission.

Bob was physically unable to utter a word. He knew that if he opened his mouth it would only be to let out a moan, so he didn't.

Suddenly, your bodies began to seek each other out more intentionally, unhurriedly, but with a growing passion that could no longer be hidden. Desire throbbed beneath your skin, between faint sighs and caresses.

Clothes weren't a barrier, but a gentle reminder of what was still to be discovered. You didn't need to rush. You were already choosing each other. Every touch, every lingering kiss, every shared breath was the clearest proof that you were right where you wanted to be.

The man beneath you exhaled faintly as you rubbed your hips against his crotch, as if you wanted to tease and prepare him at the same time. He felt you smile against his lips.

“Let me take care of you, honey.”

Carefully, almost ceremoniously, you slid your lips down his neck and began trailing wet kisses down his chest. You slipped off the flannel and then the white t-shirt, placing your hands on his forearms, firmly on his biceps.

The first time you saw him naked, you were pleasantly surprised, as you didn't expect to see that gorgeous six-pack hidden under his baggy clothes. They always say the best are the quietest, don't they?

You reverently continued kissing his chest, making sure that each time your lips parted, it was with the grace and delicacy of a butterfly landing on his skin. You licked along his abs, tracing your route to the hem of his jeans, where some prominent veins stood out. The closeness made you salivate.

“May I?” you asked softly, placing your hand on his belt buckle. He only managed a nod from his spot.

It didn't take you long to pull his pants down to his ankles, taking his boxers with them. It was obvious he was beyond hard after all that make-out session you'd had, and all you needed was a fistful of your hand at the base of his shaft to make him twitch.

You began with slow, rhythmic, circular movements up and down his swollen length. With each stroke, his breathing quickened and his cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. From your spot, you could see him biting his lip, definitely trying to mask how hot it was to see you giving him this attention.

You whispered to him that there was no need to be silent, and to motivate him to let himself feel it, you slipped the tip of his member into your mouth. He couldn't resist, and a breathy moan filled the air. Sure, Bob had had this kind of experience before, but this was his first time sober. Without the meth dulling his senses, and with how much he wanted you, you going down on him felt like heaven—better than any high he’d ever chased.

Your lips were warm, and he couldn't tell if it was your saliva or your precum that made your insides so deliciously wet. After a few seconds, he didn't even have the strength to mask his moans, so he just let them out without any shame.

Every now and then, even as you took him all in, you whispered how good he tasted or how much you loved fucking him with your mouth, feeling him down to your throat. More than the movements, your words were what was driving him to the edge.

He wasn't used to receiving that kind of praise during sex. It was something new, yes, but something he could get used to.

Suddenly, the world shrank to the sensation of your tongue sliding over his cock, at first at a cautious pace, then so fast it made his legs tremble. His hands moved on their own to your head, brushing your hair with his fingers until he managed to secure it in a ponytail, which he held with one hand.

The sight of you looking down at him, your eyes watering and your cheeks pressed against his, made him utter a growl of curse.

Then he began to set the pace, guided by that growing urgency burning in his loins, that pre-orgasm desperation that made him tremble inside. He knew you could have made him come easily, effortlessly, but the instant he felt himself approaching the edge, something deeper and more primal took over: he wanted to come inside you.

He wanted to feel your walls squeezing him as he came, how you enveloped him completely. He wanted to kiss you at the same time, devour your moans and mix them with his, as if that moment could fuse them in a more intimate way than any other.

“Wait, wait, baby…”

You stopped, and his member slipped out of your mouth with a soft pop. He felt dizzy from the worried look you gave him, as if you'd done something wrong when, in reality, you were doing everything perfectly.

Before you could ask him anything, he sat up and, with an almost savage rhythm, yanked his pants out of the way. You let out a squeal as his hands—strong and manly—held you by the waist as if you weighed nothing and laid you down on the mattress.

Bob was a meticulous man, in every sense, always behaving prudently to avoid making a mistake. But that night he turned into the messiest lover you could imagine.

The first thing he pushed aside was your black shirt, his movements determined, as if he couldn't wait any longer. He didn't even bother to remove your lace bra; he simply pushed it down enough so he could lean down and nibble at the skin of your tits, hungry for you. At the same time, one of his hands deftly descended to your stomach, searching for the fly of your pants.

His desperation overwhelmed you completely. He was soon making his way through your pants, his hand descending firmly to your crotch, where he cupped your still-covered pussy. Even through your panties, the wetness was unmistakable. He swallowed hard, overcome by the thought that pleasuring him had been able to awaken that desire in you.

He murmured—begged—to be let inside you. His voice was desperate, almost delirious, whispering again and again that he couldn’t wait, that he needed you like he needed air. You responded with the same eagerness, cupping his face and pulling him down into a kiss, exhaling one sentence: that he could do whatever he wanted to you.

You both let out a moan in unison as he positioned himself at your entrance, sliding inside you a moment later. You were consumed by passion, sick with desire for each other, to the point of feeling like you could shatter into a thousand pieces. As if at that moment nothing else existed, and the explosion of that insatiable longing was the only thing left of you in the world.

His thrusts became steady and deep, as if he had to reach the bottom of you to be satisfied. He breathed so erratically against your neck that it only made everything hotter.

His every movement seemed driven by something more than desire: a raw, ancient need, as if your body were the only refuge capable of containing him. There were no thoughts, only the shared urgency, the heated touch of skin against skin, the trembling that grew with each thrust. And amid that intensity, he wasn't just seeking pleasure… he was seeking belonging. Holding onto you as if afraid he'd lose himself if he slowed down, if he stopped feeling you this way.

“Do you think I’d let anyone else fuck me like this?” you whispered, right against his ear. Your velvety voice sent a shiver through him. “Only you can do that, handsome. I’m completely yours. Only yours.”

Your words twisted something deep in his stomach. It caught him off guard, realizing how far you’d gone to offer yourself to him—fully, selflessly, in a way no one else ever had. Bob already knew he was yours, body and soul. But he never expected to hear, from your own lips, that you belonged to him too.

Wanting to motivate him again, you sweetly complimented how well he was doing and confessed how much you wanted him to make you cum.

It got to the point where all there was in the room was a mix of the lewd sounds of your bodies colliding, incomplete sentences, moans, grunts, and the feeling of heat emanating from your naked skin.

He knew he wouldn't last long. And maybe he was a hopeless romantic, but he wanted you to come at the same time, as if that would make the moment more intimate.

His thumb traveled to your clit, pressing hard, rubbing insistently to stimulate you enough for your climax. Your hips responded, moving frantically against him almost instinctively, while your nails dug into his back, clutching at something tangible to endure the ecstasy that was already beginning to course through you from the tips of your toes.

A high-pitched moan escaped your lips without warning, and in that instant, he knew you'd come. The way your body shuddered, clenching tightly around him, was a turn-on impossible to resist. Feeling your orgasm engulf him pushed him over the edge, and then he surrendered without reservation, spilling himself inside you with a deep, broken groan, so intimate and delicious that you wished you could keep it forever, like a precious secret between the two of you.

When Bob collapsed against your chest, rising and falling with a shaky breath, he needed a moment to pull himself together.

The warmth between the sheets was still felt, the echo of sighs and bodies intertwined. His cheek sank between your collarbone and the edge of your neck, breathing slowly, as if he could only just allow his lungs to do their work.

Your fingers moved in slow circles over his back, just above the line where his tense shoulder blades were beginning to relax. The sweat on his skin was already drying, but he didn't pull away. Not yet.

“You okay?” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, but said nothing. It was enough for you to feel him. His weight, his breathing, his meaningful silence. You knew him well enough to know that when he was silent, something was settling inside him.

A few more seconds passed. Then he slid a hand down your side, absentmindedly caressing the curve of your waist, as if he needed to remind himself you were there.

"Thank you"

“Why?” you asked, now stroking his damp hair, ruffling it gently.

“For... this. For you. For not letting go when I shut down like this.”

You didn't say anything right away. You just kissed his forehead, slowly, with a reverent gesture.

“You need more to get rid of me.”

A sigh escaped his chest, sounding almost like a laugh. He sat up slightly, lying on his side so he could see you better, one of his legs crossing yours as if he needed to stay in touch with you.

The dim nightlight partially illuminated his face. His eyes were dark and soft, vulnerable. Your fingers ran down his cheek, then down to his chest, where you could still feel his heartbeat racing calmly.

“Need anything, sweetheart?” you murmured, voice thick with heat. “Water? A tighter grip? Or maybe you just want to hear how fucking gorgeous you look wrecked like that?”

He let out a soft, shaky laugh.

“You know, I didn’t realize how much I liked hearing you talk to me like that… not until now.”

“Talk to you how?”

“Well… you know. All those compliments. The sweet things you say.”

His words stumbled out awkwardly, like he still wasn’t sure how to respond to your praise without putting up his usual defenses.

You smiled.

“Funny how we’re always learning new things about ourselves, huh?”

He looked down, and you took advantage of that second to take his face in your hands.

“I’m just not used to this,” he said, barely whispering.

"To what?"

“That someone loves me so calmly”

Your chest tightened. And you leaned in to hug him, closing your eyes for a moment to contain the emotion that was beginning to rise within you as well.

You stayed with him like that for a long time. Caressing him, whispering small things in his ear: how handsome he looked with his hair messed up, how much you loved the sound of his voice when he moaned, how adorable his blush was, how irresistible he seemed to you even when he was insecure. And Bob took it all with bravery and modesty, trying to convince himself that you were sincere with your words.

“I think we should clean up a bit,” you suddenly mumbled, amused “We’re kind of... sticky.”

Bob, who might have fallen asleep due to the calm, let out a soft laugh, with a slight sigh at the end.

“Probably yes”

“Do you want to take an ice bath to wake us up?”

As soon as the phrase left your lips, you felt a shift. His hands, resting on your waist, froze, and his body tensed as if you'd said something you shouldn't have. His gaze drifted toward the ceiling, unfocused, his mind probably traveling somewhere farther away.

“Hey,” you mumbled, frowning slightly “What’s up?”

Bob opened his mouth, but it took him several seconds to form a response. Finally, he let out a sigh.

"It's no big deal"

You already knew that wasn't true, but you insisted immediately. You ran your fingers along his chin, gently guiding him to look at you. You waited. You gave him space.

He swallowed. Then he looked away again. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was low, almost timid.

“It's just... cold water makes me a little tense. It always has. I don't know why... well, I do. I just don't like to say it out loud.”

You remained silent. Present, without pressure.

“When I was a kid,” he began again, more firmly this time, “if I misbehaved or… if my dad thought I had, he’d sometimes make me take a bath with ice-cold water. Not for hygiene or anything. It was a kind of punishment. He’d run it hard, saying I needed to wash it off. Sometimes he’d leave me in there for minutes, which at my age seemed to feel like hours.”

His voice held no anger. It held tiredness. A kind of ancient shame that he no longer knew whether it belonged to him or not.

“Since then… I can't. It's hard for me. Cold water makes me think about it. Even though now I'm the one who turns on the tap.”

A pang of tenderness tightened in your chest. You didn't say anything at first. You just leaned toward him, caressing his cheek with your lips. A kiss. Then another, on his temple, as gentle as you could.

“Thanks for telling me,” you whispered. “I won’t suggest it again, okay?

He nodded slowly.

“But we can still take a bath,” you continued, still hoping. “A warm one. We fill the tub, sit for a while, I put in some bath salts, some candles. It doesn’t have to be for any reason other than to wash off all that’s left behind… the sweat, the residue, the intensity. Just to relax. Together.”

He looked at you. And for the first time in minutes, his expression truly softened. He looked relieved, almost small. He nodded once more, this time with his eyes shining with something hard to describe.

"Sounds good"

“Let me pamper you for a while, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything today.”

You sat up slowly, still holding him, and helped him up with you. The air between you was no longer heavy, but warm. True intimacy, love in its quietest form.

As you walked to the bathroom, Bob felt something inside him click, something that had been awry for a long time. Not because you'd said something miraculous, but because you hadn't judged him when he revealed a piece of information that made him so vulnerable. You looked at him the same way after he told you, as if nothing about him scared you, and you even looked for an alternative to make him feel better.

A while later, when you were already submerged in the water and he could feel your back against his chest, he understood. The feeling was clear and floated peacefully between you; he was loved, there was no doubt about it. Sincerely and deeply.

He was safe.

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dykeforhire · 6 days ago

Text

Taste for A Favor | E.P.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Summary: Emily opens up to you about her feelings regarding sex after menopause… you decide to help her out.

Tags: (18+) smut (oral, face!fucking, dirty!talk, body worship, scissoring, fingering), bit of an age-gap, struggles with self-confidence.

Word count: 12.6k

masterlist || read on ao3

a/n: the LONG AWAITED meno fic is finally here milf lovers… enjoy !! this is so unrealistic... but hey, its porn.

…

After being at the BAU for so long, you’ve grown quite a bond with the team. You consider Penelope, JJ, and Tara to be some of your closest friends, inside and outside of work, and Luke—the brother you never had. Rossi is practically a father to everyone, so of course, you feel the same.

And then there is Emily.

The infamous Emily Prentiss, so very poised and always effortlessly catching the attention of everyone around her.

You aren’t quite sure where the relationship between the two of you lies.

You’d say good friends, but then again, there has always been that strange static energy when it comes to you and her. Not to mention, the way your breath always seems to catch in your throat whenever Emily looks at you, or the way you’ve always been drawn to the way her perfume lingers in the air even after she leaves the room.

Technically, it’s a crush, which is somewhat embarrassing to say at your grown age, but also embarrassingly true.

She is the older, wickedly attractive, silver-vixen of a boss that romance novels preach about. And you just so happen to be an absolute sucker for the taboo, and for her.

That being said, it’s sort of a fairytale in the making as to how you ended up in Emily’s upscale apartment in the district, after a long and stressful day of paperwork and meetings at Quantico. It feels as though it was by some divine intervention that out of all the women on the team, you were the only one available for an impromptu ‘girls night’.

When you arrived at her doorstep, Emily was already out there waiting, sitting comfortably on her stoop, a half-smoked cigarette betwixt her fingers.

She had changed clothes since she left the office earlier in the evening, trading her sleek button-down blouse and tailored slacks for a pair of black sweatpants and a pullover sweater, the neckline cut wide enough for it to fall off one shoulder.

The warm light of the street lamps caught on her skin, making the faint protrusions of her collarbones and the ball of her shoulder glow.

Her hair was another thing.

The thick silver locks were thrown up into a messy knot at the back of her head, a few loose white strands from her crown and temples framing her face.

She looked effortless, remarkably domestic. It was then that you found domesticity to be your favourite look on her.

“Hey! I’m so glad you could make it. All the others bailed, haha.” She reached out with her free hand, greeting you with a pat to the bicep.

“So I see… we’ve never gotten a chance to hang out alone, so… I’m sure it’ll be a good time.” You chuckled nervously, shifting the bag of takeout from one hand to the other.

She led you up the stairs with a smile, stamping her cigarette on the stone wall and tossing it behind her.

You never thought climbing a single flight of stairs could be so tolling until you were stuck climbing behind her.

Her scent wafted into your senses with each step, that expensive French perfume and the lingering cigarette smoke in her hair. You felt like you were suffocating in the most brilliant of ways.

You couldn’t get enough.

Not to mention the way her hips swayed beneath the loose fabric of her sweats, the cotton clinging to her body in all the right places.

You stood behind her as she unlocked her front door, pretending not to stare at her exposed shoulder blade or the scandalous curve of her neck and jaw.

Stepping inside, you were met with the scent of earthy candles, and something very uniquely Emily.

“Here, I'll take that from you…” She placed her keys on the foyer table and spun to face you, taking the bag from your hand. “You go settle in, I’ll plate this up.”

“Sounds good.” You gave her a tight but friendly smile, adjusting the hem of your shirt nervously.

You watched her float into the kitchen mindlessly, sighing to yourself in somewhat disbelief that you were spending alone time with the object of your most recent romantic desires.

…

Emily returns to the living room with two plates balanced in one hand, a bottle of white, and two wine glasses in the other.

“Thank you, thank you.” You take the plates from her and set them down on the table in front of the couch.

She drops down beside you with a tired groan, the knot of her hair bouncing animatedly.

“Thank god for wine and you, for the take-out.” She grins, setting the glasses down and pouring a healthy amount in each.

“Cheers to that…” you laugh, tilting the glass toward her before taking a long sip.

“So…” Emily starts, taking a bite of her food. “What have you been up to lately… when the BAU isn’t holding you hostage?”

“Ahh, the age-old question…” You chuckle, picking at your food before gathering it onto your fork. “Nothing much, I usually just laze around in my spare time or enjoy some retail therapy.” You shovel the food into your mouth.

“I get it, nights like this are a rare commodity.” She sets the plate on her lap and reaches towards the side table. “Wanna put on a movie or a show? What’s good on TV lately?”

She hands you the TV remote, which you take carefully, flicking the TV on and opening one of her various streaming services.

“Hmm, how about… here, this’ll do.” You decide on some home renovation series you’d binged recently, a mix of hoarder house and fixer-uppers.

Setting the remote down, you start eating again, only half paying attention to what is on the screen.

Reaching for your wine glass, you take a quick glance at Emily. Your heart almost stops dead in your chest when you see the angular black frames resting on the bridge of her nose.

You’d never seen her in glasses before, so it’s understandable why one would be surprised—but you were rendered speechless for a whole other reason.

She looks undeniably sexy wearing glasses, especially paired with the messy hair and lounge clothes.

“You wear glasses?” You ask, voice wavering slightly.

“Oh yeah, have for years now.” She rattles off as if the information isn’t turning your insides to mush. “I wear contacts at the office, just makes it easier.” She pushes the frames up a bit as they’ve slipped down while she’s been eating.

You watch the way her throat bobs as she swallows, the way her tendons tighten and release.

“You should wear them more often, they look nice, fitting.” You shake yourself out of your filthy thoughts, downing the remainder of the wine in your glass.

“Really?” She turns to you, her brow arched curiously. “I think I look like a dweeb.”

“Hey… dweebs are hot.” You wave your hand, nonchalance dripping from the statement as you try your hardest not to let your voice crack.

“If you say so…” she laughs softly, nudging your arm with her knuckles.

Emily pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she focuses back on the TV, and you can help but watch. You can see how her tongue glides over her lips, collecting crumbs of misplaced food, and how the muscles of her jaw clench as she chews.

Alright…

You settle back into a comfortable silence after that. After finishing up your food, you reach over to place the empty plate on the table—Emily catches your wrist before you can.

“I’ll take that.” She gives you a soft squeeze, smiling as she grabs the plate from your hand.

“Thanks…”

As she wanders off into the kitchen, you take a moment to calm your nerves. Despite nearing your forties, attractive older women still maintain the ability to make you behave like a fool as if you’re sixteen years old.

Emily, plopping back onto the couch, pulls your attention back to reality. She smiles at you crookedly as she gets comfortable, folding one of her legs beneath her bottom.

“Hey, I never asked how you’re doing? What have you been up to?” There’s a slight gravel in your voice as you speak, and you take a sip of wine to soothe it.

Emily sighs as she takes in your question, which pulls a curious arc to your brow.

“Nothing good, huh?” You set the glass down, shifting on the cushion to face her.

“No, it’s just… I don’t know, when you get to this stage in life, I’m sure you’ll understand much more.” She pauses, the words arranging in her mind.

“Understand what? I’m not that far behind you, y’know?” you chuckle, your hand reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, urging her to speak further.

“Yeah, yeah…” she scratches at the back of her neck, making a crooked face. “It’s just—ugh, I want to be getting out more. But this job, and life… it’s just so complicated.”

“I get that. Would you rather have gone to the bar tonight? We can totally still go out—”

“No, no… I wanted to stay in tonight.” Emily cuts you off. “I guess I mean it in more of the dating aspect.”

Oh.

Emily wants to start dating again…

“So you want to start dating? I’m sure that’s no issue for you, Emily. We’re in DC… there’s apps, there’s work events.” You attempt to help assure her, but you can’t deny the tiny pang of jealousy in your belly.

“I know, but…” Emily groans, taking a long sip of her wine. “It’s just hard… putting myself out there. Post-menopausal women aren’t really a hot commodity nowadays…”

You can help but scoff at the ridiculous statement, eyeing her incredulously.

“You haven’t been on the Internet recently, have you? Because I can assure you, Emily… they most certainly are.” You chuckle, leaning back against the armrest behind you.

“Okay, but it’s not just that—” she pauses, shaking her head a bit in thought. She pushes her glasses atop her head, her dark eyes a bit watery. “I want someone who understands what it’s like. To be a woman of a certain age.”

“Okay?” You urge her on, angling your head a bit closer. “So you want someone who’ll be able to cater to your needs.”

Your heart skips a few beats as the topic of conversation settles into place. Sex. Or more specifically, Emily Prentiss’s sexual needs.

“I started using those estrogen patches to help with the y'know—dryness, hot flashes, and whatever...” Emily motions downwards with her hands, vaguely. “And it’s been working well for me; my body feels more mine than it has in years. But, I’ve still been struggling with achieving… release, I guess you could say—or at the very least, having a pleasurable experience regardless of if I finish or not.”

Emily looks slightly defeated as she slumps against the cushions of her couch, the liquid in her glass swirling idly.

“Well, what do you think would get you where you wanna be?” You ask, resting your elbow on the back of the couch and your temple against your knuckles.

“I don’t know… maybe if someone else does the touching, it would feel better.” Emily sighs. “But I haven’t really had time to find dates, let alone find someone who’d even be interested in a woman like me…”

The comment makes you stir a bit; the fact that a woman as beautiful as Emily thinks that anyone would pass up on a chance to go out with her, let alone sleep with her, is rather bizarre in your mind.

Matter of fact, if given the chance, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

“Oh come on…” You swat at the older woman's thigh. “I bet you’ve got hoards falling at your feet. You’re fucking stunning.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that…” Emily scoffs.

“Puh-lease, Emily… you have no idea.” You roll your eyes, hand lingering a little too long near her leg.

“Oh? And what is that supposed to mean?” Emily looks at you curiously, her brow arched high.

“All I’m sayin’ is, if you gave me a chance… psh” You trail off, waving your hand in the air shamelessly, averting your eyes from her gaze.

She studies your face for a moment, a tiny smirk crooked at the corner of her mouth. The wine has brought a faint red glow to her cheeks, and the few stray hairs that’ve slipped loose from their hold under the glasses, framing her face gracefully.

“So you’re saying that given the opportunity, you—my agent—might I remind you, would sleep with me?” Her smile grows as she asks the question, the flush spreading down to her chest.

“Absolutely.” You deadpan, internally grateful for the third glass of wine in your system for a bit of liquid courage.

The lines at the corners of her eyes crinkle as her smile grows to its full capacity, the dim candlelight flickering across her features.

“Really?” Her brow worries, a line creasing through her t-zone. “You don’t think I’m too old and withered?” Emily chuckles, brushing a hair away from her lip.

“I think you’re everything.” Your gaze fixes on her, maintaining eye contact. The deep brown of her irises sparkles like the night sky as she stares back at you, a faint glistening of tears peeking over her waterline.

“God, you’re so young…” she chuckles, placing the wine glass on the side table. “I’m sure you have better things to do than… me.”

You laugh softly in return, mirroring her position and placing your glass on the table. Shifting closer to her, your knee presses into the side of her thigh.

“I’m not that young, and you are most certainly very high on my to-do list.” You murmur, watching the way Emily reacts. You reach a hand out, knuckles brushing along the top of her thigh.

Emily’s breath hitches slightly at the contact, the muscle tensing below the fabric of her sweatpants.

“Y/n…” she whispers, her chest rising unsteadily.

“Emily…” you whisper back, matching her empathetic tone.

“You’re sure? About wanting that, I mean.” Emily looks at you, her lashes fluttering shyly.

You smile at her, reaching up to brush your fingers along the curve of her jaw.

“I’m gonna be very honest with you right now, Emily…” Your thumb traces the swell of her chin, the underside of her lip. “I’ve thought about getting my hands on you since I first transferred onto the team.”

“Oh, m-really!?” Emily sighs almost in disbelief, as her eyes traverse your face rabidly, taking in the details.

“Yes.” You breathe out, leaning in close enough to smell the lingering wine on her lips and laundry detergent on her clothes. “And what about you, hm? Is that, or—am I, something you’d be interested in?”

Emily silences, her gaze noticeably falling to your lips. You part them subconsciously, a hand cupping her cheek as you slowly lean in, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

“Yeah… I’m very interested right now.” Her eyes flick up to yours one last time before she sinks fully into you, her soft lips pressing against yours in an almost feather-light kiss.

You pause for a moment, letting her take a breath, letting her relax.

When her palms land on your hips, you move forward, pressing your mouths together harder and deepening the kiss. Emily hums softly as your fingers curl around the back of her head—the vibrations reverberating against your teeth.

You let her take the lead, her tongue darting out and dragging across your bottom lip teasingly, before curling into your mouth. You suck on it gently before releasing and re-attaching your mouths in a passionate onslaught.

Emily sucks in a sharp breath as you nip at her bottom lip, your free hand gripping at her thigh. She pulls back and rests her forehead against yours, her breathing quick and labored against your lips.

“Jesus…” Emily pants, her thumb drawing circles against your abdomen through the fabric of your shirt.

“I hope that was a good ‘Jesus’…” you chuckle, scratching at her scalp with blunt fingernails.

“It was a good ‘Jesus’, trust me.” The silver-haired woman laughs. “That was very, very nice.”

“Just nice?” You question sarcastically, leaning against the back of the couch to look at her properly. Emily scoffs and rolls her eyes, her fingers tracing the hem of your top.

Your hand slips from her hair and reaches for the glasses atop her head, pulling them from her tresses and tossing them onto the table next to her wine glass.

“Hey! Those were expensive.” Emily feigns concern, as if she hasn’t got about ten other pairs lying around as well as a hefty amount of cash stashed away in her savings.

“I’ll get you a new pair…” You mumble, leaning in to kiss her again. Emily whimpers softly, her hand clutching at your waist to pull you closer.

It’s a bit sloppier as you take the reins this time, your tongue rolling languidly into her mouth and tangling with hers. Your teeth scraping at her bottom lip, fingers resting on the curve of her shoulder as your body rolls with the momentum of the kiss.

The skin that peeks out from the wide collar of her sweater is hot to the touch, soft and smooth against the pads of your fingers.

Trailing up the side of her neck, your fingers dance over the veins and tendons that dance with the motions of her jaw, protruding ever so slightly at the exertion. The tip of her nose rubs against your cheek as she tilts, opening her mouth and letting you lick inside—the essence of wine and leftover cigarette sinking into your tastebuds.

Scooting closer, you raise your leg and settle it atop hers, overheated bodies pressing into each other.

Emily hums, and her hand slips down to rest on the muscle of your thigh, squeezing. Your hips lurch forward at the pressure, a twinge of arousal surging through you.

You pull back from the kiss to catch your breath, both hands clutching at the base of her skull.

“Can I touch you?” You murmur, inhaling sharply through your nose. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yeah…” Emily exhales, her other hand clutching at your shoulder blade from under your arm. “Please, touch me.”

You dive back in with a nod, kissing her hard but slow. Taking your time in savouring the way your tastes mingle, the way she feels.

One hand leaves her neck, trailing lower. You memorize the dips and curves of her chest through the fabric of her sweater, feeling along her collar bones, her ribs, the curve of her breast—but not where she wants you most just yet.

When you reach her stomach, you pull back just enough to watch her expression, savoring the way her breath hitches when your fingers dip under the hem of her top and press against her soft belly.

“You’ve got cold hands…” Emily shudders, the muscles of her stomach flinching.

“I’m sure you’ll warm them right up.”

Emily’s eyes flick open and lock with yours momentarily. And with a quiet moan and furrowed brows, she leans in again—sucking at your bottom lip harshly before licking over it and kissing you properly.

Your hand travels further across the expanse of her abdomen as she kisses you deeply, tracing the curve of her lower belly and over the faint ripples of muscle below her diaphragm.

Emily freezes when your thumb brushes against the aged ridges of the scar jaggedly carved into the left side of her abdomen. You know exactly what it is, everyone knows.

The age-old tale of when Emily Prentiss died at the hands of Ian Doyle, and somehow miraculously survived.

You feel the shift in her demeanor as you press fully against it, fingertips tracing the faint ridges where sutures once lay.

“Is this okay?” You whisper against her lips, pressing a soft peck to the corner of her mouth.

“I-yeah. Yes. It’s okay.” She stutters, her thoughts seemingly jumbled. “Just don’t linger too long, okay?”

“Okay.” You smile gently. “You’re beautiful, Emily… so beautiful.” You drag your fingers away from the old wound, tracing lower along the arch of her hip bones.

Emily whimpers as you kiss her gently, lips just barely pressing against hers.

The hand that still rests on the side of Emily’s neck reaches up and pulls the tie from her hair, the thick silver locks cascading down her shoulders and back.

The strands tickle your face as you move to tuck them away, fingertips brushing over her cheekbone.

“I love your hair… grey looks sooo sexy on you.” You murmur between chaste kisses, your hands flexing against her waist.

“Yeah?” She pants breathlessly, her hand squeezing your bicep as the tension seems to thicken between the two of you.

“Yeah…” You break away from her mouth, eyes flicking open and locking with hers before you shift lower, planting kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

The warm, aged skin is soft and pliable beneath your lips as you suckle at her pulse point, eliciting a tiny gasp from her throat. Your teeth graze the flesh as you move lower, using the hand in her hair to lift her chin, giving yourself more access.

“That feels good.” Emily sighs, her body slowly leaning further into the armrest of the couch. You let out a low hum, nipping at the underside of her jaw as you press her back fully against the cushion.

Emily’s arches into your touch as the hand beneath her shirt trails higher, palm flat against the curve of her ribcage. Your thumb glides over the underwire of her bra teasingly, pulling a tiny gasp from the older woman.

“Can I?” You whisper against her lips, her quick breaths fanning across your face with the closeness.

“Yes.” Emily exhales, nodding eagerly as your fingers trace the padding of the cup.

You palm a full breast, and Emily moans—her hands pawing at you through your clothes. You can feel the faint outline of her nipple as you squeeze, hardening with each groping touch.

With a desperate groan, you shift on top of her, your legs bracketing her thighs. Emily looks up at you with drooping eyelids, her hands moving to rest on each side of your waist—fingertips prodding into your flesh.

“And this? Okay?” You ask quietly, dipping down to nuzzle at her cheek.

“Yeah… keep going, please.” She squeezes your hips gently, her chest pushing into your touch.

You smile at her eagerness, cupping her breasts with both hands now. The silken fabric is warm to the touch, its smoothness pairing well with Emily’s soft skin.

You lean down to kiss her again, lips meeting in a desperate mess of teeth and tongue. Emily’s breathing is shaky and shallow as you scrape your nails over the padding, teasing her covered nipples.

Emily pulls away suddenly, the movement so rushed it almost knocks you off her lap altogether. Her arms clamber at her own back as she shakily reaches under the sweater, unclasping her bra and pulling her arms through the sleeves.

You can’t help but smile amusedly at the older woman as she struggles to free herself from the straps, wriggling beneath the thick fabric as if it were a straitjacket.

“Got it?” You chuckle, quirking a brow.

“Mhm… just a second.” Emily chokes out, her arms untangling and slipping back through the sleeves—one hand holding a simple grey bra.

She tosses it across the room before returning her attention to you, smiling and shrugging in a way that makes your heart skip a beat before lurching forward, reconnecting your lips in a fiery, passionate kiss.

A muffled moan slips into her mouth with the force of it, your hand grasping at her waist.

Using your free hand to stabilize yourself on the back of the couch, you press forward, righting yourself on her lap. Your hips rock in tandem with the kiss, rolling subtly over the meat of her thighs.

Emily hums, clutching at the sides of your face as your hands slip beneath her sweater again. Her skin is practically boiling, a hot flush spreading from her cheeks down to her chest.

You run your fingers up her flanks, tickling at her ribs before tracing your thumbs along the underside of her breasts. Emily shivers as you tease the sensitive skin, her nails digging into your neck ever-so-slightly.

Her nipples are fully peaked when you finally brush over them, her areolas puckered. The thought of her being so affected from a simple makeout session sends a sharp twinge of arousal straight through you, compelling your hips to grind harder into her lap.

Emily pulls back with a hiss as you squeeze at her bare breasts, pinching her nipples between your index and middle fingers. You watch attentively, studying her reactions as if you were scanning them into your brain.

You think for a moment that a memory as beautiful as this deserves to be kept close and sacred for all eternity.

Urging yourself on, you crane down and kiss along her exposed throat, nipping at the veins pulsing just below the surface. Emily’s hums, her svelte fingers tangling at your nape as you drag your tongue over her pulse point.

Tugging on your hair, Emily pulls your mouth back to hers. The kiss she plants on you is wantonly needy, the way her tongue drags across your lips before her teeth bite into it drives you practically up the wall.

Sliding halfway off her lap again, you drag your nails over her breasts and down her abdomen. The way her muscles jump and twitch below the skin fascinates you.

Looping an arm around her lower back, you tug her side against the front of your body. Emily squeaks in response, her torso twisting near unnaturally to keep your mouths connected.

Your hand runs flat over her pelvis and down to her thigh, squeezing at her knee before sharply scraping back up, your callouses catching on the worn fabric of her sweatpants.

Her hips cant forward as you tease at the hem, fingertips brushing over the skin of her belly.

“Please…” Emily whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your upper lip and then the bottom.

“Please, what?” You murmur, drawing teasing circles around her belly button. “I need you to tell me exactly what you need, Emily. I want this to be perfect for you.”

“God, these are not the type of orders I’m used to giving…” she laughs breathily, tucking her face into your neck. “Just touch me… I’ll let you know if something needs to change.”

“Okay.” You press a kiss to her temple.

Emily inhales deep and shakily, her lips brushing against your collarbone.

Squeezing her hip, you slowly let your fingers dip beneath the waistband. Immediately, you can feel the damp heat of her sex.

“Oh god…” Emily sighs, spreading her legs further to accommodate you.

“So warm… I take it I’m doing well so far?” You quip, earning yourself a sharp bite to the side of your neck, most definitely leaving a mark.

“I’ll take that as a yes…” you grumble, cupping her pussy through her thin cotton panties.

Emily whines, pushing her hips into your palm to gain more pressure, only for you to pull away. You chuckle lowly as she lets out a needy plea, her hands still clutching desperately at the back of your head.

“I’m taking my time with you, be patient.” You murmur into her ear, breathing in the scent of her hair.

Emily stays silent as you slip your hand back into her pants, fingers trailing down her inner thighs before teasing the edge of her gusset. She sucks in a shuddered breath at the light touch, her thighs spreading impossible wider.

When you finally slip past the hem of her panties, the pads of your fingers immediately come into contact with the wiry curls between her legs.

“Sorry…” Emily mutters shyly against your neck, her face tucked just below your jaw. “If I had any idea this was gonna happen, I would’ve shaved.”

“Don’t worry about it…” You rake your fingers through the hair and press a gentle kiss to the bit of shoulder peeking out from the loose collar of her oversized sweater. “I’m a big girl… I like it.”

Emily shivers in your grasp, her hips twitching—the pressure of your palm seemingly doing wonders in working her up. Using just your middle finger, you slip lower and let it press between her folds, finding her warm and wetter than you thought she’d be.

“You’re wet…” you mumble against her shoulder, licking a broad stripe up the side of her neck as your finger draws teasingly along her slit.

“Yeah…” Emily gasps, her hips rutting against your hand. “I told you the hormones were working.”

“God, you’re so hot.” You groan, gathering some arousal and dragging it up to her clit, tracing light circles around it.

“Hm-fuck…” she whines, her muscles tensing and fingernails digging almost painfully into your scalp.

“Feel good?” You let your head rest against hers, your lips brushing at the shell of her ear.

Emily makes various whiny and illegible noises before she finally responds, her stomach clenching in concentration.

“Yeah, it’s good…” she pants, choking in her breath. “Just keep the touches light, more sensitive that way.”

“Okay…” you press a kiss to her cheek, continuing your slow, teasing strokes against her clit.

You can feel your own arousal starting to pool in your underwear simply from hearing the sounds Emily makes. The quiet gasps, the needy whines and whimpers, it all sends a thick wave of heat through your body, saturating every nerve ending in a heady glaze of want.

Trailing wet kisses along her neck and shoulder, you begin to slip from your spot atop her thigh, your knees sliding off the edge of the couch and slowly landing on the area rug below.

“Wha—where are you going?” Emily turns towards you, a worried crease between her brows.

“I wanna taste you…” You murmur, nuzzling your face into her soft chest. “Can I taste you?” You meet her gaze with wide, sparkling eyes as you kiss the tops of her breasts through the fabric of her sweater.

“Yeah…” Emily pants, breathlessly. “Please.”

You smile softly, your hand leaving the confines of her panties and resting at the curve of her hip as you settle yourself on the floor between her knees.

Emily leans back and pushes her hips towards you, her face flushed and lips parted. She watches with intent as you lift the hem of her top, exposing her soft lower belly.

Diving in, you press a featherlight kiss just below her navel. Emily sucks in a breath at the feeling of your mouth, damp and soft against her heated skin. You can feel the pale peach fuzz beneath your lips as you drag them higher, mouthing at the skin of her upper abdomen.

Emily’s hands cup the sides of your head, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, the tips just barely touching your eyelashes.

Her skin tastes just as sweet as imagined as you drag your tongue along the vast plains of her stomach, with a faint hint of savory perspiration. The skin prickles with goosebumps as you trail higher, lifting her sweater as you go and revealing her breasts.

Just the sight of the thick, heavy flesh makes your mouth water.

You sit back on your heels slightly, using the tips of your fingers to hold the sweater out of the way as your palms press into the sides of her breasts. Your eyes are wide as you frantically explore the newly exposed skin, admiring every stretch mark, freckle, or sun spot, as well as the dusky pink of her nipples.

Leaning forward, you press a solid kiss to the shiny skin in the valley between her breasts, inhaling deeply.

Your kisses grow wet and sloppy, tongue laving along the hot underside of the globes. Emily lets herself fall into the spell of your attention, the pleasure. Her head falls back, tendons growing tought beneath the skin as her chest rises and falls in shallow breaths.

You look up to watch her expression when your mouth reaches her nipples, kissing the bud before dragging a flattened tongue over it.

“Oh-” Emily jerks, her head tilting forward and her gaze landing on your mouth.

Your tongue flicks out at her nipple, drawing a choked gasp from Emily’s throat. Her cheeks grow a darker shade of red the longer she watches, her lips parted in a silent moan.

“Such a tease” She sighs, her breath fanning across your face. “C’mere… take this off of me.” Emily brushes the hair from your face, smoothing her fingers over your crown.

Excitedly, you crane up to peck her lips before sliding your hands up her sides and into the sleeves of her sweater, pushing it over her head, swiftly and discarding it somewhere on the other side of the couch.

You take a moment to admire her half-nude form, her reddened skin, her chest—still covered in the sheen of your saliva, her tousled silver hair; she is a prime example of the purest form of beauty.

You reach out, brushing the tangled strands from her collarbones before tracing over her shoulders and down her arms. When you reach her hands, you take them in your own, pulling them towards your face.

Emily stares wondrously as you kiss her knuckles, down to the tips of her individual fingers, then her calloused palms. When you reach her wrist, you slowly run your finger along the sleek leather of her watch, unclasping it before gently sliding it off her wrist and placing it on the end table.

Your lips brush against the sensitive skin, her pulse thrumming beneath the light pressure of your thumb. A quiet whimper falls from the older woman’s mouth as you kiss along her wrist and up her arm, painstakingly slow and with lustrous intensity.

Emily slips one hand from your grasp, using it to tug you in by the hair.

Her mouth is a force as it collides with yours with a renewed passion, sucking you in as if she were trying to swallow you whole.

“Please.” She whispers, nipping at your swollen bottom lip.

Your hands cup the sides of her ribcage, feeling the ridges with the pads of your thumbs.

“Patience…” you draw the word out in a hushed whisper against her lips, nipping at the bottom one before dipping to the side again and kissing along her shoulder.

Emily groans impatiently, her flushed skin almost glistening as she struggles to hold herself back.

You smirk as you drag your tongue, hot and languid, over her right collarbone, dipping into the hollow of her throat, then the other.

Her chest rises and falls almost frantically at the attention, her head tilting back to allow you more access.

You accept the offer graciously, a hand reaching up to catch her head as it lolls back—your lips latching on to the spot below her ear that pulls a gasp from her lungs.

With a drag of your teeth, you slip lower once again.

Your mouth moves tirelessly over her chest and the rounded edges of her breasts, your nose brushes at her side as you lavish her with undivided attention.

You inhale her deeply, breathing in the scent of sweat and skin, the intoxicating essence of her deodorant mixed with something entirely Emily.

She’s everywhere in your senses, and it makes you feel like you’re floating in space, watching it all happen from above.

You take her nipple into your mouth, and Emily breathes out shakily, arching into the suction of your lips, the swirling of your tongue.

Your teeth scrape over the bud and pull a surprised yelp from the older woman, her eyes shoot down to catch yours.

Her pupils are so blown that you can’t even tell where they end and her irises begin. The pride that surges through you is almost painful, curling deep in your chest, lungs going taught and then unfurling hotly.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, watching your face with half-lidded eyes as you shift to the opposite breast, giving it the same treatment.

Your hands glide down the length of her torso, palming the sides of her chest before your nails rake down her belly. Emily shivers, her hips twitching and her covered mound brushing against your abdomen.

Finally, you lean back on your heels, letting your eyes take her in one last time.

You sit perched between her legs, palms driving up the underside of her thighs. The muscle trembles faintly, you wonder if it’s the anticipation or nerves—maybe both.

“Scoot a bit closer toward the edge for me, beautiful.” You murmur, dipping down to press a gentle kiss to her knee.

Her urges forward at the request, wiggling her hips as she slides closer—her ass just barely hanging off the edge of the couch cushion.

“Can I take these off?” Your fingers curl into the waistband of her sweats, teasing the hot skin at her panty line.

Emily doesn’t speak, she doesn’t trust her voice, she nods furiously—lifting her hips in the air for you to slip the fabric over her ass.

You pull the pants down agonizingly slow, revealing endless miles of leg. When the pants reach her ankles, you pull her socks off with them.

With the fabric discarded across the room, your head rests against her soft inner thigh, eyes dancing curiously over her most intimate region.

Your blunt nails scratch at the top of her thigh, noting the way a faint dusting of goosebumps rises on the flesh. Reaching the apex, your fingertips trace the hem of her panties, dipping teasingly beneath.

Emily hisses at the contact, like your touch scalds.

The thin, dark blue cotton sits slightly askew on her hips, the damp spot above her center darkening the fabric wickedly.

“Have I ever mentioned how brilliant you look in blue, Chief Prentiss?” You murmur, eyes flicking up at her through your lashes before landing on her center again.

Emily grumbles at the title, her hand brushing your hair back from your forehead.

“No, agent Y/L/N, I don’t think you have…” She plays along confidently, and it makes your breath stutter.

You bite your lip nervously; that proud tone in her voice always makes you so weak.

“Well, you do…” You tilt your face, letting your nose drag along her thigh. “Absolutely…” You press a kiss to the meaty flesh of the apex. “Fucking…” another, right above her covered pubic hair. “Brilliant.”

With the last words you press your mouth directly atop her clit, the bud twitching as your lips close in a slow—wet kiss.

Emily chuckles breathily as she slumps against the back of the couch, and it almost sounds like it’s mixed with a moan.

Your palms grip the backs of her knees, lifting and pressing them apart.

You breathe her in, the thick, heady scent of her arousal sending a shiver down your spine, the hairs on your arms standing.

You kiss lower, tongue swiping out to taste her through the thin fabric.

It’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

Your nose rubs her clit as you practically make out with her covered pussy, her nails digging into your scalp—pressing your face closer.

“Oh, babe…” Emily moans softly, her mouth hanging open. “Please, fuck—I need to feel that pretty mouth.”

You let out a deep, needy groan, the vibrations sending a jolt straight through her.

Without a word, you sit up, gripping the hem of her panties and tugging them down so roughly the fabric pops.

Emily gapes at the aggressive movement, her breasts swaying as she shifts up for you again, letting you tear the fabric from her legs.

You gaze at her flushed face first, she looks positively ravished, then you look at the damp cotton in your hands.

“I’m keeping these.” You declare smugly, bringing them up to your face and breathing her in before shifting onto your knees and shoving the panties in your back pocket.

“Filthy thing you are…” she murmurs, her eyes glassy with arousal.

A grin spreads across your face at the phrase, a tiny whine bubbling in your throat from the slight degradation mixed in.

You take in her utterly nude state, the tuft of salt and pepper curls between her legs now on full display. Your mouth waters at the sight of her, saliva pooling under your tongue.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Emily leans forward, her foot drawing over your clothed inner thigh.

“Am I? Maybe you should help me out of them then?” You lift your arms, and Emily’s hands immediately grasp at the hem of your t-shirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion.

Her hands are at your belt next, her fingers tugging it open and reaching for the button of your jeans. You’re on your feet quicker than she has time to ask you to stand, pants falling down your thighs before stepping out of them.

Emily’s whimpers as she takes in the tightness of your underwear on your hips, the curve of your breasts in your sports bra.

She reaches for you, her fingers digging into the backs of your thighs. She pulls you to stand between her legs, her hands sliding over the curve of your ass and scratching up your back.

“Jesus…” she pants, her eyes wide.

Her mouth is on you next, soft lips pressing kisses to your belly. You shove her backwards by the shoulders before she can get too far, falling back against the couch with an oof.

“This is about you, Emily… worry about me after I make you cum.” The words are gravely as they leave your throat, arousal evident in the raspiness.

She quirks a challenging brow, spreading her legs wide and settling further into the couch.

You sink to your knees before her, her scent already clouding the air. Your hands come to rest atop her knees, squeezing lightly as you press them apart.

Your eyes rake over her body, the soft curves, the old and new scars that blemish her flawless skin.

“You..” your lips press to the center of her heaving chest, “are sooo…” your tongue drags between her breasts, “fucking…” down her stomach and nipping at the soft pudge below her navel, “gorgeous.”

With the final words your lips find her pussy, warm and wet, awaiting. Emily’s hips buck against your face as you press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to her sex, desperate for the release she’s been craving.

“Fuck.” The silver-haired woman sighs, her stomach twitching at the contact. Her eyes are locked on your face as you bury yourself in her, devouring.

Pressing her legs up again, you settle them over your shoulders, arms wrapping around her upper thighs and pulling her impossibly closer.

Your tongue draws a flat stripe over her folds, dipping between them before flicking at the underside of her clit. Emily jolts, her fingers threading into your hair and holding you exactly where she wants you.

“Yes…” You almost chant. “Fuck my face.”

Emily moans at your lewd words, and your mouth opens—tongue unfurling and resting atop your bottom lip.

Above, Emily grins through a silent cry—her hands gripping at your scalp and maneuvering your head in an up and down motion, sliding your tongue over her pussy whilst her hips roll in circular motions.

You groan at the feeling, your nose pressing into her pubic hair, the way she’s taken control is absolutely intoxicating.

“Hm—you feel so good.” Emily pants, and your eyes flick up to her face, watching hungrily as her muscles clench and pulse, arms flexing as she guides you.

You can’t help but flash your teeth in a wolfish grin at her affected state, hands reaching up to squeeze her breasts.

Her skin is nearly feverish as your thumbs brush over peaked nipples, circling lightly with the pads before pinching them between your knuckles. The tweaking urges a whimper from Emily’s throat, squeaking out just as her head falls back again—her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

“You look so pretty like this…” You mumble in between laps, swallowing down the excess saliva and arousal that’s gathered in the back of your throat.

Emily chuckles wryly, her gaze falling back on your face. “You look even better.”

You hold back a groan as your mouth closes around her clit, suckling softly whilst your tongue flicks over it.

Emily chokes on a moan at the sudden shift in pressure, her hands and thighs squeezing so tightly around your head that it feels as if it might pop.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so good with that mouth.” She pants between words, muscles trembling.

You hum at the praise, jaw opening wider so your tongue can slip down to her entrance, just barely pressing inside before swiping back up and repeating the motion.

“Oh—” she gasps above you, rutting her hips against your tongue. “Keep doing that…”

You follow her orders silently, lapping at her pussy graciously while she moves against you. A wet stain—without a doubt, forming on the lush fabric of the cushions below her.

Her face scrunches up in pleasure, and you can’t help but watch as she uses your face however she pleases.

“Oh god… fuck, you’re so good… oh, fuck.” Emily cries, her head tilted back in pure, unbridled desire.

“You gonna cum for me, beautiful? You like the way my tongue feels?” You murmur against her pussy, quickly re-attaching your mouth to her clit as she fucks herself on your face wildly, unabashedly.

“Yes, so good—fuck, Y/n, FUCK!” Emily gasps, her hands clutching harshly at your scalp, her body seizing up, and her hips twitching ever so slightly as the orgasm she's been praying for finally washes over her.

A moan slips from your throat at the feeling of her pussy pulsing beneath your tongue, the way her hips roll—riding out the remainder of her pleasure.

Emily lets out a dramatic groan, those perfect, pearl-like teeth on full display as she falls limp against the couch, easing down from her high.

“Oh my god…” she sighs, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes as you place a final kiss to her clit.

“How was that? I do alright for you?” You question, raising your brows teasingly as you kiss up her sweaty torso.

“You made me cum, Y/n.” She laughs, you can’t help the blush that creeps onto your cheeks. “I haven’t even been able to make myself finish in months, so whatever the hell you just did…” her eyes go wide, flashing the white of her sclera before her hands cup your cheeks—pulling your mouth to meet hers in a soft kiss before leaning back just enough to look you in the eye. “I might have to keep you on speed-dial…”

You surge forward this time, a greedy sense of pride swelling in your chest. The kiss is needy and open-mouthed, Emily’s tongue effortlessly slipping past your lips to taste herself. She groans into it, her arms wrapping around your neck and pulling you tight to her body.

You can feel her pubic hair brushing against your belly from this angle, and you swear you’ve begun dripping onto the floor even with your underwear still on.

“Can I worry about you now?” Emily murmurs teasingly, nipping at your bottom lip.

You chuckle heartily at her eagerness, giving her one last wet kiss before sitting back and climbing to your feet with a groan. Kneeling on hard floors never has been kind to your knees.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.” You stand in front of her, reaching out to smooth your hand over her tousled silver locks. “I’m sure the bed is much comfier.”

“Oh, definitely.” She nods, her dark eyes sparkling as she rocks forward onto her feet. She wobbles for a moment, her hands shooting out to steady herself on your shoulder.

You wrap an arm around her back, the skin sticky with perspiration. “Alright?”

“Yeah… just forgot about those post-orgasm wobbles, y’know?” She grins, tilting her chin up and pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You laugh softly, squeezing her hip and pulling her flush to your body. You tilt your head, inviting her in—she meets you with an open mouth, tongue invading your senses as she starts walking you backward towards her bedroom.

Her hands slip into the back of your underwear, palming your ass beneath the fabric. A muffled squeak slips into her mouth from the roughness of it, a seemingly more dominant persona taking over with the reversal of roles.

You manage to make it to the bedroom with minimal stumbling, given the fact that your eyes are closed and your body—occupied.

Upon entering the room, you’re hit with a fresh wave of Emily’s scent. You suck in a deep breath against her lips, breaking the kiss to glance around the room.

“Let me take these off…” Emily murmurs against your jaw, her hands sliding up the muscle of your back and under the hem of your sports bra.

You lift your arms for her, letting the fabric slip over your head—the rush of cool air stiffening your nipples almost sorely. Her hands cover the exposed skin instantly, svelte fingers kneading at the flesh.

“So beautiful…” Emily mumbles, her gaze slipping to your chest. Her kisses trail over your jaw, then your neck, and she’s walking you backwards again.

When your knees hit the edge of the mattress, you ease yourself onto it, and Emily kisses further down your torso as you go.

Her lips wrap around a pert nipple, and a whine slips from your throat, your hands clutching at the sheets.

“Your mouth feels so good, so warm.” The words sound more like a moan as they leave you.

Emily’s hums around the hardened bud, sending a sharp twinge of arousal straight between your legs. You let go of the sheets and clutch at the back of her head desperately, holding her as close as possible.

Emily climbs onto the bed next, your thighs spreading to accommodate her between them.

The feeling of her bare body flush to yours is absolutely overwhelming. Her hips press into your pelvis as she kisses back up your chest and takes your mouth once again—the patch of hair between her legs tickles the sensitive skin as she carefully rocks into you.

You let out a groan, your own hips moving against her motion to gain any sort of friction.

The kisses are sloppy and wet, but neither of you could care less, your body is surrounded entirely by the older woman, every nerve set ablaze as her touches wander.

Her hands rake down your flanks and over your outer thighs, squeezing the flesh before pressing them open wider.

“I think it’s my turn now…” Emily mumbles between kisses, her nails scratching over your skin in a way that makes your body tense and your insides churn.

“Please…” you plead, voice hardly a whisper as you clutch at her shoulders.

Emily grins, her eyes trailing over your flushed face.

“I'd like to taste you…” She bows down, her teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Would you like me to do that, sweetheart?”

“God, yes…” your body arches into her, bare chest squishing against hers.

Emily chuckles, low and teasing, as she kisses her way down your body again. Her tongue drags across your collarbones, then down the valley of your breasts.

She sucks harshly at one's underside and it pulls a yelp from your throat. You look down at her shyly, climbing up onto your elbows.

She meets your gaze as she lifts and slides lower on the bed, her mouth never leaving your body. Her tongue laves at the edge of your rib cage, wet and searing before it drags lower, circling your navel.

Your breathing is ragged as she nips at the flesh of your lower belly, then your hip bones.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours before she drags her nose up your inner thigh, her lips pressing teasing kisses as she moves. She does the same to the other thigh, biting at the tender skin at the apex this time.

Emily licks her lips as she gazes at the soaked spot on the gusset of your underwear. Those dangerously dark eyes meet yours one last time, a silent confirmation.

“Need you...” You sigh, breathless, hips rocking towards her impatiently.

Her nose presses into you first, dragging slowly along the length of your covered slit. Her hands clutch at the backs of your thighs, pressing them apart.

“Mm, you smell good.” She groans, and you can feel the vibrations through the thin fabric.

“Take them off…” Emily follows orders, curling her fingers into the waistband and tugging eagerly. You lift your hips to assist, kicking them the rest of the way off.

When you settle back down on the mattress, Emily’s gaze locks on your needy sex, her eyelids heavy with lust as she takes it in.

She brushes her fingers teasingly around your puffy folds, keeping you on edge. You know you’re already a mess from the way her breath fans your skin, sending a chill across the wetness.

“Touch me, Emily…” you murmur, watching her eagerly as she licks her lips—the sheen of her saliva glistening in the low light.

“You’re so pretty… so wet.” Emily rasps, she looks almost distraught as she rests her palm atop your mound, her thumb swiping over your soaked folds.

You can hear the squelch of your wetness as she toys with you, pulling a tiny whimper from your throat.

She rests her head against your inner thigh, watching closely as she brushes the underside of your clit. Your hips twitch as the sudden touch, pussy clenching around nothing as she keeps a featherlight pressure in the sensitive bud.

“Sensitive?” She mumbles, raising a brow.

“Mhmm…” you hum in response, grinding into her.

She swipes over your clit one last time before dragging it down to your slit, thoroughly coating it in your arousal before pressing it inside.

It’s hardly enough to satisfy, but it feels heavenly regardless.

She cranes forward next, her lips brushing over your mound. She presses a wet kiss to the center of your pelvis, then another just above your clit, and finally the sensitive bulb peeking out from beneath its hood.

Her tongue flicks out next, dragging flat and slow over your folds before drawing to a point and circling over your swollen clit.

Your head tilts back with a sigh as she finally gives you the pressure you’ve been craving, tongue dipping in alongside her thumb before dragging your arousal up, spreading it.

Emily’s thumb slips out, hands wrapping around your thighs and pulling your pussy flush to her face.

You moan quietly as her mouth covers your sex, her tongue dragging languidly over its entirety before wrapping her lips around the bud and sucking.

She moans into you, practically burying her face between your legs.

Your muscles tremble as she works you, a shiver making its way through your body from how impossibly turned on you are.

Your fingers card through the silver locks at her crown, brushing them to one side so you can really admire her.

Emily laps eagerly, mouthing at your pussy as if it were her the last thing she’d do.

You can feel the tension building, that deep ache burning brightly in your womb as she urges on. Her tongue feels like everything, so perfectly overwhelming but delicate at the same time, like she knows exactly how to break you apart from the inside out.

“Shit—Emily… keep going baby.” You pant, hips rocking against her mouth. “Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” She groans, quickly reattaching her mouth. Her hands leave their spot on your thighs and reach up, scratching over your abdomen before palming at your breasts.

Her knuckles pinch at your nipples, pulling a shrill moan from you.

Her tongue works in tandem with the rhythm of your hips, applying the perfect amount of pressure, all while keeping still enough for you to control where it goes.

You’re already so close, it definitely won’t take much longer for you to be hurdling over the edge.

Her right hand leaves your breast and trails up, her fingertips dancing over your pulse point before brushing over your already parted lips.

You let her fingers slip inside, tongue immediately swirling around the long digits. Emily groans at the sight, her eyes fluttering closed as her efforts double down—sucking harder at your clit.

“Fuck!” You yelp, your body twitching at the sudden change in stimulation.

Her hand shifts beneath her body, the now well-soaked fingers teasing at your entrance before her middle slips inside.

“Yes—more.” Your hand clutches at her scalp as you pant, holding her right where you need her.

Her index joins in at your request, curling deliciously into your sweet spot with each slow, deep thrust.

“So good…” You sigh, your body curling into itself to heighten the sensations.

You can feel the tension growing with each pass, the thickness of her fingers filling you perfectly. Emily’s face glows pink as she breathes heavily against you, her eyes flicking up at your face before falling shut again.

Suddenly, Emily’s tongue shifts, swiping against a particularly sensitive spot, and your body begins rapidly approaching orgasm. The taught string of heat in your belly cracks, your thighs tremble, and you try your hardest to keep them from crushing Emily’s head between them.

“Fuck, Emily! Right there—oh my god…” You groan through clenched teeth, your face screwing up with the intensity of your pleasure.

Emily doesn’t change a single thing about what she’s doing, keeping the perfect consistency. With one last swirl of her tongue and press of her fingers, your body crashes into an orgasm, trembling wildly as she slows down just enough not to overstimulate you.

Your body arches off the mattress, and your elbows collapse, neck craning backwards into the pillows.

Emily’s fingers slip from inside you, her hands splaying wide over your abdomen as she eases you down.

You laugh out a moan as the waves begin to settle finally, leaving faint twitches in their wake.

“Mm, fuck… you’re so good at that.” You sigh, your fingers raking through her hair, practically petting her. “People really don’t know what they're missing.”

Emily lets out a hearty chuckle, pressing gentle kisses to your sensitive folds and along your inner thighs.

She works her way up your body slowly, kissing, licking, and biting at your flushed skin. She hums as she reaches your upper torso, kissing over the darkening hickeys she left on your breasts.

“You’re welcome.” Emily rasps, her nose nudging at the underside of your chin as she slots herself into your side, her thigh resting between your legs.

“Mm, thank you.” You smile at her dazedly, your eyes half-closed as you lean in to kiss her. She meets you eagerly, her tongue flicking out for you to taste yourself.

You moan into the kiss, sucking on the muscle gently before letting it go. Your arms wrap loosely around her shoulders, holding her body close. Her blunt fingernails rake along your side, tickling.

Soon enough, your body is already keening for more. You grind down against her thigh subtly, your slick spreading onto her skin.

Emily smiles into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. She grips at the meat of your waist, pulling your pussy against hardened muscle.

You gasp, your arms wrapping around her tightly.

“You like that? Wanna ride my leg?” She mumbles into your mouth, her fingers kneading into the flesh of your ass as she guides your movement along her thigh.

“Yes.” You whisper sharply, rutting harder against her.

Emily groans, rolling onto her back and pulling you on top of her. Her foot presses into the mattress, raising herself up to press into you.

“Shit...oh—” you tremble, forearms framing her head.

Emily grins smugly below you, groaning as her tongue flicks out at the underside of your jaw before biting at it. Your spine curves to give her more room, the sharpness of her teeth on your skin sending a prickly chill over your body.

The sound of your slick dragging along her toned thigh is just about all you can hear, aside from your own panting breaths and whimpers.

Your abdominal muscles burn as your hips roll eagerly, hands grasping at the pillows behind Emily’s head.

“God, you look so good like this.” Emily groans, her eyes dancing wildly over your body.

A choked moan cracks from your throat as she squeezes you particularly rough, forcing your sex down hard against her thigh.

“Hm—fuck, Emily, hold on…” You gasp, pressing your hands to her sweat-slickened chest and lifting your torso.

“What’s wrong? What do you need?” She murmurs, her palms sliding up from their place on your hips and cupping the underside of your breasts.

“Let me just..” you shift quickly, rotating your hips and grabbing one of her thighs, raising it just enough for you to settle your pelvis against hers—sliding your pussy's together.

“Oh, I haven’t done this in ages…” Emily chuckles, curling up to better position herself for you.

Emily watches with a bewildered expression as you find your rhythm, your hips dragging in a somewhat circular motion.

“Feel good for you?” You ask her breathily, holding her thigh to your stomach with one hand while your other hand palms her breasts.

“I’m not sure it’ll be enough to get me off, but I wanna watch you.” She rasps, her bottom lip shining from the pooling saliva in her mouth. “You look so pretty, rubbing yourself on me like that, fuck.”

“You feel so good.” You whine out the praise as you grind fervently, chasing the perfect amount of friction. Your clit, still hypersensitive from the last orgasm.

The lewd sounds of your soaked pussy grinding against her flesh fill the surrounding air, and the bed creaks. Emily looks so incredibly disheveled below you, completely absorbed in your presence. Her dark eyes, wide and focused, her hips and hands working your body tirelessly.

Your nails dig into the muscle of her thigh as you feel the telltale signs of an orgasm start bubbling within you. Your head lolls back, pleasure overtaking your movements.

One of Emily’s hands strays, bony knuckles pinching roughly at your nipples. The sharp sting shoots straight down to your sex, causing a fresh wave of arousal to pool between your bodies.

“Fuck—Emily.” You cry and your head tilts forward again, lips pressing against her kneecap. “So good… so close.”

Your teeth graze her skin as you pant and rut against her, a film of sweat sheening over your skin.

You shift your hips again, and Emily squeaks—her mouth falling open as the new movement hits a particularly sensitive spot on her clit.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” She breathes, her eyes fluttering closed. “Hngh—that feels good.”

“Yeah? Think you can cum?” You keep the position steady as you crane your neck to face her.

Her brows crease together as she focuses on the feeling, her chest spattered in a deep red flush.

“Yeah—fuck, I think so.” Her voice is practically a whisper as she relaxes her body, flowing with the consistency of your movements.

“What do you need? I wanna make it happen.” You set your own needs aside for the moment, letting your hand wander up her chest again.

You rake your nails down the center of her chest, and her body arches into the touch. You can see the faint muscles of her abdomen clenching with each roll of her hips.

“Just keep touching me, multiple points of stimulation help.” She whimpers through gritted teeth.

You nod silently, keeping your attention on her.

Your fingers draw teasing circles around her nipple, pinching, rolling the bud between the pads of your fingers before tugging gently. She twitches at the pleasurable pain, a whimperish moan slipping from her lips.

You let your fingers trail upward, dancing along her collarbone before pressing into her already open mouth.

Her eyes shoot open at the unexpected intrusion, but she’s quick to accept it—sucking them in halfway before swirling her tongue between them.

Her face flushes harder at the sight of your face, the reaction your body seems to have. Your lips parting a silent moan, the motion of your hips faltering momentarily before picking up again.

You pull your fingers from her mouth and attach them to her neglected nipple, repeating the same motions.

“I want you to cum with me…” Emily pipes up, her half-lidded eyes locking on yours.

“You’re close?” You pant, picking up the pace.

“Yeah…” Emily’s brow glistens, the white hair at her temples clinging to the skin.

With a hand trailing down her belly and combing through the hair atop her mound, you can’t help but smile excitedly. The hair is completely drenched in a mixture of your arousal, slightly matted. You tangle your fingers in it, pulling it back and exposing more of her clit.

“Shit—” Emily sucks in a sharp breath, the now heightened sensitivity building her up rapidly.

“Come on, baby.” You whine, your head dropping to rest against her knee. “Fuck, you feel so good, Emily.”

“I’m almost there, ugh—almost there…" she trails off, her face contorting as the pang of her orgasm hits.

You double down on your efforts, muscles clenching as you work yourself over the edge with her.

“Fuck, fuck—Emily.” Your body tenses, orgasm rippling through your body. Your hips stutter as you ride it out, thighs trembling, and your upper half almost doubling over with the intensity of the aftershocks.

Emily’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush to her chest. You paw at the older woman’s biceps, clinging to her.

Both of your bodies are slick with perspiration; if you had any sense of function left in your brain, you’d probably try to peel yourself away—but you don’t.

Emily sighs loudly against your hair, her breath tickling your scalp.

“God, that wore me out.” You smile, your cheek squished against the protrusion of her shoulder.

“Tell me about it…” she chuckles, combing her fingers through the ends of your hair.

The pair of you lay in a panting heap for a long moment, settling into each other's overheated presences.

You press gentle kisses along her collarbone before tilting to press your nose against her neck, breathing in her scent—a mix of sweat and lotion, feeling the thrum of her pulse beneath the skin.

“God, don’t sniff me, you weirdo.” Emily swats at your arm playfully. “I probably reek.”

“No.” You mumble against the base of her ear, breathing her in again. “You smell good. You always smell good.”

“If you say so, sweetheart.” She sighs, the same hand that hit you, now stroking languidly along the muscle of your flank.

“Have you got a bathtub?” You ask, raising your head just enough to look her in the eyes.

“Yes… Why?” She gives you a curious look.

“Let me run you a bath… take care of you.” You lean down to press tentative kisses along her cheekbone, then down to her lips.

Emily hums into the kiss, contemplating.

“I suppose that would be nice…” The low purr of her voice rumbles against your chest, “As long as you join me?” A lazy smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“Of course, ready to get up?” Your hand smooths over the soft curve of her belly, comfortably,

“Yeahhh…” she grumbles, and you sit up beside her. “Why don’t you go start it, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Sure.” She smiles at you as you lean in to kiss her again, it's chaste and gentle. She exhales into it.

With a squeeze of her thigh, you wobble your way toward her en-suite, which earns an amused laugh from the unit chief.

The en-suite is quite large, but comfortably so. Natural colored tiled floors and a matching shower, the walls are white, but the warm shade of the overhead light keeps it cozy.

Stepping over to the tub, you turn it on, finding the perfect temperature before plugging the drain and letting it fill.

You’re rifling through the toilette cabinet when a set of warm hands rest upon your shoulders.

“If you wanted to snoop, you could’ve just asked…” Emily squeezes your tight, mildly sore muscles. You laugh softly before standing and turning to face her.

“I was looking to see if you had some Epsom salts or bubble bath or something.” Your hands wrap loosely around her hips, pulling her body flush against you.

“I don’t, but shower gel might work?” Her brow quirks, and she slips from your grasp.

She grabs a bottle from the shower floor and pours a healthy amount into the tub. Soon enough, the bubbles start to form, and she looks over at you with an excited smile.

“You… are so cute, Emily Prentiss.” You chuckle, admiring her mused but adorable appearance.

“I am not cute.” She huffs, grabbing two towels from the cabinet and setting them on the countertop.

“You just keep believing that.”

…

Once the tub is full, Emily slips in first, moaning at the perfect temperature.

You slip in behind her, your thighs bracketing her hips. She leans back against your chest, her head falling back into your shoulder.

“This is nice, such a smart idea.” Emily hums, pressing her cheek against your own.

“I am technically a genius, y��know.” You quip, earning yourself a pinch to the inner thigh.

“That wasn’t very nice.” You mumble, wrapping your arms around her waist, palms flat over the curve of her lower belly.

“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about…” She lands a soft kiss on your cheek, smiling as she basks in the warmth surrounding her.

“Mhmm.” Your thumbs rub soothing patterns over her soft skin.

Tilting your chin down, you press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, the sweet scent of the bubbles lingering in the air.

Emily sighs as you kiss up the side of her neck, your nose brushing the back of her ear before your tongue darts out, teasing along the shell of it.

Her breath hitches, and the dissipating flush on her skin comes back in full swing.

“Y/n…” Her nails dig into the sides of your knees on both sides of her hips.

“Emily…” Your teeth graze her earlobe, and your fingers start to dance lower again. “Think you have one more for me?” You mumble, voice low against the side of her head.

“Yes.” Emily breathes out, her thighs spreading as your hands drag down her inner thighs. “God, you’re too good at this.”

You can’t help but chuckle at how wrecked you’ve gotten her, completely willing and desperate beneath the unwielding force of your hands.

Using your hips, you raise her bottom from the base of the tub and shift her so that she rests atop your left thigh, giving yourself more room to work, all while holding her close.

“Spread your legs.” You murmur, and she instantly obliges, her right leg settling between yours and the wall of porcelain.

The bubbles on the water's surface block the view of your ministrations from above, heightening the sensations’ intensity.

Your nails rake teasingly up Emily’s inner thighs, holding them open. When you reach the apex, her hips roll into the touch, urging you on. The fingertips of your right hand dance along the crease of her sex, teasing her folds while your left slides up to cup her breasts, your thumb brushing over her nipples.

Emily whines against the curve of your jaw, her right arm coming up to wrap around your neck.

“Please…” she pants, her teeth grazing your skin. You hum in response, tilting your head to take her lips in yours.

Just as her tongue flicks out at your bottom lip, your middle finger swipes over her swollen clit. Emily whimpers, and you catch it with your lips, swallowing it down.

Dipping into her slit, you feel the traces of her arousal. The fact that you’re the one at fault for it stirs a childlike sense of pride within you, as if you just won a prize at the fair.

You draw light circles over her clit, before teasing the sensitive underside of it for a moment and circling again.

“That feels good…” she whispers, breaking the kiss for a moment. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

The confession makes your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah?”

“Yes… Just go slow, one finger.” She kisses you again, slow and deep.

You groan into the kiss, the finger on her clit sliding between her folds once again. The tip of your middle finger teases her entrance for a moment, and her hips jump to meet it.

Emily hisses as the first inch slips inside. She’s so warm, sensitive to the touch.

“More, it’s okay.” She mumbles, her hand covering yours and pressing you deeper.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as you bottom out, a quiet whine crackling from her throat as your palm makes contact with her clit.

“Guide me.”

She looks you in the eyes as her hand starts moving yours, angling your wrist so that your length tilts up, aiming for her spot.

Her hips cant forward as she settles into a slow rhythm, brows furrowing.

“You feel so good.” Your nose brushes against her own, and she smiles faintly, her glassy eyes hooded.

She pulls you into another passionate kiss, rising into it slightly, and the tops of her breasts break the surface of the bubbles.

You pinch at her nipple and you can feel her pussy clench around you. Emily moans softly, her hand in your hair, tugging at the nape of your neck.

“Play with my clit.” She whines, dropping your hand that’s inside her and dragging the one on her breast down. “Please.”

You smirk against her, nipping at her bottom lip as you scissor at her clit with your middle and fore fingers.

Emily’s head falls back limply, and you take that as a chance to give her neck some attention. You kiss and lick along the exposed tendons, leaving faint marks that’ll fade in the next few minutes.

Her hips rut against your hands, rippling the water.

“Mm, fuck you’re so hot.” You groan against her neck, biting at the muscle of her shoulder. Emily squeaks at the sudden aggressive gesture, her abdomen twitching.

“Oh—hm, gonna cum, baby…” she cries, lifting her head back up to face you again.

“Yeah? I’m making you feel good? You like the way I touch you?” You purr against her parted lips, her panting breaths fanning over your chin.

“God, yes… I love it, taking such good care of me.” Her eyes flutter closed, her words breathy and full of need.

The synced movement of your fingers is unwavering, working steadily until her muscles are trembling above you.

“Y/n—” she moans, her spine arching as her thighs quiver, tightening around your hands between them.

“That’s it… I’ve got you.” You finger stills inside her, keeping a constant pressure against her spot whilst your fingers on her clit circle slowly—drawing out the last bits of her orgasm.

Emily exhales shakily as her nails claw at your forearm, steadying your movements.

“Easy, easy… fuck.” She groans, smiling brightly.

Her eyes open, gazing at you heavily. The apples of her cheeks glow pink, shining from the steam. She leans in to kiss you again, slow and chaste—but no less meaningful.

“I am definitely going to keep you around if it’s like this every time…” she chuckles, her hand loosening in your hair and cupping your cheek.

“Oh, yes. And… whenever you need it.”

“I like the sound of that…”

…

a/n: i hope that did not disappoint after all the waiting... anyways, happy humping!!!

taglist: @luvgreyponytail @piiinco @xoxo-maryssa @prentissmultiverse @blackcatlesbo @teeshatequila @professorsapphic @decadentcatcrusade @classic-fangirl-emily-prentiss @wittygutsy @jareauiisms @keepinggcomposure @bernieswolfe @prentitty @garcialuvr @chiefemilyprentiss @yourneighborhoodwlw @g59mads @r0manxff @confidant-thoughts @joanofvarc @lez-talk1 @wlwoceaneyes @wandasdollie @maximoffcarter @chestnutninny @realmisssnowflakes

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss #ao3 #reader insert #wlw smut #emily pretiss smut #dykeforhire fic stuffs #criminal minds #emily prentiss fanfiction

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leighsartworks216 · 2 months ago

Text

Yeah, 'Cause Maybe Then You'd Want Me Just As Much

Sylus x Mephisto!Reader

In the actual Nightplumes memory, Mephisto actually gets along with the dove but um fuck that, we want it to hurt. Also wanna say the "I'm busy right now" line is from the actual game, which inspired this tbh

Title from "Girl Crush" by Little Big Town

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, self-esteem issues, self-worth issues, body dysphoria, shapeshifting, biting, fear of water, storms, pet names, crying, possibly ooc

Word Count: 3,699

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Ugh, doves. They think they're sooo perfect just because they're so round and cute and everyone loves them. Those pathetic little coos. A bird should make real noise, not just those dumb sounds.

So why is Sylus - a man whom you were led to believe had good tastes in avian creatures - giving it so much attention?

You bite his earlobe. His head jerks away on reflex, a soft hiss escaping through his teeth. "Behave," he chides. Doesn't even look at you.

You glare down at the pathetic dove again. Somehow it hurt its wing. And for some godforsaken reason Miss Hunter brought it to Sylus to look after. You know for a fact she has a doctor friend, why not foist it on him until she gets back from her trip? Yeah, Sylus is great with animals, but that's beside the point.

You bite his ear again. He sighs. "Do I have to send you on a mission?" You bristle at the question, feathers standing on end. His brow is furrowed as he gets back to examining the dove's wing. It's not even a bad break; it'll recover in no time.

So why can't he spare a second on you?

You try a different approach. With a more delicate touch, you preen the ends of his hair. He still doesn't glance your way. "I'm busy right now. Go entertain yourself for a bit."

Oh...

You step awkwardly on his shoulder, feeling suddenly too out of place there. Your wing almost clips his head as you take off for your perch. Even here, the wood just feels wrong under your feet. Your feathers are ruffled. They can't seem to relax. A chasm opens in your heart. Synthetic as it may be, you can still feel it. Like a black hole, sucking in all the light.

The dove coos. You can't stay in here. You slip out of an open window and fly off. Where to, you have no idea. Anywhere but here.

"Anywhere" lands you outside the window of a fourth floor hotel room. The light is still on, just a small lamp by the bed, but it's enough to see a familiar figure sitting against the headboard reading a mission brief. You tap on the glass.

Miss Hunter looks up with a start. The surprise quickly turns to a frown. She gets up in a huff and jerks the curtains closed.

You can hear a phone ringing inside a second later.

"Sylus! What have I told you about sending your bird to spy on me?!"

The faint crackle of Sylus's voice answers with a sharp scoff. "I haven't told Mephisto to do anything," he retorts.

"Then why is it outside my window right now, huh?!"

"Why don't you ask?" he teases dryly. "Maybe they missed picking fights with you."

"You-!"

"Goodnight, kitten."

The beep of an ended call. You tap on the glass again, softer this time.

Miss Hunter huffs inside. Moments pass, but the curtains remain drawn shut. You can't tell if the lamp has been turned off; you can't even hear her moving around. Maybe she's decided to take the "out of sight, out of mind" approach. Unsurprising, really. If she isn't ignoring you, she's shouting abuse at you.

A large crack of thunder rumbles through your circuits, stirring the air with electricity. You hadn't even noticed the weather - the clouds are dark, covering every sliver of sky for miles.

You tap on the glass more urgently.

The first droplets of rain begin to fall. Slow, random. And then more and more, all at once in a barrage of water. You press yourself tighter to the window and tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap-

The curtains are thrown open. The window lifts from its sill. Before she can angrily ask why you won't leave her alone, you fly in as quick as you can. Just in the nick of time, it seems, as the rain turns into a proper storm, lightning firing through the sky in a burst of light. You tumble onto the end of the bed, feathers ruffled.

She huffs as she slides the window shut, ready to tease you or yell at you, but another loud boom of thunder makes her flinch and close the curtains quickly, words stolen. "Fine! I guess you can... stay the night," she relents. She rounds the bed to sit back down where she was before. She picks up the tablet with her mission data and holds it up, pointing at you accusingly. "And no telling Sylus about anything you see here, got it?"

You caw back at her. You don't wanna tell Sylus anything right now. It might distract him from his sweet, precious dove...

Knees bent, she sets the tablet on her thighs and starts reading again. Rain hits against the window, picked up by a growing wind that slams it into the hotel building. Another shock of thunder. She curls slightly more into herself.

You preen your feathers. Align them all once more, clean them from the long flight here, soothe your nerves. All the while watching Miss Hunter's reactions to the storm. With every boom of thunder, she's startled from her reading. She does well trying to hide it. You can see the twitch in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders and hands as she holds tighter to the tablet, the way her knees pull in slightly more. It doesn't take a genius to see what's happening. The real question is why she's not doing anything to deal with it. Is it because she's trying to play it cool with you around? Not giving anything away so you'd have less to report back with?

You look around the room. It's nothing special. Certainly nothing as luxurious as the suites Sylus stays in. A suitcase is on the floor by the tv stand. A work bag is set on the desk. The perfect amount of stuff for a week-long work trip, you suppose.

You fly over to the desk, nails ticking against the wood.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

You poke your beak into a few of the pockets on the bag.

"Leave that alone! Don't go through my stuff!"

You wonder for a moment how soundproof these walls are, and just how confused someone listening in would be when she's answered by the caw of a crow.

You finally find what you're looking for in a side pocket and pull it out. It doesn't really fit well in your beak, but you make do. She's just tossed her tablet aside to jump up and bolt over to you, but she stops when you fly back over to the bed.

She blinks at you, confused. "What are you...?" You hop across the cheap bedding and hold out the item to her. She hesitantly accepts your offering, and you drop the earphone case in her hand. Understanding dawns on her. "Oh... thanks."

You walk to the other side of the bed, going around the tablet to roost on top of the untouched pillow. It's kinda hard and lumpy, but at least you're not outside. With that much water, you'd certainly shut down. You have no idea how Sylus would retrieve you if you had, way up here. A bitter part of you wonders if he would.

Miss Hunter watches as you tuck your beak under your wing. You don't really sleep during the night, but you'll manage. She slips the earphones in her ears and plays some music on her phone. The storm outside, the faint pulse of music, and her tapping on the tablet are the only sounds.

She opens the window for you in the morning, when the storm has passed. With one last warning not to follow her or report back to Sylus, she heads out for her mission and you take your time flying back home. She asked about the dove only once during your stay. A bandaid around her finger reminds her not to ask again.

"What time did you get back, pretty bird?" Sylus crosses the room from the doorway, fully dressed for the night and reaching out to scratch you under your chin.

You scoot away, further down your perch, glaring at the pretty white thing on his shoulder. He doesn't try to reach you. He lets you step away, hand dropping and eyebrow raised. "Are you going to be this feisty all week?"

You caw indignantly. Of course you are! That should be you perched up on his shoulder! You should be the one preening under his attention! Instead, Miss Hunter brings along a new, cute little thing, pestering him to take care of it "for her", and now it's the only bird around here he cares about.

He tsks. "You don't have to be jealous, sweetie. It's only for a week. As soon as she gets back, you'll never have to see it again."

The dove flies down from his shoulder to the perch. Your perch! You caw obscenities as you take its place on Sylus's shoulder - your rightful place. He winces at how loud you are directly in his ear, wings spread to give you a larger appearance as you speak your mind to the little dove that seems to only stare up blankly at you.

He smoothes a hand down your back. For a moment you forget how angry you are with him, too, for indulging Miss Hunter with this stupid task. For pushing you away in favor of caring for the pretty little dove. For not saying more when she called him about you. For just that moment, the firing synapses of your circuitry tingle pleasantly where his fingers brush over your feathers and seeing the dove on your perch becomes bearable as you stand on his shoulder, your favorite perch of all.

"Easy, pretty bird. It knows this is your territory," he assures. "It's still young, that's all."

And then you remember that none of this would be happening if this damn bird wasn't here.

You caw one last time at the dove, nibble harshly at Sylus's ear, and retreat through the living room door. You follow the familiar twists and turns up into the tallest heights of the base, into an alcove full of your treasures and soft bedding. You don't come up here often anymore, but it feels safe. The one spot of the house that really is just yours; no matter what Sylus says, this is his territory, you're just given more allowances than other people. And thanks to the times in the past when the twins would try to toss things up as a competition, tossing pebbles and jewels and even bullets, you have the privilege of pulling shut a little door, fully isolating yourself in your sanctuary.

Small lights turn on at the flip of a switch that makes a pleasant click. They shine and shimmer against your piles of trinkets. Coins, jewels, jewelry, a shell casing or two - all in their respective piles.

You hop over to your nest: the finest twigs woven together into a bowl shape, with strips of soft fabric lining the inside. Laying in it is like resting in cupped hands. You imagine they're Sylus's hands, clean from ever having held any other bird in his lifetime. His thumbs smoothing down your sides until your feathers are fluffed and eyes are relaxed shut. Pressing soft kisses to your head as he talks to you. You want to be cared for like that. Is the dove getting that same attention?

You get up from your nest. You can't think about it. Can't allow yourself to linger on the thought for any longer than you already have. So you sort through your things. You begin dividing them up into new piles with a different organization system. One by one, everything is shifted over. You're not sure how long it takes. You don't care.

But once you've finished, it feels wrong. Settles uneasily in your gut. Everything is out of place, even though it's all organized. Everything isn't where it should be. You spend even longer sorting it all back.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Tighten your hands into fists. Dig your nails into your palm as you will your shape to change. Grit your teeth as metal panels try to shift in unusual ways. Synthetic feathers standing up along your head, neck, back and arms, shuttering with the strain.

You release a breath and everything comes back together; metal in place, feathers laying flat, body un-tensed. You pant softly. Inhale deeply, and try again.

It feels wrong. It's like trying to squeeze into a too-small shirt. It won't happen, and the more you try to force it, the more it hurts, the more uncomfortable you are, and the more the fabric strains at the seams.

You gasp deeply. You're lightheaded. You wobble where you sit on the roof, supporting yourself unsteadily against the snow-laden tiles. It takes a minute to pass. Your skin feels misaligned, like a twisted sock. You try to ignore it; it just means you're a little bit closer to succeeding.

"I thought I might find you up here."

You turn away from the voice. From the sound of Sylus's shoes against the roofing. He sits down a few feet away, eyes never giving up their gaze on you. You hate it. For all the time you've known him, his attention on you has never made you uncomfortable or unsettled. Now, you wish he'd just look anywhere else. Go anywhere else.

Secretly, deep down, you're glad he's finally looking at you again.

He tilts his head. Frowns at the strange way your feathers stick up, and the odd shift of the synthetic skin on your back. "The dove is gone," he says.

You nod. "I know."

Quiet.

"Do you want me to apologize?" he asks.

You shrug. "Doesn't matter. It's gone."

"But you're still upset."

You pull your knees to your chest, but you can't pull them up as far as you'd like to. It's like there's too much strain. A rubber band drawn too far out and waiting to snap or break under the tension. You try to ignore it. Play it off. Pretend everything is normal and that this is intentional.

He doesn't buy it for a second. It's the curse of growing up with him. Of being by his side most of your lives. Of course he knows something is wrong.

You listen to the shifting of fabric behind you. Nearly jump at the feeling of cloth placed on your shoulders. His heavy black coat, long and still warm from his body. You don't feel the falling snow. Yet you can't stop yourself from pulling the front closed around you.

His fingers skillfully brush along your feathers, soothing them down with ease. And yet they keep standing back up a moment after, revealing the distress of your thoughts. Before he can say anything, you do.

"Do you wish I was a dove?"

His hand stops, pausing mid pet. He reaches out to turn you toward him. One hand on your knee to face you to him, the other on your shoulder. You wince as he does. And he notices - of course he notices. He's frowning, brow furrowed, as he pulls aside his coat to expose your legs further. You don't meet his eyes, but you feel them.

"Is that what you've been trying to do up here?" he questions, voice tight with concern and gravity. "You can't force yourself into changing-"

"But if I could, would that make you happier?"

You meet his gaze. Imploring, begging him to tell you. Tell you that he's been distant this week because he realized just how much better doves are. Because he realized how much trouble you are, mechanized and synthetic and fake. Because you aren't enough now that you can't be anything more than you are.

His large hands rise to your face, holding your cheeks, keeping your attention on him. He leans forward slightly, foreheads not quite touching. "If you could change again, I would be happy to see you become anything you wanted. Whether that means becoming a dove, or a hawk, or a hummingbird. The shape you take doesn't matter to me, because I fell in love with you. Crow, or dove, or human. Just you."

You search his eyes. Those pretty garnet eyes. Searching for any hint of a lie. But you already know he means it. "You were so dismissive of me..."

He frowns, brow pinched, but he nods. He doesn't deny it. "I know. I'm sorry."

Emotion chokes up in your throat. "You didn't even ask Miss Hunter about me. Or- Or keep that dove from getting up on your shoulder." You hate that you can feel your face crumpling as tears bite your waterline. See the pain in his face as he diligently wipes away the ones that slip free. You hate that you're so emotional over this - over a stupid bird, but- "I don't want to be replaceable. I don't want to be just a pet to you."

"You're not-"

"Then act like it!" His eyes widen, shocked by your outburst. "Just stop pushing me away for Miss Hunter. Stop... stop waving me off and ignoring me. You're all I have, Sylus. I can't- I don't want to be replaced."

A sob tears its way out of you. Sylus can't recall a time he ever saw you crying - before or after the experiments. You were always happy, or curious, or angry. But never had you cried. Synthetic tears wash down your face, and it's his fault. An ache clenches his heart like a closed fist. He did this. He pushed you away, he made you feel unworthy, unimportant. Let a dove take liberties in your territory.

He draws you into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around you. You don't resist, even as he feels your feathers standing on end. They shudder with your cries. He smoothes his palms over them. Brushes them down, scratches the nape of your neck as he gently shushes you. You press your face into his collar. Your fingers curl tightly into his shirt. You hold on. Cling to him like he'll disappear if you loosen up for even a second.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against your head. He means it. Deeply. "I should have acted differently. You are my closest friend. My beloved. And I ignored you."

He rubs your back overtop his coat, slowly. Feeling along your spine, your shoulder blades. It's still misaligned. Shifted out of place. You're in pain - because of him.

He's careful as he gathers you into his arms. He scoops you up, cradles you against him while doing his best not to hurt you further; he can't bear the thought of making things worse than he already has. Snow crunches beneath his feet as he stands on the tiles. He turns and begins carrying you inside.

"Let's take care of you now, pretty bird."

Just like trying to squeeze into a too-tight shirt, the removal can be tricky. Sylus makes it seem easy.

He rotates your legs until they pop back into the ball-joint, never lingering any longer than he has to. You lay on your stomach, quietly sniffling, while he seems to massage your back, slowly easing the metal into place. Each fix releases the strain. Each soft click eases your feathers back into a resting position.

When he's finished, he helps you sit up. Your legs overhang the table, dangling in the air. He doesn't look at you at first. Busies himself with grabbing a cloth. But then he looks you in the eye as he wipes away the watery formula of your tears. His brow is tight. Lips pulled down into a frown. His eyes, filled with remorse. You can almost see the plan formulating: all the auctions he could go to to buy the shiniest, most interesting things you love to cheer you up; of all the jewels in his treasuries, which would you like the most, if he doesn't just give them all to you; where will Miss Hunter be and when to give you the perfect opportunity to play tricks on her.

You don't want any of them right now. After a week of being pushed aside, of being distant, all you want is right here in front of you.

You nudge his hand away. He obeys without hesitation, dropping the cloth to the table and holding it there, restraining himself. He watches, slightly bewildered, as you reach out for him. You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him down to your height, and hold him there.

He stands still. Doesn't do anything.

You squeeze him around his shoulders and he finally moves. Arms circle your waist, hands resting open against your back. You breathe him in, soak in his warmth. Your feathers finally relax. You finally relax.

"I don't hate you," you whisper beside his ear.

He releases a long breath, shoulders sagging under your arms. He's still tentative, still careful as he brushes his nose against your temple. "How can I make it up to you?"

A thousand diamonds. A million. No amount is too much. Nothing too far for him to reach. He would bake in the sun for a week if you said. Fly across the globe in search of the perfect pebble. Give you a whole new set of feathers, darker than midnight and softer than a kiss. He's prepared to give it all - what lengths will you have him go to absolve himself? What would it take for you to forgive him? How can he fix the damage he caused?

"Stay with me."

"You can ask for anything."

You shake your head. Turn your head to bury your face solidly in his neck. "I just want you again."

'Again' tears his heart to shreds. He scoops you up once more, trading places so he sits on the edge of the table with you in his lap. Your territory. "You'll always have me," he swears. "And I will spend lifetimes making sure you never doubt that ever again."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @nezuswritingdesk @anaathxma @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @nerrivm @ichosesparklingtorment @schnittled @animegamerfox @flamedancer13 @rebloggingislove @moonlight-inthe-sea @persepolys @satorubabee @sleepykittycx @perla-drg @17chuuya @slovesyouuu @leiakitty @lemonn015

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #angst #hurt/comfort

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heartowan · 7 months ago

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★ POST- PATROL : jason todd x reader!

( it's fluff! ♡) ─────────────── ★

You sighed once more as you stared up at the ceiling of the room, the warmth and coziness of the bedsheets and the small little fish lamp at the corner of the room not enough to get you back to sleep. You needed to pee, and you couldn't run from it anymore. Ugh.

In a languid rhythm, you got to the bathroom, peed, wiped, washed your hands, and walked out in the same lazy steps as you walked in, but before you reached the room, you heard the familiar noise of the living room window being opened. Funny thing, you didn't even need to look to know who it was.

Jason walked into your shared apartment as quietly as possible not to wake you up, not knowing that you were waiting for him to walk into the small hallway that led to your room.

He seemed to be as lazy as you were, his steps spaced out and heavy as he made his way. And, when he made the turn into the hallway, you jumped in his front to scare him, and uh... it didn't work.

You frowned instantly, and he let out a delightful, hearty chuckle at you, his free hand going to his knee as he laughed, the other held his red helmet.

"How... did you know?" You mumbled, your voice low and slightly disappointed. Not really sad, though.

He took a deep breath before answering you. "You left the bathroom light on." He said, glancing at the open door and strong cool light coming out of it. "I just expected you to be up."

You kept your frown and a slight pout ─ you had yet to succeed at scaring him.

Jason slid his big arms around your shoulders, squeezing you against his chest. He smelled like sweat and gunpowder, but you were used to it.

"I didn't get hit one single time tonight." He murmured into your hair, his face nuzzling your soft strands. You were so soft.

Jason wanted your approval. Wanted you to be proud of him for coming home in one piece tonight. You let out a soft huff at his words, your arms snaking around his waist and squeezing him, earning you a little grunt. "Should I expect that every night from now?" You murmured softly, with your lips so close to his ear, you didn't need to speak any louder than that.

He chuckled quietly. "I'm not gonna answer that."

Yeah, you knew that'd be the response. Jason liked the mess, he liked coming home and having to clean up the blood from his suit, he liked the slight pain from the bruises, and he especially liked when he was so beat up, you had to patch him up, apply ointment, kiss him better. He loved your attention, he loved any and everything you gave to him, physical or not.

"Why don't you go shower while I wait for you in bed?" You murmured in that quiet tone while your arms moved back a little so you could caress the exposed part of his forearms with your fingers.

"I already know I stink, you don't need to point it out." He teased, pulling back to flash a dumb smile at you, and you returned his with one of yours. "But I was going to do that anyway."

With that said, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead before letting go of you. "Wait for me." He mused, already shedding his jacket even before he got to the bathroom.

You shook your head at him, but that dumb smile stayed on your lips for the rest of the night until you fell asleep in his arms.

☆

read my other stuff! ♡

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #dc comics #red hood #fluff #imagine #i love him

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connorsui · 10 months ago

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☆ ■■ Stargazing in Your Eyes■■ ☆

- Sylus x fem! Reader

Synopsis: Sylus finds himself lost in admiration for you during a quiet, intimate moment at home, where the vastness of city lights seems small compared to the beauty he sees in your eyes.

Genre/warnings: pure fluff and comfort, no warning my luv we both die in hearts

The quiet of the evening wrapped around you like a warm blanket, filling the room with a peaceful stillness. Sylus lay comfortably between your thighs, his head resting just below your stomach as you silently read a book. The pages turned softly in your hands, but his attention wasn’t on the story in your lap. No, Sylus was entirely captivated by you.

His eyes drifted over your features, drinking in every curve and line of your face. He loved the way your eyebrows furrowed slightly in concentration, how your lips parted ever so slightly when you came across a particularly interesting passage. But it wasn’t just the obvious perfections that held him—he adored the small things too, the little “imperfections” that made you uniquely, beautifully you. The faint freckle just below your eye, the way your nose crinkled when you stifled a yawn, and the soft shadows beneath your lashes that hinted at late nights spent together.

He marveled at how your skin seemed to glow, warmed by the light of the lamp nearby. Every detail of you was etched into his mind, a constellation of beauty that he could never tire of exploring. When his gaze finally settled on your eyes, he felt as if he were staring into the deepest part of you, as if he could almost see your soul shining back at him. There was a depth there that took his breath away, a quiet strength and kindness that made him fall for you over and over again.

You giggled, breaking the silence and his trance. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Sylus’s lips curved into a gentle smile as he shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbows to get a closer look at you. “No… I’m just admiring your beauty.”

His voice was soft, full of quiet reverence and adoration. He spoke as though he were sharing a secret with the stars, as if your beauty was something so profound it could hardly be put into words. The universe might have been infinite, but in that moment, Sylus only had eyes for you. Every part of you—perfections and imperfections alike—was a part of the celestial map he held in his heart, a map that always led him back to you.

Without a word, Sylus reached up and gently pushed the book from your hands, letting it fall softly to the side. His eyes never left yours as he leaned in closer, the air between you charged with an unspoken promise. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks as he closed the distance.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was tender and full of longing, a gentle press that spoke of all the love he felt for you. The softness of your lips against his was everything he had imagined and more, a moment of pure connection that made the world outside seem a distant memory. As he deepened the kiss, the universe might have been vast and mysterious, but in this intimate embrace, Sylus found his entire world contained in the warmth and tenderness of your touch.

When he finally pulled back, he gazed at you with a look of utter adoration. His fingers continued to gently caress your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek.

“You’re my favorite part of every day,” he whispered, his voice tender and sincere. “I just needed to remind you of that.”

His words were a soothing balm, and the simple, heartfelt gesture left you both enveloped in a bubble of unspoken affection and warmth.

#sylus x reader #suiwrites🍒#l&ds x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace #lads x you #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x y/n #sylus x you #sylus #lads #l&ds #𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓲'𝓼 𝓓𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

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earlysunshines · 7 months ago

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lights, camera, action!

danielle marsh x actress!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you passed your media training classes but that doesn’t stop you after a couple of drinks from leaking that you’re very much attracted to danielle marsh on live

warnings: alcohol ; soobin from txt but he's actually an actor (idk why i use him in my fics sm) and also other idols that are actors instead of... idols ; discovering sexuality ; reader is whipped for danielle ; danielle is whipped for reader ; gay gay gay they're so in love i hate myself ; anyhting else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: hi i need her so bad like sooo bad like she’s so. like. like hey. hi hai. hi.

@/ynln is live!

the viewers catch a little glimpse of your flushed cheeks, slow blinks, and lazy smile.

you’re not drunk, not at all, you’re just naturally an idiot and even more of one after a few after-party drinks. the remnants of laughter and lively conversation from the after-party of your premiere still lingering in your ears. the giddiness hadn’t left your body at all.

“heyyy guys.” you fail to set up the camera on your hotel desk, so you resort to flopping onto the bed and holding it yourself. “i hope you all are well.”

the screen was filled with comments almost immediately—fans were sending love, compliments, and congratulating you on the new movie, and praising your looks during the premiere. your smile grew wider, your cheeks burned a little warmer than before.

@/lnloverrr: you looked so good at the event

@/yourstruly84: a look for the books

@/ynloops: so excited for the movie! can’t wait to see more action roles from you!

@/tokkilvrr: celine queen!!! you rocked the top

“aww you guys are so cute,” you say, a little more giggly than usual. the only thing illuminating you at the moment is the city glow filtering through the curtains, so you turn on a lamp in order for your fans to see you better. “i’m so happy you guys are excited about the movie. it means a looot, really.”

you scrolled through the comments, answering a few questions about your favorite scenes to shoot and what the cast was like. you went on a whole ramble about your male co-star soobin and how you almost beat him in an arm wrestling battle after two shots, which led to another ramble about how rigorous the process of working out to achieve your physique was for this film. it was fun talking about all the fun behind-the-scenes moments, one of them being how you have a video of soobin tripping over the props, one which you will definitely be posting once the movie is out.

after skimming the comments a bit more, most of them being “can i get an i love you?” or various compliments which keep a smile plastered on your face. but then one catches your eye, making you raise a brow: do you have a celebrity crush?

“oh, a celebrity crush? well i don’t know if i have a crush, but more of a friend crush if you get what i mean.” you laughed, the sound light and loose. you pause, thinking it over as more comments pop up with heart emojis and people begging for an answer. you sigh playfully, leaning against the bedframe and blinking slowly again. “okay, this is going to sound so cheesy. you know how i like newjeans? i’ve mentioned it before… but i’ve been such a fan of newjeans since their debut. like, seriously, their music is always on repeat. i’ve made soobin and the rest of the cast listen to them — soyeon loves them actually. ugh i loved their debut ep so much and then they dropped ditto and–”

@/koalaln: okay so… it’s someone from newjeans?

@/minjiplsmarrymepls: not my fav actor being a tokki

@/phammipham: girl if you don’t tell us rn…

“oh yeah, celebrity crush, right.” you chuckle after reading the comments again. you bit your lip before continuing, “well, aside from newjeans being one of my favorite groups… they’re all talented and beautiful, of course, but oh my god. danielle?”

your voice dropped to a more earnest tone as you looked right at the camera again, shaking your head and blushing a little. you could blame it on the alcohol.

“danielle is probably one of the prettiest people i’ve ever seen. her visuals are like, insane. like, she has this elegance to her, she’s glowing, but she’s also just really cute. i’ve seen some of their interviews and she’s so bright and bubbly and i just think she’s so adorable and— yeah. i love her energy.” you let out a small, tipsy laugh, not realizing how much you were rambling—again.

“and the thing is, we’re both ambassadors for celine too, so i’ve seen her from afar at events and stuff. i’ve never actually met her, which is crazy, right? i mean i've met park bogum but not her! you’d think we would have bumped into each other by now, but nope. i kind of just admire from afar, like her pictures don’t do her justice but they… do? she’s stunning in person, at least from afar.”

the comments started blowing up with people freaking out, sending a variety of emojis that you couldn’t even count on both hands. they were saying things like “omg you’re totally fangirling right now,” “okay purr y/n is danielle biased she has taste,” and even “you and danielle interacting or collaborating would be iconic.”

you blinked at the screen, noticing the way the chat kept mentioning her name. you rubbed your face with your hand, blinking hard again. “oh my god, am i talking too much? anyway!” you waved your hand, laughing as you tried to shake off the embarrassment creeping up your neck. “next question, next question.”

you spent a few more minutes answering questions about your movie, sharing more stories of what happens on set (making sure to include how many times jaehyun fell asleep on set — which was far too often and in the most questionable positions. you wonder how someone falls asleep leaning against a wall). by the end, your eyelids were starting to droop, and the comments were still buzzing with your confession from earlier. you blinked again, then thanked the fans for their support once more to wrap up the livesteam.

“alright, i’m about to pass out,” you say tiredly, smile turning soft. “thank you for putting up with me. love you all so much.”

the phone in your hand dropped onto the bed after ending the livestream. your head lands on the pillows and you sigh, a grin still on your face. before you knew it, you were out like a light, blissfully unaware of what you’ve just started.

—

the sun filtered through the hotel curtains, which warmed up the room. you stirred, eyes fluttering open as a ray hit you right in the eye, making you roll around the other way.

unfortunately for you, this wasn’t the only thing trying to wake you up. your phone buzzed insistently next to you, and you reached for it blindly, squinting at the screen as your manager’s name flashed across it. you crinkled your brows, confused to say the least.

“hello? mark?” your voice was hoarse with sleep, tinged with last nights events.

“morning sleepyhead,” mark’s voice was calm and a little playful as always, but there was an unmistakable edge that meant business. “do you want to tell me why you’re trending on every social media platform? and you even made it onto some entertainment sites.”

a groan slips from you as you sit up all too quickly. the memories of your late-night live stream start to flood back. “shit.”

“‘shit’ is right. you do know that gushing about a girl in a kpop group — not to mention a very popular one — might get you a good amount of attention? and don’t make a pun.” you hear his signature sigh from the other end of the line. “your fans and her fans are going wild, and some press outlets are running with ‘actor y/n’s crush on danielle from newjeans’ headlines.”

shifting yourself to the edge of your bed so your feet can dangle off, you groan into the phone. “i’m so, so sorry. i must’ve fucked up my image like crazy, god i’m so sorry for—”

“hey, wait.” he says calmly. “it’s actually not doing anything harmful. if anything people are into how much you admire the group, considering you’re quite the celebrity.”

“oh thank god–”

“it’s just not low-profile.”

heat crept up your neck, and you covered your face with one hand, your back meeting the mattress again. “i— yeah, i was tipsy. soobin is a terrible influence, and weren’t you—”

“i’m just your manager, i just work here y/n.”

you scoff playfully at his remark, then continue, “i guess i didn’t notice how much i talked about her. but it’s not—i mean, it’s not untrue, but still…” you trailed off, cringing at yourself as you placed a hand over your eyes.

mark lets out a sigh, softening a bit. “look, it’s not the end of the world. just be prepared for questions, and try not to fan the flames further if you don’t want this to become a bigger deal. but, you might want at least to have a statement or some kind of response ready.”

you nodded, even if he couldn’t see you. “yeah, okay. thank you for the heads-up. sorry.”

“and next time, maybe don’t go live after an after-party. don’t think i didn’t see you downing somaek with jennie.” he adds, the hint of amusement in his voice making you relax a bit.

“noted. very much noted.”

after ending the call, you drop the phone beside you, your heart still thudding. with a deep breath, you opened twitter up, and just from your burner account you could see that you were trending. the timeline was overflowing: fans reacting to your confession, edits already circulating with your quotes—they even managed to find every clip of you mentioning or listening to newjeans, putting it in slideshows and edited videos. you can’t even lie, the effort is amazing. and even worse, or better? there were articles with headlines like “actor y/n admits to crushing on danielle from newjeans” and “actor y/n confirms she’s a hardcore newjeans fan.”

okay, hardcore might be a stretch.

(or maybe not.)

despite all this chaos, you couldn’t help but smile a little. you tap a quick text to your manager again: sorry again. i’ll be ready for whatever comes.

and another, more impulsive, and raw message to your group chat with your best friends and co-stars: i think i should just die. never going live again. someone needs to take my phone and burn it.

but as you scrolled and saw fans posting supportive, teasing comments like “we love an honest crush!” “y/n is lowk so cute for this” “it’s so refreshing to see celebrities being transparent about who they admire” and even a “y/n and danielle when??? y/nelle??”, you couldn’t suppress the slight flutter in your chest.

—

in contrast to your morning, danielle’s wasn’t all that stressful. maybe a little, but it didn’t have her laying in bed for an hour and pondering over every life decision she’s made. not like you did.

danielle had been making eggs for her members — sunny side up for hanni, boiled for minji, and scrambled for the haerin and hyein — humming quietly to herself. the morning was relatively peaceful until hanni burst into the kitchen, phone in her hand with a mischievous grin on her face.

“dani, you won’t believe this.” hanni plops down on a stool at the kitchen island, turning the phone over. “you’re gonna want to see it.”

danielle raises an eyebrow, turning down the heat. “what is it?”

minji and haerin joined, peeking over hanni’s shoulder as she played the video clip. “y/n, you know, the one from that one coming of age movie you like? what was it… the one with— it doesn’t even matter. just look.”

danielle’s brows furrowed with confusion until hanni hits play. the room fills with the sound of your slurred, soft voice as you gush with genuine excitement.

“oh yeah, celebrity crush, right. well, aside from newjeans being one of my favorite groups… they’re all talented and beautiful, of course, but oh my god. danielle?”

even minji and haerin gasp, looking at danielle in surprise. danielle’s jaw drops open slightly as she takes in the information: you, l/n y/n, are mentioning her. danielle marsh. but it gets even better.

the spoon danielle had been holding slips from her hand and onto the counter, clattering agains the marble as she stared at the screen. “wait— what?” her voice was barely above a whisper, her cheeks heating up.

“look at you,” minji laughs, nudging her. “one of your admirers is an actor—a really popular actor, dani.”

“i—” danielle’s mind raced as she watched you on the screen, your eyes bright, cheeks flushed as you rambled on. the admiration in your tone made her heart skip a beat. it was one thing to know that you were at the same events as her, and another ot hear that you’d been paying attention to her. that you think she’s pretty.

hyein seemed to pop out of nowhere, her arrival probably unnoticed from what was currently unfolding. “dani… someone who was in a marvel movie has a crush on you.”

danielle blinked. a smile broke out as she looked at her members. “you’re all ridiculous.” but even as she laughed, the warmth in her chest lingered. the fact that you, the actress she’d admired form afar and whose movies she’s watched with her family, thought of her like that—it was surreal.

minji raised an eyebrow knowingly. “come on dani, don’t act like you haven’t been wanting to talk to her at those events.”

“yeah dude,” hanni nudged her younger member. “she popped up in doctor strange and you started rambling about her.”

danielle’s smile turned shy as she rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove, her mind still replaying your words.

maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you, just maybe.

—

you’ve been busy, to say the least.

the past week you’ve been interviewed a handful of times everyday. your movie starred the choi soobin and jeong jaehyun, which earned a lot of attention. what surprised you was just how much attention you’d receive. there were various edits of you being made, some even showed up on your social media and unfortunately your group chat.

people had dug up scenes of you from your other projects, editing them and helping them resurface. it was safe to say you were growing as an actor, as if confessing your ‘love’ for danielle marsh didn’t already do enough. but who were you to complain? this was great. you were rising in popularity for not only your looks, but also your talents and personality. it was endearing — flattering you beyond comprehension.

the rise in popularity even led to you having to hop on a flight to japan, not only to be interviewed further, but also for an event for the brand you ambassador.

the celine event had an air of sophistication and elegance. it was a sort of luxurious haven where celebrities and models mingled under the crystal chandeliers, surrounded by other “fancy stuff” as you would say. soft music played, mixing in with the sound of conversations and clicks of cameras. attendees were showcasing the brand’s newest pieces for the season, with handbags being paraded, their metallic accents catching the light.

you fit quite well into the scene, it would be a lie to say you weren’t one of the main events. there was an effortless style exuded from you, clad in tailored slacks that were held perfectly by a leather celine belt. draped over your frame was a crewneck sweater with the brand’s logo, and to finish off the look you had another leather piece on your shoulder: a matching handbag to go with your belt.

the first hour was spent smiling for the cameras and eavesdropping on the whispers about your recent rise in popularity. more cameras flashed, and journalists angled for a glimpse, but your focus soon shifted when an all too familiar figure stepped into view. maybe you’re overwhelmed, maybe it’s not her, there so many people here. at least that’s what you told yourself.

once you got a breather, taking the time to roam around the area, you barely had a moment to process before a gentle bump jolted you out of your thoughts.

a woman, draped in a stunning beige dress accented with a sleek grey blazer, stumbled slightly. instinct kicked in, and your hand shot out to catch her arm, steadying her. wide yes met yours, surprise softening into a shy, grateful smile as she regained her balance.

“oh my, i’m so sorry!” she breaths out, her cheeks tinting a faint pink. “i didn’t see you there.”

“are you okay?” you ask, your mind catching up to the moment. your gaze lingered as recognition fell over you

danielle.

the feel of her arm in your grasp made your heart stutter, but you forced yourself to stay composed.

“yes, i’m fine, thanks,” danielle says, straightening up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “i never expected to bump into you. not like this—not literally.”

your smile turns sheepish. “i— i guess i made quite an impression,” you joke lightly, withdrawing your hand slowly.

her eyes light up with recogniition. “well, the live from last week was more of one,” she teases, her tone warm and playful. the mention of the live made your face heat up, and a laugh bubbled out as you glanced at the floor for a second.

“you saw…?” you ask, rubbing the back of your neck.

“i think everyone did,” she giggled, her smile softening as she added, “it was... really sweet.”

the initial nervousness faded as the two of you fell into conversation, friendly and hesitant at first, but your words quickly became more confident as you both exchanged stories and thoughts on the celine events. compliments flowed naturally, and you found yourself surprised at how easy it was to talk to her beyond the admiration you held at a distance. danielle, on the other hand, grew noticeably more flustered as you threw in subtle flirtations—quick grins, playful remarks about how she looked so much better up close and in person.

“wow, it wasn’t the drinks that make you so… charming, huh?” she says with a small laugh, eyes shining as she tried to regain composure.

“well, i’m finally getting the chance to talk to someone i’ve been wanting to meet for a whike,” you admitted, voice soft and genuine. “i just wanted to be transparent, is that alright with you?”

“of course.” her smile turns bashful, and for a moment, silence settled between you two, comfy and warm. the lights dimmed as the models prepared for the runway, but neither of you paid it much attention even after being separated again.

after the showcase, you two found each other again, wanting to exchange numbers.

“this is the first time i’ve given a fan my number.” danielle admits jokingly as you type in your contact information. you look up from the phone and smirk, sending a weird shiver down danielle’s spine.

“really? i’m honored.” you say, handing the phone back. “let’s talk soon, okay? i’d really love to be friends, and i’m really sorry for the whole livestream incident by the way. sorry again.”

she laughs, smiling at you and it’s really strange how it makes you feel all tingly.

“it’s alright y/n. would you like to hangout when we’re back in korea? if that’s alright.”

“oh, yes, of course.” you smile at her once more before looking at the text from your manager: ride’s here, you ready? the notification earns a small sigh from you. you glance back at danielle and bite your lip to prevent a frown. “well, i’ll see you.”

“wonderful.”

—

when you think you’ve had your peak of attention, it just seems to grow more and more.

the morning after the celine event your phone buzzed against the nightstand of your hotel, waking you up. squinting, you reached for it, the device cool against your fingers. notifications flooded your screen, but at this point that’s nothing new. at the top, there was a teasing text from mark:

“looks like you made quite the impression last night. maybe your live wasn’t so bad for your social life, huh?”

curiosity piqued, you scrolled through social media, your eyes widening as countless photos of the event filled your feed. comments from fans were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating the unexpected dynamic between you and danielle.

most of the photos were candid shots—the two of you caught in conversation, eyes bright with amusement, smiles soft and natural. the internet had already begun to label you as friends (which you didn’t mind at all), though some comments and posts weren’t so subtle as they implied something more, playfully shipping you two as a potential couple.

you rolled your eyes — it was ridiculous — you weren’t even sure whether or not she liked girls like that. even if she did, the whole livestream™ probably weirded her out. what you sought was friendship, but the ship posts did make you smile to yourself. maybe you’re just weird. you figured you needed to snap out of it.

unfortunately for you, more photos entertained the idea of something more than friends. in them, you were gently holding danielle’s wrist, steadying her as she’d momentarily lost her balance that night. the angle caught the way her expression softened as she looked at you, an unguarded moment that felt oddly intimate, almost cinematic.

you’ve acted in various romance scenes, but none of them were real. neither did any of them look as… jaw-dropping as this.

the caption on one post read: “the way they look at each other… could this be the start of something?” the reactions were a mix of heart emojis, enthusiastic comments, and threads analyzing your body language and every nuance of the pictures. your cheeks warmed as you scrolled through, noticing how even the simplest gestures were being magnified and dissected as if this were an advanced art course.

you reread the text from your mark, smiling as you typed back a short light-hearted response:

“maybe i should go live more often? haha”

even as you set your phone down, your mind replayed the moments from the night before—her laugh, the way conversation flowed effortlessly, and that brief touch that started to flood your mind.

you simply had a friend crush on her, nothing more, right? probably, you hope,

—

danielle pushes open the front door of the dorm, the familiar warmth and laughter of her members greeting her as she set down her bags. before she could make it further into the living room, hanni glanced up from her phone and smirked knowingly.

“look who’s back! how was the celine event?” hanni’s tone was casual, but her eyes glimmered with mischief.

danielle’s brows furrowed slightly, but before she could answer, hyein popped up from the couch, waving her phone in the air. “more importantly, how was this?” she tapped on the screen, and a slideshow of photo’s appeared—the ones that had been trending online. danielle, dressed up elgantly, smiling up at you as your hand was on her wrist, both your expressions open and genuine.

“oh, that…” danielle felt her cheeks warm. “it was nice. we talked a bit actually, y/n is really cool!”

“really cool?” minji echoes from the kitchen, “that’s a new one.”

“she’s just a new friend i made who happens to be an actor,” danielle rushed out, even as a small uncertain flutter stirred in her chest. the words felt like they were only said to cover something up, but danielle couldn’t pinpoint what it was that she was trying to hide. she’d made new friends before, but none of them left her thinking about them the whole flight back home. she felt kind of restless in a way, but maybe that’s because you had a different kind of charm and aspect to you.

“a new friend and actor who also has a celebrity crush on you?” minji asks.

“people have celebrity crushes and that doesn’t mean anything, minji. besides, i’m not much of a celebrity to her anymore, am i? i mean we’ve met properly now.”

hanni raises a brow at danielle’s comeback, exchanging a look with hyein, who giggles. “right, just an actor who has expressed her admiration for you in great depth. okay.” hanni draws out the last word, amused. danielle crosses her arms, feigning annoyance but feeling a heat creeping up her neck.

the group finally eases off, shrugging and returning to their own chatter, but danielle couldn’t shake the lingering awareness. maybe it was just the newness of it all, you’re an actor, a very famous one now at least.

her eyes dart to the pictures on hyein’s phone again. the moment you had caught her from stumbling was simple, just an instinctive touch, but there was something about it that replayed in her mind. it was confusing—this new, unfamiliar feeling. she hadn’t considered herself someone who might fall for a girl, and there’s nothing wrong with girl’s liking… girls. but you’re not a girl that she likes, at least not romantically. you’re just really pretty and nice, and besides, she hasn’t even gotten to know you on a deeper level.

still, she’s spiralling a little.

–

y/n: hey :-) i just got back to my apartment it was nice bumping into you! let me know when you’re free? if you’d like to grab a bite or something of course you’re really pretty in person sorry, i’m fangirling haha

soobin’s top half of his face is on the top right corner of your phone as you stare at the screen. you sigh, cringing at each text you’ve sent. soobin raises a brow at the sudden change in expression, plus the small pout on your face now.

“what now?” he questions.

“am i doing too much? what if she blocks me. what if i just die—”

danielle: hi! i was watching a movie with the members hehe it was really nice meeting you! i’ve been a fan of your projects i really liked your scene in doctor strange as well and in your recent film you’re a very good actor!

you literally drop your phone, earning a confused noise from soobin. when you pick it up again, he’s making a face that asks for more answers, but you’re too busy waiting for texts to pop up after her little typing bubble forms.

danielle: i’m booked tomorrow, how about the day after? you can pick the time and place 😁

y/n: i’m busy tomorrow and the day after unfortunately 😞 how about in three days?

danielle: i’m free in the evening 👍

y/n: that’s perfect! can’t wait

danielle: me neither ☺️ i really enjoyed talking to you at the event

y/n: aw, thanks you’re really cute and sweet, danielle

danielle: im blushing stop!! hahaha i’ll text you in the morning y/n 😊❤️

y/n: okay!

soobin is still on call with you when you drop the phone on your bed again. he hears a the sound of your feet kicking against the bed and a small squeal.

“what?” he squints at the screen as you pick your phone up again.

“danielle and i are hanging out on friday.”

he looks surprised as he says, “really?”

“why do you sound so baffled… i can make friends soobin…” you huff, pouting at him.

—

you exhale deeply as you look at yourself in the mirror. there’s a green, long-sleeve comme des garcon top that you spent way too much money on hugging you just right, accentuating the build of your arms that you worked very hard for due to the new movie. custom-tailored denim fits your legs loosely, held by the same celine belt you wore at the thrilling event.

to hide your identity a bit more, you wore a beanie and a zip-up hoodie on top (another piece of clothing you spent way too much money on. you need to stop buying vintage exclusively), as well as some sunglasses.

you head out of your apartment, slip a mask on, and take the elevator down.

it’s been a while since you’ve walked around and enjoyed the area you lived in, so you decided to walk to where you agreed to meet danielle: your favorite cafe.

it was a fifteen-minute walk, a quick five-minute bus ride, then five more minutes of walking until you reached your destination. when you get there, danielle is already sat at a table. you catch her checking her phone and smile to yourself.

“hey,” you greet, sitting in front of her. “did you wait long?”

“not at all,” she shakes her head, then looks down at her drink. “i just got a latte actually, i was going to text you earlier. ah! i should’ve waited to buy–”

“no– no, it’s fine.” you assure, grinning. “i’ll buy one myself and meet you back here, give me a minute.”

“right, of course.”

you give her another small grin before ordering something simple: an almond latte. you waited only two minutes for it before heading back to danielle. after placing down your mug, danielle looks amazed at the tulip design, pulling out her phone and taking a picture. it’s cute, the gesture, and her—but that’s for you to keep to yourself.

you meet back with danielle, who’s in the same booth by the window. the cafe was quaint and tucked into a quiet street corner, so there wasn’t usually much attention or people. you really liked that aspect, considering your status, so it easily became your favorite spot.

and because there wasn’t much going on, it was easy for danielle to be under some sort of spotlight—in this case it’s the autumn afternoon glow hitting her features. you remind yourself that this is just a platonic hangout, obviously. it’s not exactly a date, maybe a friend date—but the closer you got to her the more you started to question the “friendly meet-up.”

“this place is so cozy,” danielle says, glancing around as she took a sip of her latte. “thanks for suggesting it! i’ve been so cooped up and busy, haven’t had much time to go around. plus, it’s nice to be somewhere new.”

“i um, thought you would like it…” you reply, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. “i mean i like it a lot. it’s my go-to spot, a little hidden gem when i first got to korea. it’s also really quiet at this time, so no chance of anyone recognizing us.”

danielle smiled at that, her cheeks warming. “i can’t tell if that’s comforting or more nerve-warcking.”

“is that so?” you tease, “afraid you’ll be stuck with me if no one interrupts?”

she laughs, shaking her head. “not exactly… i actually really like being here with you.”

you grin—a bit bashfully. “aw, i’m glad im here with you too. i still can’t get over the fact that i’m with newjeans’ danielle.”

she shakes her head, absentmindedly stirring her straw in her iced latte as she looks at you. " well, i hope that now… between us... i can just be danielle, even dani, if you prefer that.”

she gives you a shy smile before dropping her gaze to her coffee, and for a second you swear you saw a faint blush on her cheeks. maybe it’s the light.

“so,” she says, changing the subject, “is your schedule hectic these days? with what i’ve seen—you know, your promotions—shooting for movies and events; i don’t know how you do it.”

“sometimes i don’t know either,” you chuckle, shrugging. “it’s worth it though. its kind of surreal—i used to watch your performances before i was this… known… and think, ‘wow, she must be busy,’ but now i get it.”

“”really?” danielle raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely intrigued.

“uh—yeah. not just you! i hope i don’t sound weird… you know i used to watch all those celebrity interviews, korean and western artists, and i thought about my future being like that. um, anyways, yeah—you and your members are super talented. i mean, obviously you’re killing it in every way possible”

danielle’s smile grows upon seeing the visible blush and how evidently flustered you are.

you sig heavily, “i’m not beating the fangirl allegations… sorry.”

she looks at you with a softness in her eyes, giggling before sipping on her drink. you noticed her cheeks were definitely tinged pink now.

“that’s… really sweet. and, um, mutual. i’ve been a fan of your acting for a while now, actually. so this is all still kinda unreal.” she admits.

you both fall into comfortable conversation, sharing stories about work and laughing about awkward encounters with fans and strange industry moments. you felt completely at ease, and danielle’s laughter was contagious, filling the air with something warm. the feeling lingered even as you two left the cafe together.

the walk back was leisurely, your voices blending as the city got louder.

“do you get nervous though?” danielle asks after a while, pulling her jacket tighter against the breeze of the evening. “with acting, i mean. especially with bigger roles. i hope it’s not awkward to ask but… you know, with romance films too.”

“i get that question a lot, it’s not weird at all dani.” you nod as danielle hides the growing smile after hearing her nickname slip from your lips. “i’m always nervous. but i think i’d worry more if i didn’t feel like that, you know? it kind of keeps me on my feet, makes it feel real.”

she nods in understanding. “that makes sense.”

“you get it.”

as you neared her dorm building, a sense of bittersweetness crept in. the evening had gone by too fast, and you weren’t quite ready for it to end. you stopped a few feet from the entrance, scanning the area to make sure no one was around.

“right, i guess we’re here,” you muttered under your breath, looking back at her with a nervous expression.

she gives you a forced smile, something bittersweet. “yeah.”

“i’ll let you go now, i had a lot of fun.”

“me too.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” danielle breathes out, her smile much more shy than before now. you catch her biting the inside of her lip just barely

her eyes sparkle a bit, the streetlight reflecting off her pupils. you gaze at her for a few seconds more before nodding. before you can start to walk away, she steps forward and wraps her arms around you in a warm, gentle hug. your breath catches, but you quickly relax and reciprocate. it seems natural, like you were meant to be this close.

“thank you for today,” she murmurs, voice barely audible.

“thank you for agreeing to hangout despite my… unorthodox impression.” you reply with a giggle, your voice just as soft. “i’m glad we did this.”

when she pulls back, you meet her gaze, faces just inches apart. she looks at your almost dazed expression, with your cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted. you quickly caught herself and laughed, trying to play it cool.

“alright, well, i guess i’ll see you soon?” you say, shifting a little on your feet.

“yes,” she says, feeling her heart pounding a bit. “i hope we can do this again.”

danielle is a touchy person, this is visible on camera and to everyone she loves. still, it surprises you when she leaps back onto you, hugging you once more before slipping inside the building.

you waited until she was out of sight before turning away, unable to keep the grin off your face.

—

the next day, more specifically the next evening, you have an interview at six.

you, your costars soobin and jaehyun, are all caught in an interview. there’s a white backdrop behind you all, with makeup artists adding final touches and shifting your hair. soobin’s in a simple cardigan and jeans, while jaehyun is wearing a sweater that compliments what soobin is wearing. you, on the other hand, are clad in something that makes you stand out more: metal frames, a blazer, and slacks.

the camera’s start to roll, then the director gives you the green light.

the interviewer smiled warmly, leaning forward as he kicked off with, “so, congratulations on the movie! it’s been getting amazing reviews, and your performance as a supporting lead has been a major highlight. how does it feel to finally see it out in the world?”

you smiled, shifting in your seat. “honestly, it’s surreal. we put so much work into this film, and seeing people connect with it—it’s the best feeling. i’m really grateful.”

“let’s talk about filming,” he continues, glancing between the three of you. “what were the hardest and most fun parts of being on set?”

soobin jumped in first, grinning. “hardest part? probably the weather during those outdoor scenes. we were freezing half the time.”

you nod in agreement. “oh, definitely. there was this one night shoot where we were all layered up between takes, but as soon as the cameras started rolling, we had to act like it was summer. my teeth were literally chattering.”

“and the most fun?” the interviewer asks, tilting his head.

“the cast,” you said immediately, glancing at soobin and jaehyun. “we had such a good time together, even during the long hours. there were so many inside jokes and random moments that just made everything easier. it really felt like a family. they’re idiots, but i love them to death.”

“jaehyun, what about you?” the interviewer asked.

he chuckles. “for me, it was watching these two try to improvise during that one diner scene. they were so into it, and the director was loving it, but the rest of us were just trying not to laugh.”

you groan playfully. “don’t remind me! that scene was so… chaotic.”

the interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying the dynamic between the three of you. “speaking of scenes, do you have a favorite?”

“hmm,” you say, thinking. “i really loved the quieter moments, like the scene where my character finally opens up to soobin’s. it was just... really emotional and rewarding to film. looking over it really surprised how well acted-out it was.”

“and you two had such great chemistry,” he adds, raising an eyebrow knowingly. “fans are already talking about it. do you think that dynamic came naturally?”

you and soobin exchanged a look, and he smirked. “well, you know, y/n and i are professionals.”

“oh, stop,” you push him lightly, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “soobin’s great to work with, though. he made it really easy.”

“is that why you’re so good at teasing her?” jaehyun chimed in, earning a laugh from the room.

the interviewer leaned forward, suddenly switching gears. “speaking of fans, y/n, people have been buzzing about your recent live stream. you mentioned being a fan of danielle from newjeans, right?”

you felt your cheeks warm, but you nod. “yeah, i’ve been a fan of their music since debut. they’re insanely talented.”

soobin, your wrost enemy, grins. “she left out the part where she called danielle one of the prettiest people she’s ever seen.”

“soobin!” you protest, laughing but clearly embarrassed. “he’s just jealous that i talk to her more than he talks to bebe rexha.” you retort, earning a pout from soobin.

“she’s not wrong,” jaehyun chimes with a teasing smile. “every time her name comes up, y/n turns into a total fangirl.”

“okay, that’s enough,” you said, trying to shut them down but laughing too hard to be serious. “look, danielle is really sweet. we’ve texted a bit, even met in person, and she’s just as nice as she seems.”

the interviewer didn’t miss a beat. “so, what’s it like talking to someone you’ve admired for so long?”

you hesitate for a moment, then smile. “it’s honestly been really cool. she’s interesting and kind and just... really easy to talk to. and yeah, she’s absolutely gorgeous, but that’s probably not news to anyone. she’s everything i ranted about in my infamous livestream…”

the room erupted in laughter, and soobin locked eyes with the camera. “did you hear that, danielle? she thinks you’re gorgeous.”

you buried your face in your hands, groaning. “why did i agree to this interview?”

the interviewer grinned, clearly loving every second. “well, it sounds like you’ve made a great new friend. and who knows? maybe we’ll see her at one of your premieres and not just the celine event someday.”

“maybe,” you said with a shy smile, trying to brush it off. but deep down, the thought made your heart race.

the cast laughs, and so do you. the interviewer continues on, teasing soobin about his bloopers and viral photos. you tease him even more, considering it karma for him doing the same to you. and when you think you can’t laugh anymore, they bring up jaehyun’s old films and roles, embarassing him just a bit as well.

—

the city lights blurred outside your taxi window as you leaned back, phone pressed to your ear. danielle’s soft laugh came through the line, making your stomach flip for reasons you didn’t want to admit.

danielle decided to call you after your interview. when you asked why, she simply responded with a ‘why? do i need a reason to want to talk to you?’ which only made your stomach twist more.

“so,” she began, voice playful, “you survived the interview, huh? did your costars expose your secrets?”

you groaned dramatically. “they did. they kept teasing me about… well, you.”

“about me?” her tone was teasing, but you could hear the hint of curiousity hidden in it.

“they’re relentless dani,” you mutter, though the smile on your face was obvious in your voice. “next time, i’m dragging them into a live stream and making them go through public humiliation.”

she laughs again, light and airy. you lean against the window and smile harder. “you’re quite dramatic, y/n. maybe they jus like pointing out the obvious~”

“the obvious?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“you know, ho wmuch you like me,” she teased, her words carrying something playful.

“oh shut up,” you groan again, laughing despite yourself. “i’m never live streaming again. you’ve ruined me.”

“you’re the one who brought me up in the first place,” she counters, tone smug. “don’t blame me for how smitten you are.”

“smitten? right…” you shoot back. “someone’s confident.”

“only because you keep giving me reasons to,” she quipped, but there was a slight softness in her voice now, like the banter was more of a cover.

you’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head, your your smile only widened. you bite your bottom lip, twirling your hair ever so slightly. “but you’re also probably exhausted. you should get some rest.”

“aren’t you exhausted from the interview? i only had practice—you’re telling me to rest?” she teases, though her tone had softened further.

“i’m serious,” you say, voice queter now. “sleep tight, danielle.”

there was a pause on the other end, not awkward but lingering. “you two,” she said eventually, her voice just as soft.

you both stayed on the line a moment longer, neither of you wanting to hang up. finall, you broke the silence.

“goodnight.”

“goodnight,” she echoed before the call ended, “stay safe.”

leaning your head back, you sigh, letting the giddiness settle in your chest. as the taxi pulled closer to your place, you decided to send her a picture—your post interview outfit, slightly rumpled, hair a bit messy, and a tired peace sign held up for the camera.

a moment later, her response popped up:

danielle: cute

your heart skipped, and then another text followed.

danielle: goodnight :-)

you stared at your screen for a long moment, grinning like an idiot, before typing back a quick ‘night.’ you tucked your phone away, feeling like you could float the rest of the way home.

—

“morning?” you respond tiredly, leaning against your counter. “something up?”

he huffs, great.

“morning? try good afternoon,” your manager’s voice came through, laced with exasperation. “we have a situation.”

you already dreaded whatever was coming next. “are you serious?”

“i don’t know how you do it.”

“what?”

“how have you managed to go viral again? you and soobin this time: dating rumors.” he says.

“what?” you respond in disbelief, “me and— me and that bitc— me and soobin? there’s absolutely no way.”

“there are pictures from the interview yesterday going viral,” your manager explained. “people are assuming that you and soobin might have something going on.”

mark hears you make a disgusted noise through the phone. “why the hell would they think that?”

“apparently, you two were standing close, there’s one of you leaning on him, and another where you’re laughing while nudging him. they’re harmless, bit fans are running with it. despite your whole danielle thing, fans are running with this. boy and girl, girl and boy—you know the gist, things run around faster and easier.

you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “that’s so gross—he’s soobin. he’s like… a brother to me. and i’m a lesbian.”

“i know that, trust me. but the internet doesn’t,” mark says dryly. “just be careful. maybe you two can talk to each other, clear the air?”

“okay, okay. i’ll talk to you later.” you muttered before hanging up.

you check out social media for a bit, looking at the pictures going around and furrow your brows at how platonic they look. a girl can’t lean on her guy friend anymore? okay… right.

immediately, you pull up your contacts, scrolling to soobin’s name.

y/n: we have heterosexual allegations

not even a minute later, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. you answered, alreadying rolling your eyes. “soob.”

“we have straight allegations?” he questions, voice filed with disbelief, even despair. “god, no. absolutely not… not you, especially.”

“thanks,” you deadpanned.

“you’re welcome,” he quips, “but seriously, what do we do? should we post something?”

“definitely. let’s make this clear before is spirals. people are already clipping us from other interviews and our scenes.” you say, standing up right. “i’ll post something on my instagram: the pictures we took yesterday. i’ll caption it something normal and you can just reply normally. simple fix, right?”

“perfect,” soobin agrees. “you post it, and i’ll repost. we’ll just step on the fire.”

within minutes, you were typing out the caption, attaching a candid picture from the event of you two laughing together. once the post was live, you refreshed your feed, watching as likes and comments poured in. soobin reposted it immediately with a laughing emoji, and soon enough, the narrative started shifting.

you couldn’t help but smile in relief as you saw comments like: “okay, but their friendship is so cute,” and “best friends of the industry!”

you texted soobin one last time: crisis = over. lunch sometime this week?

his reply was instant: only if you’re paying.

—

danielle scrolled through her phone, her face buried in the pillow as she lay on her stomach. the soft glow of the screen illuminated the quiet room, the only sounds being her occasional sighs and the muffled hum of her members beyond her closed door.

twitter was like a battlefield, one she didn’t fully understand. the pictures of you and soobin, paired with captions like “new favorite couple?” and “look at their chemistry!” made her chest feel heavy in a way she couldn’t explain.

you’re just friends, she thought to herself. why do i even care?

yet, despite trying to brush it off, her fingers kept scrolling. she stared at the photos for longer than she wanted to admit, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. why did it feel like this? you weren’t hers, you’re your own person.

you two have only gone out together once, spent time with each other maybe twice, and haven’t really indulged in anything deeper. if anything it felt right that you and soobin were a thing, considering the chemistry she noticed in interviews and whatnot. still, she frowned, thinking there was something different between the two of you. especially the way you noticed and looked at her like no one had before.

a knock on the door broke her from her spiraling thoughts. before she could answer, haerin poked her head in.

“danielle? are you okay? you haven’t come out all morning.”

danielle quickly locked her phone, shoving it under her pillow. “i’m fine,” she lied, her voice muffled against the pillow.

haerin frowned, stepping inside and sitting at the edge of the bed. “you don’t seem fine.” she gently tugged at danielle’s arm. “what’s going on?”

danielle groaned but didn’t resist when haerin pulled the pillow away. “it’s stupid,” she muttered.

“stupid or not, you’re clearly upset. tell me,” haerin pressed, her tone soft but firm.

danielle hesitated before finally mumbling, “i saw the rumors about y/n and soobin.”

haerin raised an eyebrow, confused. “okay? why does that bother you?”

“i don’t know!” danielle sat up abruptly, running a hand through her hair. “it shouldn’t. but seeing those pictures… it just… it made me feel weird. i don’t like it, ugh!”

haerin tilted her head, studying danielle carefully. “weird how?”

danielle hugged her knees to her chest, avoiding haerin’s gaze. “like... sad. but that doesn’t make sense, right? i mean, she can date whoever she wants.”

realization dawned on haerin’s face, and she leaned closer. “danielle... do you like y/n?”

danielle froze, her cheeks flushing. “what? no! i mean…” she trailed off, her heart racing. did she?

haerin waited patiently, her expression calm.

“i don’t know,” danielle admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “i’ve never felt like this before. and if i do… isn’t it weird? liking a girl? i’ve never done that before, i’ve never really liked anyone period… but if i did i figured it’d be a guy. i mean i kind of always noticed the female celebrities more and— oh my god, am i gay? i like girls… i think i’ve always liked girls. why am i realizing so late—”

haerin’s eyes softened. she reached out, placing a reassuring hand on danielle’s shoulder. “it’s not weird, danielle. it’s normal. liking someone—boy or girl—doesn’t make you any different. it just makes you human. it’s fine, it’s no big deal. like who you like.”

danielle looked at haerin, her eyes wide and uncertain. “but what if it’s not okay? what if i ruin things by feeling this way?”

haerin shook her head. “you’re not ruining anything. feelings can be scary, especially when they’re new. but you don’t have to figure everything out right now. take your time, okay? and no matter what, i’m here for you. i’ve been there, i think there are two others in the dorm that have been too.”

danielle nodded slowly, the weight in her chest lifting slightly. “thanks, haerin. i think… i just need some time to think.”

“of course, i understand,” haerin said with a small smile. “but for now, let’s get you out of bed. you’re not going to figure anything out by hiding under the covers. maybe you’ll think clearly after a bit of breakfast–brunch.”

danielle chuckled softly, letting haerin pull her to her feet. though her heart still felt heavy, haerin’s words gave her a small sense of comfort. maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

—

“no way am i spending that much on something i’ll only wear once,” he said, putting a jacket back on the rack.

you two were in some pop-up store downtown, meandering through racks of high-end clothing. the smell of fresh leather and faint hints of something floral lingered in the air. music hummed in the air, some type of house playlist.

“you could always expensive it as a ‘costume piece’ for another project.” you laugh, fingers brushing idly against the fabric of a blazer nearby.

“if only it worked like that,” he snorted, glancing at you. “speaking of work, when’s the next press event? aren’t we supposed to fly out soon? there’s too much on my plate… but it’s worse for jaehyun.”

“next week,” you replied absentmindedly, your attention more on your phone than the clothes. the screen buzzed in your hand, and you glanced down immediately, eyes scanning the notification. it wasn’t from danielle. you frowned slightly and slipped the phone back into your pocket.

“that’s the third time you’ve done that in five minutes,” soobin noted, a small grin on his lips. “let me guess—waiting for a certain someone to text? a certain singer~?”

your ears burned. “what? no. i’m just—i don’t know, checking stuff. my um,” you cough, “my mom…”

“checking stuff…” he repeated, his smirk growing. “you are not slick. it’s danielle, isn’t it? waiting for her?”

he laughs when you roll your eyes at him, then raises a brow when you don’t deny it.

“you’re so obvious.” he teases, nuding your shoulder. “it’s cute though. fangirl crush to… whatever this is—’text flirtation’?”

“oh my god, you don’t shut up do you?” you say, though the corner of your mouth twitches into a smile. before you could retort further, your phone buzzed again—when you check it this time, danielle’s name lit up on the screen. without hesitation, you step away and hold up a hand to soobin.

“hold that thought,” you say, walking a few feet away for some privacy.

“hey,” you greet, trying to keep your voice casual, though you couldn’t stop the slight hint of excitement.

“hi,” her voice is soft through the phone, and you could hear the faint sound of city traffic in the background. “are you busy?”

“no, not at all,” you assure her. “i’m shopping with soobin. what’s up?”

there was a brief pause on her end before she says, “i was wondering if you’d want to go on a walk tonight? it’s been a long day, and i though it’d be nice to… you know, just talk. ah! i hope you don’t mind… i just… missed you. i know we’ve hangout only a few times, but i really like your energy! oh god, i’m rambling aren’t i—”

“i’d love that.” you smile into the phone, balancing your weight on one foot then the other. “that’s perfect, yeah of course. don’t worry about rambling… don’t ever.”

“okay,” her tone lighter now. “well, i have a shoot. i’ll text you more details, okay?”

“perfect. i’ll see you.” you say, feeling a little giddy as you hang up.

when you walked back over to soobin, he was leaning against a rack of coats, eyebrows raised knowingly.

“someone looks happy,” he teases, “let me guess—date?”

“not a date,” you correct him, though the hear rising to your cheeks betrayed you. “just a walk, you know.”

“that’s gay.” he mutters, earning a shove. he smirks at you, then adds, “well whatever helps you sleep at night—even if that’s a ‘walk.’”

you shoved his shoulder again, but the smile lingered on your face. even as you tried to focus on the clothes in front of you, your thoughts were already elsewhere counting down the hours until tonight.

—

the riverside was serene, the water reflecting the city lights in the rippled patterns. the air was crisp but not biting, just how you like it. you spot danielle standing by the railing, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed out over the water. her hair caught the light, framing her face in soft waves—her natural hair always left you in awe—and for a moment, you just stood there taking in the sight.

“hey,” you call, breaking her reverie.

she turned, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “you made it! hi.”

“of course. why would i miss it?” you say, stepping closer until you were side by side.

the two of you started walking, the rhythm of your steps syncing naturally. conversation came easily, as it always did with her. danielle talked about her schedule, how she’d been trying to find a balance between work and rest. you shared bits about your own projects, the highs and lows of the past week and even something you might audition for.

“it’s a lot sometimes,” she admits, glancing at you. “but i guess it’s just part of it, you know? the good things outweigh whatever is bad.”

you nod. “for sure. but it’s okay to feel overwhelmed too. you’re doing amazing, though. seriously.”

she looks down, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “thanks. that means a lot.”

as the conversation flowed further, the distance between the two of you shrank until your shoulders brushed with each step. the contact was subtle, but it was the only thing you could think about. you were hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you. danielle didn’t pull away, and neither did you.

a light breeze swept by, and you noticed her ears twitch. without thinking, you pulled your beanie off and held it out to her.

“here,” you say, “it’s not much, but i think it’ll help.”

“oh, no, it’s okay,” she starts, but you were already placing it gently over her head, adjusting it so it fit snugly.

“looks good on you,” you admit, stepping back to admire her. “actually, you look better in it than i do. i might have to let you keep it.”

she laughs softly, her cheeks pink from more than just the cold. “you’re just saying that.”

“i’m not,” you reply, voice light but sincere. “trust me.”

she looks at you for a moment, her eyes warm and searching before breaking into a smile. “thanks.”

you resumed walking, the easy conversation picking up again, but the air between you felt different now—warmer, closer.

as the night wore on, the city seemed to fade away, which left the two of you. your steps were in rhythm and your hearts quietly beat at the same time, to another rhythm that neither of you wanted to name.

the sound of leaves rustling fills the spaces between your conversation as you and danielle continued to walk along the riverside. the path was lit by lampposts, casting a soft light that made everything seem dreamlike. danielle, however, seemed distracted, her steps just a fraction slower than before.

“soooo,” she begins, voice tentative. “i saw something earlier.”

you turned your head to look at her, curious. “yeah? what was it?”

“pictures of you and soobin had been going around on twitter,” she says, glancing sideways at you. “people were… assuming things.”

it took you a second to realize what she meant, but when you did, you let out a short laugh. “oh, that. again?”

she nods. her expression remained the same as normal, but her hands fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater. “yeah. you two seem close.”

“we’re realy close.” you say easily, not noticing the slight edge of hesitation in her tone. “but not like that. soobin’s like… my brother? maybe a favorite cousin. it’s very platonic.”

her eyes darted up to meet yours, flickering with something unreadable. “oh,” she says softly, her voice a little brighter. “i guess that makes sense.”

you tilt your head, catching the faint shift in her demeanor. “besides,” you added, a small smirk tugging at your lips, “i’m one hundred percent gay. women only.”

danielle’s steps faltered for a brief moment again, and you noticed the way her cheeks flushed under the streetlights. she recovered quickly though, and let out a small laugh. “oh. that’s good to know.”

“yeah,” you nod and shove your hands into your pockets. “soobin’s great, but absolutely not my type. not even close.”

danielle chuckles, her gaze fixed ahead now. “when did you figure that out? you know, about being gay?”

you thought for a moment, the question catching you a little off guard but not unwelcome. “probably when i was in high school,” you admitted. “i mean, i always kind of knew, but it really hit me when i found myself completely zoning out over this one girl in my art class. she was kind of like you, pretty and nice and sweet and—” you stopped yourself, “yeah…”

danielle smiels, her curiosity evident now. “was it hard? like, coming to terms with it?”

“it had its moments,” you say honestly. “i was scared at first, like, what people would think or how my family would react. but once i told myself it was okay to just... be myself, it got easier. and i’ve been lucky—my friends and family have been super supportive. it’s normal anyway… being infatuated, finding girls attractive, and,” you look at her a little closer now, “having crushes on girls.”

danielle nods, her gaze lingering on you a beat too long before she looks away. there was something… softer in her expression now, a quiet kind of admiration mixed with something else. you noticed the shift but didn’t comment, not wanting to break the moment.

“that’s nice,” she says finally, her voice quieter than before. “i think it’s brave.”

you shrugged, trying to play it off, but the sincerity in her tone made your chest tighten. “just being honest, i guess.”

the conversation pauses, but the air between you felt warmer now, more intimate. danielle’s eyes flicker to you again, her expression thoughtful, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were walking closer—not just in steps, but in something unspoken between you two.

“why do you ask, anyway?” you question.

“ah, well—” she completely short circuits, trying to find the right words. “there’s, well, i think i um, i like someone. i don’t know, well, i do.”

you raise a brow, looking at her confusingly.

and then it hits.

she’s avoiding your gaze, fidgeting with her fingers, and the blush on her cheeks is apparent. it’s all apparent: she’s asking you about liking girls, calling you when she can, texting you, complimenting you—it all makes sense now, everything leading up to it. and you’ve been dropping hints too, but you never noticed hers.

“and what’s this girl like? is she nice?”

“ah– well, it’s— i don’t know. she’s really sweet, but anyway,” she tries to shift the conversation, but you butt in.

“i’ve been kind of into this girl actually.” you admit, kicking a rock on the ground nervously.

“really?”

you hum.

“what is she like?” danielle asks, glancing at you shyly now.

“well,” you start, sucking in the courage to continue on. “she’s really pretty, and i managed to get closer with her in just two months. i always had a little friend crush on her, but even so i always thought she was gorgeous.”

“is that so?” danielle’s cheeks flush a bit as the realization starts to hit. “what else?”

“well, the more we got to know each other the more i found myself thinking of her late at night. she’s easy to talk to and i really like that about her. i’m pretty into her, and i think a lot of people know it despite how much i try to deny it.” you shrug, looking at the ground. “um, w-what is your girl like? the girl you like.”

there’s a smile on her face, one that would be impossible to wipe off.

“she’s… she’s really cute.” danielle says bashfully. “she’s kind, funny, caring, and i kind of grew to like everything about her. i can’t stop thinking about her and talking about her to my members, and when she posts or something about her goes viral i can’t help but go a little crazy. she accidentally revealed her crush on me to a lot of people and i couldn’t believe it, even now i’m unsure…”

“well i think she likes you a lot.”

“do you?”

“mhm.” you stop in your tracks, watching danielle take a few steps before stopping. you two stare at each other for a bit, struggling to maintain eye contact. “i think she’s been trying to ignore the fact that she’s in love with you, but can’t because you’re impossibly easy to fall in love with.”

danielle blushes, stepping closer and pushing your shoulder as she tries to compose herself.

“okay,” she mutters quietly, looking down at the ground. “do you think she could close her eyes?”

“maybe.” you nervously say as you close your eyes, huffing shakily.

danielle stares at you, features a little tense—really all of you is tense—before leaning up a bit and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

she pulls away, blushing furiously.

you open your eyes, blinking twice to make sure none of it is a dream. danielle stands in front of you, biting down on her teeth to try to keep herself from going insane. she looks away, scared and flustered all at the same time.

“do you think she… do you think she liked that?”

you nod, “yeah, but she thinks you missed.”

“what—”

you cut her off, tilting her chin up and pressing a quick peck to her lips.

danielle gasps, then looks at you with widened eyes. seconds later she leans forward, meeting you in a longer kiss.

she melts a bit, your bottom lip trapped between hers as she slides her hand over to your neck. and when she pulls away, she hides her face near your ear.

“did she, did she think that was okay? i’ve never um, kissed a girl before—i haven’t kissed anyone before.”

“i think she wants to kiss you again.”

danielle laughs, pulling away and cupping one of your cheeks with her hand. it’s small and soft and warm all at the same time against your burning skin. you smile as she brushes her thumb over, nodding.

“i think i want to kiss her again too.”

#kpop x reader #danielle marsh x reader #newjeans x reader #newjeans danielle #danielle marsh #danielle x reader #mo jihye x reader #mo jihye

603 notes · View notes

lovegoodlane · 7 months ago

Text

Pursuing the Prefect - 5

4.5k words

18+ only

Warnings: smut, oral sex [female receiving], face sitting, vaginal sex, teasing

Summary: Fred and his prefect take their relationship to a new level (soft Fred, dom Fred, soft top Fred)

A/N: The moment you have all been waiting for....I'll probably write one last part to finish everything off. My requests are open, so let me know what to write next!

Link to part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

—— Fred held your hand the entire way up to his dormitory. Neither of you spoke. A comfortable silence rested between you as you hustled up the final staircase that led to his room.

Fred opened the door for you, muttering "lumos" to light a lamp on a desk that was pushed in the corner. He turned to you, taking your other hand.

"You're absolutely cracking, you know that?" he said, a smile on his lips. You returned the smile, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I am actually aware of that, thank you," you replied, teasing him.

"You put Pucey in his place," he said. "Remind me to not get on your bad side."

"You've been on my bad side before, and I think you actually quite enjoyed it," you joked, shoving at his chest.

"You are bloody hot when you're angry," Fred replied, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips at you in mock consideration.

"Oh, shove off," you laughed, heading toward his bed and throwing yourself onto it. "After that big scene, I think I need a nap."

Fred walked over to where you were face down in his pillows. He spanked your butt lightly.

"Come on, birdie, you can't take up the whole bed," he complained, running a hand down your butt and onto the backs of your thighs.

"Fine," you grumbled in fake frustration, rolling over to make room for Fred in his own bed.

Fred joined you in the bed, rolling you onto your side so you could cuddle into his chest. He stroked your hair, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, still stroking your hair.

"Anything," you replied, nuzzling your head into his chest.

"I really like you," he said, suddenly sounding very serious.

Your hand played with the neckline of his t shirt as you considered your response. Now didn't feel like the best moment to crack a joke.

"I like you too, Fred," you answered.

"No, I mean..." Fred stumbled over his words. He rolled onto his side so he could look you in the eye. "I know what my reputation is like with girls. I don't date anyone very seriously and I just like hooking up. But that's not what this is, birdie. I feel serious about you."

"Oh," was all you could think to say as he continued to stare into your eyes. This was giving you flashbacks to conversations with Adrian where he was insistent on planning your future together.

"You told me that Pucey wanted to get serious too quickly, and that's not what I'm trying to do," he said, seeming to read your mind and sense your worries. "We have all the time in the world. But I need you to know that I feel that way."

"Fred...." you were still having a hard time finding the right thing to say. Nothing came to mind.

"I realized today that going even just a day without speaking to you feels like torture," he admitted. "I'm sorry for reacting that way, and I'm sorry for how it made you feel. You're my favorite person to talk to and spend time with. I won't ever ignore you like that again."

You reached your hand up to cup his cheek. Your mind went back to the conversation that you had with Beatrice at the Three Broomsticks, admitting to how deep your feelings went for Fred. He was spilling his feelings, but it still felt so difficult to admit to your own.

Fred's hand found your waist, rubbing his thumb against the fabric of your shirt. It's almost like he was trying to beckon the words out of you.

"I...Godric, Freddie, I'm not good at this," you said, letting out an awkward chuckle.

"Take your time, darling," he soothed, squeezing your waist in reassurance.

"I really like you too," you finally said. "I think....I think that you're really good for me. You tease me about being the perfect prefect, but that's what I have been ever since I got to Hogwarts. And being that way is actually quite boring."

Both you and Fred chuckled at that admission.

"But you make me try new things. And I feel spontaneous for the first time. Instead of being controlled by getting good marks and being the best student, you have helped me take initiative of my own life," you said. "I adore you and I am learning to adore the person that I am when I'm with you."

Fred's eyes were still locked on yours. The sentimental softness that you loved returned to his eyes, and he leaned forward to kiss you on the lips.

It was sweet and gentle. Only a few kisses before he pulled away.

"You inspire me to want to do my homework," Fred teased, tickling your side.

You laughed, grabbing at his hand. "You improve me, I improve you."

You pushed him over onto his back and nuzzled into his chest, his hand snaking around your back to pull you in closer. You laid like this for a while, listening to each other's quiet heartbeats and enjoying each other's touch.

"Freddie?" you said quietly.

"Yes, birdie?" he replied, rubbing your back with his hand.

"I'm ready," you said, sounding shy.

"Ready for what?" he asked, somewhat confused.

"I'm...I'm ready to have sex. Whenever you are, of course," you fumbled over your words a bit awkwardly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

You tried to bury your face into Fred's neck, but he refused to let you. He knew that you were flustered.

"Darling, you don't have to feel embarrassed," he said, grabbing your jaw to turn you to look at him. "Thank you for telling me."

He placed a light kiss on the tip of your nose before releasing your jaw.

"I'm going to put on pajamas, I can't lay in bed with jeans on. Feels like a crime," Fred said, getting up from the bed.

He crossed the room to his dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer and grabbing pajamas from it before closing it. You were still turned onto your side on the bed, giving you a perfect view of Fred across the room.

He pulled his t shirt over his head, throwing it onto the floor next to him. You had never seen him shirtless before.

In the dim light of the dormitory, you could make out his chiseled figure. Years of quidditch had made him strong and lean, and your cheeks flushed as you realized that you were checking him out.

"Enjoying the show, birdie?" he teased, picking up his abandoned shirt from the floor and tossing it at you.

This made you blush even harder. You sat up on the bed, pondering your next move.

You watched as he undid his belt and trousers, throwing his trousers into a laundry bin before reaching for the pair of pajama pants that he had retrieved from the drawer. He pulled them on, turning to where you were sat on the bed.

"Everything alright, darling?" he asked, confused by your silence and empty expression.

You had been chewing on your lower lip, trying to muster up the courage for what you were about to do. You scooted to the edge of the bed, putting your feet on the floor.

You crossed the room to where Fred was still standing. You kissed him on the lips only once, leaving him even more confused.

You pulled your own t shirt up and off, tossing it away. Fred's eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of you before him.

This time, you came prepared. You were wearing a deep blue bra with black lacing along the straps. It was the sexiest thing that you owned, and you had a feeling that Fred was going to see it tonight.

"House colors, how appropriate," Fred teased, ghosting his fingers along your sides and up your back.

Your heart was already racing and he had barely even touched you. You were nervous, but you were ready. You wanted this.

You dared to reach out to touch him, running your nails down his sides. You stopped at the waistband of his pajama pants, gripping them and tugging him closer to you.

He chuckled, enjoying your boldness. You kissed him again, your hands trailing back up his sides and to his muscular shoulders.

He let you take control, keeping his hands politely at the middle of your back as yours roamed around his bare shoulders. You pushed him back, pulling away once again.

You fumbled with the button of your jeans. "Want to borrow a pair of pajamas?" Fred teased, watching you struggle.

"No, Fred," you replied, rolling your eyes at him. You had finally gotten the button free, undoing the zipper and starting to pull your jeans down your legs. "I want you."

Fred waited patiently for you to step out of your jeans before he picked you up. You giggled, wrapping your legs around his middle while he carried you back to the bed.

He held you for a moment, planting wet kisses along your jawline before setting you onto the bed. He attacked your lips next, his teeth biting at your lower lip while his hands ran along your thighs.

You dug your nails into his back, trailing down toward his waistband once again. You pulled at it, signaling to him that he should take the pajamas off. Fred paused his mission for a moment to take off his pants, immediately returning to your mouth.

You pulled away, grabbing at Fred's shoulders. "Lay down," you commanded.

Fred listened, laying down on the bed. You positioned yourself over him, one thigh on either side of his middle.

He was loving this view. You had been intimate before, but not quite like this. You were in only your bra and knickers, a smirk on your mouth as you loomed over him. He couldn't think of anything in the whole world that could be sexier.

You left hot kisses along his jaw and down his neck, bringing up one hand to grip the other side of his neck. Your kisses continued down to his collarbones where you sucked a number of love bites into his skin. It was payback for what he usually did to you.

Fred's hands ran up and down your back, playing with the clasp of your bra as he decided whether or not to take it off. He didn't want to rush you, but he had been dying to get a bra off of you for a long time.

You finally gripped one of his hands that was on your back, stopping it. "You can take it off," you whispered, reassuring him.

You released his hand, allowing him to undo the clasp. He reached for the straps, pulling them down your arms as he removed your bra.

Fred bit his lip. He ran his thumbs underneath your breasts, gripping your ribcage with his hands. He sat up, giving you a kiss on the lips before kissing along the tops of your breasts.

It took only moments for him to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. Your nails dug into his shoulders in response, a whimper falling from your lips.

He bit and sucked at one nipple and used his fingers to play with the other. All you could do was run your nails up and down his back while you moaned out his name.

"Mmm...so beautiful," he spoke into your skin as he switched his mouth to your other nipple.

Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling at it to distract yourself from what Fred was doing to you. You began to grind your hips into his, becoming desperate for more friction.

"So needy, huh?" Fred commented, releasing your nipple from his mouth and kissing along your ribs.

Your hips ground down even harder, begging for contact. You could feel how hard he was through his underwear, and you knew he wanted this too. But Fred was playing the long game.

His fingers danced down to your knickers. "Can I make you feel good, darling?" he asked, looking up into your eyes.

You nodded at him, your words caught in your throat. Fred lifted you off of him for a moment so he could remove your knickers. He laid back down on the bed, a grin on his face.

"Why don't you come sit on my face?" he said, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

Your cheeks flushed. This was something you had never done before. It seemed impractical and potentially even dangerous.

"I don't know, Fred," you said, feeling shy. "I don't want to hurt you."

Fred moved one hand up to your cheek. "Darling, I promise that it won't hurt me. Now that I think about it, suffocating between your thighs wouldn't be the worst way to go."

He smirked at you. You slapped at his chest. "Get off it, Fred," you chastised, a small smile playing at your own mouth.

"How about we give it a try and you can stop if you don't like it?" Fred proposed, squeezing your hip.

"Okay," you agreed hesitantly, feeling deeply self conscious.

You placed your hands on his chest, slowly moving yourself up his middle. You weren't exactly sure how to do this.

"How do I—" you began to ask before Fred gripped your hips, picking you up and settling you over his face.

"I guess that'll do it," you chuckled nervously, your hands finding the headboard of Fred's bed.

"Tell me if you want to stop," Fred said. You could feel him breathing on your core, making you shiver.

He pulled your hips down, your core meeting his mouth. You were holding your breath. His tongue darted out, immediately finding your clit. It seemed like he already had your body memorized, knowing exactly how to make you feel good.

Your hands gripped at the headboard as Fred's tongue increased its pace. Your entire body felt hot, and you tried to keep yourself from grinding your hips down into his mouth.

Fred angled your hips forward, allowing him to drag his tongue down to your entrance. His fingers dug into your hips as he fucked you with his tongue, making you feel like you were going to scream.

"Just like that, Freddie," you encouraged, finally finding your voice.

You allowed yourself to grind your hips down ever so slightly, and Fred responded with a groan. He squeezed your hips tighter, encouraging you to continue.

Fred's mouth found its way back up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth as you ground your hips into him. You were so close to your release.

"Fred—ahh, don't stop," you cried out, holding onto the headboard for dear life.

You only needed a few more moments before you reached your orgasm, whimpering out Fred's name as your hips trembled. He pulled you from his mouth, laying you onto the bed on your back as he hovered above you.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he said, kissing up your jaw and to your lips.

You stayed like this for a few minutes, kissing Fred as you were still feeling the glow of your orgasm. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in as close as you could.

You pulled out of the kiss, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. You smirked at him.

"I think it's your turn now," you said, using your other hand to ghost down his chest toward his boxers. You reached the waistband and pulled at it, letting it slap back against his skin.

"Birdie, tonight is about you," Fred said, placing kisses along your neck.

The hand you had at his waistband continued down, your thumb teasing him over his boxers. If you thought he was hard before, he was definitely hard now. You imagined that it almost had to be painful.

You suddenly felt bold, gripping Fred over the fabric of his boxers. His breath stuttered.

"I want you, Freddie," you whispered, trying to play up your innocence. He stopped kissing your neck, reeling back to look you in the eye.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Fred asked, his eyes soft. He was more than willing to wait. You were worth it.

"One hundred percent," you answered, pecking him on the lips. You felt a nervous pit in your stomach, but it wasn't the bad kind. It felt more like anticipation.

"If you ever want to stop—" Fred started, but you brought a finger up his lips to shush him.

"Freddie, I won't want you to stop," you said, your eyes intense.

That was all the permission he needed before he started kissing your lips again, this time seeming more desperate. He reached for one of the pillows behind your head, breaking the kiss as he pulled you up off of the bed and put the pillow under your hips.

You looked at him, a bit confused. He smirked. "Darling, I know a thing or two," he answered, placing a kiss on your knee.

He pulled his boxers off, tossing them to the side before he found his place between your legs again. Your hands were folded on your bare stomach as you waited for him to do something.

He reached for your hands, holding them in his. He noticed that you were shaking just slightly.

"We don't have to do this," he whispered, reassuring you.

"Fred, I want to," you insisted. "It's just nerves. It's been a while."

You chuckled, trying to dispel any anxiety you had.

"Okay," he said, placing a kiss on each of your wrists. "Stop me if it hurts."

You nodded. Fred released your hands, using his own to trace a path up your outer thighs. He gripped the backs of your knees, pulling your legs up just slightly.

You felt his tip as he aligned himself with your entrance. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Fred eased himself in slowly, releasing a breath that you didn't realize he was holding.

You felt a familiar burn as he got deeper, stretching you to accommodate his size. Fred grabbed your hands, placing them up next to your head.

He held your hands as he rocked into you slowly, kissing gently along your collarbone. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

"Alright, birdie?" he asked, his words sounding strained. You knew that he was holding himself back for your sake. Everything he did was for your benefit.

You nodded. "Keep going," you said.

He kissed you on the forehead. He met your eyes again as he pushed into you, this time all the way. Fred choked out a groan, feeling the pleasure of finally bottoming out into you.

Fred kissed you on the lips before releasing your hands. He traced a path down your sides and back to your thighs, pushing your knees closer to your chest.

He was still moving slowly, trying not to hurt you. But you didn't care if you were sore in the morning, you wanted more.

"Fred?" you said quietly.

He stopped moving. "Yes, darling?" he answered, concern laced in his voice.

"Harder," you said, bringing your hands to his back. You traced his muscles with your nails.

He smirked at you, not expecting this response. "Careful what you wish for," he muttered, gripping your thighs even harder.

Fred picked up his pace, pushing into you harder than he had before. Your nails dug into his back, begging him for more.

"More, Freddie, more," you whined.

Fred pulled almost all the way out of you before slamming back into you again. You cried out, arching your back off of the bed.

Fred was fucking you even faster now, hitting the deepest spot in you each time. You were basically clawing at his back now, and you knew that there would be marks left behind.

"You feel so good, birdie," he said, pounding into you. "So tight. Such a good girl."

You whimpered at his words, feeling another orgasm building. Fred brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you mercilessly.

"Are you going to finish again for me darling?" he asked. "Come on gorgeous, finish for me. Right on my cock. Be a good girl."

As if his actions weren't enough, Fred's words sent you over the edge. You orgasmed for the second time that night, crying out as Fred continued to hit the perfect spot inside of you.

He slowed down, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it. He worked you down from your high, slowly pulling out of you.

"So perfect," he commented, kissing your hand again before putting it back down on the bed.

You laid there for a moment in a daze, feeling like you were unable to move after that second orgasm. Fred knew exactly what to do to make you finish, and it blew your mind every time.

You finally got your wits about you. "Fred, you didn't finish," you said, sounding a tad offended.

He chuckled. "Not your fault. I could go all night, darling."

You gripped his arms. "Then keep going," you said, looking at him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, stroking the outside of your thigh with his hand.

"Fred, it doesn't hurt. I want you to keep going," you insisted.

"It might not hurt now, but you're going to be sore tomorrow morning," he replied, meeting your gaze. "I can finish myself off. I already told you that tonight is about you."

You huffed. "If tonight was really about me, you would keep fucking me," you asserted, narrowing your eyes at him.

He smirked at you for what felt like the millionth time that night. "Okay, bossy. I guess I have to listen to the prefect when she orders me around," he teased.

"Less talking, more fucking," you shot back at him.

He chuckled. "My lips are sealed," he replied.

Fred turned you over onto your side, pulling your knees up so they were close to your chest. He slid into you again, this time finding less resistance.

He worked in and out of you slowly, driving you absolutely insane. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying your impatience.

"Frederick Weasley, you can do better than that," you said, your voice snippy.

He shrugged in response. Apparently he was taking his vow of silence seriously.

He increased his pace ever so slightly, pushing your knees up even higher to hit a better angle. You cried out as he hit the perfect spot, desperate for him to do it again.

But that was part of his game. He pushed into you just barely deep enough, not hitting the spot again. He smirked at himself, proud of his work.

"Fred, I will curse you into next week if you don't knock it off," you said, becoming irritated.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Fred replied, feigning innocence.

"Do I really need to do everything myself?" you shot back.

"All you have to do is ask nicely," Fred said, still thrusting into you slowly.

"Fuck off," you said, determined not to give in to what he wanted.

"If you insist," he said, pulling out of you.

It was a battle of the wills. Both of you were stubborn. But he wanted to make you give in.

"Fine," you huffed, exasperated. "Please?"

Fred chuckled. "You can do better than that."

You bit your lip, trying to step past your pride. "Please, Freddie. I want you," you said, sounding much more sincere this time.

"See birdie, it's not that difficult," Fred said, turning you over onto your stomach. He pushed your chest down and your bottom up, forcing you to arch your back.

He lined himself up behind you, his tip at your entrance. His hands squeezed at your sides.

"Are you going to beg for it?" he muttered into your ear.

He had you right where he wanted you. Desperate. Frustrated. He loved making the prefect beg.

"Please," you said once again, sounding even more desperate this time.

"Mmmm....not convincing enough," Fred replied, his hands roving down your sides and to your bottom.

"Fred, please," you basically whined, trying to push your hips back onto him. If he wasn't going to take care of you, you were going to do it yourself.

"So desperate," Fred chided. "I'm not sure that you really are a good girl after all."

He finally pushed into you, taking you by surprise. He worked in and out of you, picking up speed quicker than he had before.

"You're a bad girl, huh?" Fred commented, reaching around to grip your throat lightly. "The prefect is a bad, bad girl."

He thrusted into you even harder, finally hitting that spot that drove you crazy. You felt like a mess. You knew that your hair was wild and that you were likely covered in love bites. But you were loving it.

You whined at Fred, pushing your hips back into him to meet his brutal pace. Fred was starting to lose control as he got closer to his own release, both hands now gripping your hips. There would definitely be bruises there in the morning.

"So close," you cried, gripping at the comforter on Fred's bed.

"Finish for me again, birdie. You can do it, love," Fred encouraged. "Merlin, you feel so good. Made just for me."

You were so sensitive after two orgasms that a third felt like it might kill you. Your vision began to get spotty, and you knew that you were going to finish any second now.

You finally reached your third high of the night, arching your back even harder and pushing back towards Fred. He continued fucking you, moments from his own release.

"Fuck, birdie, so perfect," Fred breathed out. "You're going to make me bust."

It seemed like he was almost asking for permission. How polite.

"Inside of me," you demanded, sounding exhausted from your third orgasm.

Fred groaned, keeping up his pace as he finally reached his release. He finished inside of you, his hips slowing down and stuttering.

He massaged your hips, pushing into you a few more times before pulling out. "Sorry, darling, didn't mean to hurt you," he said, referring to the bruises that were already starting to form where he had dug his hands into your hips.

He flopped onto his back, pulling you into his chest. You felt paralyzed once more, your body still coming down from the adrenaline rush of another orgasm.

Fred kissed your forehead, snuggling you in even closer to him. "Was that too much?" he asked, sounding concerned.

You laid there in silence, still speechless. You nuzzled your head into his neck, giving him a kiss. "It was perfect," you finally said.

He chuckled. "I'm glad," he answered, rubbing your back.

"Same time next week?" you teased, running your nails up and down his abs.

"Whenever you want," he replied, squeezing you in tight.

----

Next part

#smut #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fic #fred weasley smut #fredweasley #harry potter #the weasleys #weasley twins #fred weasley imagine #Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #wizarding world #hogwarts

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