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primofate · 11 months

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Confessions Series - Part 1: Overheard [Genshin Impact Male Characters]

Note: Welp I had the itch to write again so here I am. Though sleep deprived because baby keeps waking up every 3 hours to feed... I wanted to do this haha. Based on @soulprompts “I love you” prompts. What other character should I do?

Warnings: haven’t written in a while please excuse and tell me about pronoun slips, I’m sleep deprived, not proofread, some are just concepts of liking someone, having a crush on them, while some are full blown love confessions. SOME ARE ANGSTY, chose only the male characters I wanted to write for instead of forcing myself to do all of them.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Other works in this series: (Part 2 - Description)

Scenario: Talking to a friend about how you feel about him. Unbeknownst to you, he was listening, hidden round the corner. What does he do?

Aether

“He’s sweet,” You simply answer when asked what you like about Aether. “I mean, he’s a simple guy. He’s not a mystery, it’s not hard to read him nor to get along with him. I guess that’s one of the reasons why a lot of people like him.”

“Uhuh,” your friend drawls, their head lazily resting on their hand. “but you don’t just like Aether. You seriously LIKE him,”

You’re rendered speechless by the statement for a second, tripping over your first words, “Well--I mean--” and as if realizing you’re making a fool of yourself by speaking in garbles, you recover. “Yeah, I guess...” You don’t know why you admit to it, but it’s not like your friend didn’t already know.

What he does:

Is tempted to immediately walk up to you and reconfirm the conversation.

Stops himself for a minute and replays the whole conversation in his head, probably once, twice and maybe a third time.

Second guesses himself, but when he finally goes through all possible options, he realizes there’s no mistaking the overheard confession.

All the while, Paimon is nagging him to go talk to you. “You didn’t hear wrong! Stop thinking too much, hurry and go!” Ends up being pushed out into the open by his flying companion.

“Erm...Ahem” he coughs into his fist. “I...didn’t mean to eavesdrop...Y/N, sorry, but... can we continue this conversation somewhere else? Somewhere...a little more private?” and the shy smile he gives you is a tell tale sign that he had most likely felt the same.

Albedo

“His schedule is always busy. He has his hands full with Klee, on top of all the work he needs to do,” was your excuse to your friend when asked why you haven’t confessed to the alchemist yet. “I don’t think Albedo has time for this type of thing, you know? He doesn’t need a distraction.”

What he does:

His logical side agrees that he doesn’t need a distraction.

But the other part of him doesn’t mind if its you.

Pauses for a moment, thinks about it for a second, before confronting you about it just minutes later.

“...Schedules can be made flexible, Y/N,” you jump at his sudden voice. “Just as distractions...can sometimes be a good thing,” Albedo stretches a hand out to you. “...Care to test how good of one you can be to me?”

Alhaitham

“Y/N, Alhaitham is FAR from stupid. There’s no way he hasn’t figured out that you have a crush on him,”

“Shush!!” You swerve around to your friend, ducking a little, as if that would help you become invisible. “People could be listening, besides, if that’s true, then it’s even worse. It means that he knows, and probably has no interest in me, so let’s just forget about it, ok?”

What he does:

..................................No he doesn’t know. Sure he’s smart but............he could be dense when it came to these things. That, or he just didn’t know what to do.

Does not confront you about it immediately. In fact he turns around and walks away without being spotted, opting to think about his next steps instead of just rushing into the conversation.

Lo and behold a few days later he’ll show up in front of you with his usual stoic expression.

“Y/N,” he starts, and you freeze on the spot, looking up at him, blinking.

“Y-Yes?” You haven’t seen nor heard from him in days and as usual, you attributed it to him being busy. Little did you know that he had been mulling over how to talk to you.

“I heard your conversation with (your friend) the other day,” straightforward was his answer to everything, even in this particular situation.

It takes you a few seconds to internalize his words. You’re not even sure which conversation he means. You talk to (your friend) a lot. Your brows start to furrow in confusion, until he clarifies.

“...I wouldn’t say that I completely have no interest in you,” he starts, and your shoulders tense up, now realizing which conversation it was. You could feel your cheeks start to burn, all you wanted to do was run away.

Alhaitham holds back a sigh, “...Anyway, here is no place to talk about this... I’ll meet you at Puspa Cafe tonight, if you’re free,”

You’re FAR from stupid too, and knew exactly what he was trying to do.

Ayato

“Besides why would the Lord Commissioner even look at someone like me?” you hiss at your friend who was trying to persuade you that Ayato also had the hots for you. It just seemed a little delusional to you.

“He takes the chance to rile you up every time he sees you. He’s obviously doing it on purpose,” your friend counters. You roll your eyes up to high heaven.

“He does that to everyone...” you conclude, knowing that Ayato had the habit of--though you don’t know if intentionally--giving his servants a scare.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to be so jealous,” your friend quips back, you send them a quick glare before going back to doing your own work.

What he does:

Doesn’t even bat an eye. Smirks as he hears the whole story.

Confidently reveals his presence to the two of you, chuckling.

“Jealousy doesn’t usually paint a beautiful colour,” he starts, the overly pleasant smile on his face. You straighten up immediately, eyes changing into saucers when you realize he had heard the whole thing. You open your mouth to explain, but he beats you to it.

“But I must say it looks a little different on you, Y/N, almost charming,” The side of his lip quirks up the slightest bit into a subtle grin. You bite your lip, there he is again trying to rile you up, maybe (your friend) was right.

“...Is there anything I can do for you Lord Commissioner?” you ask, trying to stray away from the subject. He only chuckles.

“You’ll find that there are a LOT of things you can do for me, Y/N. Start by accompanying me to tea, hm?” He wasn’t really asking, it was almost a command.

You wished your friend snickering on the side would just shut up.

Cyno

“...He’s a little intimidating don’t you think? I don’t know why you like him so much,” your friend comments, slacking off on their pile of paperwork. You roll your eyes at them.

“Maybe because he works hard, unlike other people,” you shake your head a little.

“As General Mahamatra he’s supposed to work hard. Just admit that you have weird tastes.” your friend counters, still procrastinating on their share of work.

“Okay, so what if he’s a little vicious in his ways? He’s just doing his job. Now, it would help me if you started doing yours as well,”

What he does:

Doesn’t know what to do.

Stands hidden for quite a long time. The subject has already moved on and away from him.

Torn between revealing himself now or later.

Can’t think properly so exits from the situation and comes back later that same day, when you’re still working with your friend.

As he approaches your table, your friend notices him first. (Your friend) nudges you with their elbow, tilting their chin up to let you know that someone was approaching.

You pick your head up, and feel yourself go rigid when you see that it’s Cyno. At first you think to yourself that he might not be here to talk to you, maybe he’s just about to walk by...but he stops in front of your table and you’re left to wordlessly look up at him.

There’s a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

“...I value the high praise that you give me,” he starts and you immediately want to duck under the table and hide.

He heard.

“O-Oh, G-General Mahamatra, you heard that...It’s...nothing, hard work deserves to be praised...” you avert your gaze down to the papers you were working on, pretending to continue and be busy with them.

There was an awkward pause, your eyes darting up towards him for a second, checking if he was still looking at you, before breaking away again and furiously flipping through papers.

“...Do you want to play some TCG?”

“Huh?” You end up with an incredulous look on your face, trying to gauge if he was serious. His face is still blank, but the usual tenseness in the way he carried himself gave way for a barely seen relaxation. It was hard to spot, but it was there.

You ended up sighing a little in what you could only describe as relief, giving him a lopsided smile. “Sure, but go easy on me, I haven’t played in a while,”

“That’s fine. Perhaps a daily practice session will do you good,”

Dainsleif

“Mysterious, aloof, disappears into thin air... A man like that? You probably should stay away, Y/N. You don’t know what he dabbles in,” (Your friend) warns, looking at you with genuine concern.

“Perhaps he has some secrets...but I don’t think he’s a bad guy at all. I’ve spent some time conversing with Dainsleif here and there,” you continue to wipe the tables, not noticing that the man you were talking about had long entered the tavern already and was now standing behind the two of you.

“At least he’s handsome, there’s that,” (Your friend) adds.

“Sure, but that’s not the only reason I like him,” you laugh.

What he does:

Wonders if he heard the conversation right and overanalyzes what you mean by “like” him.

Either way it stirs a strange emotion in him, one that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Prefers to get things over with and thinks there’s no harm in confronting you immediately.

You hear someone clear their throat behind you. Thinking that it was a customer you turn around with a pleasant smile, only for it to slowly dwindle down into a shocked expression.

Dainsleif.

“Y/N,” he nods his head towards you casually. You gulp, force a smile, and nod back. “Hi, you’re early today,” just as your friend slips away from the conversation. Dainsleif doesn’t even spare them a glance.

He doesn’t have much to say about your comment of him being early. He doesn’t particularly know why he was early today either. Perhaps...fate would have him hear the conversation between you and (Your friend).

“Yes, well, it looks like there were benefits to being early today,” he meets you eye to eye, the intensity in his gaze almost makes you blush from your neck all the way up to the top of your head, but you fought the giddiness back.

“...What can I get you?” there’s a shiver that threatens to run up your spine, wondering if your deflection was successful. Dainsleif closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them with a strange sense of courage.

“Your company,”

Diluc

“It’s been years,” (Your friend) says, the two of you looking up at the massive oak tree of Windrise. They glance at you from the side of their eye before continuing. “Are you still in love with Diluc?”

There’s a breeze that passes, almost melancholic, and partly whispered of sorrow. “...I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him.” You pick your hand up to rub at your arm. “Jean, Kaeya, Diluc and I...So many things have changed since we were kids...but I don’t think that spot for Diluc will ever go away,”

“Does he know, at least?” (Your friend) asks and you half scoff.

“I’m not sure, I get the feeling he does, but doesn’t act on it. Which is why...maybe the only way to solve this emptiness is to leave Mondstadt altogether.”

“Out of sight, out of mind huh?” (Your friend) claps your back, and turns around to start walking away with you.

What he does:

Internally a mess of emotions. Doesn’t know where to start.

but he’s just standing there and he’s stuck watching (your friend) and you turn around to come face to face with him.

He looks at you, a wave of memories and emotions flashing through his mind all at once, it almost overwhelms him.

“D-Diluc,” you stutter, heart freezing in your chest. You see him take a steadying breath in, prying his gaze away from you and over to (Your friend).

“(Your friend), could you give us a minute?” he asks. (Your friend) obliges, passing you a quick glance before going ahead on their own. Another breeze runs by, ruffling his long red hair.

“...I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” you start, and yet he doesn’t say anything, prompting you to continue talking. “...You don’t have to think about it too much, it’s just silly--”

“I wasn’t sure,” he cuts you off, eyes drawn to the ground now. “I wasn’t sure...if you really felt that way.”

The statement somehow exasperates you. “You weren’t sure? All those times I stayed by your side when everyone else left--” then it hits you. “Or were you scared, Diluc?”

The quick grimace in his expression tells you the answer. His reply comes a few seconds later, “I was, I still am,” but he picks his head up, and finally looks you straight in the eye. “...but this time...” his fists clench on his side. “This time give me the chance to show you how much I really care about you,”

He was not going to lose you too.

Itto

“Seriously?! Itto? Arataki Itto? Are you for real?” (Your friend) announces to nearly half of the food stall, the other customers swerving around to look at the two of you.

"Oh, say it a bit louder why don’t you?” You roll your eyes at your friend and continue eating.”

“Sorry. I just--Out of all the people you could choose, your huge crush is on that big brute??” your can tell by the look on your friend’s face that they think you have weird tastes.

What he does:

Butts in without even thinking of the conversation. Has no clue what’s going on.

“Crush?!”

You and your friend startle, swerving around to see none other than the oni with his hands on his hips. “Y/N?! You planning on crushing me?!” then he guffaws with laughter, slapping his knees in the process. “Yeah right, you’re no match for me!”

Your previously gaped open mouth slowly closes and your shoulders relax, sighing. You’re a little disappointed he doesn’t get it at all. Your friend shakes their head with a long sigh. “You stupid oaf, we don’t mean it that way...”

Itto’s head tilts sideways, a genuinely confused look on his face. “No? Then... Watcha all talkin about?”

You grab your friend’s arm and pull them forward the slightest bit. “It’s not important! Actually, we better get going--”

“Y/N has a CRUSH on you, idiot! Y/N LIKES you!” Your friend explodes, patience long gone.

Itto blinks at the confession, his eyes darts towards you, “...Oh,” then there’s the slight tugging at his chest, he can’t help but beam and smile silly. “Yeah? You’re not too bad yourself Y/N! I like you too!”

You’re not sure if he really understood the confession in its entirety.

Kaeya

“It’s all just fun and games with Kaeya. It doesn’t mean anything,” you laugh sheepishly, yet you rub the back of your neck a little.

“...Do you want it to be just fun and games?” your friend chides, and there’s a moment of silence. The two of you just sitting there already knowing the answer, it’s almost uncomfortable, until your friend sighs.

“...Let’s change the subject,”

What he does:

responds immediately. Will not wait a second longer to come out of his hiding place and ask about what he just heard.

“How about let’s not?” Kaeya emerges out of nowhere, slipping into the seat next to you at the cafe. His poise is confident and instantly his head lazily places itself into the palm of his hand, gaze lingering at you.

“Snowflake, I had no idea you felt like that,” his voice is smooth like ice and you bite your lip to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

“...I didn’t say anything though?” you countered, trying to evade the conversation. Your friend watches on with interest.

“Silence speaks volumes, Y/N,” Kaeya scoots even closer to you, your shoulders touching each other. However, he maneuvers his arm around to lay on the seat behind you. “So if you’re opposed to what I’m about to do, better speak up,”

He leans closer, inch by inch, he waits for you to say something.

You stay silent.

He grins.

Scaramouche

“Hat guy? He’s brutal. But who am I to comment on your tastes, Y/N. You’ve always been weird,” (Your friend) chides, watching as you go over the bookshelf again.

“Stop calling him that,” You murmur under your breath, more focused on finding the right book for your research. “That’s not his only distinctive feature, you know,” you continue, still engrossed in looking for a book.

“Oh? What else are his “distinctive features”?” (Your friend) drawls, rolling their eyes.

You hum a little, then plop on the ground cross-legged, wanting to get a better look on the last row of books of the Akademiya’s library. “...His eyes,” you simply answer. “They’re a beautiful shade of violet-blue...He’s always glaring at someone half of the time but he actually has very pretty eyes,”

There’s silence and you finally get the peace you need to concentrate. However, that silence is broken by a voice that you know all too well.

What he does:

is amused.

thinks its cute pathetic.

will still look angry but will have a hard time actually being angry.

will be cocky.

“My eyes, huh?”

It’s hard to completely turn around in your sitting position, so you do the best you can to turn, side eye landing on Scaramouche’s form. He has his arms crossed as usual, but there’s a smug smirk on his face. “Didn’t know it was that fascinating to you, bookeater,”

It was supposed to be an insulting nickname for you, who always had your nose in a book, but you took no offense to it at all.

You didn’t know what to say, so you continued staring at him. He being the anti-social person that he was, just stared back. There was a big gap of silence before he felt that it was becoming too awkward.

“...What’re you looking for?” he blurted out.

“...A book...”

“Are you stupid? Of course you’re looking for a book. I meant what’s the title?” There his usual sneer was back again and he unfolded his arms to look at you unimpressively.

“...A History of Inazuma: Volume 2...” you meekly replied, slowly realizing that he actually heard you praising him.

“You’re in the wrong section,” the exasperated sigh he gives out causes you to wince, and you turn away back to the bookshelf as if to shield you from all this embarrassment.

“If it’s about Inazuma, you should just be asking me,” you blink as your peripheral catches sight of an outstretched hand. You tilt your head to see that he’s offering his hand, but his face is blank.

“...Well? Come on. I don’t have all day,”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling, something about the way he said it sounds threatening, but also slightly playful. But that’s just the way he was.

You accept his hand, and he pulls you up easily.

Xiao

“Oh so that’s why you’re coming over more frequently...” (Your friend) grins, and you wave your hands around to tell them to quiet down. Adepti had good hearing after all.

“Well, I’m also coming over cause Verr Goldet needs more help these days in the kitchen. You guys are getting so much customers these days that Yanxiao has a hard time by himself,”

“Uhhuuhhhhhh, sure...was it also Verr Goldet who told you to try and master the Almond Tofu recipe from Yanxiao? Cause you’re awfully hell bent on trying to learn that recipe, according to Yanxiao,”

You fall silent, feeling heat crawling up your neck. “I--” You start, searching for an excuse, but realized there was no escaping this one. “I just want to do something nice for Xiao, that’s all,” you innocently quip. “I...I know I can’t help him much, but maybe just cooking his favourite dish will help, even a little,”

(Your friend) smiles a little, knowing that the adepti probably heard everything. “That’s nice of you, Y/N. You must care about him a lot,”

What he does:

once upon a time he would do absolutely nothing. because getting involved with humans is something he shouldn’t do.

But now he bides his time, and observes if it’s safe to open up.

He wouldn’t outright thank you at first, but he’ll slowly show up in front of you a little more everyday.

He’s rather awkward, so at first he only nods his head as thanks when you leave the bowl of almond tofu on the ledge.

Eventually when he realizes you’re not going to stop cooking for him he goes the extra mile to do something simple for you too.

He places a stalk of your favourite flower on the ledge, right before you come to put down his bowl of almond tofu.

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Check it out here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BVD1VVFP

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Masterlist

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links

#alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #diluc x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fluff #scaramouche x reader #cyno x reader #ayato x reader #genshin impact fanfiction

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galaxysgal · 6 months

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𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairing: lip gallagher x fem!reader

summary: just lip being a cute bf + debbie and ian being little shits

warnings: lowercase on purpose. poorly written tbh. swearing but y’all know how it is. heavily unedited. gen said yolo so i’m posting

A/N: i’ve been on hiatus for god knows how long but my roommate and i started watching shameless and i can’t get this mfer out of my head. things w school and life are hard rn so i just wrote this comfy cozy little thing in my notes app. yolo asf.

wordcount: probably like 500 or less idk i wrote it in my notes app at 1am

— — — — — — — — — — —

you’re nestled in lip’s arms, high up on his rickety top bunk. somewhere between finishing your nails and kissing until you could barely breathe, you had fallen asleep right against his chest.

you stirred now, your cozy world interrupted a squeaky little voice. “are you in love with her?” debbie questions.

lip shushes his sister, “be quiet, she’s sleeping.”

you were wide awake now, but much too comfortable to move and make that little fact known. plus, you wanted to hear his answer.

“i asked you a question dummy. are you in love with her?”

lip stutters, “i-i dunno. i really like her, okay?”

you’re satisfied with that answer. “in love” was a little too much too quick. but “really like” was something that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“what d’ya like about her?” ian presses.

you can practically hear the gears turning in lip’s head as his siblings impatiently await a response.

“she’s- i dunno, she’s pretty?” lip replies. you hold back a scowl, annoyed at him for not having a better answer.

“yeah, great rack,” debbie comments.

“jesus, deb!” lip’s head falls back in frustration, one hand coming to cradle your head as not to wake you with the sudden motion.

“cut the shit lip,” ian interrupts. “tell us what you really think.”

you hold your breath as you wait for his response. his lips brush your hairline before he sighs. “she’s sweet, yeah? real kind.”

“a real woman of the people,” ian snorts, “princess diana type.” then “ow!” as you hear debbie shove him.

“and- and she’s real smart, too,” lip continues. “really, really fuckin’ smart. an’ she works hard. she just tires herself out sometimes.”

he strokes your hair gently, pressing a few more fleeting kisses to your forehead.

“you’re so whipped.”

you hear debbie shove her brother again, and this time ian fights back, the two making a ruckus as they push each other back and forth.

“come on guys, out. now.” lip orders his siblings around with that same stern voice you’ve heard plenty of times before.

debbie pouts. “but-“

“no buts. go on, she’s fuckin’ sleepin’ in here an’ you’re gonna wake her up. fuck off.”

“we were just-“

“fuck. off.”

“jesus,” you can practically hear ian roll his eyes. “alright, alright. we’re going.”

debbie yells for fiona as the two shuffle out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind them.

you smirk to yourself as lip groans above you, showing your cards. “you’re awake?”

you peer up at him through your lashes, a smirk planted on your lips that he’s just dying to kiss off. “can’t believe your little sister said i have a great rack,” you whisper.

lip laughs, loud and genuine. “yeah, she’s been stuffing fi’s old training bras. growin’ up an’ shit. i don’t like it.”

you’re quiet for a moment, admiring him. you know how important those kids are to him. he’d do just about anything for them, including the minor crimes you find him tangled up in on a weekly basis. he loves them like they’re his own kids, which honestly they kind of are. they may shove each other around, curse each other out, yell and scream at the top of their lungs, but at the end of the day lip has been more of a father to his siblings than frank ever was.

“you really meant all that?” you ask.

lip looks down at you, his blue eyes soft in the dim light. “yeah. yeah, i did. meant every word.”

you smile, leaning up to place a solid kiss on his lips. “for what it’s worth,” you murmur, “i really like you too.”

#shameless #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher x y/n #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher #shameless fanfiction #idek how to tag anymore i’ve lost my tumblr interface memory and abilities #sos.#mags writes

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pearlywritings · 2 months

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A slip of the tongue

synopsis: as smart as Alhaitham is, sometimes he blurts out things without thinking twice. It's good, however, that your husband knows when an apology is due, even though it doesn't mean you (and your friend) won't come up with something to pay him back with~

pairing and characters: Alhaitham x fem!reader

tw: established relationship (marriage), little hurt/instant comfort, a bit suggestive, Kaveh is lowkey couple's marriage counselor

word count: 3.7k+ words

a/n: wow, finally releasing this one out of the basement!

Your cheek starts hurting from how long the knuckles of your fist have been digging into it. Fingertips drum on your knee, as legs stay crossed and stare fixed on the figure before you, sitting on the chair across the table and not taking the eyes off of the book pages. The most infuriating part of it? The figure is talking.

"...and so you should be prepared for Rajkumar's endless questions. He might not have any relation to Haravatat or languages at all, but he has a bone to pick with me, so being my wife puts you in a position to attack. And you know how annoying it is to converse with an idiot."

Yeah, probably as much as hearing what you are already aware of. You love your husband, you truly do, but sometimes the urge to smack the back of his head and tell him to shut up is too tempting.

All you said was that you were a little nervous and mentioned that tomorrow is indeed one of the most important days for you. After all, you are going to defend your second thesis, one you spent years to complete and pass all sorts of verification, reviews and censorship. Having the Scribe as your husband had both its perks and drawbacks in the process - he could easily push your work forward to the necessary people in charge of all the mentioned above stages of approbation, but then the fact he was your spouse put a label on you for those who were aware, and it said “Needs to be examined more thoroughly”. Though come to think of it, it’s pretty illogical.

Fortunately you never had troubles with that - after all your brain was in place, and both topics of your first and now current papers were innovative. Moreso, many of your Haravatat professors agree on your academic success and some of them expressed their hope to see you in the role of their colleague in the future.

But it’s for the future. First you need to become the Dastur, and for that you need to defend your thesis in the present. You have absolutely everything ready, no one knows your topic better than you are (maybe only Alhaitham can come close, since he read and reread it multiple times, helping with editing and providing impartial perspective), and years at the Akademyia taught you how to withstand the piercing eyes and prickling words of the jury. You will be fine.

Or you thought so, before just one phrase of yours started this whole exchange that is now happening in your kitchen.

“...and remember the part in the third chapter we discussed with you. This will be the one they’ll claw at, since it’s a turning point in a whole theory and I heard some of them already criticizing it,” the male hums, turning another page, eyes scanning the words written on a yellowed from time piece of paper. This seems the last comment of his, as he falls silent, reaching for the cup of coffee you’ve made him - in the process of which you were short-sighted to voice your concern.

When a minute passes and you do not answer anyhow to any of the valuable advice he’s just given you, Alhaitham lowers his book and stares at you. You keep drumming your fingers on your knee, eyes boring into him and almost unblinking, and it’s not hard for such an observant man to notice a barely-veiled displeasure in your tired eyes and a scowl.

"You know you could've just said you are worried about tomorrow too, and leave it at that?"

Alhaitham blinks, hand frozen in the middle of lowering the mug back on the table. He is holding your gaze and you can practically see the thoughts running through his mind, he is clearly contemplating how to answer your bold statement.

“Why would I be worried?” He finally answers with a question on your own, putting the mug on the flat surface. “It’s just a thesis defense, and if you get rid of your nervousness you’ll see that you already have the Dastur title in your pocket. Tomorrow is just a formality for you.”

“So you are not coming to watch me tomorrow?” Your scowl and frown deepens, fingers stopping abusing your knee and curling in a fist instead. Your husband sighs, marking the page with a bookmark you’ve made for him and closing the volume he’s been on for the past week. Then his captivating eyes are back on you.

“Scribe isn’t required to attend. Besides-”

“Yeah, yeah, you know my work enough to not hear anything new in my presentation,” you interrupt him and he can clearly hear rising anger in your voice that wasn’t there before. It actually manages to shut him up. “As my husband, as my support, are you going to come?”

The man feels a twinge of guilt in his heart. He always prided himself of his intelligence and attentiveness, yet just now he failed to assume what exactly you expected of his presence. Of course he’d want to give you a peace of mind by being there, but it seems he is too used to uttering the same phrase every single time someone asks him to come, that it was out faster than he had a moment to think it over properly.

He sees a bit too late how your face drops when he doesn’t give you an answer immediately - it looks like his pause appeared to be hesitance to you. He slightly panics when you lower your gaze and move to uncross your legs to stand up, having an almost iron grip on the back of the chair.

“Wait- Dear, I will come,” at that your eyes flicker at him, with doubt on display in your beautiful orbs. “I promise, I’ll be there.”

“I thought you didn’t like to be around idiots the whole day,” you huff, crossing your arms, reminding him of how unflattering his words towards some of his colleagues were. You do not mean to act childish, but tomorrow is really important to you, and obviously you’d want to have your husband be there to share it with you.

Alhaitham puts the book aside and stands up as well, rounding the table and coming closer to you. His fingers deftly touch your elbow, and you will yourself not to jerk it, some annoyance still bubbling in your system.

“That is correct. However, you are not one of them,” he murmurs, caressing your arm. You huff again, but this time your posture is more relaxed. “Besides, all you need is to be confident, and if my presence can assure you that, then I’ll be more than happy to be there for you.”

You give him a long stare. Your drilling eyes to his bewitching ones, searching for the truth in the greenish depths, while he stands still, waiting patiently, expecting your verdict silently. It’s as your frown softens, he knows you’ve found what you’ve been looking for in this kind of staring contest.

“Maybe just as quick you are switching from fuming to forgiving,” his palms are warm as they slide up your arms, featherly resting on your shoulders. Your smile widens a little and you meet him in the middle when he leans to press his forehead to yours.

“Oh Archons, Alhaitham…” You shake your head with a small smile and the man feels relief washing over him. You are no longer mad at him. At least, it seems so. That is definitely good. “We’ve been married for years and it still surprises me how you can be a jerk - affectionately - one moment, and a completely sweet guy another.”

“Yeah, yeah… But to your credit you were quick to fix your attitude, and as long as it’s sincere, I am grateful.”

Or rather realizing when an apology is due.

“It is sincere,” he says with emphasis. “You know I am not the one to change my mind lightly.

You hum, content with his answer. Yet, a mischievous glint finds its place in your eyes.

“Even though you are forgiven, I am still complaining to Kaveh about the mean and heartless husband of mine.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be glaring at you murderously. Much.”

“Of course you are,” he rolls his eyes, but you know it’s playful. He knows it too, and the shift in the mood is apparent, and he is thankful for its course to the positive destination. “I guess it’s deserved.”

Alhaitham only sighs at your giggles. He could care less of what the blond architect would say about him, so he’ll survive some annoyed buzzing from the senior, and if the little exchange which is about to occur makes you happy - he doesn’t mind. Plus it will be good for you to take your mind off of tomorrow.

“I’ll trust you on that,” he finally says, slowly leaning back. You smile, patting the back of his hand still resting on your shoulder in reassurance. With a promise to collect you from your ‘girlish talk’ (you swat his shoulder at that) in a couple of hours, your husband helps you to make a new pot of tea. It’s quite ironic that this one is gonna be emptied while he’s the main focus of the conversation.

Minutes later, when you leave the kitchen with a tray, Alhaitham can faintly hear the knocks on the other end of the house, and the door opening not a minute later, the voice of the man you two have been housing for months coming clear and concerned. Kaveh remained your friend even when he and Alhaitham got in a horrible fight over their beliefs and you were partially the reason why the Haravatat graduate was convinced to let the blonde stay. Though loud, flamboyant and snarky, there is some perks of having him around - even if the architect always complains how he didn’t sign up to be a marriage counselor, he’s never let you or your husband be in a conflict for long (fortunately it happened really rarely), being your shoulder to tear up on or begrudgingly becoming an ear to be talked of by the other man and the foot that would kick Alhaitham into action or the hand that would gently nudge you in the right direction.

Or, just like tonight, simply be ‘your girl’ to chat with.

Alhaitham, as promised, lets you be for a couple of hours, meanwhile busying himself with his book. To outsiders this scene may appear weird and paint the Scribe in an awful light as a husband - but it is just like that with this man. And the strange dynamic the three of you have while staying under one roof: a wife, a husband and their… loquacious canary-like-therapist.

Only when it’s close to the time you usually go to sleep, does he also end up before the door of Kaveh’s temporary room, and firmly knocks three times.

“What?” Unsurprisingly it's the blonde’s voice, and by the tone of it he is pissed. The ash-haired male chooses to ignore him.

“Darling, let’s go to bed,” he calls for you softly.

Alhaitham hears shuffling and muffled curses the architect surely prepared for him and some short, but incomprehensible conversation happening between you two. Not a moment later though, the door opens revealing your face, and your husband can’t help but feel extra weight lifted off his shoulders. No line reappeared between your eyebrows, no pout and no distress is written on your face. Quite the contrary, when your eyes meet, you give him the same warm smile you graced him with back in the kitchen.

“Sure, let’s go. It’s quite late already and we need to wake up early tomorrow,” you hum, exiting the room. Through the gap Alhaitham spots Kaveh sitting over some blueprints with two mugs on the table and a chair placed on the opposite side of the fine piece of furniture. When the architect lifts his eyes to glare at him, the Scribe slams the door closed. To your bedroom you returned with arms linked.

The silence of your shared space is comforting and is only disturbed by your light steps and rustle of changed clothes. The Scribe glances at you every two minutes, still a tiny bit concerned about that animatic exchange you had back in the kitchen.

“You know I will come, right?” The man suddenly asks you, as you’re fluffing the pillows. Your eyes slightly widen for a brief moment, so quickly that he almost misses it, but then they soften again as you chuckle.

“Yes, I know, dear. Sorry I reacted the way I did initially. It seems I really was pent up after all.”

“I could tell. You looked like you could bite my head o- ow!” He gasps when you throw your pillow into his face, which he catches at the last second.

“Oh, shut it, or I might get mad again,” but there is no anger in your eyes, only hardly veiled mischief. He drops your weapon of choice back onto bed and raises his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay, point taken. Any way I can make it up to you?”

At that your eyes strangely glint, and the scholar can’t place his finger on what exactly feels off about it. But it does.

“Actually you can. I’d like you to wake me up when you do, and let me use the shower first.”

And that’s it? Well, odd, but not disturbingly odd. Surely you wouldn’t go as far as to play some pranks on him by mixing something in his shampoo - you are way too intelligent for that. Also not one for revenge.

“Of course. I will wake you when I do so myself, and let you use the bathroom first.”

Even if the mornings are not Alhaitham’s forte, he still opens his eyes disgustingly early, so sleeping for a bit more while you are at your morning routine sounds nice. Not as nice as doing it with you in his arms, but still quite nice.

“Thank you, dear. Now, if you are going to read-”

“Not tonight. You need sleep,” to that you smile warmly, crawling under the blankets, which he is quick to follow. You do not deny his embrace, and willingly scoot closer, extending an arm to put around his waist, as he does the same. Nor you turn away from a kiss he places on your forehead, pecking his chin in response.

“Good night, Alhaitham.”

“Good night, Y/n.”

True to his word, your husband pulls you out of the dreamland just moments later after exiting it himself. Cerulean eyes drink in your sleepy face contorting in displeasure, arms reaching over your head, and body arching in a morning stretch. He can’t help himself, leaning close and pressing a kiss just above the hem of your chemise, relishing the feeling of your heart thumping against his lips. You yawn, reaching a hand into his hair, but your breath hitches, when his mouth is suddenly on your throat, peppering it with soft pecks.

“Mmm… If you are trying to make up for yesterday you are a bit late,” your groggy voice is so adorable to the man. With you he tends to forget how to rationalize things. Yesterday was one of the times when his ‘Alhaitham for anyone else but his wife’ slipped into his interaction with you, the behavior he’s been trying for years to suppress when it comes to you. Now he knows he should’ve acted differently, and regrets his unique way of trying to give you reassurance. If only he-

“Are you overthinking again?”

Your question makes him emerge back to reality. Eyes meet, and his heart skips a beat when you smile at him. Archons, you are beautiful.

“You know I am joking? Yesterday was yesterday, and you are already making it up to me, right?”

Words can’t describe how much he loves you, and at this moment he feels like he’ll never be able to express it fully.

“Right. Shower is all yours. Also,” he leans in again, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “good morning.”

Your smile gets wider and you wrap your arms around his frame to kiss his cheek.

“Morning, Haitham.”

With you gone to the shower, the man buries himself in your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. Your husband is intelligent enough to evaluate his own deeds and behavior, so he knows he is far from perfect to be someone’s partner. Yet, here you are, loving and accepting all his flaws - not without some complaint, but you are trying.

He might come off as arrogant to some people, but in arguments with you, he can tell when it’s his fault and not blame you for giving him a cold shoulder and requesting some space. He might look like he doesn’t care, but he cares for you, for your well-being, for your likes and dislikes, for your opinion, carefully storing all this valuable information in his brain, to show how much you mean to him. He is aware he has a long road ahead of him to get rid of all of his annoying conversing habits, but he is willing to keep trying for you. He seems to not show gratitude to anyone, but he is so grateful that you remain by his side, going as far as telling him you are proud to be his wife.

He wants you to know that it’s mutual.

That being said, Alhaitham is a smart man, but when he himself exits the bathroom after his shower time, his brain is reduced to just one thought.

You are absolutely gorgeous.

His gaze is chained to your pretty fingers, rolling the long, dark green stocking up your left leg. His throat bobs, when the elastic hem of it snaps against your skin, squeezing the flesh of your thigh a little. Then you take the second one, elegantly lifting the other leg and repeating the taunting process, but this time he is here to watch it from the beginning to the very end.

You happily hum, observing your work, and, satisfied, get on your feet, adjusting the band of your panties a little. Archons, you are wearing a matching set of the richest green shade. Lace leaves little to imagination, as his eyes flicker up to your chest, noting the pretty, natural swell of it and the outline of your nipples, and then down, as you turn around and bend to grab the shirt from the bed, demonstrating to him your ass and thighs.

His hand almost reaches out to touch you, to get a hold of the round globe, to sink his lithe fingers in your flesh. After all, your husband is not above earthly pleasures.

But your voice snaps him out of it.

"My love, if you keep standing like this in the middle of the room with just a towel on and no intention to dress, you might be late for breakfast," you chide him not even turning around and throw on the shirt, hiding the bra and some of the lower half, yet still leaving a bit of an appetizing view for an eye.

Alhaitham wills himself to tear the almost burning gaze away from you and redirect it to his own clothes, already prepared and neatly hanging on a chair. You mischievously smile as he takes a step to move past your figure. He's kept alarmingly silent and you are dying to know what reaction he has for your little plan.

The man has just a second to react when you abruptly turn around and stumble into him. Big palms instantly grab your hips to steady you against his chest, and the heart quickens at the feeling of soft lace under his fingertips, peeking from beneath the hem of the shirt he accidentally crumpled in the process. Your hands on his chest are so warm, put out just in time to catch yourself, and Alhaitham finds himself thinking of how would've it felt if your chests collided - maybe the thin material of the only layer of clothes you have on paired with some flimsy bra would not make any difference from direct skin to skin contact?

"Ah, sorry, 'haithy," you sheepishly smile up at him, eyes soft and staring innocently, "Are you alright? I haven't heard you speak ever since you left for the shower…"

Archons, please, don't let his voice betray him.

"I'm," he quickly clears his throat, "alright. Was just about to start dressing."

You hum, pushing onto his pectorals to move away and continue with your own - though slightly changed - routine, but strong fingers flex, keeping you in place by the sheer hold on your hips. You look at him inquiringly, ignoring how the very tips of his thumbs just barely slip under the thin material of your panties to caress your hip bones. It's almost an absentminded action.

"What's with this lingerie?" He finally drops the question swirling on his tongue ever since he first laid his eyes on the tantalizing sight. It's hard to hold back a smirk - you admit you were a bit doubtful if it'd actually grab your husband's attention. Who knew the stoic man was into it…

"Oh, this?" Nonchalantly you tug on the collar of your shirt and Alhaitham sharply inhales upon catching a glimpse of your barely covered breast again. "Do not worry, habibi, it is not to seduce you," he is not that sure about it.

Taking his hands in yours, you pry them off of your body and put them back to his sides, gracing his waist just above the towel with your touch. He shivers.

"I know it's different from what I usually wear, especially to work," you admit, turning around again, to grab the robes of the Akademyia's scholar. "But I really-really loved this one I purchased a couple of weeks ago on that outing with the girls. I feel so beautiful in it," fuck, you are. "And today is a special day. Want to have some confidence, you know?"

And as the rest of your body disappears under the long article of clothing, Alhaitham is finally aware of what this whole thing is about.

It's going to be an agonizingly endless day, where the only thing he can do is watch.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #alhaitham #genshin impact fluff

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prythianpages · 3 months

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Lay All Your Love On Me | Cassian x Reader

summary: Cassian is your best friend and best friend’s don’t thirst after one another. Best friends don’t get jealous. Best friends also don’t fall in love with one another. But you did.

warnings: mild angst; smut at the end; basically, mutual jealousy

a/n: this was inspired by ABBA's song. I'm working on a series where I dedicate a song to each of the ACOTAR men and you can find the masterlist here. I feel like this is borderline crack at some points tbh and probably the longest one shot I've ever written. Also, the amount of times I've rewritten this is insane so I hope you like this final version ❤

Adrenaline courses through your veins. The wind becomes your companion, offering a resistance that you always find yourself craving. It caresses your skin, leaving a bittersweet ache. Running is the closest feeling to flying. Though your wings, tucked behind you, remain, they are rendered useless and forever will be. Those sick Illyrian males, paid off by your own brother, made sure of that.

Sometimes, you wish they would’ve just sloughed them off. An Illyrian with no wings is a tragedy but an Illyrian with useless wings is a devastating tragedy. A fate that, unfortunately, all Illyrian females have to endure.

Heated frustration surges within you, spurred on by the luminous blue hues radiating from the siphons encircling your wrists. You shake your head and take deep breaths because you can not let those triggering thoughts win. You can’t let them win. The primal thud of your heart urges you to push forward and–

“Fuck, marry, kill.”

“Cassian,” you nearly hiss, though the flutter in your chest betrays you.

“Come on,” he says, a grin playing on his lips as he matches your pace. “Me, Az, and Rhys. Go!”

You slow down your pace to shoot him a sidelong glance and pivot, turning to run the opposite direction. Heat rises to your cheeks. You blame it on your exercise.

“We played this last night.”

Undeterred, Cassian picks up his pace to stay ahead of you, running backwards with ease. “And you didn’t answer me.”

As you both rounded a corner, someone bumped into you. Your steps faltered slightly before you caught your own balance.

“Oops. Sorry, didn’t–”

The Illyrian male who collided with you didn’t even have time to finish his apology, as insincere as it was. Cassian shoved him, sending the male plummeting to the ground with a growl. You swear you hear him choke on dirt.

“Watch it, asshole.”

When Cassian turns back to you, you arch a brow at him and he gives you a nonchalant shrug. You both know that male intentionally bumped into you. As one of the few Illyrian females who has defied tradition and trained extensively, the disrespect constantly thrown at you is no surprise. Though you’re no longer fazed by it, you can’t say the same for Cassian.

His gaze softens and grin returns, the wind tousling his dark hair as he maintains his backward stride. “Now, where were we?”

“Fine,” you say with a huff.

It’s not in Cassian’s nature to give up. You’ve played this game multiple times, introduced by Mor, with the inner circle on drunken nights. You were always quick with your answers but not this time. Not when your options were three of your close friends and among them, there was one you secretly or maybe not so secretly harbored feelings for. That and the lack of liquid courage you usually have at your side when playing.

“Fuck Azriel.”

Cassian’s steps come to a stop and so do yours, albeit reluctantly. There’s a glint in his hazel eyes as he looks at you. “I’m going to tell him.”

“Go ahead,” you reply because you don’t care if the Shadowsingers knows. He’s the safest choice of them all and he wouldn’t let this stupid game get to his head unlike Cassian. “You know that’d be your answer too.”

Both you and Cassian share a look because you’re not wrong.

Then, you both are turning your heads to find the Shadowsinger. Azriel stands at the far end of the training grounds, engaged in the rhythmic lifting of weights. Shirtless. The distance between you two and him is vast, rendering any audible communication impossible. However, the subtle play of shadows around his ears catches your attention, and as if sensing your gazes, he turns, narrowing his eyes at both you and Cassian with an uncanny perceptiveness.

Caught red-handed, both you and Cassian turn your heads away. He looks at you again. “So,” he starts once more and you bite back the urge to groan. At this moment, you’re almost inclined to reveal that you’d like to do all three to the Illyrian male in front of you.

“Who will you be marrying? Me or Rhys?”

It’s as if he heard his name being called. Rhysand prods gently at the shields of your mind and when you allow him in, you know he relayed the same message to Cassian and Azriel. You both head over to the sparring grounds, where Azriel is already waiting for you. He throws a sword to you and then to Cassian.

Cassian wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively and you slap his arm. He pinches your side in retaliation, a reminder that you’re not going to live this one down. He moves into position and you mirror him.

He lifts his sword, feigning a lunge that you counter with a swift parry. Your movements are both graceful and calculated, a testament to the years of training under his guidance. Meanwhile, Azriel circles around you both, a silent spectator.

Cassian’s strikes intensify, growing more precise every time. Your swords clash, ringing in the air. But despite your skill, Cassian is stronger, more experienced. Seizing an opportune moment, he lunges with a force that sends you stumbling backward. Your sword clatters to the ground as you find yourself seated on the training grounds.

"Did I serve?" Cassian smirks, offering a mock salute, his muscles flexing in a playful display. "Or did I serve?"

He twirls his sword with a flourish, unaware of the glare you shoot his way. With a determined huff, you gather yourself, reaching for your fallen weapon and swiftly rising to your feet. In a strategic move, you deliver a swift kick, sweeping Cassian off his feet and onto his back.

With a triumphant grin, you step forward, placing a boot on his chest to keep him on the ground. You press your weight on him teasingly, knowing that Azriel is not the only one watching you two anymore. Hazel eyes sparkle back at you with a mixture of pride and a subtle undertone, a hint of something more lingering beneath the surface, as your sword hovers just above his neck. It brings forth an unspoken tension between you both and if you hadn’t blinked, you wouldn’t have missed the way Cassian licks his lips as he looks up at you.

"You got served."

Cassian laughs as you drop your sword and lift your boot. You don’t bother to offer him a hand, wanting to bask in your victory as much as possible but much to your dismay, Azriel helps him up.

Thank you for humbling him.

You turn around to see Rhysand. His lips purse, suppressing his amusement. His eyes become unreadable as he dons his High Lord mask. A palpable aura of immense power radiates from him.

Beside him, stands another male, whose presence commands just as much attention as Rhysand. His skin is a rich brown and hair white. You’ve never met him before but you know who he is as Rhysand had informed you of his visit. It’s why you were conveniently training in Windhaven, despite your preference for the training grounds atop the House of Wind.

The three of you greet Rhysand first before bowing your heads in respect to the High Lord of the Summer Court.

“This is Cassian, general commander of my armies. This is y/n, one of our great Illyrian warriors and this is Azriel, my spymaster. They are all well equipped and are looking forward to working with your soldiers for the next two weeks.”

You’ve rarely traveled outside of the Night Court. You weren't a high fae like Mor or Rhysand so you couldn’t winnow and after the clipping of your wings, you couldn’t fly like Cassian or Azriel. So your friends were your main means of transportation and you were looking forward to working with High Lord Nostrus’s soldiers as it was a means for you to get to explore another one of Prythian’s lovely courts.

But now that you’re here, in their training grounds, you’re no longer looking forward to being here for the next two weeks.

Not when one particularly strikingly beautiful female soldier has set her eyes on Cassian and certainly not when there’s an unfamiliar burning resentment in your chest too strong to ignore. It flares every time her gaze or touch lingers too long. By the Cauldron, since when did every woman you see become a potential threat with Cassian? He is your friend.

A reminder that stings as much as the intensity of the burning feeling coursing through you. Though, you’ve never felt this way before, you realize that you’ve been more sensitive in anything Cassian these past couple of months–since starfall. It’s as if he casted a spell on you, one where you can only think about him. He’s your every waking thought and lingers as your final thought before sleep.

The feeling in your chest flares to a blazing fire when you overhear him praise the female soldier and the wooden sword splinters in your grasp, falling to the ground.

This is going to be a long two weeks.

“Are you jealous?” Azriel muses beside you.

“Me?” You say with a huff, kicking the evidence of the broken sword away. Of course it doesn’t go unnoticed by Azriel, the skilled spymaster. The corner of his lips quirk up but you insist. “Jealous? Never.”

You send an amused Azriel a glare before picking up another practice sword. Determined to not let your jealousy get in the way, you engage yourself in training the small group assigned to you. You were here for a reason and you’d give the soldiers under your command your all.

After a full afternoon of training, you were eager to clean the dirt and sweat off your skin. You were also eager to distance yourself as much from Cassian and that female before you did something you’d regret. Your bath worked wonders to ease every tense muscle. If you hadn’t been invited by High Lord Nostrus to dinner, you would’ve basked in the warmth of the water a little longer. The sound of waves crashing soothes you as you make your way to your bed, ruffling your damp hair with a towel.

Nestled adjacent to Cassian's and Azriel's quarters, your room stands vast and breathtaking. It’s also missing an entire wall. In its place, vines adorned with blooming dahlias weave along the room's edges, seamlessly bridging the gap between the interior and the great sea outdoors.

Your attention gravitates towards the bed, adorned in the softest silks, a sanctuary you can’t wait to sink into. Atop it rests a box, concealing an invitation to dinner and an outfit that differs greatly from your Illyrian leathers.

You find a dress. A pale blue masterpiece with a daring plunging neckline and high slits. You’ve never worn anything like it. The fabric is soft and weightless, its wispy texture feels like a gentle sea breeze caressing your skin with every step. You appreciate that it was backless to accommodate your wings.

Sitting down at the vanity, the jewelry that was in the box sparkles back up at you. You're touched by the High Lord’s gesture but you’re also wary of all his gifts. You settle on the most simplest of jewelry–diamond earrings and a sapphire necklace that reminds you of the siphons you wear. You have three in total but the one wrapped around your wrist is the only one you keep with you at all times. You save the other two for when you’re training or fighting to help you control your power.

As you step out of your room, Cassian and Azriel's eyes are drawn to you. You smile at them in greeting. Cassian's gaze lingers, a silent appreciation etched in every curve and contour he not so discreetly takes in. Warmth prickles at your skin, and an inexplicable spark ignites within your chest in response.

Azriel clears his throat, amused eyes dancing between you two. “Shall we?”

Cassian, as if emerging from a trance, regains his composure and grins at you. He extends his arm and you gratefully hook yours through his as he leads the way down the hall. You notice that he also switched his leathers into something more befitting the Summer court’s warmth. He wears dark navy linen pants that match Azriel’s but unlike the dark shirt the Shadowsinger wears, he chose a lighter colored one. The fabric is nearly see through, offering a teasing peek at the tattoos embellishing his chest and the defined muscles that lie beneath.

You feel his gaze on you as you walk beside him that prompts you to look up at him in question. He takes a moment to respond and finally with a sheepish smile says, “you smell nice.”

“Oh, thanks. I used coconut soap that was left in my bathroom,” you respond, a tinge of confusion and subtle disappointment coloring your words. At least it was an actual compliment unlike last starfall when all he said was “you look different.” Yet, it embarrassingly still had the same effect, leaving you blushing.

Azriel, walking behind you, can't help but let out a snort. Idiots, he thinks to himself. His shadows agree.

There’s a wide assortment of delicious food laid out for you all. Your lips quirk up when you catch the way Cassian’s eyes light up at the sight. You take the seat next to him and Azriel the seat across from you. High Lord Nostrus sits at the head of the table, gesturing for you all to dive in. With a snap of his fingers, the golden chalices in front of you fill with a sweet wine.

“I appreciate you all for your efforts in helping strengthen my armies.”

Cassian’s mouth was full of food and Azriel brought his drink to his lips, not keen on the idea of making small talk with the High Lord. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at your male companions, you muster a smile and turn to Nostrus instead.

“I believe we should be the ones thanking you for being such a gracious host. As emissaries of our esteemed High Lord, it is our sincere desire that our efforts not only strengthen your armies but also fortify the bonds of alliance between the courts of Summer and Night.”

“Of course.” Nostrus's turquoise eyes study you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze settling on your wings. The instinct to protectively tuck them in tighter behind you flares, a vulnerable self-consciousness settling in. "From my understanding, it is not common for an Illyrian female to train and fight. Am I right?"

“Yes, you are correct. But I am working closely with my High Lord to rectify that.”

Cassian, sensing your unease, swallows his food, and a reassuring hand finds its place on your thigh, offering a comforting squeeze. You're familiar with Cassian's expressive and caring nature through touch. However, his simple and sweet gestures, such as the way he’s touching your thigh right now, sends your heart racing instead.

"I watched you from afar this afternoon. You took down some of my best soldiers with ease," Nostrus remarks, and a gentle breeze from the nearby sea courses through the open dining room, sending a shudder through your wings. His perceptive eyes catch the movement. "Your wings are different."

The hand on your thigh tightens, mirroring the constriction in your throat.

"High Lord–" Cassian begins, a subtle warning threaded through his otherwise light tone.

Nostrus raises his hand. "I mean no harm. Truly."

His gaze remains fixed on you as he continues, "As you see, we pride ourselves on every soldier, regardless of gender. Anyone who swears loyalty to this court is held in great esteem. I protect them as much as they would protect my court. While I do not know your story, I now know your worth, and if the Night Court is not able to appreciate you, then–"

"The Night Court appreciates her just fine," Cassian interrupts, a protective edge slicing through his words. He hates Nostrus’s accusatory tone and ignores the warning look Azriel sends his way.

You place a hand over Cassian’s but keep your eyes on Nostrus. “You flatter me, High Lord,” you manage to say with a smile. “Though my scars may say otherwise, I can assure you that my High Lord treats me well. In fact, High Lord Rhysand is working on banning the practice of clipping wings so our future generations will not know the horrors enacted under previous rulers…”

Your wings, draped behind you, bear the burden of your trauma–the betrayal of your brother. You hate how sensitive you are at the mere mention of them. You wipe hastily at your eyes. Cassian, who refused to part ways with you at your door, stands silently beside you. Your haunting memories store themselves back into the depths of your mind as his movements catch your attention. It’s strange but comforting, the way he always knows when you don’t want to talk and are in need of a distraction instead.

But your cheeks heat up because you’re unsure if this distraction is a good idea. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Cassian grins at you as he continues stripping himself of his clothes. “I’m going for a swim.”

He winks at you as he kicks his pants off, leaving him in only his boxer briefs that are clinging to him in a way that makes your mouth nearly water. You pull your gaze away, hating the way your mind wants to drift to devious thoughts because you know what lies underneath. You’ve seen him in his full glory far too many times than you’d like to admit–each one of them on accident.

Your heart flutters madly against the fragile cage of your chest and you press a hand against it as if that would do anything to ease your racing heart. Because Cassian is your best friend and best friend’s don’t thirst after one another. Best friends also don’t fall in love with one another.

But you did.

He was your mentor before he became your friend and each passing year since then seemed to usher in a quiet surrender. Almost as if every step was an unspoken agreement with your heart, blurring in between the fine line of friendship and something else. You navigated the staircase of emotions, unaware, until you stood near the bottom. Instead of gracefully reaching the last step, the sudden realization of your feelings felt like a forceful tumble, leaving you to hit the ground and boy did you hit it hard.

The sound of a joyful splash resonates through the air, harmonizing with the playful melody of droplets that dance against your bare legs. You shoot a glare Cassian’s way, even though you didn’t mind, and you can’t bring yourself to care when he flicks a middle finger at you in response. You’re far too used to them to be bothered. Realizing that the water felt nice and warm, you nestle yourself on the edge of the floor. You hike your dress up and then dip your legs into the soothing waters.

Bathed in the ethereal glow of moonlight, Cassian floats on his back, allowing his wings to carry him through the soft waves. Your gaze lingers on him, tracing the moonlit contours of his muscles. Another splash pulls you out of your trance and this time, the droplets reach the thin fabric of your dress.

“Come on, bibble!” Cassian exclaims.

Your glare returns, irritation flickering in your eyes. “I told you to stop calling me that!”

His grin widens, undeterred. “Won’t you join me?”

You respond with a swift kick, creating a splash that dances towards him. Regret settles in immediately as his eyes light up in the moonlight, holding mischief, as he swims toward you.

“Bibble’,” he nearly purrs, somehow making the stupid nickname sound downright sinful. He braces his hands on either side of you, the muscles of his arms flexing. His chest brushes against your legs and all you can think about is how nice he feels so close to you. “Why won’t you join me?”

You’re looking anywhere but him. “I don’t feel like it.”

Cassian hums, his thoughtful gaze lingering for a moment longer than you'd expect. You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding when he turns his head. It’s a short lived moment of relief because in a heartbeat, he pulls your legs from underneath you and drags you into the water with him. You’re splashing and writhing and like an idiot, your mouth opens in panic.

Cassian's strong arms swiftly encircle you, pulling you up from the water's depths. As you resurface, you're coughing and sputtering, water droplets cascading down your face. He chuckles while you hit his chest.

"I can't swim, you idiot!"

"Relax," Cassian laughs, his hands holding your hips firmly to keep you afloat with him. His expression, though soft, morphs into something more serious. "I’ve got you. I always will.”

His words unrattle something deep within you and you can’t move, can’t think properly. You can only feel. Your mind goes blank and eyes grow distant as you’re brought back to the night he first said those words. Right after he found you laying in a pool of your own blood. It was the night your wings were clipped. A hand reaches out to caress your face and his fingers rest on your chin, directing your focus to him.

Tears threaten the corners of your eyes. The desire to avert your gaze is strong, but he doesn't permit it. He needs you to answer him. "You know that, right?"

A breath catches in your throat before you finally manage to whisper, "Yeah."

Cassian's lips form a rare, softer smile. He draws you closer until you can feel his breath, sense his warmth. He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer and when he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. A thumb brushes gently against your cheek. His gaze dips to your lips and absentmindedly, his thumb slowly traces along your bottom lip. There’s a faraway look in his eyes as he’s lost in contemplation.

Your heart is roaring in your ears and there’s something singing madly in your chest because he’s never touched you like this before. Tell him. Your breath is shaky when you speak. "Cas?"

He holds his gaze to your lips, allowing the soft rocking of a wave to push him closer to you. "Yes?"

Suddenly, the night sky bursts into a kaleidoscope of colors. The unexpected spectacle and the resonating boom startles you, and on instinct, you find refuge in the safety of Cassian's embrace. If he weren’t caught up in the heat of the moment, he would’ve teased you for the way you are clinging madly onto him, legs and arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Wow," you exhale, the initial shock giving way to a relaxed sense of awe.

The fireworks continue to bloom overhead, their vibrant hues reflecting in your wonderstruck eyes. You gradually unwrap your legs from around Cassian, and your arms loosen their hold around his neck. Yet, he maintains a firm grip on your hips.

“Beautiful.”

You hum in agreement, and when you turn back to Cassian, you realize his gaze has never wavered from you throughout the entire display. "What were you going to say?"

"What?"

"What were you going to say earlier…"

"Oh, that," you stammer, panic subtly seeping in, eyebrows furrowing slightly. The courage you once possessed to voice your feelings has dissipated in the wake of the unexpected interruption. “Um, can you teach me how to swim?”

His gaze lingers on you. It’s as if he knows those were not the words you were going to say but he doesn’t push you on it. “Sure,” he says instead and clears his throat, looking away. “But maybe another night?”

“Why?”

You regret your question as soon as you ask it, eyes widening when you feel why. There’s something hard poking at your stomach. You freeze up, not knowing what to do, inadvertently making matters worse. Though the night is dark, the moon glows bright enough for you both to notice your peaked nipples as the thin light fabric of your dress is completely see through in the water.

“Stop staring!” You cry out, using one of your hands to splash water onto him. If he weren’t your lifeline, the only thing keeping you afloat in these deep waters, you would’ve shoved him under water.

Cassian snaps out of it with a flinch, blinking away the salty droplets of water that splashed into his eyes. “I was looking respectfully!”

“Respectfully my ass!”

“I mean, I could look at that too.”

You shoot him a glare, hating the way his words have your insides in a frenzy. He doesn’t seem to care about his obvious arousal poking at you and you don’t have it in you to tease him as you’re desperately trying to hide yours, praying that the vast sea surrounding you is enough to mask your scent. Your hands are grasping out for the vines that run along the edge of the tiles as soon as you can reach them, using them to guide you back into the safety of your room.

You pause before you hoist yourself back up, turning to look at a clearly amused Cassian.

“Turn around.”

“Oh, come on,” he chuckles but saves you further embarrassment by doing as you asked. You wait until his back is fully turned to you, wings flaring out behind him and spraying you with sea water on purpose, to hoist yourself up into your room. Once you’re on your feet, you pull at one of the many sheets on your bed, wrapping it snug around your exposed body.

“You can turn back around now.”

“You can look as much as you want, bibble.” He tells you though your gaze remains fixed on the seashell painting on one of your walls. Your mind is racing and if he asked you what colors were on the painting, you would fail miserably in answering him. “Disrespectfully too.”

You can hear his agonizingly slow footsteps as he makes his way to the door, not bothering to pick up the clothes he left sprawled all over your floor. “Get out,” you nearly growl at him, not caring anymore, as you turn around and shove at his back. Because if he doesn’t leave soon, you’re sure you’ll lose your self control.

“Mother’s tits, y/n! I’m going!” He exclaims in protest with a grin evident in his tone.

“Well, go faster!” You huff at him, hands still pressing against his back. “I’m.Tired.”

Tired of holding back your emotions, more like it. As soon as he steps out your door, you’re slamming it shut before he can catch a glimpse of your flustered face.

“Sweet dreams, bibble.”

Leaning against the door, you take a moment to catch your breath as Cassian's deep laughter echoes through the halls. You close your eyes, attempting to rein in the whirlwind of emotions surging within you. It’s not the first time Cassian’s teased you and it won’t be the last and you’re certainly not the only one he flirts with. The female soldier from earlier being a prime example of that.

You know he means no harm by it. Yet, his teasing stings. Because you want it to be real, for him to mean every flirtatious gesture and word. You want him to like you and only you.

Nostrus's attempts to entice you into staying in his court become increasingly overt with each passing day. Every evening unveils a new gown adorned with matching jewelry and shoes. Precisely at the stroke of ten, the night sky ignites in a display of vibrant fireworks dedicated to the three of you but when you commented the red ones were your favorite, you note more shades of reds lighting up the night skies. Each morning, a charming arrangement of summer flowers graces your presence. Even the soldiers in your training group can't help but notice the High Lord's watchful gaze whenever he deigns to join them.

Azriel finds the spectacle amusing, always the silent observer to any unfolding drama. However, Cassian is less entertained. During your nightly debriefs with Rhysand, he consistently raises the issue and you’ve noticed that during training, he sticks closer to you.

None of you bring up the heated moment you shared on your first night in Summer. It’s almost as if it didn’t happen at all and you’re not surprised. While it meant something to you, you know it meant nothing to him.

The female soldier, Olianna, you reluctantly learned her name, is as persistent with him as Nostrus is to you. You’re nearing the end of your first week when the female soldier and a couple of others join your nightly dinner with Nostrus and tonight, in her ruby red dress, she looks devastatingly beautiful. She takes the seat beside Cassian. Your unassigned but assigned spot. You begrudgingly sit beside Azriel instead, who is quick to raise a brow at you.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he replies and when you kick his leg under the table, there’s the faintest of a coy smile on his lips.

You barely even touch your plate. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and it’s not from the food. Cassian has barely even looked at you, engrossed in what appears to be a hilarious conversation with Olianna. You’re thankful when Nostrus excuses you all from dinner, quick to rise from your seat.

“Y/N, may I have a word?” Nostrus calls to you with a smile and when Cassian’s head perks up, finally sparing you a second of his attention, he adds: “In private.”

As you make your way back to your room, after a pointless conversation with Nostrus, your steps come abruptly to a halt. Your heart quickens and stomach tightens as you spot Cassian and Olianna down the hall.

Olianna’s hands rest on Cassian’s arms as she looks up at him. Her back is pressed against the wall. He leans down to whisper something that you can’t discern from your distance. It has her giggling and the sound is like a painful stab to your heart. They’re so, so close. That familiar ache settles in your chest, pushing down on you so harshly you can barely breathe.

How desperately you wish to trade places with her and maybe that could’ve been you, if you had given in to his teasing the other night. While he’d give his body to you, you know his heart would not fall so easily such as the way yours did. Cassian is a true heartthrob, a man who effortlessly captivates the hearts of many but never the one to give his. Why would you be an exception?

You try to push away your unease but fail miserably when they walk further down the hall and disappear around a corner. Doubt begins to creep in, seeping into your bones with a terrifying chilling fear. Maybe, just maybe, there is something more between them and you had lost a battle only you were aware of fighting.

Tears burn at your eyes and as you hear the door shut behind him, you feel your heart shatter at the images that flood your mind. Of him kissing her, touching her and–Stop!

You’re running blindly to your room, too caught up in your emotions to realize your mistake. Azriel blinks at your sudden entrance, seated on his bed. However, the distress etched across your face propels him to throw his book aside and jump to his feet. Shadows flit towards you, brushing against your exposed skin and he lets out a small exhale in relief when they report no injuries.

"Should I get Cas?" Azriel offers, eyes widening slightly as concern etches its way onto his features.

Your hand reaches out, stopping him before he can leave the room. "No."

He looks at you helplessly. He’s seen you cry before but Cassian was always there in those moments. Yes, Azriel regards you as a good friend–you’ve trained with him for many years alongside Cassian. He’d happily tend to your physical injuries because it was something he was capable of but the depth of your current pain is something he is unsure how to navigate. Something only Cassian uniquely understands.

"Okay," Azriel says slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "What do you need?"

Frustration colors your attempt to wipe away the tears, and a sniffle escapes you. You’ve never felt so small, so fragile and as Azriel watches you break in front of him, realization dawns on him. Something must’ve happened between you and Cassian and his mouth parts to ask but you beat him to it.

"I need you to teach me how to swim."

The next morning you can’t bring yourself to meet Cassian’s gaze. Images of him with Oliana flood your mind every time you cast a glance in his direction and the ache in your chest resurfaces. It’s irrational, you know. He’s not at fault for your feelings. After all, you’re just a friend to him. You have no claim to his affection, even though every fiber of your being yearns for it.

You are the problem.

When he reaches out, his hand lightly grasping your arm, you muster only a feeble greeting. You hear the concern in his voice as he asks what's wrong.

"Nothing," you reply, forcing a smile. "I'm just tired."

You feel the weight of his gaze burning into you as you head over to your group. He casts a glance toward Azriel in silent questioning but the Shadowsinger simply shakes his head.

The sun bathes Summer’s training grounds in a warm glow and sweat clings to your skin as you show one of your soldiers a delicate maneuver with your sword that Illyrians favor during battle.

As your gaze lifts with your sword, you catch a glimpse of Cassian and Oliana sparring. Your chest tightens when you can’t help but notice their proximity to one another. The sweet sound of her laughter follows shortly after and the tightening in your chest is replaced with a burning fire.

“I don’t think I’m doing it right. Can you teach me again?”

“Of course.”

Cassian's gaze briefly meets yours, and a sudden rush of emotion courses through you. You’re quickly averting your eyes, attempting to feign disinterest. You tell yourself you're no longer watching them, but deep down, your mind is painting vivid pictures, imprinting scenes of Cassian with her.

However, this time, it's not sadness that simmers within. It’s a burning anger and your siphons flare. Cassian is free to do whatever he pleases in his spare time but during training? When you’re working and glaringly right in front of you?

Olianna’s laughter rings out again, the sound mingling with the clash of steel. Another pang of envy stabs through your chest, sharper than the blade in your hand.

“Like this?”

“Yeah, you got it, sweetheart.”

Your blood runs cold, sending shivers down your spine yet, there’s an undeniable blaze burning fiercely within your chest. It’s a possessive fire, a primal instinct screaming “mine” in the depths of your very being. Why does she get a sweet nickname and you a stupid one? Why is he so gentle in training her when he was harsh with you?

“That’s it,” you hiss under your breath, looking back at your group. “I’m going to show you how a fight is won.”

Tightening your grip on your sword, you nearly stomp your way to Cassian. Azriel’s head perks up from where he stands, eyes widening for a fleeting moment as he catches the glow of your siphons. “Y/n, what are–”

“Stay out of it!” You exclaim, pointing your sword at him. The sharp blade teases at his throat and he falters. His shadows whisper to him in warning and he holds his hands up in surrender, catching something flickering in your eyes.

Cassian and Oliana turn their heads at the commotion. She instinctively takes a step behind Cassian and your jaw clenches at the sight. He doesn’t seem to notice it though, attention solely focused on you.

“What’s the matter, bibble?”

You point your sword at him. “You.”

“Me?” He responds, a bewildered expression crossing his face. However, he remains unfazed as your sword points directly at his chest.

“You’ve gone soft, General.” you tell him, inclining your head towards Oliana and you can’t bring yourself to care if your emotions seep out. The envy is coursing through you like an unrelenting fire. “How is she to hone in her skills when she spends most of her training laughing and batting her pretty eyelashes at you?”

Cassian lets out a chuckle. It’s been years since you’ve referred to him by his title. His hazel eyes take you in, sparkling at you with something you can’t discern. He can read the challenge in your eyes and when he finally spares a glance to the female behind him, he turns back to you. His fingers grasp at your blade carefully, lowering your sword so he can take a step forward.

“She’s not ready to be challenged.”

You smirk at him, standing your ground. “A soldier is never fully prepared for battle.”

Cassian takes another step forward and though your sword lowers further, your grip on the hilt tightens. “And a General knows when it’s best for their soldiers to refrain from entering the battlefield.”

You take pleasure in the way Oliana huffs out indignantly from behind him.

You arch an eyebrow at him in challenge. Deep down, you’re aware nothing good is going to come from this but your Illyrian blood craves an outlet for the pent-up emotions that have been brewing for many years.

“You fight me then,” you demand and you can feel the simmering fire between you intensifying. You welcome it, almost seeking the chaos it promises. "And don't you dare go soft on me."

His pupils flare and a sly smirk curls upon his lips. “I don’t think you can handle me.”

“Lay it all on me.”

Two blood rubies, sinister in their crimson glow, glisten back at you, creating a dance of hues that pulse and flicker with an inner fire. One for Cassian. One for you. Your heart sinks to your stomach and you want to cry.

This is all your doing. Your fault.

Cassian, however, does not regard the rubies sent from the Summer Court with the same gravity. "Might as well put these beauties to use. I’m sure it would look stunning on a necklace. Maybe, even a ring,” he quips as he picks his up, hazel eyes sparkling with mirth.

You immediately sense that nothing good is going to come from this–the same way you did before the two of you accidentally destroyed a building. He turns to you and gets down on one knee. There’s a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he looks up at you.

“Marry me?"

A rush of heat floods your face, and your eyes instinctively seek out Rhysand, finding him far from amused. He's fuming with a quiet rage, his gaze icy and piercing. You quickly avert your eyes, shifting your attention back to the Illyrian male now kneeling before you. You nudge his knee with your leg, ignoring the twinge of hurt at the expense of his joke.

"Get up, Cas.”

"Say yes.”

"Get up.”

“You think this is funny??”

You flinch at the sharpness of Rhysand’s tone and Cassian stands with a sigh. His hand brushes against yours but you don’t dare take it. You don’t deserve it. It’s only been hours since your abrupt return from Summer–since your heated fight sent an entire building crumbling into rubble. If Azriel hadn’t used his shadows to return you home immediately after, you’re not sure you’d be alive right now.

“I’m so sorry, Rhys,” you say, lowering your head and Rhysand’s gaze softens at the nervous fidgeting of your hands. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s mine.” Cassian steps forward, hand resting on your waist to gently push you back behind him as he takes full responsibility. “I got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“Cas, I’m the one who challenged you.”

He ignores you. “It was my blast that sent that building, as weak as it already was, to crumble down.”

Rhysand lets out a deep sigh. He leans back into his seat, fingers rubbing at his forehead at the images Azriel provides. He finds that you both are equally at fault. They’re complete wreck less idiots, Rhysand groans into the Shadowsinger’s mind.

I know. There’s a hint of amusement in Azriel’s response.

Running a hand down his face in exhaustion, Rhysand looks at both you and Cassian.

You stand there, still behind Cassian, anxious as you await your impending punishment and he can literally hear your mind racing without having to intrude. Meanwhile, Cassian, seemingly unfazed, hums a carefree tune to himself, earning an incredulous glance from you.

“Well I can kiss my alliance with the Summer Court goodbye but I will not have a High Lord from another court seeking vengeance on two of my closest friends. You each are going to write your most heartfelt apologies to Nostrus, beg if you must, and let us all pray to the Cauldron that he finds it in his heart to forgive you.”

Parchment, ink and quills appear at the desk before you. With a flick of his wrist, Rhysand uses his magic to bring forth two chairs, gesturing for you and Cassian to sit. “You two are not allowed to leave this room until those letters are finished.”

Rhysand then turns to Azriel. “I need you to watch them. Make sure they don’t destroy any of my buildings.”

A low, almost melodramatic groan escapes Azriel’s lips. “Why do I always have to babysit them?”

“Azriel.”

“Fine.”

Once Rhysand leaves, you slump into one of the chairs with a small sigh of relief. You pick up a quill, dipping it in ink and stare at the blank parchment. Cassian does the same. Azriel picks up a book from one of the shelves. He then seats himself at Rhysand’s chair, right across from you both.

“Please make this quick,” his voice almost pleads, eyes darting between you both.

“You write it for me then.” Cassian rips a piece of paper, crumbling it into a tiny ball before flicking it at his friend. Azriel rolls his eyes, his loyal shadows catching the piece of paper midair and sending it back to Cassian, hitting his forehead with a tiny “whoosh.”

Your eyebrows furrow in an attempt to focus, all the while trying to ignore the distracting bounce of Cassian's leg. Slowly but surely, you’re scribbling words onto the parchment and before you know it, you’re crafting the most sincere apology to High Lord Nostrus.

Cassian picks up on your deep concentration. He leans in closer, warm breath tickling your ear. “Whatcha writing there, bibble?”

“An apology,” you respond dryly, shooting him a sideways glance. You take note that his paper is still blank. “Something you should be doing too if you want us to make it to dinner.”

“I am. I’m just brainstorming,” he retorts in a ‘duh’ tone. “Let me see yours!”

You’re sliding your parchment away from his prying eyes. “No. Use your own brain!”

Ever the persistent one, Cassian leans in even closer, his head now practically resting on your shoulder as your hands hover over your paper, careful not to smear the fresh ink. “Come on, just a peek. I promise not to steal your most heartfelt words.”

With an exasperated sigh, you relent, allowing him a quick glimpse. His eyes are skimming through the words with an appreciative tilt of his head. “I like it. But maybe add a bit more details and drama, you know? Tug at his heartstrings a little more, he seemed to like you a lot.”

“We’re not trying to craft a masterpiece to win an award, Cassian,” you hiss at him, snatching your letter away from him.

“But you are trying to free yourself of a death sentence.” Azriel remarks, peering over his book at you as he reminds you that receiving a blood ruby from the Summer Court is not something to be taken lightly.

“See? Az gets it.” Cassian chuckles.

“Shut up and get to writing.” Azriel snaps at the busybody beside you, a stern edge in his tone.

“Yes, sir!”

Fortunately, the three of you arrive just in time for dinner. Unfortunately, the predominant topic at the table centers around the destruction of the building in the Summer Court. Rhysand, having taken the time to cool down, is noticeably calmer. While he remains upset that you and Cassian veered off course from your assigned mission, there's also a hint of happiness in having his friends back home and safe.

Cassian casually drapes his arm over the back of your chair, and the room is filled with the melody of his laughter in response to something Mor said. Something you should’ve caught as you’re seated right across from her but it’s the rich scent of sandalwood that captivates all your senses, causing your stomach to flutter. You barely manage to swallow your food without choking–a fact not lost on Azriel. He, however, chooses not to comment, sparing you from further embarrassment and grinning into his glass of wine instead.

Rhysand glares at Mor and you get a sense of what had been said when he says: “Please don’t encourage these architects of chaos.”

You groan, leaning back into your seat. The regret is instant as the edge of your wing brushes against Cassian’s arm. It sends a slight shiver down your spine and you’re mustering all your strength to keep it from causing your sensitive wings to twitch. You’re down bad.

“Can we please talk about something else?”

“Sure, but before we do…” Amren begins, a devious smile playing on her lips as she glances at you from across the table. “Can I keep the rubies?”

“Yeah and you can even keep the threat that comes with it too.”

The rest of dinner is, for the most part, uneventful. Rhysand excuses himself early to finish on some paperwork and before he leaves, he lets you and Cassian know that High Lord Nostrus should be receiving your written apologies by tomorrow morning. Amren leaves shortly after, eager to return to the quiet peace of her home. Just in time, too, as she manages to avoid a pointless argument between Cassian and Azriel over who has the best technique in training.

Not wanting to be dragged into it, you rise from your seat, grabbing a hold of the two remaining unopened wine bottles that Rhysand forgot to take back with him. You turn to Mor and you laugh when you don’t even have to say anything. She’s already standing from her seat, gesturing for you to lead the way.

The two of you end up in one of the living rooms and you’re touched when you find that the sentient house has a delicious assortment of desserts waiting for you on the coffee table. You sink into the comfort of the couch, feeling like you’re sitting on a cloud. Mor seats herself beside you, doing the honors of pouring you a glass of wine.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you are immersed into the dirtiest of gossip and catch up with one another. You move to pour yourself another glass only to find the second wine bottle empty, so you set your empty glass down on the coffee table. Leaning back into the comfort of the plush couch, you let out a sigh.

“I don’t know what he’s done to me,” you confess quietly, exhaustion taking over your features. “I’ve known him for years and all of sudden, I’m a possessive jealous mess? It doesn’t make sense to me.”

Mor raises a brow, as if it makes perfect sense to her. She then hums in contemplation, swirling the last drops of wine in her glass. “Maybe we should go out, have some fun, find a little distraction for you.”

“Or you can tell Cassian how you feel.”

The deep voice startles you both, causing Mor to gasp. Her glass falls from her grasps as Azriel emerges from the shadows. She regards the small specks of red tainting the white carpet with a frown before lifting her gaze to scowl at the Shadowsinger while you shoot him a mortified look.

“How dare you give her a reasonable option?” Mor chides him, waving her hands dramatically in the air.

“Stop with that nonsense, Az,” you say, a slight slur to your words. A frown settles onto your face, heart aching as your mind forces you to think of Cassian and Olianna. “He doesn’t feel the same for me as I do for him. I’ll only ruin our friendship if I do.”

Azriel’s eyes travel throughout the room. He takes in the empty bottles of wine, your hazy eyes and Mor’s flushed face. He looks like he wants to tell you something, on the verge of sharing a secret. Yet, whatever words linger on the tip of his tongue remain unspoken. He decides it’s best to turn around and leave, the inked wing on his arm burning further into his skin.

“Fine but don’t call me for help when you destroy another building.”

"Oh, fuck you."

He doesn't bother to turn around as he returns the gesture, a small chuckle escaping from him as he disappears into his shadows.

“So,” you turn back to Mor. “How about that distraction?”

“By the Cauldron, you look absolutely ravishing.” Mor whistles, stepping back to appreciate her work and as you look at your reflection in the mirror, you can’t help but agree.

After asking Rhysand to fly you both down, Mor winnowed you both to the townhouse, where she kept most of her going out clothes as it was a shorter distance to Rita’s. Insisting on glamming you up, she took charge of your hair and makeup, even providing you with a choice from her wardrobe. Considering the wings, your options were limited, but your gaze was drawn to a striking red satin dress. It had an alluring lace-up open back and a daring slit hem.

After scouring the dance floor for an hour from your seat at the bar, you finally find someone who catches your interest and as you approach him, you’re happy to find that he isn't intimidated by the sight of your wings. Despite your determination to keep a low profile in Velaris, it becomes challenging to go unnoticed when your friends all possess such great reputations, especially when Cassian is by your side. Mor wishes you good luck, sending you a wink as you depart from her side.

The male, who is named Felix, slings an arm around your waist, pulling you flush to him as you dance and you find yourself missing the scent of sandalwood immensely. He grins at you, intentions as clear as yours. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, drinking you under the neon lights of Rita’s. He licks his lips and glances over at your wings. “I’ve heard Illyrians can be very sensitive when it comes to their wings. Can I touch?”

Your mind immediately brings an image forward, of your wings being softly caressed, and heat pools down to your stomach. But in your head, it’s not the male in front of you. It’s Cassian’s.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch her!”

By the Cauldron, your mind is playing tricks on you as you can even hear his voice too.

You feel the loss of warmth from the male and you open your eyes just in time to see Felix sent stumbling to the floor. Your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you. Cassian is standing in front of you, chest heaving. The people who had stopped to stare quickly avert their gazes at his heated stare.

Felix gets up to his feet. He doesn’t even spare you a glance or a word as he disappears into the crowd. You’re immediately leaving the dance floor, not bothering to grab your coat before you exit the club with Cassian hot on your heels.

You pivot and Cassian nearly bumps into you. “What the fuck Cassian?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, returning your glare. “What the fuck?”

“Why are you even here?”

“I don’t know. Something didn't feel right." Cassian confesses, placing a hand over his chest as if to settle a pain.

You turn back around, knowing the towering Illyrian male was already planning to follow you. You begin to make your way to your place–a small apartment that Rhysand had gifted you on your first solstice in Velaris. You seldom used it, preferring to stay at either the house of wind or townhouse, but Rhysand insisted you have a place of your own in case you ever need space.

“And that gave you the right to ruin my night?” you huff over your shoulder.

“Ruin your night? I just saved you!”

“From what?” You laugh with sarcasm, grateful that the walk from your apartment and Rita’s was short. Pulling your key out from your bra, you hastily unlock your door. “An orgasm? Gee, thanks. Love you for that,” and then under your breath mutter: “I didn’t stop you from yours in Summer.”

As soon as you step through your door, you turn and shut it behind you. A boot stops you from doing so and Cassian pushes against you and the door, allowing himself in. “What are you talking about?”

“You mean to tell me nothing happened between you and Olianna?”

“Yes, because nothing happened! She asked me to help her with a move after dinner so I did and…” His voice trails off, and then a heavy silence descends as realization washes over him. He looks at you, and you instinctively avert your gaze.

Without bothering to slip off your heels, you dart straight to your room, desperate to put as much distance between the two of you. You’re not ready to have this conversation. Relief mingles with embarrassment, both emotions flooding you and sending blood rushing to your face. But Cassian is determined. He follows after you.

“Were you jealous?”

Arms crossed over your chest, you keep your back to him, wings curled around you. “No.”

Cassian chuckles, and before you know it, he's spinning you around to face him. One hand presses against your lower back, the other at your face. A smirk plays on his lips as he reads the defiant expression on your face. He knows you’re lying.

“You were jealous.”

“So were you,” you manage to say back.

Cassian hums in what can only be agreement. A thumb reaches out to brush your lower lip, the same way he did your first night in Summer, and then he’s replacing his thumb with his lips. The way he wanted to that night. His kiss is anything but gentle. It’s pure heated desire–one that has been simmering for years. You kiss him back, matching his urgency and he groans, allowing both of his hands to cup your face as his lips mold perfectly against yours.

He pulls away, his hands still cradling your face as his gaze burns into yours. “You want to orgasm tonight? I can give it to you.”

A thrill runs down your spine and your wings shudder. You should push him away. Cassian is your friend. A friend… who is offering to give you an orgasm with a very promising look at this very moment. Though your heart tells you not to, that you might end up hurt after this, there’s that singing in your chest again. Give in.

“You sound so confident.”

His eyes darken as his legs push against yours, walking you both to your bed. The back of your knees meet your bed and you give in, allowing yourself to fall onto the soft sheets behind you. You land on your elbows and push yourself even further up on your bed until your back meets your headrest.

“Don’t test me, baby,” he purrs, watching the way your thighs clench in response to the new nickname. It makes his cock harden in his pants. “I can have you screaming all night long.”

“Lay it all on me,” you reply, heart be damned.

Cassian wastes no time in stripping himself of his clothes, lust filled eyes fixated on you. His hard cock springs free and your eyes widen because yes, you’ve seen him before but not like this. Not when he’s hard and leaking and it’s all for you. He pumps himself, licking his lips, as your arousal floods his senses before easing himself onto the bed.

He slips your heels off and discards them. His hands caress their way up your legs and the roughness of his hands, weathered by many battles and challenges, feels heavenly against you. As his hands make their way higher, they begin kneading at the soft flesh of your thighs, dragging your dress up along with his movements. He groans at the thin lace that greets him, pressing his lips against your clothed core.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

“Well, you did catch me in the middle of something promising earlier…”

Cassian growls at your words, a wave of possessiveness taking over him. “Yeah? Well, by the time I’m done with you, it will be my cum dripping out of this pretty pussy.”

He’s tugging at your underwear, hastily dragging it down your legs. With a devious smirk, he grasps your hands and places them over his hair. “Hold on tight, baby.”

It’s the only warning he gives you before diving right in and setting you alight with his mouth. His nose brushes against your clit as he begins to fuck you with his tongue. “Do you know how often I thought of this? Of tasting you.”

You want to tell him you’ve thought of this too but you’re too lost in the pleasure of his mouth. All you can do is moan and it spurs him on, urging him to bring you closer to your release. “I can only imagine how good I’ll feel inside you.”

His words, a promise of what is to come, is your undoing. You’re squirming beneath him, back arching off the bed as you thread your fingers through his hair. A string of curses leaves your lips when he presses multiple kisses to your clit, overwhelming you in such a delightful way.

Cassian pulls away, mouth glistening with your release as he grins and your heart flutters. He crawls his way up your body, replacing his tongue with his fingers, reveling in the way they easily slide in. His lips slot over yours in a sloppy and heated kiss. When he slips another finger into you, you’re moaning into his mouth. His tongue dances with yours, wrestling for dominance that you ardently submit to.

“Please, Cassian,” you’re begging when his lips leave yours and his cock twitches at the pretty sounds that follow after. Another wave of white hot pleasure crashes over you and he groans, loving the way you're clenching so tightly around his fingers. “I need you.”

Cassian slips his fingers out of you, placing his hands at your hips to flip the both of you over. He adjusts you to straddle his lap, gaze burning into you with need. “Show me.”

“But let’s get rid of this first.” His fingers toy with the slit of your dress. “I need to see all of you.”

You nod, fingers reaching behind to undo the laces of your dress. The sound of fabric ripping reaches your ears before you can undo the first knot and cool air caresses against the newly exposed skin.

“Cassian!”

“That’s my name, baby,” he grins at you, expertly unclasping your bra and throwing it behind you along with the torn dress.

“That wasn’t my dre–oh.” Your protest dies at your throat, eyes fluttering shut as he takes your breasts in his hands, kneading the soft flesh and pressing them together. The torn dress you borrowed from Mor is long forgotten, stored away in the back of your mind. The same way you stored away all your reservations. The desire that’s been consuming you is too much for you to think through reasonably so you succumb completely into it, knowing there will be consequences to deal with later.

It’s almost embarrassing how much Cassian has thought about this, especially after the tease you gave him in Summer. His desires had gone beyond wanting to kiss you that night. He wanted to see, feel and taste every part of you. To hear you moaning and screaming just for him. Now, that you’re completely bare before him, he can look, feel and taste all he wants. And he plans to bask in every second of your warmth.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes, leaning in to take a breast into his mouth, tongue swirling around your hardening nipple with burning hunger. Your hands find purchase in his hair again as you arch yourself further, grinding against him. Lewd moans escape from both of you when the tip of his cock brushes against your sensitive clit. Cassian dives for your neck next, pressing hot open mouthed kisses everywhere he can.

“Come on, baby girl. Show me how much you need me and ride me.”

Aligning yourself with him, you slowly sink down onto his cock, savoring the burn from the stretch. His fingers run up and down your sides before settling onto your hips. Eyes fluttering shut at the sheer intensity of your warmth, he can’t help but thrust up into you, fully sheathing himself inside you. His head tilts back when you begin to move and he releases a deep groan.

It’s when your thighs start to tremble and wings flare out that he takes over. He hugs you tightly, arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand rubs at your clit. While he pants and groans against your neck, you’re crying and screaming out his name. He plants his feet on the bed and thrusts ruthlessly up into you over and over again until you both reach your high, wings flaring out.

As Cassian stirs in bed, a cool emptiness greets him, replacing the warmth he expected. Blinking his eyes open, he finds the spot beside him empty. You're gone. The lingering trace of your sweet scent is the only evidence of what transpired between you both. Fuck. Apprehension weighs down on his mind in your absence, threatening to sicken his stomach. He needs to talk to you.

After freshening up and slipping into the spare clothes he keeps at your place, his determination to find you takes hold. It's as if he can sense the storm of emotions within you—guilt, anxiety, and fear. There’s an inkling in his mind as to where you are. He knows you so well. A soft smile graces his lips when he spots you on the training grounds of the house of wind, unleashing powerful strikes on a punching bag.

Your hair is gathered into a carefree bun, and today, you've traded your usual leathers for leggings and a sports bra. You’re a vision of strength and beauty and as loose strands of your hair dance in the breeze, Cassian finds himself lost in the realization of just how deeply in love with you he is.

He lands softly, fighting the urge to frown when he notices the immediate tension in your body from his presence. He hesitates, his throat bobbing as he looks at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "Can we—"

"No, let me talk first," you interrupt with a deep sigh as you turn to face him.

"But I had something to say first," he insists with a slight shake of his head.

“I have something more important to say."

Cassian crosses his arms, challenging your claim. "My something is more important than your something."

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air and as the weight of your confession sinks in, a wave of fear grips you. You're certain you've just shattered any hopes of a remaining friendship with him. Because after last night, there's no way you can keep going on as a friend when you want to be so much more. The silence becomes maddening, and suddenly, you can't hold it any longer.

“I love you so much it hurts,” you admit with a trembling breath, tears welling in your eyes. “Because I want your every smile, your every laugh, but above all, I want your heart and–and I’m sorry for–”

“Oh, y/n,” Cassian interrupts with a chuckle.

The sound makes you go weak and you’re absolutely mortified. He rarely ever calls you by your name. He’s about to break your heart, the very thing you’ve been fearing since the realization of your feelings. The urge to run away grips you, but your feet remain planted. You lack the strength to escape the moment. Tears flow freely down your face, and your wings sag behind you, unable to bear the weight of vulnerability.

“You’ve had my heart from the start.”

Slowly, you lift your gaze. Hazel eyes bore into yours, the golden flecks glimmering at you. “What?”

He steps closer to you until he's standing right in front of you. His hands cradle your face as he wipes at your tears. “I’ve loved you for years. I thought I made it pretty obvious, especially after last night.”

“Not obvious enough,” you remark with a huff but there’s a playful and affectionate undertone in your voice.

“I could remind you again?”

"Please."

A radiant smile breaks onto Cassian’s face, and the warmth in his eyes washes away any doubt that may have lingered in your heart. Something within you flutters madly against your ribs. All these years…the teasing, the flirting, the lingering touches. They all meant something to him, the same way it did for you. You’ve loved him and he loved you back. So many years wasted, yearning and pining for one another. As you gaze into each other’s eyes, so many unspoken words are said and there’s a shared understanding that you’re not wasting another moment.

Rhysand raises his cup of coffee to his lips, the rich aroma swirling around him as he catches a glimpse of Cassian, carrying you over his shoulder, with an eagerness he’s familiar with. He then glances over the rim of his mug at Azriel, seated across from him at the breakfast table.

"Do you think they know?"

Azriel snorts in response. "Doubt it. I think you should tell them."

“No.” Rhysand's lips curve into a smirk. "Let's see how long it takes them to realize that their mating bond has snapped into place."

“We should probably head out.”

“Good idea,” Rhysand replies with a nod of his head.

In the blink of an eye, the sentient house packs the remnants of their breakfast for them to enjoy elsewhere. Without a moment's delay, they make their way to one of the balconies. Their wings gracefully unfurl behind them, catching the morning sunlight that bathes them in a golden glow.

As they soar away, you and Cassian remain blissfully unaware of the invisible thread that has silently bound your souls together for years.

tagging: @historiaxvanserra

a/n: I always wanted to write a fic where a mating bond has snapped but neither of them have a clue because they already loved each other, might be a bit unrealistic but 🤷‍♀️ I came across this bibble meme while writing this and it reminded me of both reader and Cas in some aspects. Since I couldn't think of an embarrassing nickname, I went with Bibble and so now the cute little character is canon in Prythian in this lol.

if you want more background info on reader and cas: click here

Other things that I included in this part:

This scene from Vampire Diaries.

also, this tiktok.

#cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian imagine #cassian x you #cassian fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction #acotar cassian #cassian smut #acotar smut

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

Text

Eddie sometimes went quiet.

Wayne noticed it after Eddie moved in. He didn't do it as much when he was little and Mary would bring him round, but here he was at ten years old completely silent. When Eddie was little Wayne assumed the boy was just shy, but now that he lived with Eddie he knew that sometimes a whole week would pass with not a peep from the young boy. M

The doctor said it might be a trauma response, might just be something he would do from time to time, either way, Eddie Munson, one of the loudest and dramatic kids Wayne had ever met would still be him, just nonverbal. They worked with a notebook but sometimes Eddie would get frustrated he wasn't being answered fast enough and they were running out of paper.

It was Wayne's buddy from work that presented a solution. "Have you tried sign language? My son was born deaf and Susan and I went to night classes so we could talk to the kid." So that's exactly what Wayne did, he moved his shifts to the day and spent his nights at the school learning to talk to his boy. On his days off he'd show Eddie what he'd learnt and slowly they were able to bridge the gap that the silence presented.

The silent days didn't stop as he grew older, his teachers didn't really understand and sometimes he'd end up in detention with a note saying he was being disrespectful. His friends understood though and enthusiastically asked Eddie to teach them sign language, they'd use it even when Eddie was happily chatting with them, they liked that they shared a 'secret' language from the bullies.

He hadn't had any silent days since Vecna, which Eddie thought was a miracle in itself given the circumstances. However, he woke up a couple months after spring break knowing what kind of day it was going to be. He felt frustrated with himself, he was supposed to be hanging out with Steve and Robin today and was worried with how they'd take it, especially Steve. They'd been dancing around each other's feelings lately and he didn't want to ruin everything before it even started. Resigned he grabbed a notebook and pen and headed to Family Video.

He'd spent ten minutes psyching himself up in the parking lot before heading inside, note written and ready explaining that no it wasn't anything Upside Down related, he just wouldn't be speaking today. The door's bell rings in his ear as he stops suddenly staring at the scene before him. Steve and Robin were, quite rapidly, signing at each other. Steve turns at the bell, smiling at Eddie.

"Eddie!"

Still in a bit of shock, Eddie signs on instinct, "You know sign?"

Steve has the same look of shock now, before his face breaks into an even bigger smile and signs back, "You know sign! You know sign, how, why?"

His hands are faster than his brain as he explains how he goes quiet sometimes, and Wayne and night classes and Hellfire before asking Steve how he and Robin know sign.

Steve looks bashful as he signs back, "Um, after Starcourt my hearing started to go, so Robin, ever the linguist, insisted we learn, which was actually very smart of her. I can still kinda hear but I get by mainly on lip reading."

Things started to make sense now to Eddie, how sometimes Steve seemed to just nod and smile at whatever the kids were saying, or would need things repeated to him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell me about going nonverbal? Robbie has days like that too."

"Didn't want you to think I was weird."

"I like that you're weird, I like you, Eds."

Eddie blushes at what he interprets is his sign name from Steve, the letter E and the sign for love combined.

"I like you too, Stevie." Eddie signs, the letter S mixed with the sign for heart.

Eddie may still have his silent days, but now he shares them with Steve, and they can sign the things he's not allowed to say out loud, making sure they both know they're loved.

#autistic eddie munson #deaf steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #st4 #steddie #stranger things season 4 #autistic robin buckley #ficlet #fluff #nonverbal

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luveline · 4 months

Note

hey! would you mind writing sirius black x reader (ole flame or something) when they meet for the first time since azkaban at a meeting for the order? thank you and happy holidays!

thank u for requesting, hope this is OK! ♡

—you and sirius both get to go home eventually, 2.2k. fem

You were still kids when Sirius… went away. You thought he hurt James and Lily, and it didn't matter that you loved him because he was evil and cruel and he hurt the people he loved most in the world, and then you were outposted thousands of miles eastward, your life a shadow.

Remus sent you letters. You always answered, even when it hurt, but his last was too much to believe. You told yourself that someone forged his handwriting through a curse or some new gimmick, and then a second arrived with a smaller envelope hidden inside.

No name written on it. No Dear anything to begin.

Things are different to what you've been told. Please come home, it said. This penmanship was shaken like a hand out of practice, but something felt familiar in the curves and dots.

If Remus’ letter (and the second smaller one too) were in fact telling the truth, it means you did something awful, and so, for a while, you don't go.

Please, the next letter says, again enclosed within a larger explanation from Remus, I'm sorry. I just want to see you again.

Getting home isn't as simple as he might think. You have to picture the destination very clearly to disapparate, and you have no sustained recollection anymore of the places you used to go. You remember silly things, slices of memories; the four of them laughing in a big green field, the sweet smell of hair oil to your left; the beige walls of a rented flat where you'd lay in bed for hours, sometimes days at a time, before things got too terrible to sleep; a string-lit garden that last summer, hands of poker on a glass table. These places aren't real anymore. You can't go back to them.

Upon your request, Molly forwards you an address and a secret code.

Trains, buses, trains again. A long walk through a cold street. Some secret this or that. You arrive in the night and a frowning face ushers you in, past a painting sealed away and up the creaking stairs. You spend hours sitting on the end of a bed coated in dust waiting for the sun to rise, your back stiff with nerves. You could slip out before anyone else knows you're here, it's not as if Moody would give you away. But why did you come, if you were going to run straight back to your outpost?

You don't want Sirius’ betrayal to be true, of course. It took your breath away imagining what it would mean if he hadn't done what you thought. If it's all lies (as it seems to be), if he's innocent as he and Remus claim, it means you turned your back on him and left him to suffer, and he's still asking you to come home.

A few people stir for breakfast. Molly, who's voice you remember, and some younger sounding ones that may be her children, or perhaps the newer Order recruits. Then comes Remus’ voice. He sounds different. Less Welsh, more tired. Homely anyways as he passes your door with someone beside him.

“...any day now,” he's saying, “try not to worry.”

“I do worry. I've worried about it every day for years.”

You freeze up.

The stairs creak, Remus’ voice moving further away. “She doesn't need worrying.”

Sirius must stay at the top of the stairs for a moment. He sounds close. “I wouldn't know what she needs.”

“Come have some breakfast.”

“I'll write her again.”

“After breakfast.”

“What if she doesn't come?”

“After breakfast,” Remus insists. “She can ignore you once we've had toast.”

“I forgot how funny you are,” Sirius mutters.

Hearing his voice fills you with doubt. He sounds nothing like he used to, no easy confidence to be heard, just fatigue.

You look down at your hands. Hearing his voice has a new emotion sprouting, too. When you first learned what had happened to your friends, you felt anger like a knife everywhere you went. How could he do that to them? How could he do it to you, be that person, ruin everything you'd loved and made together? But later, when anger faded and grief ached, you'd missed the Sirius you loved. Shamefully, in longing pangs, you'd toss and turn to dreams where things were different.

Now there's a chance he might still be that person, and you're hiding from him in his own house.

“There's someone here,” Molly says as you leave your room, her voice nearly too quiet to hear from the kitchen. “Moody's told me this morning.”

“What?” Arthur asks.

“Who?” a younger voice says.

A small intermission of quiet. “Well, I don't know,” Molly says eventually, though she must have guessed it was you from the letter you sent. “But I'll need another loaf of bread. You'd better go, boys.”

“Mum,” one whines.

“Come on now.”

The stairs whimper as you descend, the bannister sticky with old gloss under your hand. Paisley wallpaper and drapes catch your eye as you pass the overflowing shoe rack. There must be more people here than you'd thought. The coat stand is similarly overloaded.

You can see into the kitchen as soon as you take the last step down. Molly stands wringing a dish cloth between her hands, two teenage boys at the kitchen table. Remus stands near her right with a cup of tea, and when he sees you, he genuinely smiles.

“Oh, good,” he says, the scar that bisects his lip pulling as he takes a sip of tea.

The teenagers turn to see you. “Bread, boys! Arthur, you can go with them," Molly says.

Arthur doesn't complain. You falter in the hallway, quiet as the trio of Weasley's leave the kitchen in their slippers to take a quiet exit from the front door. They smile politely as they go, but the boys whisper as the door shuts behind them. You wonder if they have an inkling of who you are, and then you wonder what you might say now they're gone.

Molly remains, inquisitive to know that you need privacy but also the security of her company. She was always smart like that.

“Come in, then,” Remus says.

“I–” You clear your throat. “I'm not sure I should.”

A startle of silverware against china.

Remus gives you one of his looks. It has tears threatening to well. Why didn't I fight to see him more? you think. Suddenly years have passed and he's changed, but his reassuring glances remain. It's like he's saying everything is fine, why wouldn't everything be fine? Chin up, dove.

Sirius appears in the doorway. Dark circles beneath grey eyes, his cheeks gaunt with hunger rather than the sleek sharpness he once possessed. He's still pretty, if wounded. It's as though you've found an old photo of him that's been smudged with age. He's stepped out of one of your moulding albums to haunt you.

“Angel,” he breathes, his hand clasped low on the doorway, “you're here.”

You look past him to Molly and Remus. There isn't a reality nor dimension where they'd let him stay here if they didn't believe his innocence. Remus explained it all in the letter and still you worried if he might have gotten it wrong, and simply believed what he wanted to believe, but it's not possible. Remus loved James so much, he would've killed Sirius himself if he really thought Sirius was the secret keeper who betrayed them.

So. It's a relief to be home.

You stare at him. “You look tired,” you say quietly.

“I'm fine. I am.”

He seems alright, considering. You'd even say he was handsome with his hair pushed away from his face, a dark shadow of stubble around his mouth, but he looks exhausted.

You're expecting him to say what you'd say. How could you ever think I'd do it?

Sirius was prone to similar bouts of pride, or righteousness, justice, whatever you want to call it, but he doesn't bother with that now. He looks at you as though you're the only person on earth, gaze narrowed but eyes wide, pain between his brows as he asks, “What's wrong?”

Your hand finches up to your cheek to wipe the sudden tear away. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Your Sirius.

“Don't be upset,” he pleads.

“How can I not be? I left you all alone for so long.”

He laughs roughly. “Sweetheart, what were you supposed to do?”

“Not just give up.”

“You thought it was me. That's the only thing you could've done. Either of you,” he says, gesturing backward with his hand. “It was hard… to know who to trust, at the end. It's not your fault.”

You really were only kids together, not half as in love as James and Lily, but that doesn't mean you weren't mad for each other. He looked after you. You would've had a life, you think.

“You were just gone,” you say, looking down at the floor between you, eyes tracing lines of wood grain. “Everyone. There was nobody left. And I just let you go.”

“Do you want to come here?” he asks. You lift your head. His hand is barely in front of him, fingers open, palm up.

It's like taking a stranger's hand for the first few seconds. You keep them low between you both, unfamiliar to each other. But, you find, as his fingers wrap around yours in that selfish way they used to do, squeezing rather than intertwining to make all of them fit, he remembers you.

You step a little closer, your arm to his chest, and look up at him through your lashes. It would melt him like a candle near a furnace, this look. He'd be smug or seething about something and you'd sidle in to stand between his shoes, unsure of what to say but determined to be there for him. It's the same now.

“What's wrong?” he asks under his breath.

“I left you all alone,” you repeat.

“It wasn't your choice, okay?” He smooths his free hand from your elbow to your upper arm.

Molly says something to Remus. He chuckles and says something in return. Happier to admit it if it's only for Sirius’ ears, you say, “I'm really sorry, Sirius. I miss you every day.”

“I miss you too,” he says.

You push your arms around his waist and hide your face in his chest, feeling for the lines of who he used to be, the dip of his spine in his back or the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts. You regret hugging him at all, until he puts his arm behind your head, a shaky breath released against your crown.

I'm scared, he'd said. But I don't want you to be scared, okay? Barely twenty, he smelled of the sticky red powder on the end of matches after a night doing things he couldn't tell you about. You could tell him you loved him, and he you, but you weren't to discuss Order business. We'll be okay.

But Lily–

Everyone's going to be fine. I promise.

“You promised,” you say to yourself. Too quiet for him to hear, but he does.

“I promised you so many things I'm not sure what one you mean,” he says with a disappointed laugh.

You pull away, taking his face into two hands. “How do you feel?” you ask, ignoring the tremble working up from your wrists.

“What?” His eyes are dark.

“How are you? Did they– I mean, are you okay? Are you sick?”

“Remus has patched me up. And Cordelia, the medwitch, you know her?”

“I don't know anyone. I've been away.”

He nods sadly. “Yeah. Well, you look the same.”

“I don't.”

“You do! You look the same,” —he almost sounds happy, his lips curling into a smile— “sweetheart. Sweetheart–” He closes his eyes.

You push his hair behind his ears. “You don't look the same,” you confess, “you have wrinkles, right… here.” You touch the corners of his eyes.

“You're still beautiful.”

“Mm. You can't even see me.”

“I don't need to see you. I knew you would be.”

You rise up to kiss his cheek gently. “It's like you're back, like– like, I always felt like you were gone. And now you're home again. You are home, aren't you?”

He covers your hand with one of his. “You're here, so–”

You laugh together nervously. “Yeah, I'm here.”

“I have stuff to do to make it right.”

“Then we'll do it.”

“Okay,” he says. He swallows a breath, and wraps you in a surprisingly tight hug. “Did you read my letters?”

I don't want anything from you. Just to see you're okay.

“I read them. I'm okay. Don't I look okay?”

“You look perfect. Just like the last time I saw you,” he says. It startles you how suddenly he sounds like he did when you were young, his flirting drawl, voice velveteen.

“Not like that,” you laugh.

He pulls you as close as you can be, rough now, his arms solid around you. “I missed that,” he says, rubbing your back. “I forgot how you sound when you laugh.”

You've led very different lives. “I didn't forget yours.”

“You wouldn't. You love having things to hold against me.”

You stroke his hair. “Maybe a little.”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

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runnning-outof-time · 3 months

Note

Hi K, I hope you’re doing well!🤍

I just wanted to make another request, if that’s alright with you. “I’ll break before I bend.” with Tommy?

Loving your blurbs by the way!

Thanks for sending this in, Reb @peakyswritings ! I’m sorry it took me a bit to write it — I hope you like what I did with it! I decided to use my family from my Girl Dad series because it’s been too long since I’ve written for them (a thank you goes out to the anon who messed me a little while ago asking about them). Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Just Some Puppy Love

Tommy Shelby x Reader (family from the Girl Dad series)

Warnings: none - just Tommy being overprotective of his daughter

Word Count: 922

Summary: Tommy’s unhappy about the fact that his eight year old daughter, Thea, has caught the interest of a boy in her class. (Y/N) tries to tell him that he’s overreacting.

“How was school today, darling?” (Y/N) asked her daughter as the she entered the home.

“It was great, mum!” Thea answered, a beaming smile on her face. “I even got to see Evie’s class during lunch!” she added, turning to look at her younger sister, who was nodding profusely.

“That sounds lovely,” (Y/N) smiled, thanking the family’s driver, who tipped his cap at her before returning to the vehicle. “Did anything else exciting happen?” she asked no girl in particular as the three went into the front room.

“Billy was being very nice to me! We played together at recess, and he even shared his purple crayon because mine was too little to use,” Thea was the first to speak up.

“Uncle Arthur’s Billy?” (Y/N) asked out of curiosity. She didn’t think that the cousins were in the same class, but she could have seen him during some other point in the day.

“No, Billy from my class,” Thea chirped while collecting her papers from her bookbag, “he’s always very nice to me. Sometimes we even hold hands and walk around the playground.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) drew out the word, nodding her head slowly. Thea said this in such a nonchalant way; like her mum was supposed to know about this beforehand.

“I scored the highest on my maths test today, mummy!” Evie jumped into the conversation, a beaming smile now present on her face.

“That’s lovely to hear, Evie,” (Y/N) smiled at the little girl while looking at Thea - who had now started on her homework - through the corner of her eye.

Boy, oh boy did she have something to tell Tommy this evening.

“The girls are all down?” Tommy asked as his wife entered his office later that night.

“Juniper fused a little, but they’re all asleep now,” she answered him with a smile as she made her way over to her usual spot on the chaise lounge. She couldn’t help but purse her lips to hide her smile as she finally made eye contact with him.

“What?” Tommy asked, catching onto her expression rather quickly.

“Nothin’,” she brushed him off, glancing down at her fingernails as she picked them.

“You can’t just send that expression my way and then say that it’s nothing,” he commented.

“Well I’ve just done that,” she countered.

“Tell me, (Y/N),” he demanded, his voice dropping to a low level.

“It’s nothing…” she started looking to him again, watching as his mouth opened to argue with the words she said. She continued before he could, “but you’re going to make a big deal over it.”

“Over what?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“Thea might have a boy in her class that fancies her.”

“No,” Tommy shot the idea down within seconds, “impossible.”

“Quite possible considering she told me all about it when she came home this afternoon,” (Y/N) commented. “It’s not a big deal,” she brushed the matter off then.

“Oh but it is. She’s only eight. The boys in school don’t need to be fancying her,” he insisted.

“She is eight, Tommy. There’s no harm in a little puppy love,” she flipped the narrative. Tommy didn’t seem to be buying it. “Besides, they’re not even…”

“Oi, I’m being serious here,” he cut into her defense, his eyes wide, “I’ll break before I bend on this one, (Y/N). No boys. Not for a long time.”

(Y/N) looked at her husband with pursed lips. The intense expression that he was wearing surely worked on his adversaries, but it did nothing to her. “You’re being dramatic about this,” she stated after a few moments had passed.

“I’m not,” he shook his head.

“You are,” she doubled down with a nod. “There’s no reason for a response like that. It’s not like she’s going to go and marry this boy tomorrow. They’re just holding hands on the playground and sharing crayons in class,” she explained the reality of the situation. One look in his direction told her that he wasn’t quite convinced. With a sigh, she stood from her chair. “I know…” she started, moving around his desk so that she could rest her hands on his shoulders, “she’s your first born…your little girl.”

“She is,” Tommy answered in a huff, pressing the pads of his fingers into his eyes.

(Y/N) paused for a few beats, leaning down to rest her chin on top of his head as she looked at the photograph of their three girls that sat on his desk. “You don’t need to be worrying about this stuff right now,” she said in a soft voice as she clasped her hands together over his chest. She heard him sigh as he rested his head against her arm. A smile graced her lips as she thought of something to add, “you have another ten years, at least.”

“(Y/N). Don’t,” his voice was low, the two words coming out in a warning. She couldn’t stop herself from giggling anyway.

“I’m teasing you, Tommy,” she told him, pressing her lips to his hair.

“I know. But I still don’t appreciate it,” he answered her, his voice soft now as he turned his head and pressed a similar kiss to the skin of her arm.

(Y/N) smiled at the gesture. This wouldn’t be the last conversation about boys fancying their daughters that they would have. But she knew that Tommy would do whatever it took to make sure that his girls were safe and got the best.

*tags in reblogs so that they hopefully get sent out

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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lululandd · 10 months

Text

── 𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 700

warnings: hurt/comfort

note: have you hugged your simon today? :3 (also on AO3)

summary: oh. he’s having those thoughts.

“Why are you with me?”

You turn around, tilting your head to the side, confused at his words. “You never liked grocery shopping, Simon.” Trying to hold his hand, you can see him flinch away, “So I came with you.”

He has lapses in memory, for sure. A lot of the time Simon lives in his own world, the one where he relives the most horrible moments of his life over and over; as he lives his real life on autopilot. But to your experience it had never been this bad. He had asked what day it is three times in a row, he had forgotten the address you’ve lived in for several years, his own birthday, favourite foods, but never where he is.

“No. I mean why are you with me, with me.”

Oh. He’s having those thoughts.

“Really Simon? At the groceries? Now?” You slowed your pace, waiting for him to catch up to you.

He looked down at the trolley he’s pushing, defeat written all over his body language.

“We’ll talk all about it at home, okay? Let’s just get some food right now. I’ll make that parsley butter you really like.”

“No.”

You were caught off guard, heartbeat spiking as he said it with a hard edge that you have never heard used towards you before. “You don’t want parsley butter?”

The resigned sigh you hear lasted for what seemed to be a full minute. “Just leave me alone.” His eyes focused on something far away.

It was your turn to sigh as you place whatever it is you were holding back onto the aisle and walk towards the front door to wait for him there.

That seemed to snap him out for a bit. His brain is so mean to him, and you know he doesn’t mean whatever it is he said, but you’re just so tired. Grabbing your hand, he looks at you, eyes red, and you know groceries will have to wait another day.

It’s odd, being with him. He exudes power and confidence when he’s with his friends, and yet he becomes a sad hopeless blob when he’s with you. You missed his boisterous personality, the man that tells dark jokes and puns every single sentence he could. Sometimes you wonder if you’re doing this to him. If you’re the villain in his life, sucking all the happiness out of him.

Walking him to the car empty handed, you placed yourself in the driver’s seat. You see him hunched on his seat, fists balled on his thighs, his mind is probably wandering somewhere horrible again.

“Simon can you face this way?” You gently requested.

The man did as told but looked at anything but you. He made a cutout of your outline with his eyes and you held the urge to laugh. You slowly put your hand up and hugged his neck, burying your face on that sweet junction on his collarbone. It took a long while before you felt his hands around your waist.

“M’sorry.” His voice a low whisper.

“Don’t apologise.” You patted the back of his head. He mirrored the motion by patting you on the waist with his thumb.

“Didn’t mean anything I said.” He sounded close to tears, “Didn’t actually want you to leave.”

You nodded sympathetically, “I know those weren’t your thoughts, Simon.” You released your hold a bit and kissed him on the chin, the only place you could reach right now. “You’re not that kind of person.”

He shuddered against you, something akin to a sob tore through him; you didn’t know what else to do but wrap your arms tighter around him. You held that position for as long as you could, but ultimately you had to let go. His eyes searched yours, the sombre expression etched onto his face mellowed just a little bit as you felt your heart beats a little less painfully at the turmoil he seems to be facing. He leaned forwards as you sunk your forehead onto his chest.

“Can we continue shopping or do you wanna just order in?” You offered.

“Parsley butter.”

His nonsensical answer brought a smile back to your face. Now that’s your Simon.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing

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navybrat817 · 9 months

Note

Oh, this smirk!

The Rejects

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, mentioned Steve Rogers x Female Reader, mentioned Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Bucky address the elephant in the room.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Flirting, friends with benefits (not Bucky x Reader), light angst, tension, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning)

A/N: This was meant to be something else completely, but the muse did what she wanted. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“You jealous?”

Looking up from the Scrabble board, you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes at Bucky’s smug expression. “Jealous of what exactly?” you asked, downing the rest of your drink and not flinching at the sting.

“Come on. You know what,” he answered, crossing his arms as he leaned on the table. “Or do I need to say it?”

“Please, enlighten me,” you said as you placed a square on the board. You knew exactly what he was referring to, but you’d play his game. “Go on. Don’t be shy.”

“Steve and Natasha sleeping together,” he answered.

Big boy actually said it.

You allowed the eyeroll to happen when he smirked. They left the two of you alone almost an hour ago and it was a feat that you went that long without acknowledging it. “No, I’m not. Why would I be?”

Bucky pointed at you with his beer bottle. “Because you used to hook up with Steve.”

“And you used to sleep with Natasha,” you said without skipping a beat. That wiped the smirk off his face. “So sorry you got stuck playing Scrabble with a reject like me.”

You didn’t have super soldier hearing the way he did, but you heard his teeth grind when he selected his next piece. “You’re not a reject,” he said above a whisper.

Neither of you spoke as you kept playing. After a bad mission months ago, you slept with Steve. It wasn’t a big deal. Adrenaline was high and he gave you the release you needed. Expecting it to be a one time thing, it surprised you when he shoved you against a wall days later. You fell into a “friends with benefits” arrangement with him after that.

While he treated you well enough, you both maintained that it wouldn’t go beyond sex. From what Natasha told you, she had a similar arrangement with Bucky. It worked for your needs.

You were content.

Until you noticed how Steve and Natasha’s gazes lingered on each other after briefings. How easily they fell in step beside each other despite their sometimes opposing views. She trusted the Captain, which wasn’t easy for the former spy. Steve respected her and that said something. You accepted that they needed each other and quietly removed yourself from the equation.

Bucky did the same.

“You know what? I am jealous,” you admitted, the game forgotten at that point. “But not because they’re sleeping together.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched, like he didn’t quite believe you. “Then why are you?”

Glancing down the hall before you looked back at Bucky, you sighed. “As happy as I am for them, I'm a little sad for myself. Because they found something in each other that no one has found with me,” you told him, narrowing your eyes when his slightly widened. “What?” you asked. If the former Winter Soldier made fun of you or laughed, you wouldn’t hesitate to smack him because you weren’t afraid of him.

“Nothing,” he said, the index finger on his vibranium hand tapping the table in a fast motion. “I just understand how you feel.”

Shame flooded you for thinking he’d poke fun at your vulnerability. He wasn’t a bad guy. Far from it. In fact, Steve never got jealous or insecure when you talked to Bucky and Natasha hadn’t either. They encouraged the two of you to become friends. Looking back, it was easy to think they supported the friendship to phase you two out. But you knew that wasn’t the case.

They weren’t cruel.

What would’ve happened if I slept with Bucky instead of Steve? Is it wrong that I’ve thought about that more than once?

“So, why are a couple of 'rejects' like us who are not jealous of our former lovers sitting here playing board games instead of going out and looking for ‘the one’?” you teased.

“Because I was too chicken to ask you out tonight, even after I got the okay from Steve.”

What?

You blinked once. Twice. “Your best friend, who has been inside me, is cool with you asking me out?”

He winced at your choice of words. “Well, when you put it like that. Yeah?” he replied, before he straightened up, confidence filling those pretty blue eyes of his. “I don’t give a fuck that you slept with Steve. I’m asking you out.”

Your smile turned a little warmer and you reigned your claws in. “You want to take me on a date?” you asked, your heart swelling when he ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "If this is just to fill a void, I don't think it's a good idea."

If Bucky needed that, you understood. But could you do that again? No. Not with him.

"I'm asking because I want to, doll. You're a badass and I like your company," he said. That was a big deal since Bucky only seemed to like a handful of people. "And if you’ll let me, I’ll ruin you.”

Fuck.

“I don’t know,” you said in a singsong voice, stretching and purposely sticking your chest out to draw his gaze to your breasts. “We’ve both done the whole friends with benefits thing before and-”

He reached across the table to take your hand. “You wouldn’t be my friend. You’d be my girl.”

Your stomach did a funny flip, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. The word “yes” was on the tip of your tongue. Because you had a right to be happy. All of you did.

I slept with Steve. Natasha slept with Bucky. Steve is sleeping with Natasha. The next logical step is sleeping with Bucky, right? Who knew math could be fun?

“What would Nat think?” you asked. Though you were certain she had no feelings for Bucky beyond friendship, you didn’t want her to be uncomfortable just because you were fine with her and Steve.

Your phone buzzed a half a minute later with a text from the former Black Widow herself.

“Go for it. He'll be good to you and you deserve it.”

Bucky chuckled when you looked back down the hall. “Steve and his fucking hearing,” you muttered before you threw your head back. “Stop listening to our conversation! That’s rude!”

“Sorry!” Steve yelled back.

You smiled at Bucky, the atmosphere lighter even with the tension. “Okay. You beat me in Scrabble, you pick where we go for our first date. I win, I get to pick and no complaints.”

His eyes lit up as your heart raced. “Deal,” he said, the smirk slowly appearing on his face again. “But the loser has to play the next game naked.”

“Game on, Barnes.”

So, there we go. 😂 I hope you lovelies liked it! More of these two with A Couple of Cuties. Love and thanks for reading. 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x female!reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan #vonalyn

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astermath · 1 year

Text

“So? Whatever.”

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader

summary: The preppy girl that just about everyone admires has more in common with Dave than he expects. He doesn’t quite know how to handle this information, but it excites him nonetheless.

word count: 2K

♡ LANDING PAGE♡

notes: I haven’t written something like this in a good while, so please bear with me if I’m rusty or there are some mistakes here and there. Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, I tried to be as non descriptive as possible about her appearance. I do love writing a bit of a mean reader like this, but don’t worry, she’ll warm up to him. This fic takes place in senior year for age purposes, I’m pretty much fully ignoring the timeline of the film. Comments and/or requests are super welcome btw!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

(ps this will get a part two don’t worry xx)

To Dave, girls like you were unreachable. You could hear about them, you could listen to them talk in the hallways, sneak a glance their way… But talk to them? Any single one of their group would consider that social suicide. The only reason any of them even looked in his direction was to ask him to do their homework. So why in god’s name were you at his locker? Why were you acknowledging his existence at all?

“What’s that?” You leaned against the locker next to his, pointing at the piece of a comic book panel he’d taped to the door. It pictured Spider-man putting on his mask for the first time, something Dave looked to when he needed some motivation for the day.

He struggled to get basically any words out, still not fully registering that you’re within such close range. He could smell you… God that was really weird to think about, he felt like a creep already, but you just… Smelled really nice. Like vanilla, mixed with something sweet. He realized he hadn’t answered your question yet and was just staring in front of him like a weirdo. “O-Oh, yeah, that’s uh… That’s Spider-man. It’s this… This superhero I like.” He adjusted the strap of his backpack to keep his hands busy.

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Duh, I know who Spider-man is, please.” You couldn’t help but think he was doing anything to avoid looking into your eyes, as if you’d turn him to stone if he dared to do so. Which, yes, was exactly how he felt.

“I wanted to know which comic that was from. The art style looks a lot different than the ones I’ve seen.” Now this part was pretty much making his teenage brain short circuit. He probably didn’t hear that right, there’s no way a popular girl like you read comics, right? This had to be some kind of elaborate joke, like you were trying to pull a prank on him by making him ramble about his favorite superheroes. However, he wasn’t close minded. Even if this was a prank, at least you were talking to him, right?

“Yeah, sorry, I uh… Forget he’s a pretty popular character sometimes. This one’s from a collector’s edition. One of the pages was kinda falling apart so I just… Taped my favorite panel to my locker.” Again, he tried to look anywhere else, but it felt rude not to be making eye contact with the person who’s trying to give you a chance at a conversation. His eyes met yours and he realised he hadn’t ever actually seen you up close like this. You were really pretty, he knew that, but he never noticed these particular things about you before. The way your hair framed your features so nicely, the little beauty mark that seemed to be somehow perfectly placed, or the way a dimple appeared on your right cheek when you smiled.

“Hopefully you didn’t pay too much for it, those things cost like, a fortune.” You followed, snapping him out of his haze as you twirled a piece of hair between your index and middle finger. Dave was much taller than you, so you had to look up to match his gaze, which was already hard since he kept avoiding your eyes. You never realized how much he’d matured since freshman year. He looked pretty cute… Really cute, actually.

“S-So, uhm, I really don‘t wanna be rude, but…” He closed his locker before looking at you with a rather awkward expression. “Why are you here? Why are you… talking to me?” Honestly, not an unjustified question. Dave was often the subject of bullying, and the popular girls clique made no exception to that rule. He doesn’t remember you specifically doing anything, although... He has a vague memory of you being in the car with those jocks when they threw spoiled milk at him.

“What? A girl can’t talk to her fellow classmate? This is a free country, you know.” You pretended to be a little hurt by his assumption that you were probably just here to make fun of him. In all honesty he was still a little dumbfounded by this whole ordeal, and the fact that half the people that passed you were giving you two weird looks really wasn’t helping. “You know I sit behind you in English, right?” He responds by nodding. He is painfully aware of this fact, as your friends had expressed their empathy for you when your seat was assigned behind him, though you honestly didn’t mind. And also the fact that he got a fair share of gossip from you and your best friend always whispering to each other. “Well,” you flipped a bit of hair over your shoulder. “I saw you had a copy of Birth of Venom in your backpack, and I... Wanted to ask if I could borrow it...” You looked to the side, muttering the last part. As much as you tried not to care what people thought, you did have a bit of a reputation that you were stuck to. Liking comics wasn’t for you, you were a cheerleader, you went to parties, you liked shopping. Okay, you secretly liked comics.

Dave looked at you with a puzzled expression. “I-I’m sorry, can you repeat tha--”

“Can I borrow your stupid comic or what?” You interrupted him, clearly looking a bit embarrassed.

“Oh!” His face was getting hot, this conversation was lasting way longer than he imagined it would. Usually he’d have his face shoved into his locker by now. “U-Uhm, sure! It’s a bit expensive, but... Well, just don’t damage it, please.” He took his backpack off his shoulder and was about to pull it out before you grabbed his arm.

“Not here you dumbass! Just, like... Ugh, meet me at my car after school’s over, you can hand it to me then.” You were acting like this was some kind of illegal drug deal, but this truly was something important to you. Your dad had already made it very clear that he didn’t want his little girl becoming some kind of tomboy and have her mind run rampant with superhero stories. Especially with this Kickass guy running around...

The bell rang and you silently thanked it for doing so. “Look, I gotta go. White Corvette, by the vending machines.” You walked past him, and a waft of that lovely vanilla scent hit his nose. He damn near melted into the floor when your arm brushed against his. “Later, Lizewksi.”

You leaned against the hood of your car, scrolling on your phone as you waited for the brunette to show up. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that you were just meeting him in secret like this. It’s not like you were embarrassed to be seen with him, or that you didn’t like him, it’s just that liking comics and superheroes was just about the dorkiest thing anyone could be into. Especially with Kickass running around, and, well, kicking ass, people would probably be thinking you’d be into this whole vigilante business yourself. Sure, you thought it was cool that people were doing something about all the crime, but you’d rather die than mess up your hair beating some thug’s ass.

You noticed someone approaching and noticed that Dave wasn’t alone. With a bit of a disgusted expression, you gestured to his two sidekicks. “I don’t remember inviting the entire geek entourage to come see me. This isn’t some kinda meet and greet, you know.” Todd and Marty seemed, just like Dave before, a little shocked that you were talking to them.

“S-Sorry, they just uh...” Dave began.

“We didn’t believe him.” Todd followed.

“...believe what?” You questioned, crossing your arms.

“That a chick like you was into comics.” Marty said, before Todd smacked him on the back of the head. “Dude! Don’t say it like that!”

You got a bit flustered, and looked at Dave. “You told them!? What the fuck, Lizewski?”

“I-I’m sorry!” He held up his hands. “They were asking me what we were talking about, and... I panicked.” They were more so insinuating that he was flirting with her, and he didn’t want that rumor going around, in case your jock brother caught wind of that and beat his ass for flirting with his sister.

You sighed, looking down and pinching the bridge of your nose before waving your hand out in a dismissive manner. “It’s... whatever, just leave. Before I change my mind and throw a bitch fit.” His two friends gave him a suggestive look before heading out. “Those two better not snitch or I’ll cut off their shrimps.” He nodded, just a little intimidated by the threat.

He got out his backpack and handed you the comic. “I’m still surprised I uh... I never knew you were into this stuff.” His breath hitched in his throat when your finger brushed over his as you took it from him. You flipped through it, keeping your eyes on the pages.

“Yeah, well... There’s a lot you don’t know about me, as much as I’m sure you guys love to assume.” You realized you hadn’t even told him your name, so you looked up at him and held out your hand, introducing yourself. You know, out of courtesy.

“I-I know your name, but uhm... I’m Dave.” Your hand felt so soft, your beautifully manicured fingers being a real juxtaposition to his. His hand was much bigger and rougher than yours. You wondered why his hand was so calloused anyways... He didn’t look like he did many sports.

“Wait... Your name isn’t Lizewski?” You chuckled. “Christ, my bad... I always thought that was just your first name.” Your feeling of guilt for the boy before you flared up a bit again. He was being really nice to you, offering you something personal of his that he probably spent a pretty penny on. And you didn’t even know his actual name before. No wonder some people thought you were a bit of a bitch, you thought to yourself.

“Hey, uhm... I know you got a bunch of these, and my dad would kill me if he knew I was reading them. He hates vigilantes, and he thinks reading comics will get me into the whole thing. Stupid, I know, but... He takes it surprisingly seriously.” You put the comic away carefully. “So I have a proposition for you.”

His eyebrows rose a little. A proposition, alright. No big deal. Could be literally anything though.

“Come to my house this Saturday, bring a bunch of these, and I’ll tell my dad you’re coming to tutor me for physics or something.” You tilted your head a little, your locks falling gently over your shoulders. “I’ll pay you. Money’s not a problem. It’ll be like I’m renting them from you.”

He thought for a second, but in all honesty... How was this not a total win/win situation? He got to be in a pretty girl’s room, read comics with her, talk about them and make money. What kind of idiot would say no to that? “Yeah! Sounds good to me, uh... What do you want me to...” His words trailed off as you pulled out a pen and reached for his hand, writing a string of numbers on the back of it.

“I’ll text you the address, and which series I like. I’ll let you do the picking. Oh, and Dave?”

“Y-Yeah?” He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. This is the closest you’ve ever stood to him.

Your grip on his hand tightens, and you look up at him with a death stare. “Not a word to anyone about this.” You followed with a cutesy smile. “Alrighty?” You let go of his hand and put your stuff away before pulling out your car keys.

Dave stands frozen in place, a faint blush already spread across his cheeks. He swore you were going to be the death of him. He looked down for a second and realized that what you wrote down wasn’t just some random numbers. It was your phone number. It all just suddenly felt very real to him, he’d never gotten a girl’s number before. And you were just about the last person he’d expect it from too.

You got in your car and turned on your engine. “See ya on Saturday, Lizewski! Don’t be late or I’ll kill you!” You smile, before driving off at a totally normal and acceptable speed.

He gave a nervous wave before he looked back down at his hand. There was a little heart scribbled behind the phone number. It probably meant nothing.

But boy did it make his heart flutter.

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

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Something to Fight For (SERIES) Part 20

Something to Fight For Chapter 20 Word Count: 11.6k Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions) Tommy x Maria, Bill x Frank Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. Loves of cheese. Extra cheese with a side of cheese. Love and more love. Happy ending. All the happy shit.

masterlist here

a/n: Ya'll this feels so strange. Even though the epilogue is on its way sometime soon, writing this chapter felt very final. Its a bittersweet feeling. After this story I won't have all of us together again. It's been a journey for us all, hasn't it? You've felt like real friends, caring for this story I invented. Sorta surreal, huh? And I TOLD YA'LL THE ANGST LED TO A HAPPY ENDING. I really hope that if you've never left a review, you decide to do so on this chapter. I also hope if you have left reviews before, you do so now. Detailed ones, ones where you tell me your favorite part cuz It was so beautiful to write, but it was also hard. I feel like I'm sayin' goodbye to a part of me. Also, SMUT WARNING. Sorry, I am not a smut writing professional. It's just sorta the icing there on Bill's cupcake. It doesn't come naturally to me, but these two deserved i t don't you think? I love ya'll. See you in the epilogue.

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Joel is finishing up watering the front lawn when he hears a car coasting down his street. He doesn't pay it any mind, turning off the spigot and heading towards his front door.

He's thinking about you. How warm you felt curled against him this morning. How your puffy eyes and gentle smile makes his heart sing even now. He wipes his damp hands on the back of his jeans.

You must be breaking things off with Paul, right? Joel saw the ring box. He saw your bare finger.

And your eyes, your eyes said so much. Even as he was leaving he saw the dueling emotions there. The quiet anxiety from your mom's incoming call mingling with the open desire to have Joel stay. He felt it coming off of you in waves.

He would have. He would do anything you wanted.

He'd help you build that sanctuary with his own bare hands. He'd move you box by box into his home tomorrow if you gave the word. He'd hold you every night and make love to you every morning if that's what you said you needed.

He'd even figure out how to travel back and forth from home to Chicago and Austin for the next six months without it disrupting Sarah's life too much, if it's not a permanent move on your end. A combination of odd weekend visits and daily phone calls seems manageable. He'd even learn how to text properly. He doesn't want you back in Chicago, but he'd do it. He will continue to fight for you.

He needs to tell you this, he decides. He needs to spell it out. The word love was sputtered last night, without thought. But he needs to say it with clear eyes and your body against his. He needs you to know exactly what he's offering. He'll call to see if you’re free before the wedding to talk.

This can't wait.

He pulls the front door open, his hand reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. He hopes you answer.

"Joel!"

He spins in the door frame, his eyes widening. It's you. You're here, pulling yourself from the driver’s side of a car he doesn't recognize.

You're wearing some green dress that has far too many bows but Joel doesn't give a shit, all he can think is it's you it’s you and your here for him. You have a blazing look in your eyes, sharp and focused all on him as you march to his front door.

He feels a pull at his abdomen, a delicious sensation because there's no indecision in you anymore. It's there written in your face: you want Joel. You're here for him, to claim him.

Because he's wanted.

Joel feels a smile break over his face, his teeth a slab of white against the tan of his face that has you laughing and sobbing in equal measure. He steps away from the door because you're running to him the rest of the way, your face breaking into a smile as you launch yourself into Joel's arms.

"Honey-"

He doesn't get another word out because you've launched yourself into his chest, circling your arms around his neck. He grunts as your body collides with his and grips you in surprise. He holds fast to you against him, staring down at your tear-streaked face.

And then you're gripping his face, pulling it to meet yours. Kissing him with a ferocity that he's not expecting but is oh so responsive to. There on his doorstep you kiss him, your mouth hot and needy as Joel kisses you back, pulling you against him before panting as brings you inside the house, almost carrying you over the threshold.

You're frantic, needing to touch and kiss and make up for lost time. To show him through your passion just how much you've missed him, how much he means to you. He's still got you in his strong arms, his hands skating down your back. Your hands are coming to his collar, desperate for him to press you against the wall as he did not so long ago at your place.

Whoa slow down.

You need to talk. To get things right. You break apart from Joel slowly, your mouth reddened. Joel smiles so widely you're concerned he might pull a face muscle.

"Too much?"

You shake your head as he begins lowering your feet to the floor.

"Not enough."

Then the silence descends as he stares at you. Joel has this uncanny ability to remain so still he almost looks static. His fingers drag the strand of hair caught on your damp lips, but his finger stays at your cheek, frozen. The moment feels heavy, thick with tension and you second guess everything.

Maybe now is a bad time. This seems like one of those things a person does when they look and feel perfect. And you don't. You're sweaty and dressed ridiculously and you're pretty sure your hair still has grass in it.

Joel seems to sense your indecision and responds by reaching out his broad hand and taking yours. You immediately relax, the warmth of his grip guiding you to the kitchen.

You look up his arm, your eyes sliding to his strong profile and his full mouth as he leads you. He feels your eyes on him and he turns, smiling sweetly.

I love this man.

His hand presses you gently into the seat at the kitchen table, urging you to relax into it. You look up at him and hold in a sigh when he traces a forefinger along your cheek again.

"I'll be back in a sec."

He leaves the room and for a moment you sit there in the kitchen of so many memories you feel so incandescently happy that it brings tears to your lash line. Coloring with Sarah. Decorating cupcakes. Joel's dinner, the dropped salad. Laughter, tears, so much is just in this single room of the house.

Joel reappears seconds after you wipe the tears away. He sits across from you, his broad shoulders flexing as he places something on the table.

He clears his throat, finally dragging his eyes to meet yours and now suddenly he looks nervous. This makes your anxiety flood your senses, starting to creep up your spine.

Then you realize the time. How Joel is dressed. How you’re dressed for fucks sake. The wedding is only a few hours away and Sarah is probably still getting ready. Why did you think now was the best time? This is something you should have done when you could take your time, not rush. You’d just been so excited to see him, to tell him.

"Shit I'm sorry. You're probably still getting Sarah ready," you say wincing and preparing to stand. "We can talk about this later, tomorrow or -"

Joel raises his hand in your direction, just his palm between you, stilling your ascent. His eyes are troubled by your reaction.

"Stop. Honey, just sit there a moment, please."

Honey.

How is it that words or nicknames that sound so trite coming from other people sound so perfect coming from Joel? You nod, planting yourself back into the chair and taking a deep breath.

"Tommy took Sarah about an hour ago. Maria wanted her to get her hair done with the bridesmaids, a little something special for being the flower girl."

You smile. That sounds like Maria.

"I was just getting ready here, but I got time." Joel's eyes tell you he's sincere, that he always has time for you. And then suddenly he's so earnest. "I'm real glad you're here."

"Me too."

"Be lyin' if I said I haven't been thinking about you since I left."

"Same here."

"Yeah?"

You nod and Joel's face is like the sun breaking through clouds. But in life rain always does fall, and as if just remembering this, Joel's face tenses. That familiar tic in his jaw is back at he gazes at you.

"Paul?"

"Gone. Done. Over."

You spare him the details. You have a feeling if Joel knew even a hint of what went on today he would personally drive over to Paul's house and finish what Bill started. And you don't want that. Right now you just want this happy, hopeful joyful warmth.

Joel swallows and you can see he needs the clarity. To know that he's not imagining this. "This a permanent thing or-"

“I called off the engagement," you explain plainly. "I couldn't marry him. I couldn't be with him. Ever. Not when I feel how I do about you."

Joel tries to hide the smile, but it blooms all over his face all the same. His mouth curls, his eyes squint and you have to physically restrain yourself from leaping across the table and kissing him senseless.

You think he's going to ask you to explain in more detail. To tell him exactly what you mean about how you feel about him. But his eyes are on the pink paper at his elbow. Joel taps it with a forefinger before sliding it towards you, his eyes on your face. As it approaches you see it's an envelope.

"Open it up," Joel tells you softly, even though you can see that this envelope has been opened and closed a multitude of times, creased and folded.

You open it with shaking hands, unsure of what to expect inside. He wrote you a letter? When? Large crooked letters greet you.

"Joel I wunt u to bee my Vallentane. I love Sarah. I love you. I wint to be yr wife. LOVE - "

You read your name aloud, your eyes flicking to his. "What is this?"

"You don't recognize it?" Joel taps the card with a forefinger. A familiar Snoopy sticker greets you and suddenly your face breaks into a confused smile.

The Valentine that Sarah had made all those months ago, the one she'd insisted you personally give to her father.

“Sarah…”

"When I asked her about it the next morning she said that you had written it."

You laugh out loud in disbelief at the shrewdness of Sarah. Joel chuckles along with you.

"She loves you. She thinks you hang the moon," Joel drawls.

"The feeling is mutual," you say with a soft smile.

"You're wanted in this house, in this family," Joel says motioning to the letter. "You make us better."

You weren't expecting this. You actually can't speak.

Joel is thinking, clearly displayed in the lines between his brows, the way his dark eyes scan in front of him as if he's trying to recall something very specific. After a moment you sober, closing the card because you need to say it before you lose your nerve. You need to tell him everything.

"Joel -"

"I'm in love with you," Joel tells you bluntly, beating you to it. "Have been for a while. Thought it was kinda obvious but I'm realizing you're a woman that may need things said out loud a couple times before she believes them. So just to be sure there's no misunderstanding, I'm tellin' you plainly as I can: I love you. I don't want anyone else. I just want you."

The sound of Joel telling you he loves you may just be the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. Better than any song. Even the one he sang to you. He reaches across the table to take your hands in his.

It makes your eyes water and a smile to break out over your features. It also creates a knot in your throat, making it impossible to speak. But that might be for the best because Joel is still going.

"And I don't just love you because of how you love my daughter, though I'd be lying if I said that didn't have some part in it," Joel admits. "I just don't remember the last time I wanted someone to share my day with or wake up next to as much as I do with you. I go to sleep thinkin' about you. I drive by a shitty Italian restaurant and I think about you. I see a fucking dog at job site I'm working and I think about you. Something happens to me and it's you I wanna talk to about it."

You want to believe these words, you want to believe them so badly but then just as your heart starts to glow, something holds you back. Something that always seems to grip those threads of joy only to slice through them. An ugly, twisting thing that makes you wince and curl into yourself when you remember what Paul said. When you think about your phone call with your father earlier. How can you be so happy when you’ve just been so cruel?

Selfish.

Joel's eyes scan your face, immediately picking up on your agitation. He drops your hands and your eyes slide closed because suddenly you feel so weak. Your head drops forward and all the good feeling, the sweet burst of joy is gone, leaving you drained.

"Honey."

His voice is so tender, so gentle. He's there at your side within seconds, kneeling beside your chair. He's gripping you loosely by the waist, the other hand cupping your face.

"I can tell right now that you're having trouble hearing this because somewhere along the way you were taught you didn't deserve to be loved," Joel says, his eyes searching your face. "And you're wantin’ to tell me you're a horrible, selfish person. And that I should just forget about you."

He knows. He knows my worst self. He knows everything.

You feel so vulnerable but his eyes are blazing so brightly right now you can't look away.

"But I'm never gonna do that," Joel says, his thumb grazing along your cheekbone. "'Cuz I think you're the best thing to happen to me since Sarah was born. And if I have to spend my whole life convincing you of that, I will. I will fight every fucking day because what we have is worth fighting for. You are worth fighting for."

If falling in love had a specific moment it would be this one. Joel Miller, all muscles and wet eyes staring up at you as he kneels at your side promising you a love and life you could only dream of.

"So that's all I wanted to say," Joel finishes with eyes so luminous you could cry. "I love you. Be with me. Just... just let me fucking love you."

His last sentence makes your heart seize. You're so overcome you can't speak right away. Instead you slide off the chair to join him on the floor, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and embracing him, head balanced on his shoulder.

Joel reciprocates immediately, pulling you against him tightly. There you sit with arms around each other as Joel rocks you. This moment, this deep serenity works its way through your tight muscles and increment by increment you go boneless against him.

I love him.

With a tremble you pull back. It's still too overwhelming to look at him directly so you just balance your forehead against his, the two of you breathing deeply. You breathe slowly, you matching Joel’s steady tempo.

I love him so much.

And then finally you tilt back from him, needing to see the warmth of his dark brown eyes. He's there, present, his eyes fixed on yours.

"I want a cat."

Joel nods without thinking before his face contorts into surprise and then confusion.

"Wait, what?"

"A kitten, actually," you decide. "An orange one. Sarah was saying she wants a kitten anyway. "

A grin has broken over Joel's face. It makes him look younger, his entire disposition vibrant. It matches yours. His hands are coming to cup each of your cheeks.

"Anything you want," Joel breathes. "Anything."

You smile, no, you beam up at him. You can tell him. You can. You can trust Joel to hold your secrets and not hate you. You can trust Joel with your love because it doesn’t come with receipts or price tags or debts to be owed. Your love for him will be cherished, not a ransom so you can be plucked apart piece by piece.

"I came here because I needed to tell you in person that I'm not going to Chicago," you say with a tensing inhale. "I spoke to my dad today."

Joel's thumb is stroking your cheek and for the first time since you've entered into his home, he looks scared. His dark eyes are suddenly pensive and you can see the way the wheels are turning. You’re confused by this reaction.

"Don't do this for me," he murmurs. "I can't be the reason. Even if I want it more than anything. You'd resent me if you did."

"I didn't," you promise him. "I did it for me. I did it because I want to be happy. I don’t want that life back in Chicago. And I did it because I can't go another day without you, Joel."

Hope blooms there in the dark brown earth of his eyes. It grows beautiful and brilliant but under glass. It's too good to be true; he's so eager, so desperate but past experience has humbled him.

"Waking up in your arms this morning was one of the best feelings in the entire world," you explain with open honesty. "I want that every morning. I want to have coffee with you and go to the park with Sarah. I want to read her to bed every night and then crawl in next to you. I wanna make pancakes on Sundays and go to trivia nights with you and Maria and Tommy. I want a life with you."

Joel's heart is rapid and staccato the more you spill forth because what you're saying sounds dangerously close to what Joel desires. Is it possible?

"I'm absolutely crazy about you, Miller," you confess without hesitation now, wanting to take the tentative insecurity from his gaze. "I'm done pretending I don't want you. I'm tired of not holding you. I'm tired of being away from you and Sarah. I want a family with you, I want a future. I want it all but I only want it with you. I-I love you Joel."

The smile is broad on his handsome face, bringing out the dimple that makes your heart hiccup.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He's got a forefinger tilting your chin so you face up to him.

"No runnin'?"

"Only to you."

That does something to Joel. Like a snap to his spine. Only to him. Because he's yours and when your lips press against his it's like every wall that exists comes tumbling down, shattering spectacularly.

You’re his.

It's here, its happening. He's so grateful, so overcome he can't hold it in.

It's only when you feel damp warmth against your cheek that your eyes fly open. You see another tear slip down Joel's cheek, his eyes still closed as he kisses you tenderly and you feel something within you burst.

You didn't expect to be crying but here you are, sniffling with hot tears slipping your face. Joel is all glassy eyed trying to wipe your tears from your cheeks as you do the same for him, both your thumbs gliding over each other's cheekbones.

"What a pair," Joel says with a sniffle.

You both give big watery laughs at this, giggling like you had only a day ago as you walked down the aisle. His thumb is lingering along your lower lip when the laughter slowly ebbs.

Then his face is tilting towards you and you don't have to turn away. Because there is no Paul, no Tess. Because Joel is taking something for himself and so are you.

Mine.

Your lips join once more, your eyes falling shut as he brings you back into his arms, sighing against you. He rocks you slowly in his arms, moving his mouth to your temple and murmuring sweet nothings, promises, loving verse.

Slowly you tilt your head back, your heavy lidded gaze on his. Your eyes trail over his mouth, then back to see him watching you intently. His dark eyes flicker in understanding. His mouth is on yours once more for a scorching kiss and then Joel is standing, holding a wide hand to you.

You take it without hesitation, rising to your feet and walking hand in hand to the bedroom. You smile softly at each other as he gently pushes the door open and as he does all you can think is that you're finally here with him in his bedroom properly.

He looks nervously around, as if he’s expecting everything to fall to pieces.

“What are you thinking about?”

“That I wish I’d cleaned the fucking room.”

You see the bedroom through his eyes now and hold in a chuckle. The scattered clothes on the ground, the belts slung over the treadmill in the far left of the room, the bed haphazardly made. The empty water glasses on the nightstand, the CD’s scattered atop the dresser.

“I can work with this,” you assure him, giggling nervously as he leads you to the bed. He assures you with relief that the sheets are clean before you both sit at the edge of his bed. His hand is on your knee, thumb tracing small circles on the soft inner, leading to your thigh.

You watch this hypnotized, breathing unsteadily when his hand begins to drift upwards, under your skirt. He says your name once, seeing the uncertainty in your features. When you don’t reply he says it again, and now you glance up at him. His brows raise, a silent question. What’s wrong?

"I'm scared," you whisper, your mind suddenly going over everything that could go wrong with this relationship.

What if you break up? What if Joel turns? What if you run again? It feels too good, too perfect already and time has taught you not to trust the calm times. Time has taught you that calm times come before tidal waves. That calm times are a harbinger of greater carnage.

"Me too." Joel kisses the corner of your mouth. “But I got you, baby.”

You nod, still pensive, even though the pull below your navel is debilitating at this point. Joel urges your gaze to his, seeing the lowering of your lids and the gentle shuddering of you. You can see him there, thick and waiting in his jeans.

“We could wait until tonight,” Joel offers, grazing your arm with his knuckles. “Or tomorrow. Hell, I’ll wait as long as you need. I just want you here is al-”

No. You don’t want to wait. You need Joel in a way you’ve never needed anyone.

“I can’t wait,” you inform him before the sentence leaves his mouth. You’re on your knees on the bed, your body pressed against his as your mouth tilts towards him.

“Well alright then,” Joel chuckles, his hands going to either side of your neck, his thumbs resting on the architecture of your jaw. You melt into his kiss, your hands gripping his shirt by the front.

Joel shifts back against the headboard, bringing you along with him to straddle his thighs. He kisses you languidly, slowing your frenetic motions. He can feel your movements, quick and sharp like a hummingbirds as you kiss him, tongue sliding between the seam of his soft lips. He pulls back gently, amused.

“We got time, baby,” he breaths against your trembling mouth. “Don’t have to rush anything.”

For some reason that hits you directly below the navel. The knowledge that Joel wants to take his time with you. No rushing, just the lazy pursuit of mutual pleasure. It’s so opposite to what you know of sex.

He's tender, his movements slow, his touches light. But that's not what you want right now. You want to feel it, more heavy tactile reality that this is happening, your body with his. You're straddling him, licking into his mouth as he holds your thighs, his mouth moving over yours as he groans.

I want to take care of him.

Joel has spent so much of your time together taking care of you – doctor’s appointments, kennels, that night of the Christmas party . . . Joel is always looking out for others and you want to take care of him for once. It’s not expected or forced upon you, it’s got you slick between the thighs just thinking about it.

“Take my dress off,” you whisper. Joel’s hands come to the hem of your dress with zero hesitation and he peels the unflattering dress from you, lifting it up over your arms stretched high over your head. It’s tossed gently to the other side of the room, making a soft flutter as it descends. You sit astride Joel’s lap in nothing but your lacy green underwear that you’d bought specifically for the wedding.

No bra, you’d decided. The dress fit better without it. Seeing Joel’s eyes darken you’re so fucking glad you decided on that.

“Jesus,” Joel breathes, mouth coming to circle your left nipple without pause. You moan into his mouth, feeling as his hands span your middle back, pushing you into his greedy mouth. You feel him grinding against your core, his jeans rasping against the gusset of your panties.

“Clothes off, Miller.”

He grins up at you, shimmying out of his jeans, kicking them down his legs as you bracket above him. You take your time pulling the shirt over his head, marvelling at how he looks as he disrobes. His skin is gold, his body a mixture of strength of softness. His hair tousled his mouth full and parted. He looks delicious.

You see his eyes snap back to your bare chest, getting ready to claim another straining nub between his teeth when you pull back, smiling. He tilts his head curiously as you begin backing up, sliding your body down his.

He’s breathing shallowly, quickly as your cheek brushes past his boxers, grazing his length there. He gives a sharp grunt, watching as you pull down his boxers, releasing his cock with a spring. You tug them off completely, tossing the boxers over your shoulder with a flourish before nestling yourself between his legs and admiring the rosy head of his cock.

Like you said. Joel Miller looks delicious.

You trail a finger along his length, fascinated by the rigid yet silken texture. It twitches at the contact. You smirk up at him from between his legs, your pupils blown wide at the view.

Joel is so fucking sexy. Laid back, legs tilted to give you space to lay between them, his cock is there waiting for your mouth and this time it’s happening. No distractions, no delays. You have been aching to get your mouth on him. You dip your head forward, eyes closed as your mouth brushes the head. You hear Joel give a low gasp, thighs twitching.

"You don't have to do this," Joel moans, even as you give kitten licks along the tip. You smile as his fingers brush your cheek, sweet and affectionate.

Your mouth moves over the head, flicking with your tongue and then taking it into the wet warmth of your mouth. You begin to suck, delicately at first, just enough to hear the first shuddering groan from Joel.

Joel Miller is a giver. Joel Miller doesn't know what it is to take from the people he loves, to have something for himself, a secret treasure of only his. But you'll show him and starting now because you have so much you want to give to him. If you could carve out your heart and carry on living you would do it, present it to him to safeguard.

"You don't have-"

You pull your mouth off of him slowly, watching him quiver. His eyes are open and he's looking down the length of his body to see you.

"Joel, I love you but please shut the fuck up and let me do this," you say fake crossly, wet lower lip grazing his tip. "Just let me make you feel as good as you've made me feel."

Joel's eyes are glossy. "Say it again,"

"Shut the fuck up?"

His head jerks so slightly you're not sure you caught it. "No. The other thing."

You smile slyly before your flattened tongue slides from base to tip, your eyes on him the entire time. "Let me make you feel good?"

"The- the other-"Joel makes a strangled groaning noise and you move over the head again, kissing gently as it twitches before taking in his thickness deep into your warm mouth once more.

As you lay there between his legs in the bed you're struck by the realization that you feel so relaxed. The bed is warm and Joel is warm and when you hear his groans you feel so impossibly good.

You shut your eyes and just feel and taste and enjoy Joel. You've never wanted to do this for a man so much. Never wanted to take your time and explore them like this. With Joel every piece of him feels sacred, every part of him worthy of your intimate attention and every time he lets out a little moan or grunt you feel yourself grow giddy. You love making him feel good.

Joel is squirming, his grunts hitting you right at your core. He can't think now, his entire body poised. Your mouth feels so fucking good, he needs more of it.

Joel never thought that a blowjob could feel loving, but this does. He lays there watching you; your eyes shut so softly, mouth moving achingly slow around him. It feels tender, it's you wanting to take care of him, sweet and soft and oh fuck ... Joel feels his breath come out in a shudder. You feel so fucking good around him. Too good.

Your hands are palm flat on his thighs, bracing there as you take more of him into your mouth, sighing happily and hollowing your cheeks. Before long you can hear the sound of him whimpering. Soft, gravely whimpers that make you feel heady because you're making Joel fucking Miller whimper.

"Don't wanna finish in your mouth, baby," he rumbles, pressing your cheek gently. "Not tonight."

You understand, pulling gently off of him. Without pausing you crawl the length of him, coming to rest in his arms beside him. He pulls you flush against his chest, your hips meeting. He’s breathing in soft pants and you can feel him hard against your thigh your own lower half aching with need for him.

He stares at you for a long time, a curiously long time considering what you'd just been in the middle of doing. His eyes are warm and open as he takes in how your face looks flushed and needy. Yet it's you who says it.

"You're beautiful."

Joel immediately feels himself flush at your compliment. A guy being beautiful? He's never been called beautiful, and it makes him feel shy. You notice the shy way he looks away, tips of his ears pinking.

"No," you insist, gripping his face in your hands. "Don't. I love looking at your face. Your beautiful, perfect face."

He smiles, all teeth and dimple which sets your heart racing. He props his head up with one hand, the other going to the back of your neck. He holds you there, one thumb stroking the side of your neck as he stares at you.

As you lay there, face tilted into Joel’s pillow you smile, inhaling gently. The scent of his shampoo and just him. It makes you feel calm, but it also makes you pull a face, cringing as you recall something from months ago. Joel can see it immediately in your face, his own features turning concerned.

"What?"

“Nothing.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on you even with yours closed. You give an embarrassed smile. "Promise not to laugh?"

"No."

You bark out a surprised laugh, drawing an amused chuckle from Joel. You love making him smile like that, in that unguarded, playful way.

"Never mind then," you say with a smug smirk, rolling away from him.

"C'mon," he needles you, nose brushing against your neck to tickle, drawing you back to face him again. "Don't be like that. No secrets."

He says it smiling, but you hear that underline in the last sentence. No secrets. No, you don't want any between you either.

“It’s just a bit embarrassing.”

“I don’t mind,” Joel insists. “I’ll trade you an embarrassing story for yours.”

“You go first.”

“Once when I was eight I got caught stealing baseball cards from one of my friends at school. My mom got called down to the school and I had to apologize in front of everyone.” Joel looks so sheepish recalling this memory you want to laugh.

“Joel that’s barely embarrassing,” you say rolling your eyes.

“Ah ah, deals a deal,” Joel insists, gently tilting your chin so you face him. You sigh.

"Fine. It’s stupid. It's just. . . Back before, when you and I weren't together. . ." You trail off, this story not feeling funny anymore. If anything it makes you sad.

"What?" Joel looks nervous. "Tell me."

"I snuck in here one time when I was babysitting,” you say in a rush, eyes closed. “And I uh, touched myself on your bed."

Joel looks like he's been electrocuted. He physically jerks. "What?"

You feel yourself going beet red all the way to your roots. Why did this seen like a good story too share? It's humiliating. You pull the sheets over your head, your voice coming out muffled.

"I told you it was embarrassing!"

"Jesus Christ," Joel growls. "You were touching yourself in my bed?"

You're silent under the sheets, your breathing unsteady. You'd expected him to laugh at you or even pity you. Neither is happening. His voice drops an octave.

"Did you come?"

Your toes curl at the husky tinge in his voice. You're powerless when you feel him dragging the sheets down your face, exposing your face to him. His eyes are like furnaces, desire licking the edges.

"Did you?"

"Mhmm," you manage.

"Show me," he rasps and it's like you're back in the kitchen, hands down your pants as Joel begs you to touch yourself for him. You feel him peeling off your panties under the sheets, rolling your hips so that he can remove them entirely.

"Please baby," Joel whispers, kissing your shoulder. Then he pauses to kiss you gently, so gently, reverently on the mouth, eyes searching yours.

"But only if you want."

Joel doesn't want what you won't give him freely. He has no desire to take and take like Paul and James. And because of this you want to give him everything.

And so you nod, flushing when Joel removes the blankets from your body leaving your naked body tingling and exposed to the cool air.

He makes a low sound in the back of his throat. He takes your hand gently in his, raising it to his mouth. You think he means to kiss you knuckles when his pillowy lips circle your fore and middle finger. Not breaking eye contact he sucks them into his wet, warm mouth, trailing his tongue over your digits, coating them in his spit.

Satisfied, Joel drags them from his mouth, urging the damp digits along the seam of your throbbing pussy and gently pushing inside. You whimper at the contact, your eyes stuck on his as you begin to work your fingers on either side of your clit. You don't look away from Joel as you do. You simply flush under his heated gaze, your toes curling as you moan at the sensation of not only touching yourself, but by being watched by Joel as you do. He's thick and aching as he watches you but he makes no attempt to touch himself.

He rests his palm over yours loosely. He's not guiding, not moving, he wants to feel you touching yourself, wants to learn what turns you on.

"I can't believe you're real," he whispers as you begin to rock against your hand. "So fucking perfect."

You're not perfect. Your body has flaws, many that you could point out to him. But when Joel looks at you, dark eyes melting along your curves you know he believes what he says.

He removes his hand from over top yours, wanting to just watch you. He memorizes the way your lower lip quivers, the way your brows saddle as you stroke yourself. He’s never been so turned on in his life.

"What were you thinking about when you did it?" Joel asks you huskily.

"You," you murmur, eyes lazily closed as your fingers work between your thighs. You can feel his eyes on you, raking over every part of your body.

"Yeah?" You can hear the smile in his voice. You both already knew the answer, but his ego likes hearing it out loud.

"Fucking you," you groan, fingers working hurriedly over the pearl of your clit. "Your mouth, fuck your mouth is so sexy Joel."

Joel's (very sexy) mouth moves over your nipple, kissing there. His eyes are on you as he does.

"And your tongue," you whisper, arching further into his mouth.

His tongue laves at your straining nub, his teeth coming to graze and then gently nibble. That sends electric currents running through your entire body, your legs jerking out without thought or control.

Then he pulls back, his eyes roaming your flushed and naked body. Your eyes crack open to see him; mouth parted and fixed on your face as you squirm. You whimper his name, the taste of it sweet. He drops his head forward to kiss you, a tender thing.

"C'mon baby," Joel urges against your temple. "Show me how you made yourself come on my sheets."

You cannot form words. When Joel talks like that, filthy and low and growled it hits directly between your legs. You can offer only a symphony of grunts and mewls and whimpers and you feel your entire body tighten and then blissfully release.

"Oh that's it," Joel murmurs lazily as he watches you come. "Oh fuck. ... Yeah baby... Just like that... All for me."

Always for you, you want to tell him. But you're too far gone, the bliss overwhelming you. And finally you come, coating your fingers as your head is thrown back into the pillow.

Before you can say anything, Joel is between your legs, gently prying them apart. You make a surprised noise as he throws your legs over his broad shoulders, opening you to him. You watch as his fingers part you.

"Fuck if I'd known," Joel murmurs, licking a stripe up your pussy. He doesn't finish the thought, simply begins to kiss your cunt with wild, open mouthed kisses that have you arching back into the bed.

"Joel I -"

"C'mon baby," he groans, sucking on your clit languidly. "My mouth and my tongue remember? Be good and come on 'em now."

Jesus Christ. You’re already there. Already so close when he sucks your clit into his mouth, humming in delight as your thighs tremble around his head. And its only seconds when you feel yourself cresting. He feels it too, making encouraging humming noises as his hands come to hold you in place, spanning over your lower abdomen.

And then you feel your entire body release against his tongue, punching out groans as he laps between your legs, murmuring how good you taste, how much he’s missed your pussy, how he can’t believe how lucky he is.

You murmur his name, arms outstretched in his direction. He crawls to you, up the length of your naked body pressing glossy o’s on your exposed flesh as he ascends. Then his face gets near and you can see his eyes are unfocused. You sigh softly as his mouth finds yours.

He kisses you long and slow, his tongue dancing with yours. It's not long before you feel his free hand sliding down from your neck, over your straining nipple, along your lower belly and then coming to cup your sex softly.

You let out a small choked noise when his fingers slide down the seam, parting you. Brushing against your aching core.

"Want you inside me," you urge, impatiently, his mouth still moving over yours. Joel chuckles, a warm, loving sound that feels like a cracking fireplace.

"You nice and wet for me?" he asks even though as his fingers slowly curl around your swollen bud, he can tell you're absolutely soaked. He sinks the first finger in, finding absolutely no resistance. You're so ready, so open and you take him to the knuckle without hesitation, moaning.

He watches the emotions flicker across your face as he adds a second finger, slowly working them in and then out. Sees the shuttering of your eyes as you lean into his hand whimpering. Your exquisite, your here, your his.

"All mine," he rumbles against your jaw.

It feels so good. His wide fingers hit those perfect spots that you're fingers can never seem to reach. You crack your eyes open to see Joel staring at you, his eyes so dominated by his pupil they look black. He moans softly when you're eyes meet his. He's taking his time, so fucking slowly.

"Please Joel," you whisper breathlessly. Your eyes are heavy with need, matching his. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

He nods and the bed creaks as he rolls gently over top of you. Another deep kiss is pressed to your mouth as his hips find yours. He notches himself at your entrance and instinctively your thighs go to bracket his hips.

I love him. I love him. I love him.

Your entire body is trembling, and this is only soothed when you realize that Joel's is as well. His entire body has broken into small, shudders of aching need. Your eyes drift open and his heart swells as you grin up at him.

You need him. No more waiting. You lean forward, kissing him gently. He responds in kind, one hand against your lower back pulling you tighter to him. You think that you could spend your entire life kissing Joel and it wouldn't be nearly enough.

He's braced on his forearms above you, one wide hand coming to brush the hair from your face.

"Wanted this for so long," he tells you in a murmur and you know he doesn't just mean the sex. Your eyes are glassy as you nod up at him.

"Me too."

He moves slowly into you, your shifting hips leading him into your waiting core. You hiss slightly at the intrusion. He's bigger than Paul or James.

"Easy," Joel whispers against your temple. "Don't have to rush it."

You nod as his mouth comes to meet yours, his body moving languidly against yours. His left hand finds yours gripping the sheets. He slips his palm over yours, lacing your fingers in his and holding you there. You feel your entire body melt into his.

"Fuck, honey ... So good," Joel groans as he continues to sheaths himself in you, his head falling forward against your shoulder on the pillow. You whimper, needy and desperate for more. He feels so good. So right. "Those sounds."

He licks into your mouth, groaning as your hands come to rest under his arms, gripping his broad back as you urge him deeper and deeper.

“You’re so deep,” you groan, body jerking against his. The bed creaks gently, rhythmically as he fucks you. No, not fucking – he makes love to you. As if he thinks your body is as sacred as you think his is.

"Say the other thing," Joel whispers against your neck. "Please."

You feel his hips surge forward, filling both your body and heart. You smile, tilting your cheek so he looks at you. You won't say this next part until your gazes are locked.

"I love you," you say, rolling your hips up against him, your body in communion with his. You see his eyebrows saddle, his eyes watery.

"Again, please," he groans, his eyes never moving from your face. He didn't even need to ask because the words are already there, offered to him as they will always be offered to him.

"I love you, Joel."

His mouth is on yours, and his hips plunge deeper into you and now he's rambling between deep kisses, speaking against your mouth.

"I love you... so long... F-fuck, feel so… Wanna make you feel good, fucking l-love you so much."

His hips are snapping, his resolve unravelling as you cry out. He feels so good, so perfect between your thighs. You wonder if it is always supposed to feel this good, this easy. Desire licks at your belly, your hand coming to cup his cheek so he's looking at you. Something about his eyes, seeing them vacillate between dreamy and sharp makes you lose control.

"You gonna come again baby?" Joel murmurs to himself, his body coiled. Joel is, as he was not so long ago that time when you rode his thigh, amazed at how quickly you do. How perfectly in synch your bodies are.

His voice is tinged with lust obviously, but also a deep affection that borders on awe. It makes your pulse spike and your body begins to spasm because you’re so fucking close, the pleasure building to an almost uncomfortable level.

"J-joel-"

"S'okay," Joel tells you with a kiss. "I've got you. I've got you, baby, just let go."

These words, these gentle urging words are what send you cresting and you come with a sharp moan. Your body moves in time with his and you don't realize that you're crying until Joel's hips slow and he's peering into your face.

"Do you want to stop? Are you okay?"

"What?! Don't stop!" You gasp, urging his hips with a small tap of your hand. It feels so good, you’re already on the precipice again.

He seems to understand because his movements restart in earnest and his mouth is kissing your tears away. You’re hiccup-crying but only because it feels so perfect, the bliss so intense and you're just so thankful for him. For existing. For loving you in a way you'd never thought possible. And you’re crying because you get to be the one to love Joel.

And soon you do come again; your cries are loud, jagged and needy as he thrusts against you over and over. You chant his name, kissing his mouth, arms around his shoulder for purchase as he seeks to bury himself further inside you.

"I love you," you cry, your hips rolling against his, wanting to make him feel as good as you do. "Love you so fucking much, Joel."

He spills into you, his groans sharp in your ear as he groans out your name, long and low. It seems to go on forever, filling you so deeply. His body is still wrapped around you as his hips finally stutter to a stop.

You stay like that, tangled against one another until Joel presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and gently eases himself from between your slick thighs. You both sigh as he rolls to your side, pulling you into his arms as if he’s terrified to let you go.

You want to go to sleep, snuggled like this in the warmth of his arms but you’re far too aware of the time.

"We should shower," you say with a pant.

"Together?" Joel murmurs, raising a brow over the eye peering in your direction from the pillow.

"Christ, Miller," you say with a breathy laugh. "If we do that we're never making it to the wedding."

And while there isn't time for a communal shower there is time for a soft "I love you". It’s whispered against one anothers' lips, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, before you leave hand in hand for the wedding a short while later.

There will always be time for that.

///

Sarah has always been a grateful child. She's always been quick with her thank you's, never found it difficult to share her toys and loves seeing those she cares for happy.

So when her fifth birthday wish of a mama had come true so perfectly in the form of you, she thought it only fair to use her sixth birthday wish for something more philanthropic.

That day with her father at her side, whispering to make a wish she had done so with thought of Joel and he alone.

I wish my daddy had a wife.

And now as she stands looking up from her basket of real flower petals to see you and her daddy walking hand in hand towards her, gazing at each other and then her.

The two of you are trying so hard not to be too obvious and failing spectacularly. Daddy is smiling so widely Sarah actually smiles just looking at him. He's staring at you as the two of you walk, making your way to the ranch.

You're all blushing, laughing at something Daddy said. You both look so beautiful with you in your dress and him in his suit.

The two of you both look over and see Sarah at the same time and it's hard to say who looks more excited, you or daddy.

"Hey bug!" "Hi babygirl!"

The two of you laugh at your mingled pet names as you reach her. You're the first to drop to your knees and Sarah doesn't miss the way her father stares at the back of your head with a sweet little smile.

Sarah feels her tiny heart hammering as you look to her with arms outstretched and she runs into them, her tiny arms wrapping so tightly around your neck you give a grunt.

Sarah looks over your shoulder at her Daddy. She's confused when she sees his eyes are wet. But his smile is right, so she doesn't think much of it. She pulls back and is confused that your eyes are wet too.

But maybe it's just allergies? Sarah heard one of the other bridesmaids talking about how an outdoor wedding was hell on hers at the salon earlier today.

"Daddy can we have pancakes tomorrow morning?"

"'Course, babygirl."

"And you'll be there right?" Sarah says, looking to you imploring. You seem momentarily taken aback, glancing up at Joel suddenly anxious.

"Yeah, she'll be there," Joel assures you both with a smile. "She's actually gonna be over a lot more often."

Sarah looks at your face breaking into a smile again. Sarah grins, wanting to scatter all the flower petals in the world right now. But then you sober, taking both of her little hands in yours.

"If that's okay with you, Sarah," you say seriously, your eyes searching her face. "I don't want you feeling uncomfortable."

Sarah can tell there's no guile there. If Sarah told you no, you'd respect it. She can feel that.

"S'okay with me," Sarah says. "I like you there."

"Thanks bug," you say and press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. Like a mom would. Sarah feels warmth blooming through her body.

"Maybe you could have a sleepover at our house." Sarah looks over at her Daddy. "Daddy can she sleep over?"

You give Daddy a funny look when he barks out a laugh.

"Yep," Daddy says trying not to grin too wide. "She can sleepover whenever she wants."

You stand, taking his hand again, smirking and Sarah wants to say more but then the mean wedding lady is there.

But Sarah doesn't care, because she's looking at Daddy kissing your head and all she can think is that she's so happy that her birthday wish came true.

///

"You're late," Abby snaps as she approaches the three of you. "And are those grass stains?"

She looks over your dress with distaste, holding your bouquet and Sarah's flower girl basket.

"Probably," you say giving her a level gaze. "Had to kick the shit out of someone before I got here."

You wince only when you realize Sarah might have heard that. But she looks distracted by the basket.

Joel gives you a surprised look that matches Abby's. Abby thrusts the bouquet into your arms and murmurs an order of going to the barn as she hands Sarah the basket.

You hold the bouquet at waist level, turning to Joel with an expectant look. He offers his arm and you take it. Sarah goes dashing excitedly ahead and you follow as Joel gives you a curious look.

"Do I wanna know?"

"I'll tell you about it sometime," you with a wink. "Maybe."

You never will though, because if Joel knew half of what Paul did there would be a fine dusting of Paul scattered all over his new apartment in Leander. Your eyes scan for Maria and Tommy.

"Did I tell you how gorgeous you look?" Joel murmurs, distracting you.

"Bullshit," you bite back with a smile. "I look like a sad piece of lettuce."

"Well, I always liked eatin' my vegetables," Joel whispers back.

"Joel!"

You clap a hand over your mouth, holding in the bubble of laughter. You refuse to walk down this aisle collapsing into laughter again. You turn your head into his shoulder as you walk, hiding your laughter as Joel chuckles.

He feels his heart swelling as he looks down at you tucked up against him, face pink.

"I love you so fucking much," Joel whispers against the crown of your head. You look up, smiling bright.

"Ditto, Miller."

///

When the two of you walk down the aisle, you try not to be too obvious. This is Maria and Tommy's day. You make sure you don't look at each other; you don't graze hips as you walk, you don’t smirk. You simply link arms, walking at the right pace for the band.

Tommy is at the end of the aisle with a new haircut looking at you and Joel with an inscrutable look.

You've done well, you think. But then Joel gives everything away when you drop linked arms. Because instead of just walking in separate directions you feel his wide hand skate down your back, hitting your lower back, fingers curling before pulling slowly away, as if he can't stand not touching you.

Just that contact is enough to have goosebumps rising all over your body. You duck your head, unable to meet Tommy's gaze as you walk past him.

You stand across from one another on either side of the aisle, forcing yourself not to stare at one another.

But you feel Joel's eyes on you, and you relent, dragging your gaze from the sea of faces and over to him. From here you can see just how good Joel looks. Dark navy suit, tailored, crisp white shirt underneath. He looks so sexy you actually have to force yourself to look away.

You feel eyes on you and you glance over to see Frank smiling up at you in the crowd. You feel your face pink as he shoots you a waggle of his eyebrows. Bill isn't watching you, his eyes are on Joel.

Maybe Frank isn't the only one to think your boyfriend is cute.

Your boyfriend. Joel is your boyfriend.

It seems like everything and yet not enough.

Then the sound of the band starts up again and you both quickly look up to see Sarah with a serious look on her face. With amusement you watch as she delicately takes one petal from the basket, crouches and places it on the aisle runner atop the grass. She does this with the next petal. . . And the next one. . . Moving an inch at a time.

You see Joel giving a smirk accompanied by a wince as the crowd titters. At this rate you're all going to be here for hours. Inspired you call out to her over the music.

"Make it colorful, bug."

She seems to understand, her face breaking into a wide smile. She nods, thrusting her hand into the basket and tossing handfuls of colorful petals into the air, moving quickly down the aisle.

The crowd cheers as you and Joel laugh, watching her dance down the aisle tossing the flower remnants in every direction. Finally she reaches the end of the aisle, looking up to you expectantly.

"Was I good?"

"The best.”

Maria enters on her father's arm. You can see Sheila crying in the front row, blowing her nose as you hold in a giggle at this.

Maria is ethereal. The dress made for her. Ethereal isn't even enough to describe how angelic she looks in the off-white dress that clings to her hips and dances down over her knees. The sun is setting, casting everyone in the golden hue of the day. It feels magical.

She double winks at you as she nears the end of the aisle and you return it. A code from your club days.

Two winks: you good?

Two winks back: I'm good.

She smiles and nods, handing you her large brides bouquet before turning to face Tommy who is staring at her in quite the same way Joel stares at you.

The Minister waits for the band to conclude the last strains of the song before he begins.

"Dearly beloved..."

///

You and Joel have done very well at keeping your hands to yourselves for the duration of the wedding. It was a bit difficult during wedding photos, but there were so many orders of where to stand and how to pose that you were both distracted.

It's easy during dinner because you're seated on either side of the couple at the head table. You're squished between Maria and an annoying cousin of hers that won't stop talking about her manicure.

Joel is next to Tommy with Sarah next to him, her tiny feet kicking the air as she eats her pasta.

The speeches are lovely with lots of laughter, lots of wine and lots of good food. The music is amazing as well, upbeat and fun and it gets the crowd dancing. When you look at the band you feel a little thrill go through you when you remember Joel singing to you.

You watch him now, Sarah's hands in his as they dance together. She's giggling and saying something that makes Joel laugh. In a motion as old as dance itself, Sarah's tiny feet are atop her father's and he shuffles them around the dance floor.

Bill and Frank are dancing, well, Bill is shuffling while Frank goes full out, arms in the air as he sings along with the vocalist.

Maria and Tommy are very good dancers, shockingly so. You love seeing the affection they have for one another, even when they're laughing and doing silly dances.

It's the slow dance that brings a halt to your plans of restraint. You sit at your table, falling more in love with Joel every second.

You watch him stride to your table, popping Sarah into her chair with the coloring book and crayons Maria made sure were there for the kids attending the wedding (she thinks of everything!) she happily goes back to the Disney princess she was coloring.

Then he's come to your chair and holds his large hand out to you.

"May I have this dance?"

As if you could refuse.

You beam up at him, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor. You admire the breath of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. And he's all yours. Because you are never letting Joel Miller go.

Ever.

The song is slow and sweet. You glance over to see Maria and Tommy kissing gently before her head nestles in the crook of his neck.

You long to do the same with Joel, but you don't want to draw the extra attention.

Instead you try and remain stoic as Joel's hand spans your lower back. One of your hands goes to curl over Joel's shoulder, your free hands in clasped in one anothers.

You dance like this a while, trying so hard not to make it obvious that you're desperately in love with the man that holds you to him, swaying you gently to the music. You hear him gently humming the tune of the song under his breath.

Joel is trying his hardest not to stare at you, but it's impossible. He's wished for you so long that it still seems surreal that your here in his arms and your staying.* it makes his stomach twist pleasantly.

He looks down at you, mouth hitched in a boyish grin.

"So, you still like me?"

"Nah," you reply, your eyes dancing. "Pretty sure I'm in love with you."

"That's a relief," Joel murmurs, aching to kiss you. "Because I was thinking I'd like to marry you sometime pretty soon."

You feel your heart jump at this. Your entire body breaking out into a delicious shiver as Joel stares down at you.

"That's convenient," you reply just as smoothly. "Because I was thinking I'd really like to be your wife someday soon."

Joel grins widely, so handsome and so sexy that you feel overcome. The song ends and with reluctance you pull back. You can't go several more hours without feeling him against you. You tilt forward, dropping your voice.

"Outside. Five minutes."

Joel nods, pretending to part from you. You walk back from the dance floor on your way to grab a drink when you spot Bill making his way back from the drink station. You call him over.

"Thank you for earlier," you tell him, heart swelling. "Both you and Frank. I don't know what I would have done."

"Was nothing," Bill says shyly.

"It was everything," you correct gently. "But I think you know that."

Bill's shrugging. "Saw you arrived with the contractor."

Now it's your turn to give a shy shrug. "Yeah."

"You told him," Bill observes. There's no emotion in his voice, good or bad. You suppose because then he'd feel responsible one way or the other. But his eyes give everything away.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"I'm really glad I did."

The corner of Bill's mouth curls ever so slightly under his beard.

"Good."

You feel so much affection for Bill in this moment. Watching him stride over your lawn to protect you this morning. The advice he's given you. Baking cupcakes for Sarah. The way he's just there when you need him. Glowering or sullen yes, but he's there.

"Bill.... I just... My dad was never... I just wanna," you're stumbling over the words, trying to find them. To thank him for being the father you always wanted without even realizing. To thank him for his steady, calming presence even when it didn't come naturally to him.

And in a move you'll swear was a dream, Bill pulls you with one arm into his barrel chest. He holds you there tightly only a moment and releases you.

"You know we're always here if you need."

And then he's gone before you can say more, striding away from you and back to Frank who is deep in conversation with Sarah.

You're in a daze when you feel a hand glide over the small of your back. You watch as Joel moves past you and out into the warm night.

He glances back just before ducking around the corner, just long enough to give you a sultry wink that hits you so hard you actually stumble walking. Jesus, your entire body is thrumming. You need to get Joel back into bed as soon as possible. Maybe you won't ever leave it. There are worst fates.

You wait a few moments, trying to be discreet before you slip out from the loud party and outside. The cicadas reach you, the warm breeze dancing along your face as you step out the barn doors.

"Hey pretty lady," a deep voice sounds from your left. "You single by any chance?"

You turn, giggling when you see Joel leaning against the outer wall of the barn. His jacket is off, his white button down sleeves rolled to the elbows. He looks delicious.

"Nah I've got this big, strong boyfriend," you tease as you slink towards him. "And you better be careful ‘cuz he's got a real bad temper. He punched a guy in a McDonald's once."

Joel holds in a sharp laugh, reaching for you. "Yeah but he had it coming."

"Couldn't agree more," you nod, allowing Joel to pull you into his arms.

You go boneless against him as he kisses you, his hands on either side of your face. He pauses only when he feels you tense up, his large eyes scanning your face.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm scared at how good this feels," you confess to him without hesitation. "I've lived a whole life of waiting for the other shoe to drop. This feels too good. I'm too happy."

"You don't have anything to worry about," Joel promises you. "No shoe droppin' with the Millers. We take care of each other."

"I'm not a Miller."

"Just a formality," Joel assures you between kisses.

You grin through a watercolor blur and wrap your arms around his neck.

"I love you," you say against his jaw, just because you can say it. You get to say this to Joel anytime you want.

"Ditto."

Joel wedges a finger under your chin and tilts your face to him. He presses his mouth over yours once more. You sigh, arms wrapping around his neck. He's so wonderful.

His mouth finds yours again and again and your hips find his and before long he has you pressed against the barn with one of your thighs wrapped around his waist. His tongue is slipping slowly against yours as you whimper.

You can't help it; kissing Joel is like a drug and you always want more. Your hands are at his collar, his hands at your lower back pressing you into him.

"You gonna sleepover tonight?" Joel laughs, kissing you down your neck. The sleepover comment from earlier still amusing him.

"If you'll have me."

"Anytime," Joel promises, his body flush with yours against the side of the barn. "Need you in my bed as much as possible. Wanna take you there right now."

If Joel has it his way you'll never leave his bed again.

His kisses grow more insistent and he feels your body shuddering against his. Could you make it to his truck? Just for fifteen minutes?

"Save it for after the cake cutting, would ya?"

The two of you break apart sheepishly at the sound of Tommy's voice. You glance behind you to see Tommy and Maria smirking at you as they come through the back of the barn.

Joel feels Tommy's eyes on him, twinkling and merry. Joel's mouth twists into an embarrassed smirk.

"Shut the fuck up."

Tommy moves over to his brother, somehow seeming to know that you and Maria need a quick chat.

Maria's eyes are wet, and she's trying so hard not to grin too wide, for fear of creasing her very heavy wedding makeup.

You think back to all the times she tried to warn you off Paul, all the times she tried to push you to Joel and you feel your face crumple. You wrap your oldest friend in your arms.

"Maria, I'm so-"

"Don't you dare apologize," Maria tells you firmly, pulling you back so she can peer into your face, wiping the tears that have escaped down your cheek. "Not for this. Never."

"Okay," you nod, knowing that this is what your friendship is. No recriminations, no long-standing grudges. Just two friends who want to see the best for one another.

"I just wanted you to be happy," she says, eyes welling. "That's all I ever want for you."

"I am," you whisper, voice breaking. "I'm so fucking happy."

Sarah dashes over to you, wanting to show you and her aunt all the flowers from the tables she's collected into her flower girl basket. You hoist her onto your hip so you can all marvel at the colorful arrangements inside.

"Next time listen to me when I tell you something," Maria says with faux irritation over the basket. "I'm never wrong."

"Except when you tried to tell me I looked good in leather pants," you reason.

"I'll give you that one," Maria relents and you both dissolve into laughter. Despite having no idea what's so funny, Sarah joins in, one arm around your neck as she giggles.

At the sound the Miller men glance over at you with stars in their eyes. Tommy places a hand on his older brother's shoulder, shaking his head as if you're the silliest bunch he's ever laid eyes on.

"Well, that's our future, Joel."

"Yeah," Joel says, grinning at you as you catch his eye beaming.

"Yeah it is."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #dad joel miller #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #happily ever after #happy ending #slice of life #joel miller fic #happy Joel Miller #wedding #Sarah Miller #joel the last of us

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bandgie · 5 months

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Hi! I ABSOLUTELY LOVED your Beast of a Man tarzan!smut. Seriously it was so engaging and you wrote him so well (HES SO HOT AGHH). He's such a hot character idk why others don't write about him, I'm starved for Tarzan fics...

Could you please make a part 2 to the smut? You have such a great/smutty idea going I would love to see you continue it!!

It would mean everything to me!

( ^◡^)

a/n: hi yes thank you so much and ofc! it's been so long since I've written smut on Tarzan so please bear with me! (fic anon is referring to here)

synopsis: You have successfully brought back the ape-man for research. Despite behaving like an animal, he's a lot more human in more ways than you originally thought.

warnings: MDNI 18+, recording during sex, oral (m!), 69ing, semi-public oral sex, cumming in mouth (m!&f!), rough throat fucking (f!rec), cum eating (m!&f!)

2.8k words

"Who the fuck is this?!"

Your colleagues screamed and ran upon seeing who, more like what, you brought back to camp. They hopped up on tables and held up papers as weapons. They eyed you both wearily, on the verge of tears as you stood just a few feet away.

"I think that's a bit extreme," you sigh.

The ape-man was beside you, clinging onto your leg like a child would do with a mother. He, too, was very wary around these strangers. You could hear him grunting and pulling at you as if keeping you from getting too close.

Cute yes, but this would mean it would take a lot of work to build trust in the entire group.

Slowly, the fellow researchers began to try and communicate with the man. Talking slowly and softly, just like you showed them to. All of you agreed that this being could be the missing link, the answer to the question anthropologists have tried to find for decades.

It took over a month for everyone to be comfortable around one another, but of course, another issue was raised.

"So does he just not have a name?" Professor Porter asked.

As of now, you all were just calling him 'the ape-man' or 'hey you' to get his attention. It never crossed your mind to give him an actual name.

"We're not gonna name that beast," Clayton butted his way into the conversation. Clayton, as big and strong as he was, seems the most afraid of your new friend. He's hostile, rude, and arrogant. Even if the ape-man cannot understand the words thrown at him, he can feel them.

The best thing to do in these situations was to ignore Clayton, he just loves the sound of his own voice.

"No," you turn your attention back to the professor. "Not that I know of at least. Should we come up with one?"

"Oh great," there's heavy sarcasm laced in Clayton's voice. "Here you are naming a dog you're not even gonna keep."

"With no due respect Clayton, please shut the fuck up," Terk, the youngest of you, speaks. Terk is small for his age, but he has built. A hairy man who's lively, talkative, and one of the natives that live here. He and the ape-man get along well, a little too well sometimes.

Clayton flips Terk the bird.

"A name for him would be nice, yes." The professor looks as though he's sweating from the tense atmosphere. "Do come up with one dear, I think the missing link would rather you do it."

It's no secret that the ape-man prefers you over the other researchers. He's constantly at your hip, following you like you have an invisible leash on him. Your colleagues, however, don't know how close you two actually are.

The conversation stays in your head for the rest of the day. A name. A name. Something everyone has yet is unbelievably difficult to come up with. Hundreds of possibilities run through your mind as you carry out your daily tasks. Even the ape-man, who's used to you ruffling his hair, grows confused about your behavior.

Nightfall comes with everyone in their tents and you still haven't come up with a name.

With a groan, you turn on your side to see the very person who's making you struggle already looking at you. His eyes are dark, but the candle in your tent lights up his features just enough. You reach out and brush a lock of hair out of his face, watching how he moves to try and get you to touch his skin.

You settle with resting the palm of your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb over it.

"A name," you tsk. You narrow your eyes and let your gaze travel over his body. He needs to look like his name, that's a must. "Hey, do you know what a name is?"

He doesn't answer.

"Something to call you. That's a name. Do you have one?"

He stares at you.

Well, this is going to be harder than you thought.

Pursing your lips, you say the first name that comes to mind, "Edward?"

He reacts to that. His calm expression turns into a scowl, bushy eyebrows coming together. You quietly laugh and shake your head, "Not that one okay."

"Tony?"

He frowns.

"Taren?"

He pouts.

"Okay, okay. I think I got it...Garrett."

The ape-man groans, mimicking the behavior he's seen you do hundreds of times. It shocks you to see him act so human, so you. It's equally adorable as it is terrifying.

He's gotten closer to you, a breath away. The proximity used to freak you out, but you've learned it’s how he shows his affection. His trust.

The ape-man is waiting for you to say a word he likes, a sound that comes off your tongue magically. Judging from your facial expression and earlier absent behavior, this is an important task for you.

You want the name to be strong, versatile, and not easily replaceable. The being you've found is one-of-a-kind, it's only fair his name is as well. You play with a few letters in your head, bouncing them in your mind until you think of one that suits him.

"What about Tarzan then? Do you like that one?"

His pupils dilate, watching your beautiful lips pronounce the word. His word.

"Yes."

You gasp, sitting up abruptly. Your sudden movements make him panic as he sits up with you. He scans the tent to find an intruder while you sit there stunned.

He spoke. The ape-man no! Tarzan just spoke to you. He understood language and used it, even if it was just a mere word. A one-syllable answer that has shaken you to your core.

"Oh my god. You just, Tarzan you just spoke. Holy shit, say it again. I need to capture this on video." You ruffle through your bag looking for your camera.

Tarzan stops searching the tent and looks back at you looking as confused as ever. Like he didn't just display human speech in a mere month.

Quickly, you pull out the camera and hit record, aiming the lens at Tarzan's hard, yet beautiful features.

"Repeat what you just said," you look at him through the monitor. Instead of complying, Tarzan stares blankly into the lens. "Do you like the name Tarzan?" You press.

No answer, his eyes flick from the red light to your eyes.

"Come on! Just tell me whether or not you like the name." You're starting to grow impatient. At this point, you're convinced he's just being an ass.

Finally, he adjusts his seating position. Tarzan glances down at his crotch then back up to you, then back to his crotch. You follow his gaze, trying to understand what he's trying to say. Then it clicks.

Compensation. If you want him to do you a favor, you have to do him one as well.

"Are you being serious?" You sigh at him. Tarzan gives a faint nod to you. Even if he can't do so, you swear you see him smirk. Asshole. Setting the camera down, you angle it towards the two of you. Might as well have fun with it.

You crawl your way towards him, parting his thighs slightly before giving him a playful glare, "You're such a man sometimes."

Unlike before, Tarzan wears cargo shorts rather than a mere piece of clothes from last time. Professor Porter made it clear that if he was to hang amongst you all, clothes were necessary.

They suited him nicely, even now. The way the material hugs his toned thighs, how his cock bulges through the shorts even when he isn’t hard. You couldn't help but run your hands along his muscular legs, finding his crotch.

He groaned as you palmed him, straining to not thrust his hips up. Tarzan learned to be patient with you, especially in the presence of others. Most animals didn't care whether they mated alone or in their pack. Even if Tarzan was raised by those animals, the thought of others hearing the sounds you make for him is repulsive.

Instead, he has to settle for brushing your hair from your face as you undo his buttons. Delicate fingers unzipping the seam until his half-hard cock sprouts in your face.

It doesn't matter how many times you've seen his dick, it makes your pussy quiver every time. All you can think about is how perfectly it stretches you, how the tip slides against your cunt deliciously. Your mouth salivates at the memory, and you let your spit drool off your tongue to land on his cock.

Tarzan loves the sigh. A pink tongue just hovering over his length. He also remembers the feeling of your hot mouth on him. The way your lips slowly come closer to the crown of his head, how your breath wafts over him. It feels euphoric when you finally make contact with him, mouth enclosing his flushed head.

It's so warm in your mouth, smooth as you lightly suck on him. The hand on your head slightly grips your hair, a sign that he likes the slow pace you've set. You hum around his cock, taking him a little deeper as you widen your jaw.

One of your hands makes way to grip the base, pulling the skin upwards in a stroking motion.

This makes his hips jerk, gagging you for just a split second. Your wide eyes look up at him, small tears peeking at the corners. Tarzan gives an apologetic look, but the sight of your teary eyes and pretty lips around his cock makes him fuck up toward you again.

You pull away from him, earning a whine as Tarzan throws his head back dramatically.

Maybe he thinks you're going to stop as punishment, but it's quite the opposite. Your cunt is sopping from tasting him, even if it was for a brief moment. Even if you have a task at hand, and your camera is still recording for 'research,' you have your own needs to take care of.

Tarzan is none the wiser as you put a hand on his bare chest and lay him down. He eyes you curiously but lets you push him all the way down before hopping on top. His eyes widen as he's faced with your clothed cunt. Underwear the same color as your tongue that holds the strongest smell of you.

He doesn't need any directions as he dives his nose into you. Tarzan is obsessed with your natural smell. His nose immediately grows damp from your wetness, his tongue poking out to lick the juices that leak out.

Softly moaning, you take a hold of his cock once more. You pump it a few times before taking it into your mouth. It's surprising to see that he's not humping in your mouth like normal, but he's so distracted with your pussy that he can't seem to bother noticing his own pleasure.

It's hard to focus on his hard length as his teeth tear off your panties. You gasp when you hear the fabric split, but it turns into a whine when his tongue finally makes contact with your bare cunt.

Tarzan has to grip your hips to keep you still. As much as he would love for you to grind on his face, he needs to have his meal first. His tongue runs over your folds, finding that little bud you love so much to be touched.

He sucks on it and pulls, stretching your clit. Your legs shake and you have to pull away from his cock to catch your breath. Lazy hands stroke his hard-on as you look back. You clench at the sight of his unruly hair peeking above your ass, the sounds his mouth makes as he laps at you.

Turning back to your literal task at hand, you find the energy to take his cock once more. You unhinge your jaw and exhale, taking Tarzan deeper and deeper until your eyes roll back. You hollow your cheeks and suck, moving your head back up until just the tip remains in your mouth, and go all the way back down.

Now Tarzan can feel the bliss of your mouth on him. He moans into your pussy and slightly jerks his hips up, making you gag around him once more.

Feeling you work so hard makes him want to reciprocate. He shakes his head left and right to try and bury himself deeper. He uses his grip to force you further onto his face. Tarzan's tongue finds the squeezing entrance that he's breached so many times. He digs his tongue into you, finally getting a taste of you from the source.

He's guiding your hips so you could drag your pussy against him how you like. Tarzan can feel your hips trying to pull away from him as the feeling of his tongue has gotten too much. And it has.

You're trying to distract yourself by deepthroating him, but it's no use. All you can feel is his experienced mouth, how he remembers every detail he knows you like. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and how it builds in your stomach rapidly.

Tarzan feels your legs shake. Your thighs trembling and giving out, full lower body weight on his face. He can taste how the wetness has changed, thicker and tart. Tarzan knows this taste like the back of his hand. You're going to cum, give him that white cream he loves licking out of you.

You've completely stopped paying attention to his dick. A part of you should feel bad for neglecting him, but you can't seem to care as Tarzan's tongue fucks you. Instead, you find yourself humping his face, his mouth following as you approach your high.

You squeal as you come, clamping a hand over your mouth as you finish. Warm gushes out of you, body quivering as the eager man under you happily drinks it all. Tarzan gulps and slurps until he's beginning dripping from the corners of his mouth.

He takes and takes until you're the one having to tell him no more, that you can't handle another orgasm.

Tarzan hears the desperation in your voice, the way you plead. It takes strength for him to pull away from your pussy, a soft growl emitting from his chest.

Then his thighs wrap around your head, securing you in front of his cock. You have no time to question him as you involuntarily take his cock into your mouth.

There's so much pre-cum dripping from the slit that all you can taste is its saltiness. He's throbbing, fucking his hips into your mouth as he holds you still with his legs.

All you can do is take it. Lips wrapping around his girth as he desperately slides his dick in and out. You gag and silently plead for Tarzan to be gentler, but he's having none of it. Your hands warp around his thighs to steady yourself, your head bobbing uncontrollably to match his movements.

Tarzan twitches in your mouth once, stilling his hips deep into your throat. Tears immediately prick your eyes and fall down your face, and you swear your vision goes black for a fraction of a second before he pulls out. You get the chance to gasp for air as he lines up his cock to your lips again and shoves it back in.

You think you might pass out. You're at the mercy of Tarzan, and he's still unable to see how much stronger he is than the average man. Your mouth is nothing but a fleshlight to him as he makes you choke around him. It makes you feel like a toy, a warm hole for him to fuck his seed into.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

The familiar twitch in his cock occurs again. Once, twice, then three times before he unloads in your mouth. Hot spurts of his cum find themselves in your throat, forcing you to gulp it down.

Tarzan's hips slow, letting his cock drag against your lips before he finally pulls out. You cough and pant as his orgasm drips from your tongue.

His thighs release you and you promptly plop down on them. You feel his hands rub soothingly over the curve of your ass, up and down your thighs. And an extra apology, Tarzan presses a kiss to your throbbing pussy. You chuckle and kiss his thigh back before sitting up, hoping off his face.

You have to crawl to grab your camera, breathing a sigh of relief to see the red light still shining. You aim the lens at his face as he too sits up. You can see the arousal on his face from eating you out, his swollen lips, and messy hair.

"So," you start. "Tell me, Tarzan, did you like that?"

Tarzan's lips quirk into what you think is a smile before he looks at you directly through the camera.

"Yes."

a/n: holy fuck I dont think y'all know how hard this was. I kinda went all out for the first one so the second one was hard as hell to match lmaooo. I physically and mentally can't do a third installment. this is the final one sowwy also I added some characters from the film! hopefully you caught that, I made Terk human, Tarzan needed a friend even if it's a fanfic

#smut #tarzan x reader #tarzan smut #tarzan 1999 #tarzan and his mate #tarzan #beast #jungle smut #tarzan of the apes #tarzan au #tarzan fanfic #holy fuck what do I tag??#professor porter

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