#my late dogs appeared in my dreams

[aceteling]

why am i physically feeling sick what gives

[ellecdc]

Part two of feisty slytherin reader where it’s just the boys being like kinda in love with reader and everything you can pick how reader responds

this ended up taking me way longer to complete than I thought it would! it also ended up way longer than usual. here's the lead up to our infamous poly!marauders x feisty!slytherin reader!!! 🫶

poly!marauders x feisty, fem slytherin!reader CW: head injury - not graphic or detailed but mentions blood.

“Okay Moony, if you’re going to help us win over Y/N, you should know she does not like dramatic public displays of appreciation.” James said sagely as he walked into their shared dorm room.

Remus spared Sirius a confused look from his seat in the chair, but from the way James was currently rubbing his arm Sirius had a pretty good idea of what just took place.

“Yeah, erm, I don’t think you have to worry about that with me, bubs. Thanks for the heads up though.” Remus added bemusedly.

“Let me guess.” Sirius taunted, rolling over onto his stomach so that he faced James. “The charmed roses following her around the halls wasn’t a hit?”

“No, but she did...” He sulked, pulling his uniform shirt off to expose a small albeit quite red welt on his upper arm.

“Awe, poor Jamie. Come here bubs.” Remus cooed at him, opening his arms to invite the boy into his lap. 

James obliged all too willingly and snuggled up to the werewolf like he was a small toddler and not a giant beefy man-baby. 

“Don’t mollify him when he’s out here botching our grand plans to woo the girl of our dreams.” Sirius said, causing Remus to roll his eyes and James to scoff indignantly.

“Well at least I’m working on it! What are you doing to woo her?” James retaliated.

Sirius offered him a wolfish grin. “Oh, I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve.”

You had to get out of the castle. You could still feel everyone’s eyes on you, ogling you like you were some kind of freakshow. 

You don’t know what kind of game those Gryffindor’s were trying to play, but you were not about to be the butt of whatever sodding joke this was.

Roses, really? Charmed to follow you around the castle as Potter smirked from the sidelines. Did he have any idea how humiliating that was?

       So, yeah. You walloped him. In the arm. With your fist. Hard. But what else were you supposed to do!? You’d confronted him and demanded that he end the charm and all he said was ‘you look so cute when your nose scrunches up like that’.

He and Black have always been a bother – seemingly having taken some kind of interest in you for whatever reason. Lupin had always been more reasonable; one would think that he’d have evened those two out during their relationship, but apparently that was an impossible task. You supposed it was because he was all but one man.

But lately, even he was starting to stare at you a little too long, smile a little too softly, find too many excuses to be in your vicinity. It was infuriating.

So, you were outside.

It was nice outside. 

Well, it was nice enough outside. 

You packed yourself some snacks in your book bag, two blankets and an extra jumper to go sit by the Black Lake. You figured you should be able to enjoy some peace and quiet out here on your own.

You unfolded one of the blankets to lay onto the ground before sitting on it and then laid the second blanket over your lap. You could hear other students on the grounds in the distance and the soothing sound of the water lapping gently against the shore. 

As luck would have it, a certain dog with long-black hair would set out to disrupt that.

“What are you doing here?” You asked the dog as it approached you calmly. You wondered for a moment if you should be scared before it stopped at the edge of your blanket to sit and tilt its head at you, his tongue falling out of his mouth haphazardly. 

He didn’t look too scary, ignoring his size.

You craned your neck to look around, checking if perhaps he was here with someone, but it appeared that you were, in fact, alone on this side of the lake.

You felt something cold and wet nudge your pinkie, and you turned to see that the dog had laid down beside you with his head between his paws, nose next to your hand.

“If I pet you, are you going to bite me?” You asked him. He answered by nudging your hand again and offering it a little lick.

“You better not have fleas.” You muttered as you scratched behind the dog’s ears. You would have sworn he had furrowed his eyebrows at your comment if dogs could do such a thing. You noticed then that the dog had startling silver-blue eyes. 

“Where are your people?” You asked, glad no one was around to see you conversing with a dog. He answered you by rolling over for belly rubs.

You scoffed out a laugh but acquiesced. “Fine, you can stay. But I came out here for peace and quiet, ‘kay?”

The dog seemed fine with that plan and let you read through two chapters of your book, only interrupting every paragraph or so for more pets. Eventually however, it grew too cold, and you decided to pack up.

Confirming your suspicions, the dog began to follow you towards the castle. You pretended like you hadn’t noticed or perhaps just didn’t care until you were near the greenhouses.

“For future reference, Black,” you said, turning to the dog who seemed to pause mid-step as you considered him. “I really am more of a cat person.” You smirked, turning to walk back to the castle alone.

“Here, let me get that for you.” James said, opening the door for you rather chivalrously in Sirius’ opinion.

“I’m not a delicate flower, Potter, I can open a door.” You muttered angrily, storming past him into the classroom.

James deflated a little as he followed you in, but perked up when Remus placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I thought that was very sweet of you, Jamie.” He placated.

James gave him a half smile in response. “Thanks Moons.”

“I mean, what are we supposed to do? What bird doesn’t like dogs!?” Sirius grumbled, opting to ignore James’ whining. 

“Don’t call her a bird, Sirius.” Remus chided.

“Probably didn’t help you’re a big ol’ mangy mutt.” James muttered petulantly.

“Oi!” Sirius called. “That’s not what you say when Padfoot snuggles you to sleep.” 

James had the good graces to turn a little red at that.

Their conversation was interrupted (quite rudely if you asked Sirius) by Professor McGonagall as she began the instructions for today’s Transfiguration lesson: turning buttons into butterflies. 

Sirius stole a concerned glance towards James to see Remus doing the same; they were horrified to see a mischievous look adorning their boyfriend’s face.

“Prongs...” Sirius warned, whilst Remus whispered a “remember what we talked about.”

But they both knew it was too late; there was no stopping him once James set his mind to something. 

Sirius is quite sure it was the fourth butterfly that did you in; you seemed to consider the first a fluke, the second was annoying, the third made you suspicious, but by the fourth you’d had enough.

With little to no warning you turned and lobbed a large hard-covered tome at the group.

“I don’t know which of you tossers are behind this, but it reeks of Potter. So help me gods I will gut you and string you up to the rafters from your intestines if you don’t leave me alone!” You screeched. 

“But how else will you know I’m crazy about you?” James pouted, causing you to groan exasperatedly.

“If you’re looking for some cutesy princess who will swoon at your sodding roses and butterflies, then you’ve got the wrong witch.” You spat.

Sirius smirked. “Oh, we have exactly the right witch.”

“I swear to Circe if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll sic Barty on you.” You threatened.

Sirius and James both scoffed whilst Remus smirked. 

“Please dollface, you insult me. I’m not afraid of Junior.” Sirius taunted.

You narrowed your eyes at him menacingly before realization dawned on you. “Fine.” You said simply, giving Sirius a distinct uneasy feeling. “Perhaps I’ll tell Regulus.”

Sirius slammed his fist on the table and leaned forward. “You wouldn’t.” He seethed.

You smirked deviously. “Just try me, Black.” You sneered in response. 

Did...did Sirius have a degradation kink?

Sirius was ashamed to admit that he had to take a very cold shower after that.

You had been sitting in the library trying to work on your Potions essay. You had felt fairly safe here seeing as the Gryffindor’s (at least the most problematic ones) had been sanctioned from using the library during quiet study hours on account of their typical foolishness.

Except one.

“Mind if I sit here?” Lupin’s lilting voice sounded from your right side before he sat down without waiting for your response. 

“Why bother asking if you were just going to sit anyways?” You grumbled. 

“Well, it was the polite thing to do.” He said, turning to face you. You held his gaze (his gaze, your glare) until he finally sighed. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

You considered him for a moment. You couldn’t deny he was the least buffoonish out of the so-called Marauders though you’re not sure that amounted to much.

But he was quieter, kinder, softer around the edges. And he had been far more polite to you than his boyfriends.

“Are you going to flirt with me?”

One of Remus’ eyebrows (the one with the scar running through it, you noticed) raised expectantly as he considered you.

“Let me rephrase that.” You barked quickly, realizing your mistake perhaps a touch too late. “You may sit here, but if you flirt with me, I will stab you with my quill.” You punctuated your threat by blotting his hand which rested on the table with ink from the tip of your quill.

Remus smiled at the sight before returning his amber coloured gaze to yours. “Fair enough. I promise to try to restrain myself, but perhaps you ought to hold onto this hand for me just in case I slip up.” And he – the absolute sodding bastard – slid his left hand comfortably into your right.

You’d never seen someone make a move so assertively and smoothly before. There was nothing to say that any of this even affected Remus as he immediately turned his attention to his book. Was it hot in here? Your hand felt sweaty. Your throat felt tight. Your mouth was dry. Why didn’t you think to bring a bottle of water?!

“Erm,” you started, having to pause to clear your throat. “Just how am I supposed to get my work done with your hand in mine, Lupin?”

You had tried to sound threatening, but based off Remus’ smirk, you’d only managed to goad him further.

“You’re left-handed. Figure it out.” 

These boys were going to be the death of you if you didn’t end up killing them first.

“You held her hand!?” James screeched in their dorm room that night whilst Remus smirked to himself. Sirius would make fun of James for his dramatics if he wasn’t just a pissed off about this.

“I’ve been working at this the longest out of either of you, and she lets you hold her hand?” He continued.

“She doesn’t like dogs,” Sirius grumbled, gesturing to himself, “she doesn’t like James. But the werewolf? Really. No offence Moons because I absolutely get the appeal.”

James snapped his fingers as he had a eureka moment. “I’ve got it! Remus; bite me!”

“James!” Remus scolded. 

“It’s not fair.” James muttered as he fell onto his bed in defeat. “I’d be so good to her.”

Any ire from Sirius and Remus drained at that as they both moved to join their boyfriend on his bed.

“We know, bubs.” Remus conceded. 

“We just...have to give her time. I’m sure she’ll come around, yeah? I mean, with Remus’ smooth moves, my undeniable charm, and your muscles? We’re unstoppable.” Sirius added, eliciting a smile from Remus and a gentle chuckle from James, though his usual light was diminished.

“We’ve just got to be patient, Jamie.” Remus concluded, causing James to groan.

“Patience.” He spat spitefully.

“A 'James ADHD Potter' special.” Sirius winked before kissing any further protests away from James’ lips.

“We’ve got Moony on our team now, bubs. We’re unstoppable.” He whispered, truly believing what he was saying.

If anyone could break through your hard candy-coating shell to reach the chocolate inside, it was certainly Remus Lupin.

You’d had the lovely idea of sitting outside on one of the few sunny days that Scotland got to see this time of year. Unfortunately, it seemed that everyone else had the same idea too.

A few Hufflepuffs were playing with a charmed muggle football, kicking it back and forth between the two of them and chasing after it when it opted to fuck off on its own. You didn’t understand the objective of the game, nor did you care to.

Remus and Peter Pettigrew sat on a bench not too far off playing a game of Wizarding Chess that, from where you were sitting, looked like Remus was winning.

You got so caught up in watching Lupin’s game with Pettigrew - in the way that the tendons in his wrist and hands flexed as he moved pieces across the board, and the way that his honey blonde curls fell in front of his eyes causing him to have to blow air upwards so he could see the board - that you noticed something flying at you far too late. 

“Look out!” One of the dumb Hufflepuff’s shouted far too late as their charmed football soared into the side of your head, knocking you clean over where your head cracked painfully against a root of the tree you were sitting under.

You scrunched your eyes tight and tried to will your heart to start beating again and your lungs to cooperate, every part of your body seeming to have tensed out of instinct to protect itself.

“L/N! L/N! Come on, dove, open your eyes.” You heard a voice above you.

Why was the voice so worried? How long were your eyes closed? A gentle hand grabbed your chin and wiggled your head back and forth, causing you to hiss in pain.

“Sod...off.” You gritted through your teeth.

The voice chuckled and wiggled your chin once more. “There she is. Open your eyes for me.”

You hated being told what to do but decided to comply anyways.

You probably should have kept your eyes close because the sight made you feel dizzy for a completely different reason.

Hovering above your frame was Remus Lupin; his knees on the ground beside your elbow, one hand gripping your chin and the other gently moving hair away from your face and head.

“Atta girl.” He said with a smile.

“Get away from me.” You grumbled as you moved to sit up. Though Lupin hissed in protest, he helped you sit up nonetheless. 

“Is...is she okay?” a timid voice spoke from somewhere behind Lupin’s shoulder causing his expression to darken considerably.

“You stupid wankers are so dead.” You spat as loudly as you could manage, though in your current state – that wasn’t very loud at all.

Your message was received loud and clear, however, as the two Hufflepuffs took off in fear.

“My sentiments exactly.” Lupin muttered as he turned back to you, jaw still tense.

You snorted indelicately as you brought a hand to your head. “Please, don’t tell me you actually care about me, Lupin.”

You hissed in pain as your hand came in contact with something warm and wet and slightly sticky. You pulled your hand back in front of you to inspect, only for Lupin to grab your hand rather harshly and wipe the blood away with a handkerchief.

“Is it so impossible to believe that we could actually care for you?” He muttered quietly, eyes focused on your hand, pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. You watched as his curls bounced with each wipe of his hand against yours. You thought of his gentle hands brushing hair away from your wound moments before. You thought of him begging you to open your eyes. You thought of him being the first one at your side when you were hurt.

And you thought about Black finding ways to be with you even when you staunchly refused his company. You thought of him taking time out of his day to tell you how ‘smoking hot’ you looked that day, even though he said it every day before that, too.

And you thought about Potter who always held the door for you, saved you a seat even though you never accepted it, showered you in affection even though it was public and quite embarrassing. And you thought of the way he always had a smile to give you, even when you gave him no reason to smile at all. 

It wasn’t hard to imagine the three of them caring for anyone, quite frankly. Caring seemed to come second nature to those boys.

“No.” You admitted quietly. “It’s not impossible to believe that you could actually care. It’s just impossible to imagine why.”

He stopped rubbing at your hand and met your eye, seemingly contemplating what to say.

“Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.” He opted for. “Pete, let the boys know where I’ve gone when they’re finished with practice?” Lupin called over his shoulder.

“I can walk myself, Lupin.” You grumbled as he helped you up by your elbow.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled back. “You’re not a delicate flower, we know.”

The two of you more or less muttered back and forth to each other the entire way to the infirmary, Lupin supporting more of your weight than he likely needed too but you didn’t feel the need (nor desire) to complain.

Madam Pomfrey was in the middle of looking after a first year Potions class who accidently set off an explosion of incorrectly brewed Cure for Boils which ultimately left each student (and Professor Slughorn) covered head to toe in painful boils.

“Mr. Lupin, if you could clean the wound for me. And Miss. L/N, drink the pain potion. Do not leave until I’ve had a chance to do a proper examination, okay?” She ordered as you positioned yourself more comfortably on the bed after she determined you weren’t about to die (or currently crying, as most of the first years were). 

You took the pain potion dutifully and placed it back on the table beside your bed before you startled at the sudden cold wet cloth on your head.

“You are not seriously doing this right now, are you?” You spat.

Remus’ eyebrows drew together as his hands continued on in their task. “You heard the matron; I’m supposed to clean it.”

“I can clean it myself, Lupin; I’ll conjure a mirror.” You argued, causing the scarred boy to scoff.

“I do what I’m told L/N, and quite frankly, the matron scares me more than you do.”

“I must be doing something wrong then.” You sighed, thinking you hadn’t said that loud enough to be heard, but a startled laugh escaped Lupin’s lips. 

“Why do you act so volatile?” He asked amusedly.

“It’s not an act.”

“I call bullshit.”

“Well, you call wrong, then, Lupin. I’m an arse and I find everyone exhausting. Deal with it.” You snarked sharply.

Lupin breathed a laugh through his nose. “Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime, then.”

Rotten bastard and his smooth talk...

“WHERE IS SHE!?” a voice echoed through the corridor just outside the entrance to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey needn’t even look up from the boil she was currently draining of puss to know who she was about to scold.

“Mr. Potter, I will have you banned from this infirmary so fast if you raise your voice above so much as a whisper, do not try me. That goes for you too, Mr. Black.” She barked; eyes still focused on the first year’s arm in front of her.

Sure enough, a mop of curly hair, impossibly more wild than usual due to the flight on his broom, poked around the privacy curtains a second before it was joined by a fuming looking Sirius Black.

Potter’s eyes flew to where Remus’ hands were positioned on your head and your stomach lurched at what looked like tears pooling in Potter’s eyes.

“Potter...please, erm, please don’t cry?” You asked awkwardly, leaning away from Remus’ touch as you suddenly became very uncomfortable with this amount of attention.

“She’s alright, Jamie.” Remus sighed, pulling you back over to him gently by the shoulder and continuing his prodding at your wound.

“Who did it?” Sirius spat, arms crossed defensively across his chest and jaw tight as he stared hard at the wound on your head. You were horrified to admit to yourself that he was hot. You’d never really seen it before, how all the girls in your year (and other years) fawned over the long-haired boy.

But he was currently standing in front of you still adorned in his quidditch gear, hair pulled back into a low bun - though he had many fly-aways on account of his recent time in the air - his cheeks still dusted pink from the assertion, and he was currently fuming on your behalf.

Yeah...he was hot. 

“Easy.” Remus warned.

“Answer me!” Sirius spat back.

“Pads. I mean it, leave it.” Remus said with finality.

Your eyes darted nervously between the two boys currently staring each other down, but Potter’s eyes were still steadfast on you.

“Let me, Rem.” He finally said gently – the most gently you’d ever heard from the rambunctious boy as he gently moved Remus aside and took over.

“I’m okay, you know.” You offered, not liking how worked up these boys were currently over you.

“I know.” He agreed. “I just hate to see you hurt.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why.” You pressed. James looked like you just asked him to calculate the distance between the galaxy of Andromeda and our solar system using the measurement of broomsticks.  

“I... I don’t want to see you hurt?”

“You want to see Snape hurt.” You countered, causing James’ face to harden.

“Snape’s a tosser.” He muttered darkly.

“I’m not any nicer than Snape.”

“See, Y/N. You’re so smart and lovely and perfect, but you are way off on that front.” James said through a laugh. “Snape is prejudiced, vindictive, and a racist blood supremist. You’re just combative.” He explained, punctuating the word combative with a gentle boop of your nose. 

You wanted to break his finger.

But that would be combative, and you would rather die than prove Potter right, so you opted to roll your eyes instead. 

“Did they even hang around to see if she fucking survived or did they just take off to avoid detention?” Sirius spat at Remus, not looking any calmer than he did when he arrived.

“They stayed.” You answered tiredly. “They took off afterwards, and not to avoid detention, but to avoid me.”

“And me.” Remus muttered quietly, looking dangerously close to going back out there to find them himself. 

“Did you threaten them?” Sirius asked severely, though you weren’t sure who exactly he had asked.

“Yes.” You and Lupin both answered exasperatedly. 

Sirius looked between the two of you before letting out a sigh. “Fine, but if I run into them, I’m hexing them into oblivion.”

“Not if I get to them first.” You growled.

Sirius’ face finally softened as he sat on the end of your bed and cautiously touched your ankle under the blankets.

“You sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

And you aren’t sure what did it. 

You weren’t sure if it was the softness you saw in Sirius that you were sure you could have never even imagined possible from a person, let alone someone related to the infamous Black family. Or if it was the eyebrows of Remus Lupin that were furrowed in concern as he dutifully watched his boyfriend finish plastering a bandage to your head, or if it was the unbelievable softness of James Potter’s touch – in complete contrast to his fast, rough, bouncing personality that you were usually subjected to.

But dammit, you felt a tear slip down your cheek.

You wiped it away quickly and nodded your head in yes.

You braced yourself for the teasing, the cooing, the dramatic displays of affection. But Sirius quickly stood and disappeared behind the curtains, James began pouring you a glass of water, and Remus reached into his bag for something.

Remus returned to you first, breaking off a square of chocolate for you. “It’ll help.”

You were too embarrassed to argue and took it, popping it into your mouth dutifully. 

“Here.” Sirius said as he appeared back at your bedside, handing you a vial. 

“What is it?” You asked, your voice taut with emotion.

Sirius’ eyes softened again as he offered you a sad smile. “Calming draught. You can’t have any more pain potion, but this might make you feel better.”

“And if not, maybe you can convince Moony to share more of his chocolate.” James commented with a soft smile.

You grimaced at the taste of the potion and chased it with the water James had poured for you.

“Thank you.” You admitted quietly, shame colouring your tone as you looked to your lap.

“None of that.” Remus said as he handed you another piece of chocolate.

You took it skeptically. “Why do they call you Moony?”

No one said anything for a moment, but you could tell that neither James nor Sirius were moving a muscle as they watched Remus who in turn watched you.

“Because of my lycanthropy.” He said plainly.

You looked at the various scars before you started to laugh. Sirius’ face drained of all colour while James visibly tensed.

“Of course you are. Remus Lupin. Named after a man raised by wolves and the lupus, or wolf constellation. Oh gods, it was predestined, clearly.”

“Are...are you laughing at me right now?” Remus asked incredulously.

“It’s a little funny...no?” You asked back.

He looked as if he were torn between laughing and crying. “I pour my heart out to you – my deepest darkest secret, and you laugh at me?” He asked again, some amusement colouring his features.

“I told you, I’m an arse.” You said with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Does it bother you?” Sirius asked cautiously from the end of your bed, face appearing impassive for all intents and purposes. 

“I don’t see why it should, it’s none of my business.”

“It could be.” Remus input.

“You don’t want me. I’m no good, Lupin.” You stressed, looking back down at your hands.

“Neither am I.” Sirius agreed.

“Me neither.” Remus added.

“I’m n-” James started.

“So what if the only one of us worthy of love and affection here is James?” Sirius said, cutting James off. “It’s not going to stop me from cherishing what I can get - deserved or not.”

You groaned and threw your head back onto the pillow, cringing at the effect the fast movement had on you and the pain that the movement elicited in your neck.

“Okay, what about this.” James conciliated. “You don’t have to agree to be with us, just give us a chance? The time of day? One Hogsmeade trip to let us fawn over you.”

You looked up at his deep brown eyes that felt so warm you wanted to make a home in them. Sirius, in all his bravado, looked pained as he waited for an answer, and Remus smiled encouragingly at you.

“Fine!” You acquiesced with a groan. “One Hogsmeade trip.”

Much to your chagrin, though not really at all, it ended up being way more than just one Hogsmeade trip.

Thank you to @unstablereader who gave us the library handholding prompt 🫶

[mavsstar]

𝑀𝑦 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑎

Summary ︱Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much.

Pairings︱Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Innocent!Fem!Reader, Robert Pronge x Innocent!Fem!Reader

W.C︱4k

Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, Trailer Park AU, it's pretty tame for right now, pet names (Sweet Pea),cursing, reader is scared of Pronge, masturbation (m!) and I think that is all the warnings. Let me know if I missed any!

Author's note︱I am very excited for this series :) This is set around the 90s just because I feel like it fits better with the idea I have going on in my head. It has been awhile since I've written anything so I'm hoping it's not too terrible. I hope you will enjoy this! Feedback is appreciated! Follow my side blog and turn on post notifications :D

“Did you see Mr. Levinson today?” your Mother’s friend, Valerie, asked while wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Nope,” you instantly responded. “Have you?” 

“Already got my dose of that sexy man.” She smirked while winking at you. 

Ari Levinson towered everyone he’s ever met. He stood at a proud 6'6. It was hard to miss the luscious brown locks that fell over his face and the cerulean blue eyes that you could never find your way out of. His beard adorned his jaw and hid the pump rose colored lips he held.

Even when he was doused in motor oil and dirt he was still a beautiful man. He was your neighbor and very well known at the trailer park. Ari was a woman’s walking wet dream come to life. 

“He’s already up?” you asked as your eyes bulged out of your head. “It’s like 6 in the morning.” 

“Of course he’s up, he’s having his morning coffee.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Only you would know that stalker.”

“It’s not stalking Y/N, it's called being an astute observer,” she retorted. “That’s besides the point, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?” 

“I should be but…” you started to answer, looking out the window cautiously, “I have a feeling you know who is outside.”

“If you don’t leave now you’ll be late for work which by the way is in 20 minutes,” she reminded you, pointing towards the clock. 

“Please don’t remind me.” You internally groaned as you threw your head back and rubbed your eyes. 

After a few moments you finally decided to lift yourself from the couch and head your way out. Goosebumps arose on your arms as you opened the front door. You hated this kind of weather, you couldn’t be without a sweater in the morning but by 3pm you’d be sweating like a dog. You shrugged on your brother's jacket, not bothering to zip it up and closed the front door.

Just as you predicted, the person you dreaded seeing most was standing right outside, Mr. Pronge. 

Robert Pronge was your neighbor and lived right across from you. Ever since you moved in he formed the bad habit of staring at you and hitting on you like there’s no tomorrow. From what you heard he was a sick sadistic bastard who liked to torture girls with pleasure. He’s had many lovers enter the trailer but seemingly none of them come back.  

You didn’t like the way he makes you feel. It felt like a hungry lion stalking its predator, ready to pounce at any moment’s notice. At the same time you couldn’t help but feel hot. Everytime he was near you, your heart raced from the fear and you felt a pulse in between your legs. 

“Morning Princess!” Mr. Pronge called out from his front lawn.

“Good morning Mr. Pronge!” You greeted back but only to be polite. You tried to avoid looking too much at him and instead looked towards the ground. 

You heard shoes beating against the ground and you prayed with all your heart that it was someone else running. Luck was not on your side that morning. When you looked up it was the one and only Mr. Pronge. 

“Where are you going Princess?” he asked. His breath was minty fresh even though his appearance would say otherwise. 

“To work,” you bluntly replied, trying to open your car door. 

“Aw Princess, don’t be like that,” he cooed. Once you did get your car door open, he immediately slammed it closed, almost smashing your finger in the process. “I’ll give you a ride. Come on, let's go.” 

“I appreciate the offer Mr. Pronge but I can take myself,” you insisted while attempting to reopen your car door. 

“Princess…” he warningly said.

Mr. Pronge didn’t like it when people told him no. The word no did not exist in his world. 

“I said I’ll give you a ride.” 

“Leave her alone Robert!” Ari yelled from his porch, causing the both of you to turn around. “She’s probably late for work!” 

Mr. Pronge sighed as he stepped back in defeat. “I’ll take you next time Princess.” 

You internally groaned at his comment. He could never leave you alone. Every morning he would play this game with you. On the bright side, you were one of the very few people allowed to tell him no and get away with it. 

“Thank you Mr. Levinson!” you yelled as you got in the car. 

“Anytime!” Ari walked over to Robert after you drove off. Though his eyes never peeled off from you the entire time. 

“You’re always in my way,” Robert playfully commented. 

Ari chuckled at the jab. Ari always had to save you from him every morning without fail. “Rob, how many times have I told you to leave the poor girl alone?” He asked as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips. 

“I will never leave her alone,” he answered with a proud smirk. “Not until I make her mine.” 

“Oh please! You’re old!” Ari jabbed at him. “She’s going to want a hot 20 year old guy not some 40 year old.” 

“Her father was not present in her life.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Ari asked, confused at Robert’s statement.

“The girl has major daddy issues, Ari,” Robert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All I gotta do is caress her a bit, say sweet nothings in her ear and bam! She will fall in love with me.”

“Do that and she will call the cops on you.” 

“I’d like to see her try,” Robert remarked as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Besides, why do you care?” 

“Because her mother is really starting to get concerned and-” 

“Oh that's why you’re concerned!” Robert hooted. “You want to fuck the mom!” 

“I do not want to have sex with her mom,” Ari declared with a serious tone. “The woman is stressed enough and I feel bad for her and I feel bad for the girl. I see her peek her head out of the door every morning to avoid you.” 

“Ari?” 

“Yes Rob?” 

“Mind your business.” 

The following morning was the same dreadful routine. You were trying to stall, not wanting to face Mr. Pronge though you knew he would be there. He always was. Even when you would try to leave at an earlier time. It’s like he would sleep there and wait for you. 

 Your mother shoved your car keys in your hand. “Sweetie, you need to go now before you’re late.”

“But what if he’s out there?” you asked with a slight hint of fear. 

“Is he still bothering you?!” she questioned, her overprotectiveness coming out. “I’ve had enough, I’m going out there.” 

“No! No! No!” you instantly said, jolting your hands out to stop her from taking another step. “Please don’t say anything. Mom please!” 

Your pleads were granted. She stayed still as she squinted at the window, sending a silent threat to Mr. Pronge.

“Fine,” she said. “But If I hear or even get the feeling, I’m going to rip his nutsack and his stupid smirk off of him.” 

“Wow,” you said with your eyes bulging out in shock.

“Sweetie, you’re too nice and a little bit–how can I put this?” she sarcastically questioned herself as she tilted her head to the side. “Oh yeah, you’re naive.” 

“I am not naive,” you muttered under your breath, offended. 

“Yes you are,” she said as she was walking out of the living room. “Now go to work!” 

You grabbed your bag from the couch and swung it over your shoulder. Your hand went on the doorknob, turning it to open the door. You peek your head out to see if you’re one and only was out there waiting for you. 

“He’s not there Sweet Pea!” Ari exclaimed. “You’re safe, you can come out!” 

“Thanks!” you yelled from the door, fully stepping out. You confidently walked over to your car, happy Mr. Pronge wasn’t outside to terrorize you. Your happiness was soon cut off when you saw a complete flat tire. 

“Dang it!” you cursed to yourself. You peered down at your watch, it was 6:41 A.M. You were trying to calculate how much time it would take to go on the bus and you heard the dreadful sound of boots hitting the road. 

“Oh no,” you internally whined. 

“Got a flat, Princess?” Mr. Pronge sarcastically asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Ari quickly stepped in. “Robert no.” You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. You looked at Ari in shock and sent a cry for help at the same time. “Leave her alone.” 

“She needs a ride, I’m giving her a ride. What is the problem?” he challenged, taking a step closer to him. 

“You’re not taking her.” 

Robert straightened his back and puffed his chest out. “And why not?” 

“Because I’m taking her. She was just getting something from her car.” Ari grabbed your bag from your hand and placed his hand on your lower back. “Lets go Sweet Pea,” he said as he guided you to his car, opening the door for you and handing you back your bag. 

Robert stood in shock. Ari was taking you. And you let him. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed, he was just wondering how he did it. That lucky bastard. 

The inside of his truck was bigger than you ever imagined. It was dirty and there were oil stains everywhere you looked. Wrenches were scattered across the floor along with bolts and lug nuts. The only thing that was almost impeccable was the air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror but there were five oil stained fingerprints on it.

“Thank you for the ride Mr. Levinson, you didn’t have to take me. I could've taken the bus.” 

“Don’t even mention it Sweet Pea,” Ari said. “Plus I don’t think you wanted to ride with Rob now did you?” 

“No,” you answered as you shook your head. “He scares me.” 

“He scares you?” Ari repeated, barely shocked. 

“Mhm,” you confirmed with a small hum. “He’s really big and mean. Everyone says he’s the nicest to me and if that’s true I don’t want to see him when he’s mad.” 

“It’s true, he’s the nicest to you.” Ari found it weird when Robert wouldn’t constantly yell at you like he did with other people but he can see why. You’re the sweetest thing ever.

“Is that all?” 

“Mr. Pronge used to bring women and–and they would come out screaming and crying. It frightened me.” 

Robert used to bring women over all the time. They wouldn’t last for too long. They would run out of the house screaming all kinds of profanities after 3 weeks. You’ll never forget the moment a woman came to your house and asked if you had anything sharp. You gave her one of the knives from the kitchen. 5 minutes later the word asshole was embedded on the side of his car in big, bold letters. 

You’ll also never forget the time another woman came to your trailer. She screamed while she banged on the door like a madman. When you opened the door she had red hand prints on her body and a barely carved ‘R’ on her exposed hip. She asked you to hide her because he was coming. Sure enough a minute later Mr. Pronge came, demanding you to show him where she was hiding. Luckily your brother was there to kick him out.

He could see why you were scared. Hell even that scared him a couple of times. For some reason Ari didn’t like the thought of you being scared. Hell, he could barely deal with the fact how uncomfortable Mr. Pronge made you. 

When you approached the building Ari parked the car and exited out, lightly jogging over to your side and opening your door for you. He held out his hand to you to help you out of the truck, your hand delicately gripped his and he could feel the rush of dopamine releasing in his body. 

“Thank you again Mr. Levinson!” you beamed with a bright smile. You raised yourself on your tippy toes and slightly bounced to place a thank you kiss on his cheek. 

An unexplainable warmth rushed through him. The action was short and sweet but it made him feel weak in the knees. He would get cheek kisses from women quite a lot but it never felt like this. 

“Anytime Sweet Pea.” He felt himself staring at your eyes for a little bit too long. He forced himself to look anywhere else for a brief second, making sure you didn’t grow uncomfortable. “What time do you want me to pick you up?” 

“Oh it’s okay Mr. Levinson, I can take the bus or have my brother pick me up.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked you again. 

You nodded your head. “Thank you again! You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Don’t even mention it,” he waves off. 

You muttered a small goodbye to Mr. Levinson before taking off into the diner. He watched you go in with a small smile on his face.

 Even though this was your first real interaction, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of you. You were the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. The whole way back he thought of you. You were like a deadly plague in his mind. A beautiful, rose scented, warm plague. 

Luckily your brother was able to pick you up after he got off of work. The next bus was going to come within another hour. When your brother picked you up, he was agitated. 

“What happened to your tire?” your older brother asked, not amused at all.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I went outside this morning and it had a flat.” 

“I helped Mr. Levinson changed the tire, it had 4 nails,” he said in a matter of fact one. “4.” he repeated as he held four fingers in the air. 

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized. 

“You need to pay more attention where you’re driving.”  

“I didn’t mean to drive over the nails. There weren’t even any when I drove yesterday!” you protested. “I only drove to the library which is 2 minutes away.” 

“So they magically appeared?” he sarcastically asked. “Just pay attention please.” 

“I will.” 

“You left your bus pass on the table this morning. How did you get to work? ” he questioned you. “Mr. Pronge didn’t take you, did he?” He turned to glance at you with a worried look. 

“No, Mr. Levinson did,” you told your brother.

“Did you make it on time?” He quickly glanced at you again, “because you are horrible at giving directions.” 

“Hey!” you barked at him. “I am not horrible at giving directions.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“Well lucky for me I didn’t even have to tell him, he already knew where to go,” you responded, “sure did save me the hassle.” 

“Did you thank him?” 

“Of course I did, I’m not rude,” you responded, half hurt he would think that of you. 

The rest of the ride was short but your brother took the remaining 4 minute drive to lecture you once again to pay attention. You tried to zone him out but he would snap at you, telling you to listen. You knew he did it to annoy you, it was simply too easy to annoy you. 

When you arrived at home, you jumped out of the car to look at the tire. Sure you had no idea what you were even looking at but it never hurt. You bent down to look at it and you noticed one thing. It wasn’t patched up like before. It was brand new. 

“Are you coming in?” your brother asked you. 

You turned to look at him. “Yeah, I just have to do something really quick.” 

“Don’t take too long, I’ll be done cooking in 10 minutes.” 

“I promise,” you told him before he went inside. 

You took out a sticky note, a pen and 50 dollars that took you 4 days to earn. You used the hood of your car as a desk and wrote a sweet but short thank you on the sticky note. Afterwards you walked over to his house and placed it under the surprisingly alive flower pot he had on his front porch. 

The both of you didn’t see each other for almost 2 days. You got overwhelmed with work that you barely were in the house. It wasn’t until Ari caught you late at the laundromat. 

“Sweet Pea?”

You turned around at the sound of your name. “Oh hi Mr. Levinson,” you greeted him with a huge smile. 

“What are you doing here so late?” he asked you though he could barely pay any attention to you at the moment. You wore a thin pastel pink cardigan with a pearly white nightgown that had a bow at the valley of your breasts.

“I forgot to do my laundry this morning and I didn’t have time so I came here after work,” you told him. 

“Isn’t it a little late to be working?” he questioned you. 

“I’ve been picking up other shifts at work,” you said, “it doesn’t help having the extra money.” 

“Speaking of money,” he began to say as he took out the fifty you gave him from his front pocket of his flannel, “you left this on my porch.” 

“Yeah it’s for you,” you innocently said, “I noticed the tire is brand new and I’m 90% sure my brother forgot to pay you.” 

“It’s your money, I’m not taking it. Here.” He passed the money back to you but you refused. 

“Keep it, you changed my tire and I’m paying you for your service.” 

“I really can’t—” 

“Please,” you begged him with puppy eyes. 

You pulled at his heartstrings. It agonized him, he didn’t want to take your money but he also didn’t want to make you sad. But he kept it anyway and stuffed it back into the front pocket of his flannel. 

“What are you doing here so late?” you asked him as you bent down and took out your now dry clothes. 

His eyes peered down for a quick second and he saw the nightgown riding up, revealing your baby blue panties. His throat went dry and he fought hard to keep his gaze up but it found itself looking back down. 

“I–I realized I forgot to wash my work clothes.” 

“I hate when that happens.” You came back up after you pulled out the last piece of clothing. “Then I’m stuck getting yelled at by the manager when I come in with the wrong clothes.” 

Ari chuckled to avoid an awkward silence. Really it was to refrain himself from stuttering or making a fool out of himself. In his head he wanted to compliment you and how pretty your nightgown was but the words wouldn’t leave the tip of his tongue. 

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You look pretty in your nightgown,” he quickly muttered out. 

Your eyes lit up at his compliment. “Thank you Mr. Levinson. It’s pretty but I don’t think I’ll keep it.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“It always rides up and by morning it’s all the way up here,” you pointed to your upper stomach.

Oh what he would give to be a fly in the room in the morning. He quickly changed the conversation, it was obvious you were too oblivious to what you were doing to him. Your sweet voice and innocence were driving him insane but he loved it, he secretly wanted more. 

The both of you left the laundromat 40 minutes later. He insisted on carrying your basket for you. You both walked side by side. You were busy trying to keep up with him while he was busy looking down at your breasts. 

“Thank you for carrying my basket Mr. Levinson,” you thanked him as you took your basket from him when you got to your front porch.

“Anytime Sweet Pea.”

You kissed his cheek once again to seal your thank you. “Sweet dreams Mr. Levinson.”

“Sweet dreams honey,” he repeated to you. 

Ari was in a rush to get back to his trailer but a dear beloved friend was waiting for him. 

“Well would you look at that?” Robert sarcastically asked him. “She gave you a kiss on the cheek.” 

“Not now Robert,” Ari pleaded, dying to get back into his place. 

“What’s the big rush to get back home?” Robert crossed his arms as he smirked, “I see you’re sporting a hard on. Surely it can’t be because of her. Right?” 

“Oh shut your trap.” 

“It is, isn't it?!” he gawked. 

“No it’s not!” Ari protested. 

“Oh really?” Robert Challenged as he squinted his eyes.

“I was about to get lucky with Kim before she came into the laundromat and interrupted us,” Ari quickly lied. 

“So you waited for her to be done then walked her back?” Robert questioned Ari. 

“Of course I did,” he scoffed, “otherwise she would’ve ran into you. Not to mention she’s terrified of you, fuckin’ creep.” 

“Whatever. She wants me, I know it,” Robert boasted. 

“Yeah in jail.” 

Robert rolled his eyes and walked back to his trailer while Ari walked back into his. He immediately locked the door behind him and dropped the basket on the floor. 

“Oh thank god,” Ari hissed as he unzipped his painfully tight pants. 

His cock was rock hard and had been for the past 20 minutes. The pants barely gave him any friction and if anything, made it worse. He palmed himself through his boxers and moaned in relief. 

All he can think about is you in the short nightgown and how he’s never been this hard before. Sure he’s been turned on but it was nothing compared to this. It was like he was a horny spazzy teenager all over again. 

He freed his cock from his boxers and sharply inhaled at the impact of the cold air. The tip of his cock was bright red and oozing with precum. He used his thumb to spread his precum and use it as lube.  

His eyes screwed shut in bliss when he began pumping up and down. He tried to think of the porn he watched three days ago but instead you kept popping up. He imagined you being here with him, helping him out. 

“Does that hurt?” you ask him as you point to his angry, leaking cock. 

“It does Sweet Pea,” he rasped out. 

“Was it because of me?” you innocently ask him as you bat your lashes. 

“Yes,” he admits. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologize to him. “Let me help you,” you tell him as you take his cock into your tiny, warm hand. 

“Oh Sweet Pea,” he moans out. 

“You’re s-so bi-big,” you sputter out, slowly pumping him up and down. “Does that feel better?”

He doesn’t have the strength to talk so instead he nods eagerly. “G-Go a little bit faster.”

You obey him and start pumping faster. His moans fill the room as he gets lost in the pleasure you’re giving him. Your hand is cramping but you don’t care, anything to make him feel good. 

“Sweet Pea, I-I’m about to cum,” he warns you. 

You get down on your knees while you still pump him. “Let it all go,” you seductively say as you open your mouth. 

Ari was brought back to reality when his high overtook him and he orgasmed. It was so intense his thighs started to shake. He continued pumping and pumping until he got too sensitive he had to stop.

He stood there with his cum dripping down his hand and secretly wishing you were there to help clean it all up. The realization had hit him hard, he needed you.

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming | Part 2

Summary: After accepting the mating bond, you and Azriel explore some missed opportunities. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

A/N: Thank you for the love on All My Dreaming!!! Not to be horny on main but I couldn’t stop writing for this story, here’s ~8k more words of extremely sweet and very nasty Azriel. I really wanted to write a fun scene with Mor and the gang Rita’s but couldn’t find a place for it in the first part, so y’all are getting it here. There is like, so very little plot here, I just wanted to write a few more scenes and give some additional backstory on these two because I think they’re cute. Also, I love writing little vignettes for this storyline so I might post a few more, much smaller (lol) snippets of them as an epilogue! 

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

WC: 8.4k (i have no self control)

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, cunnilingus, face sitting, more love declarations, Cassian being a lil flirty in flashbacks, soft dom!Az, little hints at jealous!Az, the slightest amount of angst, talk of previous abuse (but nothing too descriptive) and slight breeding kink because Az has one (I feel this in my bones). Azriel is down astronomically bad for the reader in this one y’all. The last 2.7k is literally just porn lol 

Part 1

True to his word, Azriel kept you in the meadow until dawn. The sun beginning to paint the night-sky with sepia hued pinks and oranges. You’d long since finished the wine, eaten half the bread, and most of the fruit and cheeses. He laid against the quilt, wings spread magnificently as you laid against him, thigh over his abdomen, head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing idly at the tattoo inking his chest. He hummed contentedly, and you ventured your eyes up his, finding his gaze already on you.

“Can I ask you something?” You tested the waters of this new thing; bond, love, cocoon that enveloped you. “Anything,” he smiled. “When did you know?” You asked softly. He furrowed his brow. “That I loved you?” He asked and you nodded, turning your upper half to rest your chin on the hand that had stilled against his chest. He laughed. Mother above, he laughed so warmly that it made your eyes crinkle and lips spread into a grin from the sound alone. 

“You’re going to hate this,” he said as a preface, smiling, dimples appearing as he looked to you, “but it was a few weeks after you joined us, and Cassian mouthed off at you about being late to training.” You raised a brow. “You fell in love with me, while I was being…….degraded?” You asked, a little deadpan. “No,” he shook his head in correction, still chuckling. “It was what you did after.”

Cassian kept a strict training schedule. He trained in the early hours of the morning on the balcony at the House of Wind, ate breakfast, then moved to outdoor weapons and flight training off the banks of the Sidra until the early afternoon. He was strenuous and strict in his routine, as was Azriel. You’d begun training with them the week before, and if you were totally honest, you weren’t fully comfortable with the two brothers yet. Cassian was rough around the edges, brutish, with a mouth that often got him into trouble. Azriel was quiet, observant in a way that unnerved you. You’d caught his eyes following you often and you hated the warmth that pressed into your cheeks when he did. 

Rhysand had warned them to give you time to adjust. You’d been brutally attacked by Beron’s dogs only a few months ago and forced to live in the wilds for nearly six weeks, eating foraged fauna and what game you could kill with a makeshift spear you’d carved using sharpened obsidian and a walnut branch. Your body grew weary in those weeks; endless fear, starvation, and sleepless would do that. You were still a jittery little thing, like a wild animal, jumpy when Amren or Mor managed to sneak up on you by accident. 

Azriel recognized these symptoms and allowed you a leniency he didn’t normally offer his trainees, but trauma, physical and mental, took a toll on the body as he well knew. He’d gifted you a golden hilted dagger on your second week with them and asked if you knew how to use it. You held it in your palm, noting the blue stone that sat in the bolster and double edged blade that you could see your reflection in. You looked a little gaunt, but your cheeks held color again, your lips were fuller, no longer dry and chapped from mountain winds and cold nights. 

“I know how to use a blade Shadowsinger,” you said in an even tone. You didn’t call him by his name then. You also called Cassian ‘General’ to his face, and ‘asshole’ behind his back. “Most females learn to use them,” you followed up, “out of necessity.” Azriel hated to dwell on those words, hated to think about what you’d gone through before Beron, what your father had done. He nodded once, and placed a sheath and belt down on the table next to you before taking his leave. 

You’d awoken late for training that day, the sun had rose to a bright position in the mid-morning sky and you knew you’d never hear the end of it from Cassian. You dressed slowly into your training leathers, belting your dagger around your hips and took a deep breath. You walked to the balcony, noticing the males absence and winnowed to the training grounds at the Sidra. Cassian’s eyes found yours immediately and he sheathed his broadsword, turning to look at you. Azriel was perched on a fallen tree stump nearby, and his eyes traced your face, noting the darkened circles there. He’d heard you screaming in your sleep last night and his heart ached at the sound, his shadows slinking off to find you. 

“So you didn’t forget,” Cassian said, muscular arms crossing over his chest. “Tell me something, little girl, do you even want to be here?” He stressed the word want in his sentence in a way that had both you and Azriel narrowing your eyes. “This is the third day this week that you’ve been late to training, and the second that you’ve missed morning warm ups altogether.” He huffed a disbelieving laugh, “I’m beginning to think Rhys was wrong about you.” Azriel went still and he felt a bit of rage creep up his spine at his brother’s harshness. 

In the blink of an eye, you’d unsheathed your dagger and thrown it at the Illyrian general. It whizzed past his head, nicking his cheek, and landed in the training dummy behind him. “Fuck you,” you’d growled teeth bared, as you shifted a stance that begged for a fight. Cassian turned and pulled the knife from the dummy’s eye socket, before throwing in the dirt at your feet. “A little to the left next time you try to kill me,” he smirked. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have missed, asshole,” you said as you fixed him with a glare and your jaw ticked in anger. Cassian’s face broke into a shit eating grin and he laughed, which made you sneer with frustration.

“Good to see you’re still alive in there,” he said smiling, “I was hoping we’d see that spark.�� Your anger dissolved as fast as it built up. You reached down to pick your dagger from the dirt and sheathed it at your waist. “Seriously, Cassian, fuck you,” you said and grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows before stalking off to train alone. Cassian sighed and went to follow you but Azriel rose to feet to stop him, stepping into his path. “Let her calm down,” he suggested, placing a hand to his brother’s arm. Cassian sighed. He knew he was being rough with you, but it the only thing left he could think to do. “We’ve tried nice, brother. Tough love worked on Amren, maybe it’ll work on her too,” Cassian spoke softly before trotting after you. 

A few paces off you’d begun firing arrows into a target carved in the bark of an elm tree, teeth grinding. Cassian was right in his intent though, you had to get out of your own head if you were to move forward. You pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocking it on the bowstring and pulling it back until the bow met the pile at the tip. You heard him coming before you saw him.

“Listen, I’m just—” you heard Cassian’s voice and turned then, aiming and firing in his direction. The arrow flew through the air towards the General. The feathered fletching caught the bun at the top of his head, pulling hairs loose, before the tip burrowed into the tree behind him with an echoing noise.

“Mother above, you could’ve killed me!” The General shouted, face blanched. Azriel’s lip quirked up and he looked to you again, you were smiling, closed mouth but smiling, and he felt his heart grow warm at the sight. “I told you, asshole, I don’t fucking miss when I’m aiming to kill.” 

You laughed aloud, cheeks warm as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest. “I’ll go around threatening Cassian more often if it gets me a mate in the end.” The male at your side chuckled warmly and his hand found yours on his sternum. “He still talks about it, you know?” He offered with a shake of his head. “It was precisely the kind of thing Nesta would’ve done too.” 

You smiled back. “Good to know you Illyrians have a type.” He looked to you then and he smiled, eyes tracing your lips, nose, lashes, and the Winter white hair haloing your face. “Not a type, just blessings from the Mother,” he murmured softly. His hand trailed up your arm and pushing your hair off your shoulder and down your back. You blushed, warmth blooming on your chest and running up your neck to your face, painting your skin pink. 

 “Gods, who knew you had such a silver tongue,” you said chastising, looking to where his fingers played with yours as they rested on his chest. “You used to be so quiet,” you added, letting a small laugh escape you. Azriel shrugged and pushed up on an elbow as his hand left yours to run up your arm and cup your cheek. “Good to know you’re still thinking about my tongue,” he whispered before kissing you for the millionth time that night. 

It was mid-morning when Azriel ported you both to the River House. It was surprisingly empty, and you made your way to the kitchen to seek out food, still in the dress from the night before, though it was now wrinkled on your body. Rhysand had stocked the kitchen it would seem, as you found an array of fruits, vegetables, and meats in the cold storage there. 

“I guess Rhys was serious about quarantining us here,” you laughed before looking over your shoulder to find your mate, leaned against the counter, watching you with warmth. “If I cook for you again, are you going to ravish me?” You asked jokingly, pulling a knife from the block to begin prepping carrots for a quick stew.

He pressed forward then, coming behind you to push you into the marble, bringing his lips your shoulder and his hands to your belly. “I plan on ravishing you either way,” he said, lips tracing to the hollow below your ear, a spot that made you whimper as he’d found out the night before and catalogued in his head. You pressed your hips back against his, loving the feel of his body against your own.

 “Very interested in that, though I think it’ll be easier on a full stomach, so maybe go bathe while I cook,” you said, turning your head and nudging your nose into his own. He laughed again and the noise set your heart to skittering. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to having him like this, so free and warm.

You’d seen Azriel in every form. The warrior that fought with skilled precision, teeth bared as he cut down his adversaries; the Spymaster that tortured, maimed, and killed Night Court threats; the brother that took his friend’s teasing in stride, lips quirking silently as he shook his head. You’d never had him like this though, laughing and full of affection, touching and grasping so freely.

His hand found your chin and you knew he’d heard your thoughts again from the look in his eyes. His fingers stroked up your jawline, fingers pushing hair behind your ear. “There is no one in this realm, on this continent, male or female, that has as much of me as you do on any given day,” he whispered before he pushed away to stroll out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You let a shaky breath go from your chest. He was trouble. 

Later, after you’d both bathed and eaten until your bellies were full, you sat at the dining room table, sipping a glass of wine. “You asked me this morning when I knew,” he started, setting down his wine glass as his index finger began tracing circles into red table cloth next to it. “When did you know?” You laughed and took another sip of wine, you’d need it to keep up with him. “Mine’s not as violent,” you fixed him with a pointed look and he smirked.

You took a deep breath, “it was several months later, at Rita’s.” He laughed warmly in disbelief. “What?” Surely you weren’t serious? “What in the Cauldron could’ve happened at Rita’s to make you fall in love with me?” His eyes were twinkling under the fae lights. 

Mor had begged you to go and you’d told her no at least thirteen times. You’d grown fond of the blonde as had she with you. She’d helped you immensely in your first months with the Night Court. She knew what it was to be hollowed out by trauma, particularly trauma that extended from those in the Autumn Court. She also knew bad fathers. You were grateful to her and you’d opened to her in a way you’d hadn’t yet with anyone else in Rhys’ Inner Circle. 

“Please?” She tried again, “We can go into the city and get you a dress, I’ll even pay for it!” You rolled your eyes, “You won’t give up until I agree, huh?” She’d laughed then. Her laugh was the kind of full bodied female laugh you hoped you’d get back some day. “You already know me so well, Little One.” She nudged your shoulder, before patting your cheek and leaving you alone to dress for the day ahead.

Little One had started a few months prior when you poked fun at Cassian during a dinner. You’d been ready to maul the General in your first weeks, but you’d settled into a peaceful truce. He’d been talking loudly about the female he’d been with the night prior, all bravado and innuendo. “Amazing you were able to land her at all with that ego,” you’d muttered taking a sip of your wine. Amren sat across from you and her lips quirked as she looked your way in silent agreement. She and Cassian were also at odds often. Cassian slid his eyes to you and they narrowed as you feigned innocence, setting your glass down and looking to your nails. “Did you just mock me, Little One?” He asked, head tilting as he watched you pick at a cuticle. 

You met his eyes and raised a brow. “Tell me Cassian, is what they say about Illyrian wingspans true?” You said, eyes glancing to Rhysand and Azriel, both looking thrilled at this development. “Cause as I see it, you look to be outmatched.” The room went quiet before Cassian bellowed a loud laugh, bringing a hand to his chest. “Cauldron save us, she’s got jokes,” he snickered and your lips curved into a smile. He turned to you then, lips smirking. “For the record, it’s not the wingspan that matters, it’s how you use it.” His rebuttal caused you to let out a breathless laugh as you picked up your wine and rolled your eyes. 

Mor had dragged you into the shopping district of Velaris to find an appropriate dress. The first store was a bust, and the second was looking to be the same. “Come on, Little One, there has to be one you’re interested in!” She’d said, voice going a little whiny on the tail end of the sentence. You’d scanned the boutique again, and noticed a dress hanging in the far back corner that was looked like threaded starlight. “That one,” you pointed and her eyes slid to it before her lips broke into a knowing grin. “You go to the dressing room and I’ll grab it,” she offered and you’d nodded, wanting this to be over as soon as possible. 

She’d brought you the dress and you shut the curtain in her face as she laughed. You’d undressed slowly, eyes scanning skin as it appeared. Your eyes zoomed in on the heavy scarring at your legs, Gods you hated those markings. Once the dress slid on, you pulled up the zipper at the side and adjusted the bust line.

You loosed a loud breath, it was…. generous in the amount of skin it showed and the style screamed Night Court. You turned and realized the back went down to your bottom, showcasing the two dimples at the small of your back. The slit at the side came all the way to your hip. ‘Cauldron, this isn’t a dress, this is a scrap of fabric,’ you’d thought. 

You turned and opened the curtain stepping out to find Mor looking at you with an open mouth.  “Are you sure you aren’t into females?” She’d asked. “Because I’d love to keep you to myself tonight.” You’d blushed and laughed heartily. “Is it good?” You asked cautiously, turning in a circle. “Good? Little One, the males will be on their knees,” she said eyes twinkling with mischief. 

You’d bought the dress despite the insecurities and gone home the House of Wind to get dressed. Mor had sent Nuala and Cerridwen to you to help with your hair and make up and you’d thanked them profusely.

As the moon rose for the night, you stood in your quarters staring at the mirror on the wall opposite your bed. You had looked lively again, your cheeks were fuller and the hollows under your eyes were less bruised than they had been months prior. You sat on a bench at the foot of your bed and started to pull on your heels, a leg shining through the slit of the dress. 

Once you’d buckled the strap your shoes, you stood, a little wobbly. It’d nearly a year since you’d worn heels and the last time you had, you were set to be engaged to the Autumn Court princeling. You refused to dwell on that and moved toward the door, opening it and stepping into the hall.

Cassian was exiting of his room as you were shutting your door and your eyes met down the corridor. He let out a wolf whistle and began walking your way. “Well, well, well,” he started and you braced for his comment, “don’t you look pretty enough to eat.” You grimaced and looked at him before scoffing, “pig.” His laughter made your lips curve into a smile. 

You strolled down the steps to find Rhysand and Azriel waiting there. Rhysand looked to you and smiled warmly, “You clean up nice, Little One.” Azriel’s eyes found yours next and his jaw dropped, then shut quickly, muscle ticking. A gloved hand at his side set into a fist and he could hear the knuckles crack. “I think she’ll be fighting the males off tonight,” Mor piped, appearing next to you, “wouldn’t you lot agree?” 

Rhysand and Cassian hummed their agreements but Azriel’s eyes couldn’t look away from your form. The dress draped your body like liquid starlight, the slit at your hip had his fists clenching at the desire to touch. Mor walked you past the males and he caught glimpse of your exposed back and something primal reared its head shouting at him to grasp, lick, bite until you were covered in his marks. Cassian flanked the Shadowsinger and whistled low, eyes following you. “I’ll have to find her on the dance floor tonight,” he said, eyes gleaming as they traced your retreating form. Azriel, though he loved his brother dearly, wanted to rip his throat out for even glancing at you. 

Rita’s was littered with intoxicated fae. Mor grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bar, while Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel made their way to the section explicitly reserved for their use. As you stood at the bar with Mor, a male came up to you, leaning into your space and asking your name.

The male ventured a touch to your arm and you leaned away, disliking the overt physical attention. As he spoke, a gloved hand appeared between you and Azriel pushed his way into the space without apology or acknowledgement. “Hey, I was talking to her!” The male tried to protest loudly before Azriel turned and fixed him with a devastating look, causing the male to wilt before putting his hands up in surrender and walking away.  

You stumbled out a laugh as he turned back to you. “I think you may have hurt his feelings,” you said smiling, looking to the Shadowsinger. He eyes were already on you again, tracing your face, and hair, the long line of your neck. “That’s much too bad,” he said, signaling the bartender over and you both ordered a round of drinks.

“You look beautiful tonight,” the words came out of Azriel in a rushed whispered, as if he’d forced them out against his will. You turned to meet his eyes and your face warmed at the look there. “I was so nervous to wear this,” you breathed, “the last time I was in a dress and heels like these, I was engaged to marry a Vanserra.” You let out a small, cynical laugh. “Gods, I’m so glad I left.” 

Azriel softened then. “He didn’t deserve you, Autumn didn’t deserve you, I hope you know that,” he’d said, gloved hands laying flat on the bar top, the length of his middle finger grazing your own. You wanted to reach out to them, to ask why he wore the gloves around you, but you resisted. 

“For what it’s worth,” he continued, “I’m also glad you left, I’m glad you’re here most of all.” You met his hazel eyes again and traced his face. He was likely one of the most beautiful males you’d ever seen and he was being awfully sweet with you. He looked to Rhys then, the High Lord likely speaking into his mind. He smiled turning back to you, “Rhysand says he’s also glad you’re here,” he said mockingly and rolled his eyes. You laughed, a small tinkering thing, that made Azriel’s heart beat quicken. “Thanks, Az,” you smiled broadly at him and he knew for sure and certain you would ruin him.

You turned to your drink then as the bartender sat it down in front of you. You picked it up and took a long sip. If Azriel kept looking at you like that and speaking to you in hushed tones that made your heart race, you’d need about five more of these. 

You heard him take a deep, steadying breath at your side, turned to look at him, brow furrowing slightly. You were ready to ask if he was alright when he finally spoke. “Cassian said he was going to ask you to dance tonight,” he ventured and you snorted. ‘Of course he did,’ you thought with a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head. “Would you allow me to be your first?” He asked, holding out a gloved hand. 

You looked to his hand then back to his hopeful hazel eyes, and you blinked a little slowly, a little disbelievingly. Just when you thought you figured him out, he threw you for a loop. You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. As your body moved with his, you couldn’t help but wish for forever in this moment, forever in his hands, and his eyes. Mother above, you were in trouble. 

“That dress was pure sin, Little One,” Azriel smirked. “And I told you, I am quite fond of dancing.” You huffed a laugh and looked to him, a little bashful. Azriel laughed softly again. “Cassian pouted for days after that night,” he spoke, “he was mad I stole you away.” You wondered if Cassian could tell how utterly smitten you were after that night. “I think he was a little infatuated with you in those early days too.” 

You grimaced. “That’s much too bad,” you said, echoing his words from centuries prior. You stood then and stepped towards him to halt at his side, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. “I always had eyes for you, baby.” 

You trailed a hand up his arm to his shoulder, then back to the shoulder joint of his wing, tracing the bone up to the clawed crest. His breath guttered out of him as he closed his eyes, brows furrowing at the sensation that zipped down his spine and settled in his lower abdomen. 

“One more question for you,” you said softly. “No,” he growled out, “I’ve had enough questions, I want to have you again.” His eyes opened and looked to you, scarred hands grasping your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there. “One more and I’ll give you whatever you want,” you offered. He raised a brow. “Whatever I want?” He questioned and you nodded. “Even if I want to bend you over this table and take you from behind until you come all over my cock?” 

Your eyes watched his predatory gaze and a feline grin appeared on your face. You laughed again, “considering that’s a win-win, I’ll gladly trade for that.” He laughed too and rolled his eyes in fondness. “Fine,” he conceded, “one more question, mate.” His hand traced back, grasping the flesh of your ass through your thin silk housedress and you gasped, “then I get to have you in every way I want.”

You had to shake the lust from your thoughts, focusing on the question that had been circling your mind since your return to River House. “Why didn’t you to tell me of the bond?” You asked softly, hand resting on the arm that held you. He took a deep breath, he should’ve expected this eventually, but in all honesty, he’d hoped to put it off as long as possible. 

“I just mean,” you took a shaky breath, growing a little nervous. “It snapped so early for you, and I—” you swallowed, “I wouldn’t have turned you away, surely you must know that?” Your eyes found his and he saw the imploring look there, brows slanting as your eyes swam with emotions. He took a grounding breath and his hand traced up your hip to your back as he pulled you in to bury his face in the soft of your stomach. 

“I was scared,” he said, though it came out muffled. You combed fingers through his hair soothingly and he tilted his head up to face you. “You were—” he stopped himself, “you are the single most magical thing in this realm.” He spoke softly, as if he was scared he’d burst the bubble of newfound love that had surrounded the two of you in the last few weeks.

“When I was a child, my half brothers tortured me,” he started, eyes wincing. “They did this, you know,” he held up a scarred hand. You nodded, Rhysand told you of Azriel’s brothers and father years ago when the subject of Windhaven came up and how you would likely not be sent on any missions there. “For my gift with shadows, they’d called me every name under the sun, insisted I was a bastard child, beat me, shunned me, cast me out. I was alone until Rhys and his mother took me in.” Your eyes teared up when you thought of how isolated he must’ve felt, how damaged. You knew feeling well. 

“When I knew I loved you, I resolved myself as unworthy of your gaze, your touch, anything,” he sighed and his hands pulled from you to fall in his lap. “I figured I’d been alone for centuries up until that point, and it was likely I’d be alone forever.” You pulled one of his hands into your own and brought the knuckles to your lips. “I love you,” you said softly, lips resting against the marred skin there, “I hope you know that.”

He looked to you and he smiled, a small watery smile as his eyes closed and he nodded his head. There was that gift again. “You know,” he said, “more than your beauty, or strength, I admire your courage and vulnerability. I think that’s what scared me the most.” He spoke softly again, wanting to preserve the shroud of gentle love that surrounded the two of you. 

“I saw how you were with Mor and Amren. How you cared for Cass, despite his explosive anger when Rhys went Under the Mountain for fifty years. How you attended Rhys when he returned in shambles, traumatized and broken.” He looked to you, eyes shining. “You took it all in stride with such….. care and endless love and I—” he paused, bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t think I’d ever be worthy of your heart, of your attention, so I took what I could get. Your glances, your smiles, the teasing at dinners. I took it all and I made myself content with it,” he shuttered out a fragile, broken breath, eyes falling to the shadows that gathered at his feet attempting to console their master. 

“I’ve loved you in secret for two centuries, Little One, I’ve loved you so much my chest ached and I thought I would die from the unsung bond that resided there. My soul would know yours in any life. At the ends of the earth in total darkness, it would still find you.” He let out a shuddering breath, “you’re the other half of me.” His eyes found yours then and the look there made you feel overwrought with emotion.

You and Azriel had been friends for two centuries. You laughed and cried together. You’d shared meals and secrets, dances and fleeting glances, little chaste touches. You’d told him of your father, of Beron, showed him your scars. You’d pined for him for just as long and to know he’d silently yearned for you in return, your heart felt like it might break apart.

“The bond snapped for me during the war,” you offered him a small secret of your own and his eyes found yours, going wide at the revelation.

The second war with Hybern had been a brutal thing. Feyre and Cassian had taken to recruiting help out of the Ancient Prison on the northern shore of the Night Court due to Prythian’s limited numbers. You’d known it was a suicide mission going in and you’d nearly been right. You’d fought alongside death gods and monsters alike in a battle that would be legend for ages to come.

“I wrote you a letter before we left for battle,” another secret, but for him, you’d bare your soul. “I was going to tell you then,” you continued, “I’d been in love with you for 189 years at that point. I was so far gone for you but I’d assumed, that if you wanted me, I would’ve known. You would’ve said something, anything. So I put it all in a letter, worried I wouldn’t return alive.” His breath hitched, remembering the sight of you impaled on a sword, bleeding out in his arms.  He’d taken the soldier’s head off their body as penance and it still didn’t feel like enough. You let out a small gurgling laugh, throat tight, eyes wet with tears. “Sometimes I can’t believe I did.” 

You took a steadying breath and leaned to kiss his forehead, his eyes closing from the contact, mouth humming. You leaned your cheek on the crown of his head, your thumb rubbing soothing circles in the space behind his ear. His hands went around to your back, nose and cheek resting against the cradle of your chest as he listened to your heart, still beating strong beneath. The two of you were the sort of image that artists carved into marble, the picture of lovers so inseparably bound that they were one eternally, in every life. 

“In that letter I apologized for not telling you sooner, said I didn’t need the Cauldron to know it was you my soul sang for. That you were the one the stars had fated me to meet.” He clenched his eyes shut from where his head rested on your rib cage. Every word you uttered was like a poultice to his damaged soul, filling the cracks that had been there since his adolescence. 

He was wrong when he’d thought you’d ruin him. No, you’d save him, from the darkness that encroached his mind, the insecurities that lingered there. You were a flower blooming against all odds in the shadows, and he’d do anything for you. All his wasted centuries of dreaming had been given a name and form in you.

“I’m glad I ran from Autumn that day, glad it was Rhys that found me in the wilds, glad it was the Night Court that saved me, but more than anything, I am glad that every step I’ve taken in this life has led me straight to you.” Your hand dragged forward, over his cheek, to gently tip his chin up to face your gaze. “May you never doubt the depths of my love for you.” You kissed his forehead then before moving your lips to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose. His eyes fell shut and his hands came to hold on tightly to your wrists for fear he’d float away. You kissed his cheek, and eyelids, before making your way to his mouth. 

This kiss was just as electrifying as the first and he pressed his insistent mouth to yours desperately. He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and took your gasp as the opportunity to slip his tongue against your own. He could kiss you for a millennia and he would not get enough. He wanted all that you had to give and everything after that too. Nothing, not even flying, could compare to how his heart sped when you kissed him like this. He poured centuries of yearning into it.

He pulled off of your mouth and kissed the corner of your lips before leaning back to gaze into your eyes. “I’ll need to tell Rhysand not to expect us back for a few months,” he said, hand coming up to brush a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. Your brain, still two paces behind from that kiss, registered what he was saying and you let out a breathless laugh. “Months? Thought the frenzy was a few weeks?” You replied, still smiling, tears drying and he shrugged, fingertips tracing the skin at your collarbone. “I’ve got two centuries of love to make up for,” he stated softly before smiling in a feral, cunning way, “and I plan on taking my time.” 

Azriel ported you to the bedroom and you’d laughed, “I can walk you know.” He smiled, leaning down, kissing your cheek. “Save your energy, Little One.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you to stand between his legs. He allowed himself to look at you, unhurried, a little predatory. You did the same, eyes passing over tanned skin and freckles, tattoos and scars as your gaze made it’s way down to his hips, where you notice his length pressing tightly against the front of his pants. Your eyes trace back up to his, cheeks a little pink, only to find him smirking. 

“Are you ever going to be sated?” You laughed. You pulled the hem of your dress up to lean over him and settle a knee next to his hip as you crawled into his lap. He hummed, pulling your hips to his own. He traced his nose along the skin of your throat, inhaling your scent, committing to memory as he nosed the silk strap of your housedress, pushing it down your shoulder and pressing his mouth to the skin there. “For you? Never.” His tongue laved at the length of your throat, as he made his way up before bringing his mouth to yours.

This kiss was slower than the one you’d shared in the dining room. Tongues entwining, teeth biting. He dove deeper, sucking against your tongue before licking along the bow of your upper lip. He rocked his hips up to meet your own, his cock sliding against your slit in a way that had you gasping. His hand pushed your gown up over your hips to your waist and his gaze fixated on the center of your hips, you’d forgone underwear after your bath. “No panties?” He breathed into your mouth. “Maybe I should’ve taken you on the dining room table after all.” 

You laughed, rutting your hips against his own, loving the sound that rumbled in his chest. You pulled the little silk dress up and over your head, baring yourself entirely to his gaze. “There will time for that,” you said, voice laced with promise, “but I’d like for you to take me in a bed, properly.” He gave a little laugh then, bringing his face to your own, teasing at your mouth again. “Under the stars wasn’t romantic enough?” His hands found your hips and fingertips pressed into the flesh there. You were sure you’d be bruised all over come tomorrow. 

He leaned back pulling your hips up his abdomen. “C’mere,” he commanded, jerking his head in instruction as he laid flat upon the bed, wings spreading in full. He looked like a god this way, but the way he looked at you, muscles rippling as he tensed, jaw ticking, hair debauched, love bites down the tanned column of his throat from your mouth, eyes heavy lidded with lust; if he was a god then certainly you were his goddess. He growled then the noise escaping him unbidden as he hauled you higher to his chest, your hand shooting out to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“You are a goddess and I am but a hopeless disciple,” his voice had pitched deep with want, desire alight in his eyes and you thought you might never tire of seeing him this hungry for you. His fingers dug into your thighs and he hooked your knees to pull you higher. “Let me worship you until I find absolution.” He pulled you to his chin, teeth nipping at the flesh of your inner thighs. His found your eyes again and he nodded to you. “You’re going to sit on my face, sweet one, and I am going to feast on you like the goddess you are.” 

Your breath left you in a shuttering broken gasp, and you leaned up, shuffling the last few inches. His arms wrapped around your legs, caging you to his face as hands came around to open your cunt to his view. He let out a primal noise that had the air leaving your lungs in pant and your hands grasped the headboard in some pitiful attempt at grounding yourself. He nosed your clit before pulling you down on his mouth, suckling at you like a man starved. 

His tongue pressed flat against your clit and you thought you might break apart. You were sensitive from the night before and you had to actively try not to rock down against his face. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled you forward, hands grasping your hips and rutting you against his hot mouth. You couldn’t help the shuddering moan that left your throat and he hummed along with you, the vibrations sending shocks up your spine. 

He circled his tongue in a pattern, quick flicks then slow drags of friction that had pleasure zipping through you until your thighs were twitching, nails digging into the wood of the headboard, hips rocking on his mouth. He nosed at your clit as his tongue slipped down to circle your opening, collecting the wetness that gathered there, groaning at your taste. His lips returned to your clit and he sucked it into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, speeding the flicking of his tongue until your hands were shaking and your moans keened to a higher octave. 

“Azriel,” you gasped, a trembling hand found his hair, nails scratching. “Az — fucking Gods.” You looked down to him between your thighs and he watched you, the definition of sin. His cheeks had grown pink, brows furrowed, hazel eyes gone molten as he nuzzled his face into you. He unhanded your thigh to slide back to your ass, fingernails digging into the ample flesh there before he released it and his open palm came into fierce contact with the cheek. You jolted at the impact and the sound that left you was the highest, most trembling whine he’d heard come out of you. He catalogued it in his mind for later. 

His hand soothed the skin at your behind before smacking the skin again, the contact rippling across the flesh like a tiny earthquake. Your hips tilted against his chin faster, more desperate and your moans grew closer together, a little more frantic as you felt yourself approaching your peak. His tongue circled you again before he sucked the button into his mouth and began a steady, insistent pattern. 

You could feel the pleasure focusing, your lower belly tightening.  “Az— I swear I’m—” you gasped and your head fell back, exposing your chest and neck to his greedy view. “I’m going to come, baby,” you whined deep, hips canting in tight circles, desperate for release. He hummed an affirmation and his hands grasped your hips to guide your through it. Your release hit and the moan that left you was shattering.

You leaned back, hands finding purchase on his chest, as he pressed kisses to your thighs. “Gods,” you gasped, falling to his side as you moved off of him and pressed a hand to your chest, catching your breath. “Fuck me,” your eyes shut for a moment and you felt his lips pressing tender kisses to your eyelids. He kissed to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before whispering devastation there. “I told you my love, I want to take you apart slow.”

His lips came to your chest, pressing a kiss to the jugular notch at the base of your throat between the clavicles. “There is no war,” kiss, “no mission,” another kiss, moving south to the globe of your breast, “no threat this time.” He breathed into your sternum, tongue tracing the skin of your cleavage. 

You were right that Azriel was mouthy. Mother above, now that the gates had opened, he was bent on taking everything from you and you would let him. You would let him shatter you to pieces, trusting he’d put you back together again. 

“You’re wearing too much,” you complained, fingers pulling at the waist of his trousers, which seemed to have grown impossibly tight around his hardness. Your hand pushed under the band and fingers grasped him firmly, his gasp escaping directly into the skin over your heart. He rutted into your hand, mouth coming up to your own as he kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue.

You pulled back from the kiss and fixed him with an imploring look. “Can I put my mouth on you now?” You asked softly, batting your eyelashes a bit, just shy of begging. He felt desire rip through him, his cock giving a jerk. A growl released from his throat. “As much as I want you on your knees for me,” he breathed deeper. “As much as I want to fuck this pretty little mouth,” his thumb tugged at your bottom lip and you leaned forward to pull it between your lips, tonguing the scarred skin there as you sucked. 

His eyes fixated on the action, pupils blown wide.  He pulled his thumb from your mouth and spread his hand to grasp your neck at the height of your throat, “I thought our bargain was every way that I wanted you?” He watched your eyes flutter as he squeezed from the sides, your breath hitching, cunt growing wetter. He could smell your arousal and the feral need of the newly minted bond had him feeling utterly primal. “And right now, I want you on your hands and knees, begging as I take you from behind.” His voice had pitched deep, and you thought you might never recover from this. 

His hand traced down to your wrist, pulling it from his cock and then he patted your ass. “Be a good girl for me.” Your breath came out shaky and you nodded, scrambling to turn around and bend down to present yourself for him. A pleased hum settled in his chest as he stood to slip off his trousers before kneeling behind you. He ran his eyes up the expanse of your back, the scars that now resided there. He’d kill anyone who threatened you again, he’d take hands from their bodies if they touched you.

He watched your shoulders roll as you adjusted your weight, and he was reminded of every backless gown you’d worn in the last two centuries. How he had never allowed himself to touch you in the way he wanted.

He ran a scarred hand up the center of your back, leaning forward and grasping your neck from behind, bringing you up and into the long line of his front. His nose trailed your shoulder and his lips found the spot below your ear again. His teeth came in contact with the flesh there, biting then pressing his tongue into the skin to soothe the sting. The little whimper you let out made him smile, he loved you like this. His other hand reached down to guide his cock to your core, hips dragging the length through to slick there. His brain catalogued each sound that you made, he was mapping you out slowly, learning your body and memorizing all. 

The hand holding your neck released its grip, and he pushed you back forward, your hands trembled as they came to hold your weight.

Before leaving you, his fingers gathered your hair and he wrapped the length of it around his hand once before fisting and pulling, causing a low moan to escape you. “Hold on, little mate.” His voice ground out and he guided himself into your warm cunt, pulling back once, then twice to work you open until he sheathed himself fully.

His hips were flush against the flesh of your ass as he ground in and your breath began to come in pants. You were so in over your head and you loved it. He laughed, ‘I heard that, my love,’ he spoke into your mind. ‘Let me know if you want to stop.’ You nearly laughed aloud. ‘As if,’ you repeated your words from the night before.

His hand tugged at your hair in response as he pulled out to the tip and slammed back in, hard and deep. Your back arched and your arms threatened collapsed. He began a slow and steady pace, rutting to the hilt and pulling out before slamming back home, skin slapping against skin. You could hear the loud suck of your cunt on every pull, the noise itself was desperately erotic, and Azriel fucking loved it. He wanted you like this like always. He wanted to stay in the warmth of your cunt for the rest of his days. He picked up his pace and groaned when he felt you clench around him as a wanton moan escaped you. 

His hand released your hair and he leaned over your form, kissing your shoulders, holding you tightly as he pushed back to the hilt and ground in, small cants of his hips causing your breath to tremble.

“Azriel, baby, you’re gonna ruin me,” you spoke quietly, head falling forward. He laughed darkly, biting at the skin at the top of your spine. His hand grasped the front of your throat and brought you back up into him, mouthing at your shoulder. “Tell me you’re mine,” he ground out, hips pushing faster. His other hand found its way to your front, tracing down your soft stomach to rub slow circles at your clit. “Tell me you’re mine and let me fuck you into oblivion.” 

You groaned feeling your orgasm crawling up your spine, cunt tensing. “I’ve been yours for two centuries,” you gasped out, breathless, head falling back to his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He growled out something primal, but you continued, delirious with pleasure as his fingers and cock broke you apart. “I’ll give you anything.” His fingers tightened at your neck and he slammed to the hilt, grinding in. 

“Anything?” He questioned, voice shaky with need. “Would you let me take you apart? Would you let me ruin your sweet cunt daily? Would you let me fuck a baby into you?” Your mind blanked and your voice pitched into a deep moan, a base desire possessing you. “Yes,” you nodded, breathless. “All of it,” you gasped, “anything for you, mate.” His eyes pinched shut, a low whine escaped somewhere from the pits of him. Mother above. His fingers squeezed your neck and he picked up the pace, fucking you faster. You shook with each impact of his hips, your breath leaving you in small whines. 

The scarred tips of his fingers worked your clit faster. “You’ll give me anything?” He questioned again, breathless, pace faltering as his own release tightened at the base of spine. “Come for me, my love, come with me.” Your breath caught at your throat as your cunt tightened impossibly around him and he groaned deep. You called his name as your climax hit and he keened a low whine, hips grinding into you, his seed painting your walls. 

He released your throat and gave a shaky laugh as he grasped your chin to find your mouth. The kiss was utterly depraved and your walls fluttered again, making him groan into your mouth. You pulled back and your eyes found his over your shoulder. “A baby, huh?” You spoke, voice a little wobbly. He wanted to shrink under the weight of your gaze, the question there. “Not yet,” he spoke softly, “but if you do decide to gift me with a child, I’ll be the luckiest male alive.” You smiled and kissed him, softer this time, heart singing at the promise there.  

He pulled out of you and let you collapse against the bed, rolling over to rest at your back. His eyes found your cunt and he watched with rapt obsession as his release leaked from you. You traced his gaze and a laugh escaped you. “Come here, my love,” you spoke softly, opening your arms. “I want to get some rest before you go feral again.”

He smiled, laughing lightly before crawling up the bed to where you awaited him. He settled into your embrace, head resting on your chest while his restless fingers began idly tracing the skin of your arm. Your fingers set to combing through the strands of his hair and his eyes closed, pleased with gentle intimacy of the action. “I love you,” he spoke softly, exhaustion beginning to creep in on him. You smiled, fingers trailing to his back, caressing the skin at the base of his wing. “As I love you,” you whispered, “more than anything.” He hummed and nuzzled to the skin of your chest as darkness overtook him. 

[kissofthemis]

hello!! i saw request of reader saving nxx boys from people flirting/harassing them so i was thinking could you write about the opposite? id love to see nxx boys being protective^_^ love your writing!!

Thank you for the kind words, anon! Sorry for the wait!

❤️ Artem ❤️

"Yes, I have plans tonight. Yeah, tomorrow night as well. I'm a rather busy person, honestly...."

Despite your best efforts to deflect the stranger's attempts at flirting, clearly "no" was a hard concept for this pushy person to grasp. Artem could not blame you for not wanting to be direct; you were kind and courteous, never wanting to offend others or hurt their feelings if you could avoid it.

But this arrogant persistence was a force to be reckoned with.

"My phone number? To schedule something later? Ah..."

Artem Wing could hardly call himself a champion of justice if he allowed someone so conceited and disrespectful to be victorious here.

"Are you ready to head home?"

You seemed a bit startled as Artem appeared beside you, but the relief in your eyes was evident. "Y-yes. I just finished up for the day."

Artem nodded briskly. "Excellent. I took out chicken this morning, and I was wondering if you'd rather have it grilled or breaded & stir-fried. We can discuss in the car."

He gave a quick glance to the stranger who'd been pestering you, who had become strangely silent once Artem had shown up. The look in the attorney's eyes was collected and calm, but sharp with an iciness that could freeze one to the bone.

"Have a good evening."

More indirect than his usual style, but intense enough to get the point across.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💛 Luke 💛

"I'm in a hurry, I'm sorry."

"Can't even give me your number? Just your number, for when you aren't busy?"

"I... I'm running late...."

The discomfort in your voice was evident as Luke turned the corner to pick you up after work. Evidently he should have chosen a better spot to meet up, because this corner was swarming with pushy, insensitive animals.

"Swarming" may not have been the correct term, but just one scumbag harassing you was one too many in Luke's eyes.

"You're so cold." What a pitiful whine. "Would it kill you to smile and be friendly?"

"You want a smile, huh?"

Luke pulled up to your side at that moment, and he firmly placed his hand on your shoulder as he stared the harasser down. "You're not much to smile at, hotshot, but I'll do my best."

"Who the hell are you, kid? Get lost."

Agitation. A natural response when a greedy predator comes face to face with a rival.

But Luke had no qualms about knocking a small fry down a peg or two.

The corners of his mouth turned upward into a smirk, and he stretched his lips into a wide, toothy grin. At least, his face read "grin," but the light in his smile did not reach his eyes, which only swarmed with smoking fury and threatening shadow, like a stormcloud about to burst.

Perhaps it was the unsettling, cocky grin that made this fool step back. Perhaps it was the bloodlust in Raven's gaze. In any event, a loud curse was the only word of farewell before the nuisance turned and headed off. Luke felt as though he were watching a small dog stomp off with its tail between its legs.

"L-Luke..." you began cautiously. The brunet turned to you curiously, his eyes now sparkling and his mouth set in a lopsided, well-meaning smile. At the sudden change in demeanor, you couldn't help but let out a loq chuckle. "You're going to give someone a heart attack one of these days, you big guard dog."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💜 Marius 💜

Backed against a wall.

This wasn't the first time someone had inquired into your relationship with the Marius von Hagen, president of Pax, but...

"Good morning! Meeting Mr. von Hagen? How does he take his coffee? Would you answer a couple of que--"

You slammed the door in the paparazzi's face. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined that getting caught on one outing with Marius would result in nosy reporters coming to your home!

With a sigh you slid down against the front door, landing in an unceremonious heap on the floor. How were you supposed to leave today? Or any day? You had errands to run, tasks to do, bills to pay, and you really, really wanted to check out the craft fair at Central Plaza this weekend!

A soft buzzing in your pocket distracted you temporarily from your growing worries.

"See you in 10."

What? Marius was on his way here? Wouldn't that cause even more problems?

You didn't get a chance to assemble your thoughts before a low rumble began to vibrate in your ears and make your entire body shake.

"Go on! Get out of here! You're a public nuisance, and I've got a fantastic attorney! Isn't a guy allowed to have friends?!"

You peered out of your window, and there was Pax's main man, wind whipping his dark bangs in his handsome face. He gripped a megaphone in his hands, looking relaxed and smug, but his knuckles were white with his stress. Vincent must have given him a heads up.

Marius' voice blasting out of the megaphone simultaneously filled you with hope and warmth, but also horror and despair. How would you ever beat the dating allegations now?

More importantly, where was he planning to park a helicopter?!

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💚 Vyn 💚

"Thank you."

You dipped your head politely to acknowledge your gratitude to the stranger who had offered to lead you to the student center. Stellis University's campus looked much different in the evening light, when fewer students were milling about. You should have been able to find it on your own, and yet...

For better or for worse, a young man had noticed you, and when he approached you explained your situation. He had agreed to lead you over, perhaps a bit too gleefully. But you were grateful for the help, and so you acquiesced, but you kept your finger hovering over a "dial" button on your phone just in case.

After your quick goodbye, you spun on your heel to enter the student center.

However, your escort didn't seem too thrilled to see you leaving so speedily.

"That's it?" he huffed. "A half-assed thank you? No phone number, no hug, not even a last name? Are you serious?" His voice kept rising with each word, his tone growing steadily angrier. "I did you a favor by even talking to an ugly brat like you. Have you ever tried smiling with that gloomy face of yours, you miserable fuck?"

Ah. One of those.

You weren't going to dignify that with a response, but then you heard footsteps behind you.

No. Don't come closer. You didn't want any trouble, least of all from an entitled, arrogant--

"Aha. I was afraid I'd have to send campus security out looking for you."

A familiar voice hummed by your ear, and your face lit up with relief. "Dr. Richter!"

A slender but firm hand rested on your shoulder, and you looked up to see bright golden eyes meet yours. Those eyes were like a beacon in the darkening night, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of them.

"The swing dancing starts any minute now. You have impeccable timing, as always." He let out a breathy chuckle.

"That should be my line, Dr. Richter," you retorted lightly.

Of course, the punk behind you hadn't left or stopped shouting. In fact, his rage only seemed to have grown since Vyn appeared, but Vyn paid him absolutely no mind. He must deal with rowdy students regularly, but this was something else entirely.

"Before we go inside," Vyn began, reaching into his coat pocket. "Let's clean you up."

"Hmm?" You didn't think you had any dirt on you, but you didn't protest as Vyn pulled out a silk handkerchief and gently began dabbing at your cheeks, nose, and hands.

"After all," he continued, and he lifted his gaze from your skin. But his eyes didn't go to yours this time; he appeared to be staring past you, at someone else.

You were grateful you couldn't see the exact look in his eyes as he murmured in a voice colder than the night breeze and sharper than a doctor's scalpel, "Spending too much time around ill-mannered, foul-tempered, idiotic boors is proven to be terrible for your health." His voice dropped an octave, and you couldn't help but shiver as he finished,

"And... if they are as foolish as they are filthy, terrible for their health as well."

[504py]

ahh requests open !!! can i request yan!america headcanons or a short drabble ? your choice 🌼 thank you~

thank you for requesting anon!!! and so sorry for this being late omg this was supposed to come out earlier but i got sidetracked cuz i got sucked into stardew valley LMFAO 😭😭😭. but anyways, here it is!

Yandere America Relationship Headcanons

Gender neutral, manipulation, breaking and entering, stalking, long post ahead!

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

How the relationship started...

A total cliché, but Alfred would go for a damsel in distress. He met you on the stairs passing each other, you tripped, and he caught you in his arms in the nick of time. You quickly apologize and thank him with an embarrassed smile, and you continue on your way. Alfred tries to, but he can't seem to stop thinking about that flustered expression on your face, the sound of your voice, and the way you felt under your clothes...

He tries to shake the feeling off, but he just had to bump into you again.

Alfred's second encounter with you was when you two were at the counter at the convenience store, and you were a dollar short. Him, being the hero he is, leans over from behind you and puts a dollar down on the counter.

You look at him, recognizing him as the dude who prevented you from eating shit at that staircase. You blush at the embarrassing memory.

"Don't worry about it." Alfred smiles boyishly, noticing that same flustered expression. He relishes in the feeling of your warmth against his chest when he leans forward, and immediately misses it when he pulls away.

"Th.. Thanks."

You take your things and go, and Alfred is up next to pay for his things. His eyes linger on you as you exit.

Alfred can't wait for the next time you two have a chance encounter, so he catches up to you.

"Hey, dude!" He calls out, approaching you from behind. His heart races a little.

"Oh-" You are a little startled, he feels kinda bad. "What's up?"

"Cause of that dollar I gave you, I had to give up my potato chips!" Alfred cries.

He's lying. He's hoping to god they don't make a crinkle sound under his jacket.

"Oh, shoot, I'm sorry. Can.. Uh, can I pay you back some other day? I don't have any cash on me at the moment."

Alfred smiles. "I can give you my number, and we'll make out the details then?"

"Y-Yeah, of course."

His smile grows wider.

Expectations...

Because Alfred is just oh-so sociable and has such a friendly, extroverted disposition, it isn't very hard for him at all to quickly become one of your closest friends, and, one day, when you two were stuck in the rain after a late night fast-food dash gone wrong, he confesses his feelings for you. You accept, and he kisses you so hard your lips bled a bit from the impact. Of course, he apologized like crazy. You two look back at it now and laugh.

Alfred does his best to appear like a normal boyfriend. He is one who cares a lot about keeping up appearances, so he'd hate it if his weird tendencies slipped through and made itself apparent to you.

Yet another cliché, Alfred is one who yearns for the perfect American dream sort of image. Alfred really likes clichés, they're easy to predict and he can control them. He likes kissing in the rain, he likes calling you cheesy nicknames, and he wants to get married and have a kid and a pet dog with you. And he expects you to completely adhere to that fantasy of his.

Luckily for you, he won't get too violent if you're not the best at keeping up that appearance, since he has other methods of keeping you in line.

Punishments...

Since Alfred highly values appearing like a run-of-the-mill happy couple, he finds it essential that you don't suspect him at all or see him in any negative light.

So he takes to some really dirty manipulation tactics. He'd start with scolding you lightly and emphasizing every time you slip up or make a clumsy mistake.

"Oh-! Woah, babe, you almost tripped again. Thank God I caught you.. You really can't go anywhere without me."

"Did you mix up the laundry again? Damn, that's the third time this month."

He mixed up your laundry on purpose.

"Shoot! The food's burning... Ah, don't worry! I'll just order some takeout, it's alright, honey."

He totally left the burner on high while you went to the bathroom for a second.

Alfred just wants to plant a seed in your head that you're rather helpless, and need his assistance for many, if not all things. And assuming this works, you'll start clinging to him much more than you usually do.

He wants more, though. He wants you to fear the outside world so much that you have no choice but to stay in his house forever and see him as the one thing that could protect you.

He would very likely stage a break-in to get you to that point. During a moment where you're staying in your own home instead of his, he'll don a ski mask and clothing that would make him unrecognizable to you, and late at night, when you're getting comfortable, he breaks in.

Alfred doesn't mind destruction, and that's including towards other people. Like Matthew, violence would be a last resort to him, however, Alfred is much more unforgiving.

..He won't be pretty about breaking into your home. Glass will be everywhere, he'll set off alarms, and he won't be shy about getting caught on your home cameras.

Although destruction isn't his main intent, he just wants you to know someone was here. He'll move your furniture around, knock frames off of the walls, and take a few valuables, like jewelry. Nothing you should miss too much.

Then he sees you.

He never really intended for you to see him, but, now he was facing you, and to your eyes, you were face to face with a stranger who just broke into your home.

Alfred sees the panic and fear boil over in your eyes, and right before you run or scream or are able to do anything— He rushes forward and grabs you. His heart is racing

Instead of saying anything, in fear you recognize his voice, he raises a gloved finger to his lips, telling you to stay quiet.

You nod, and you're crying.

(Alfred hates to admit a part of him finds this exhilarating, but the way you're crying because of him makes him feel so horrible).

He nods his masked face at you, and goes to your bedroom to collect a few more valuables (your underwear).

As he's leaving your home, he turns his head to see you on your phone, and he panics, thinking you've dialed 911. He hurries up and runs off to a secluded area so he could take off the outer layer of clothes he was wearing.

As he takes off his jacket, the phone in his pocket rings.

And it's you.

He's frozen for a second, wondering why you were calling him. Did you know it was him? What did he do that set you off?

He picks up.

"Babe?" He cringes at how his voice shakes. "What's up?"

Then you're crying his name like it was a prayer, telling him what just happened and begging for him to come over and pick you up.

And his heart swells. You came to him first for protection? You trusted him the most with your safety?

He grins, and he can't help the way his smile could be heard in his voice when he tells you he'll be there as quickly as he can. He's so happy he's trembling. Luckily, you're still too shaken up to notice his strangely cheery tone of voice.

Then now you're clinging to him, much more than ever before, trusting him with your life, and the only thing you fear is being without him. Just like he wanted.

Rewards...

Alfred REALLY likes physical affection. He does show his love in many ways, but he's so physical that it may come off as creepy. He likes licking your face, biting lightly on your shoulder, and sniffing whatever he can, even if it's some embarrassing area... He's like a dog, really. He also likes taking you out on cheesy dates, like going to Disneyland or going to a haunted house, and taking lots of pictures to flaunt the two of you's oh-so-perfect relationship.

He has this habit of resting his hand around your neck and sorta rubbing it. I'm not sure if he'd be into asphyxiation, but he finds the action rather intimate. The throat is a vulnerable spot, and him having it in his hand so casually makes him feel good. He also has this other habit where he likes to sorta tickle your palm with his fingertips. When he hears your laugh when he does this, he gets an uncharacteristically demure expression on his face, and looks at you with hearts in his eyes.

Silence is his love language, I think.

He spends a lot of time being loud and untamed, and maybe it's a defense mechanism, who knows? So these little moments where he allows himself to be quiet, to be quiet around you, are his favorite ones.

He wakes up really early, at least earlier than you do. Maybe contrary to popular belief, I feel like Alfred is somewhat of a workaholic, so he naturally tries to get a head-start on the day.

He used to hate waking up so early, but with you, it's now his favorite part of the day. The only thing he hates is getting up to leave you for work. But he thinks it's all worth it, because it's all for you.

It's so quiet. And you're here. And no one else is around. It's just the two of you.

It feels like he's not real, during these early mornings. He knows you are, though. You're everything that's real to him. He reminds himself that this isn't a dream by touching and admiring your face while you slept. He can feel your soft breathing on his skin.

Alfred rests his forehead against yours, and he doesn't say this out loud, since he doesn't wanna wake you up, but it's also because.. He feels like you just get him. He believes you two are soulmates, and that you'll just feel whatever he's thinking, even while asleep.

"I love you." He says, in silence.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

whew!! so sorry this got out so late, but here's the final request i'm doing for the 200 followers celebration! funnily, as i'm posting this, i've just hit 300 followers, so triple all my thank yous!! you guys are great! unfortunately, the requests got me feeling a bit burned out, so i'll probably do something different for this milestone.. i'm thinking i'll either do a "meet the artist", or do a whiteboardfox with you guys? i also have a whole bunch of ocs which were initially meant to be the main focus of my account, but not sure if that y'all would find that very interesting. please lmk what you think! thank you all again!!

[tinycozycomfort]

rest in the cup of my palms (part one)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter one: drawing from life

series masterlist | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or  you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: ellie volunteers joel to model for a drawing class on campus. you find someone worth dreaming about.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), unnecessary descriptions of joel being beautiful, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn, joel miller wins girl dad of the century via unanimous vote (for this chapter) -> masturbation (f), intense feelings of loneliness, existential rumination

word count: 7.2k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: some good ol' work up, necessary to explain the rated r plans i have for them. ive been terrified of writing a series but i'm also tired of editing everything down to be one-shot appropriate, so today we try. im full-swing into my fixation era and on my 'i cant be loved + ive known how to love you for 1,000 lifetimes' bullshit. this fic is as self indulgent as they come, but i hope you can enjoy it! and for those of you willing to trudge through this with me, i love you.

read on ao3

“To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed.”

Susan Sontag - On Photography 

───────

A halo of hot light falls through the pane of glass above the sink. Joel’s got one eye pinched semi-shut, trying hard to focus on not burning himself while he drains boiling water out of a pot of pasta. 

When he woke up this morning, the blinds on every window in the house had been strung up to the lip. He’d barely gotten a hand around one of the strings in the glass frame above the couch before Ellie appeared out of nowhere to literally slap his wrist, ‘I’m drawing’. Still groggy, he tried to challenge her, ‘Do they all have to be open?’, to which she patiently explained—for what she probably feels is the millionth time—that she needed the extra light, and if she had them all open when she started, they’d need to stay that way until she was done. 

So he left her to work, knowing she’s got midterms to finish, walking around with his eyes closed until he felt his way back into his bedroom. He came out once for coffee, and not again until dinner. This is their weekend.

Joel spoons out some of the food into bowls, leaving them to stay warm by the stove before he steps into the dining room. He stops himself half-way, hanging back in the archway to give his daughter another minute as the last shreds of strong sunlight start to wane out.

Ellie’s right where he left her: at the table, cross-legged in her chair with an eraser-less pencil held tightly in her fist. She’s hunched over a large pad of paper, the back of it lifted at an angle under a pile of old books and dog-eared tool catalogs. The sketchbook she uses as a reference guide is propped up on the corner of her left knee, leaned against the edge of the table. She rifles between two pages of it, eyeing some of the quick sketches—visual notes, as she puts it—that she took in class to help her navigate the larger, more detailed version with ease. Silent save for her short huffs of breath, she’s concentrated, wrist-corner lifted to not misplace any graphite. Her process is always the same; a little creature of habit.

She’s wearing her headphones, the cord winding dangerously low, threatening to dip into a cup of water she’d placed in the empty triangle between her lap—the same one he’d seen her with six hours ago. She hasn’t even touched it, still full nearly to the brim. He wonders if she’s gotten up at all. The girl works herself a bit too hard, he thinks, always falls head first into whatever project she’s working on, nothing if not like her dad. The corner of his mouth tugs up so tight it hurts. What is he going to do without her?

He just stands there, feet crossed on top of each other and arms in a twist over his chest, and watches her while she’s not looking, knowing she still gets shy sometimes when he catches her like this. She’s the sweetest reminder of everything good Joel’s ever done; another life he’d gladly offer his own for. 

It’s always come naturally—to be what someone needs of him—in a way that transcends reward or expectation. 

Joel had been his brother’s primary caregiver first, from birth and then well into their adulthood—always around to bail him out of jail or lend him money he didn’t have. Because he cared. Loved him. He couldn’t ever really say it, always had a problem with the wording, but he knew that at least some of what he wanted to explain had come across. He can see it in the way Tommy is with his own family.

His brother has Maria now, and the kids, and seeing how happy Tommy could be in spite of their upbringing was the first time Joel had ever put his priorities into question. Somewhere in all the caring-for he did, he’d forgotten about himself; the possibility of having his own wife and child and home. He’d always ached for that, deep down, but didn’t even know it was an option until he saw it happen. By that point, he wasn’t sure if he could do any of it, or if he even had the time to start. Then came Ellie.

She entered his life when a close friend of Tommy’s had died unexpectedly and no one came forward to claim her, unknowingly giving him a second chance; one he worked to make count. She was tough to crack at first—also like him in that way—but the love had always been there, waiting its turn after all the awkwardness and misunderstanding and adapting before finally showing its face. She’d needed him then, as much as his brother had all those years ago, carrying on the torch of purpose that Joel so feverishly searched for. 

He rolls his eyes at himself; he’s been having too many misty-eyed moments about her lately. It’s so unserious, the actuality of it; of being her dad. Going to work and the supermarket and museums, being there to chaperone field-trips and take one-thousand mostly-blurry photos of her graduation. But it’s been everything to him. He’s desperately clung to the five years of her life that she’s shared with him, and he’s so proud to witness it, but he knows she’s getting to a point where she needs to be her own person. He’ll miss her when she’s only home for summers, then only home for Christmas, then only home once in a while—so he holds on to every bit, and tries not to think about what’s next for him. 

He walks closer to her, tilting his head to try and steal a glance of what it is she’s working on. He catches a glimpse of the face of a woman, a portrait from shoulders-up. She’s pretty, with a soft and thoughtful expression, looking downward off the side of the pad. From what he could make out between the movements of Ellie’s hand, she even looks a little shy. His daughter rubs at the cheeks and nose of the girl on the paper, imitating the shadow-less areas where light would fall. Joel is mesmerized by the way she creates so effortlessly, like breathing. 

Without moving her head, she pulls a tiny white bobble out from her ear, “I know you’re watching me, weirdo.” 

Joel laughs, wet and thick in his mouth with the emotion he’s still climbing down from, “Is this how you treat me when I’m trying to feed you?” 

She smiles, he can see the fat of her cheek rounding out even from this angle, “You should’ve just said that.” 

Ellie leaves her set-up untouched, just getting up and moving down to an empty seat while Joel goes to bring the food out. 

She shifts around in her seat, feet folded again on the flat of it, eating too fast—ill-mannered—and it reminds Joel of all the nights they spent at Tommy’s for family dinner, right at the beginning, back when they’d just begun to become close. When she’d push his patience with her behavior to see if he’d say something, to see if he still paid her mind—he always did, still does, “Jesus Christ, kid. Have I taught you nothing?”

She holds back a laugh, mouth full of tomato sauce, “You love it. I’m charming.” 

He snorts, the two of them falling into a comfortable quiet for only a few minutes before she breaks it again, “Speaking of how much you love me, I need to ask you for a favor.” 

“Oh no,” He jokes, “What now?” 

“Remember those drawings I turned in of you last month?” She starts pushing around the last bite of her spaghetti, never a good sign, but he nods anyway for her to continue, “Well my teacher really liked them. And there’s been an issue with finding people to sit for the drawings. Sooo,” she really drags it out, “I signed you up.”

“What do you mean, you signed me up? For what?” 

“To model,” Joel’s mouth pops open in an immediate attempt to oppose, but Ellie’s quicker, “Didn’t you say you’d always support me in school?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Joel finishes his plate and then they’re both just clinking their forks against porcelain for a heavy eightnineten seconds before she gives it another shot.

“C’mon, seriously. I’ll get extra credit if you do it,” She lets out a long sigh like she can’t believe she has to explain anything more than that, “My professor teaches a Monday session for the master’s program and they need people. It’s just one time.” 

“Ellie. It’s Sunday. How are you gonna tell me this now?” 

“Please, you just sit there for, like, two hours while they draw you and you don’t have to talk. That’s two of your favorite things. Three if you consider that you’d be helping me out.” she looks at him with a sticky-sweet smile, eyes crinkled—like she knows she’s getting away with it. 

She might be. 

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to do it?” Joel gathers up their plates from the table to carry them into the kitchen. Ellie picks up their still half-full glasses as an excuse to follow him.

“Because we all have class together tomorrow on the other side of campus. Plus, you’re easy to draw and—” 

“Hey.” 

She ignores the flat look he shoots her, flipping on the sink, “That’s a compliment, by the way. But really, it’s no effort and you’d be getting me into a good place with my professor ‘cause she’ll be super grateful. The budget’s kinda tight this semester.” 

“Then what am I payin’ for, if you’re gonna make me do this stuff myself?” It’s a half-hearted dig—he’s mostly annoyed because she probably already figured out he’s going to agree.

Her little smirk graduates to a shit-eating grin, she knows it, “Best dad ever.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Just because I knew you were gonna say that, I actually signed you up for two.”

───────

Joel stumbles out of the elevator, filing hurriedly through groups of students with a new-found purpose now that he’s managed to make it to the correct floor. Ellie made a point of not mentioning that he had to be at the school at 7:30am until she was saying goodnight to him a few hours ago, because she thought it would dissuade him—she was right—so now he’s running late on top of everything else. 

He’s got the little scaled-down, splotchy-printed version of the campus map gripped tightly between his hands. Room 14B is seemingly only two turns and one corner from where he stands—if he’s holding it the right way. He wants to ask for directions, but he feels too out-of-place to set aside his embarrassment. He’s older than at least half the staff, and some of the attendees are even younger, and he doesn’t want to run the risk of looking incapable, as foolish as it is. He wishes Ellie would have just offered to show him where to go before she headed off to her own class. 

For someone who prides themselves on their ability to parent, he feels hopeless now without his daughter; not for the first time, but it’s especially harsh considering the circumstances. It hurts something bittersweet, to think about how much more they’ve bonded since he started working less and she decided to live at home her first year of college (though it’s coming to an end sooner than he’d like). Again, too many sad thoughts, and she’s not here, so he trudges on. 

He walks in two more circles before he finds the right place—down a fucking hallway and hidden behind a door he didn’t know he was allowed to open, of course. A woman with long, dark blonde hair is sitting at a desk by the door when he enters. She doesn’t look up at him.

“Good morning, ma’am. Sorry I’m late. My—uh. You teach my daughter? I’m here for—” 

“Ellie’s dad,” She cocks her head without meeting his eye, “Late? You’re about twenty minutes early, she told me you probably would be.” 

She knows me too well, the brat. He chastises her in his mind but outwardly he corrects himself, “Yes, right, sorry. I’m a little turned around.” 

“That’s alright. There’s just a waiver you need to sign, and you can get undressed in the bathroom down the hall. I’ll give you a cover-up to wear until I come to grab you.” 

Right, he’d have to be naked. He already knew that—sort-of—having seen dozens of Ellie’s sketches from semesters past. He knows the students don’t see it that way, knows that they’ve all drawn the same things so many times they would be desensitized to his nudity. They’d probably all be desensitized to him as well; in their eyes, he was just a reference, as familiar as any of the memorialized piles of fruit or arrangements of glass that Ellie's also brought home. 

Still, Joel feels a wash of anxiety come over him. He’s more than comfortable in his body, after putting it through so much, but this degree of vulnerability is severe in comparison to vanity or sex—it’s a state of living he hasn’t participated in for a long time. He doesn’t like to be seen, and being documented—having physical evidence of how he’s interpreted by others—makes his stomach turn. He hasn’t looked in a mirror for more than a moment in months, but it can’t be that bad, right? Ellie’s always given him a favorable light, but he worries she has a bias beyond belief. What if he sees something about himself he doesn’t like? What if everyone’s been able to see it all along?

Caught in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize the woman is still talking, “We have a scheduled break halfway through class. You can leave then. Next week it’ll flip and you can come for the latter half so they can finish.” She slides the form and a swath of black fabric across the table, and almost like she can sense his apprehension, finally raises her head to give him a meaningful look, “Thank you again for doing this. I know it can feel weird, but it makes a difference for them. There’ll be a joint show at the end of the month, too, with Ellie’s class.” 

He just offers her a little nod of his head, thank you, signing the form and padding to the bathroom to unceremoniously disrobe in an empty stall.

It’s just two hours. 

───────

If they make you take another figure-drawing class, you’re going to scream. 

You’d think this far into a second degree, the school board would stop requiring you to take what is essentially the same class every semester. Sincerely, the only thing that changes is how long the session runs and what number follows the class title. It’s getting old. 

To be fair, it’s not necessarily that you dislike drawing—it provides a pretty firm foundation for your personal work to stand on—it’s just tedious. Nothing is inspiring about assignment-based work, especially when they’ve decided the only way you can prove your skill-set is to make you draw the same three objects five-thousand ways. 

But it’s not up to you. 

So here you are again, two weeks from spring break, back in this frigid building after surviving another forty minutes of traffic, body still stiff from fighting the urge to fall asleep at the wheel. 

It’s important, you remind yourself, to show up and put your fullest effort into everything, no matter how much you don’t enjoy it. Even if just to prove to yourself you can still finish things.

Coming back to school was an idea you’d toyed with for years after graduating. 

There had been a lot of pressure on you to go in the first place, from your parents and your teachers and your nightmare of an ex, because according to them you’d get nowhere without it. After enough pressure and in a need to appease them, you folded and went; suffered every long night and pushed through every period of self-doubt and smiled for every ‘worth-capturing’ moment right up to the end. And then when it was over, gone faster than you could comprehend, you felt like something was taken away from you, even with how low it had made you—the worst kind of stockholm syndrome. 

In an attempt to keep some momentum, you were over-eager for more right out of the gate. There was an initial need to continue, because you’d been reliant on academic structure just by the nature of familiarity, and maybe a little ill-prepared to face who you were without guidance. Without the instruction of someone with two degrees and a smoking addiction and no teaching license. Now it sounds silly, but then you spent a few too many nights uncontrollably looking into post-grad institutions or internship programs, googling professors and reading forums for first-hand accounts. 

Then, after a year, the thought of continuing got a little less exciting, and you became comfortable in the freedom of nothing after being in school your whole life. So you pretended to research, emailed everyone about how great the options looked, signed up for one-on-ones you didn’t show up for—until people stopped asking. 

It was at that point that you finally had the time to process what you were doing and why, and accepted that you didn’t have to have all the answers, despite what everyone had led you to believe. Truthfully, you still had no idea who you wanted to be and that’s okay—living with it and living alongside it weren’t mutually exclusive. You just took time to practice being yourself—sucked up the embarrassment and did the work, little exercises in unleashing yourself onto the world instead of letting every experience be done to you. If you were going to do anything anymore, even something like continuing your education, it had to be on your own terms, to try it all in the effort of self-discovery.

So yes, applying and getting accepted and attending every class—even this one—this time around was for you—to better yourself instead of just filling an expectation. You’re determined to make good on the opportunity.

And it has been better, so far. You even have friends this time around. Okay, two, and one of them is your roommate, but it's more of a support system than what you had going into undergrad.

You say yes now, too; not to everything, but to more than before. Which is maybe how you got roped into getting ‘introductory’ drinks later this evening with everyone, now that more people have joined the program as winter thaws out and it’s easier to commute. It’ll be nice to swap ideas and catch up and maybe even get laid instead of spending hours staring at the ceiling and willing time to pass. That thought alone is enough to keep you here.

It’s just two hours.  

The room this semester is a little bigger, at least; probably the only perk that moving up so gracefully from Drawing II to Drawing III had earned you. It’s still unfortunately just another classroom; windowless to protect it from outside influence and drenched in fluorescent light to create a controlled environment. Old, stained art horses form a circle in the center of the space, crowding around a painted-gray wood pallet like an audience. A metal stool sits atop the make-shift stage, providing a seat for the subject. It’s clinical, the way the elements come together; a perfectly disarrayed scene that’s been neatly curated to emulate every ‘socratic seminar’ model you’ve seen in education since you can remember. Always the same.

You’re hoping for someone new today to rest on the chair; the department has been in less-than-preferred financial standing lately, so you’ve seen the same faces interchanged for  most of the term.

Your professor is at her desk when you make your way in, greeting you with a grin despite the tired look on her face. A hardworking woman, the shadows under her eyes gave her a beauty you could only explain as determined. You knew she cross-taught for both sections of the department, and you respected her for it. It couldn’t be anything short of a struggle to toggle between those modes of seriousness—to have the patience to answer the younger students’ unending questions and the passion to keep the post-grads engaged. 

Moving to get a seat as far on the outskirts of the cluster as possible, you watch as your classmates arrive slowly until all the slots are filled. No one really talks, probably all similarly bogged down by the early start and the cold weather outside. Ian, your friend who’d invited you out tonight, waves at you from four horses down and you halfheartedly nod back at him. 

“Good morning everyone, we’ve only got two more classes after this until your week off, so we’ll make this next one a two-parter and have critique on the twenty-first. I want you guys to focus on composition more than anything else,” She turns in her seat to write some names on the board behind her, “We’ll go for two hours then break. If your name’s up here we’ll have a conversation about your thesis. The rest of you can go.” 

Thankfully you’ve been spared this time—granted another seven-nights-straight writing the segment of your thesis that was meant to be finished two months ago. Your brain hurts inside of your skull. 

You set up your little station, sketchpad raised against the easel, body straddling the drawing horse as you fiddle with some dirty erasers in your pack. 

You can hear the slap slap slap of the model’s feet on the concrete floor as they enter—a long gait paired with hard, thudding steps; probably a man by the sound of it. Tall and heavy. 

“Okay guys, we’re starting,” She winds up the dial on a plastic kitchen timer and sets it on the edge of her desk, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be making a few passes throughout and we’ll exchange thoughts.”

You roll your neck, knowing the model tends to take a minute to find a comfortable position, and that people watching didn’t do anything to help. A tempered soundtrack—the poorly contained buzzing of the clock and the moan of the air-conditioning—plays on in the background. Your leg is asleep. It’s cold in here. You count to thirty in your head. That’s enough time, right? You shift again, stretching your arms once more just in case.

Looking up, you peer over the side of the easel to get a quick look at the model’s pose and immediately do a double take. 

It is a man.

He’s sitting on the chair, facing the girl a few seats down from you so that you can only see him from a three-quarters view. He has one long, thick leg pushed against the lower bar of the stool, the other one, closest to you, hiked up on the seat, folded so that his knee points towards the ceiling. His arms are crossed, hugging his erect shin with his wide back wrapped over his thigh, effectively shielding the ‘naked’ parts of him from view. He looks shy, but not uncomfortable; either like he’s done this before or he’s accustomed to protecting himself—to hiding. 

The frame of his body is captivating; he looks strong but used, little nicks and scars littering his shoulders and hands. Weathered. As you make your way up his torso, you find it’s a similar state of experienced, tan profile and neck bearing the slightest difference in color from the soft of his side, and you can see the faintest curve of a hem-shaped tan-line across the dip in his shoulder. Little wisps of gray-dusted brown curls frame the edges of his face. He’s beautiful in a gentle way, with a dark, heavy brow that leads into the sharp slope of his nose, plush lips pursed like he’s concentrating. 

Part of you feels bad about staring, but it’s easy enough to disguise it as working, so you map him with your gaze again and again until you can still see him when you blink. It takes the constant movement of your classmate’s hand sketching something in your periphery to remember you’re being timed. 

You choke out a cough, repositioning your body and grabbing some charcoal. 

The way you usually approach this task is simple: get down the general gist of the body, careful to keep out the details of the person in favor of capturing light and weight—there’s a graded challenge to be considered, after all. 

Yet as you watch him, you decide you can fulfill the requirements in a way that gives him more room to exist. You crop the drawing tighter, paying careful attention to the landscape of his face; the hills of his cheekbones and the valley between his lips. You want to immortalize him. 

You’re suddenly deeply concerned with the history that’s woven itself into the shape of him, in what happened to make him look this way. It seems like life has been useful to him, but that he’d had to grow from something to make it so—like he had to work for it. He’s the living manifestation of his own grief and enjoyment and passion, and you want to know all of it.

Countless minutes pass as you take him in and spill him out, fingers moving quickly to recreate the weighted feeling of his posture, exhausted and heavy, muscles held together on the string of bone that runs through the center of his back. You write him down, again and again, flipping to a new page half-way through to get in one last version of him—one for yourself. 

You’ve never seen him before, but you see part of yourself in him. He mirrors the anxious peace you’ve been operating under for the last few years, humming with energy but willfully stagnant. It makes you feel seen, less burdened by your recent inability to connect—he makes you want to keep trying.

You wonder if he writes or draws or makes, and if he’d show you. You want to hear him talk. You want to see the other side of him, literally and metaphorically. You want to feel—

The tinny ring of the alarm sounds off, and you’re taken out of the fantasy. 

The second drawing is only really half done, but you didn’t make it with the intention of sharing it anyway, so you flip back to the original to hide it.. 

You try not to watch the man when he stands—remembering that just because he’d been hidden before doesn't mean he wasn't naked the entire time—maybe more for your sake than his. You peek around the room instead, taking a healthy, albeit competitive, glance around for other interpretations of the man; did they see him too, the way you do?

When you look up to take a comparative look, he’s gone. You’re a little disappointed, admittedly, but there’s still one more chance to interact with him, and you can make up for it then. You start to pack up your things in an effort to make it to the parking lot before the crowd. A sudden rise in the volume level in the room tells you that the shock of the early morning has started to burn off. You try to tune it out, so much so that you don’t hear someone walking up behind you. 

“Wow.” It’s a man’s voice, deep and smooth. You pivot in your seat. 

It’s him, in all his communal-robe wearing glory, even more gorgeous from head on. It’s a pleasant surprise, this reveal; his beauty is evenly distributed, like a handwritten note that extends into the margins or when a movie’s ending is just as good as the start.

“Oh. Hi. Thank you.” You feel exposed, like you got caught doing something bad, even though there are ten other people in the room with even more detailed portraits of him.

“Can I see the other one, too?” 

“What?” 

“You flipped your page. I didn’t see anyone else do that. Did you make two?” 

You just nod, shocked that he was watching you back, peeling back the paper to reveal to him the unfinished drawing. He won’t question it if you don’t give him a reason to. 

“Are you gonna finish it?” He asks, eyes rolling over it with an intense curiosity.

“Uh, probably not. I don’t like it as much as the first one.” Maybe lying your way through this would provide better reasoning than ‘I wanted a part of you that no one else could see’.

“Can I have it?” 

When you can’t find something to say fast enough, he just continues.

“I’m sorry, is that rude? If you’re just gonna get rid of it, I’ll take it. It just… looks like me. I mean they all do, I’ve been told I have a ‘simple face’,” He coughs awkwardly in acknowledgement of his own tangent, “I just mean to say that it feels a lot like me. If that makes sense.”

“You’re actually very visually interesting.” Is the first thing you can think of, and fuck, did that come out really fucking wrong, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe it’s better if he takes it, if it’ll stop you from fumbling, “But yeah, you can have it.” You pull a little plastic mail-tube out of your bag, ripping the drawing free from its perforated tether and rolling it in on itself. 

The edges of his mouth pull up, a cute little thing, free of laughter or judgement, “Thank you. I’m Joel.” One of his hands drapes across his stomach, palm spread over the knot of the wrap—he’s holding himself at length again. Why? 

“Hi Joel. You seem to know a fair amount about this whole thing. Not your first time, then?” You offer him your name in return, and he parrots it back—guard still up, still standing too far away. 

“It is, actually. The closest I’ve come to this is sitting in the yard for my daughter,” He watches as you slide the drawing into the cylindrical case, “You’re very talented.” 

“Thank you.” It feels weird to hear the praise twice, “How’d they get you to pose for no money? I heard the department’s a little strapped. I’ve been subbing in for the undergrads too when I can.” 

“My daughter volunteered me, she’s on the other side of the program. Your teacher was giving out extra credit.” He takes the roll when you pass it to him, going out of his way to grab it from the middle, his thumb grazing yours. Your skin heats up where he’s touched it, and you look down at the floor, suddenly nervous. 

“Wow, this is the first time I’m hearing anything about that.” You continue to pack away items into your bag, “I’m owed quite a lot if that’s true.” 

His face falls in on itself in a wince, “Oh. Didn’t mean to do her in like that.” You can feel him looking at you for a few beats too long, and his eyes narrow like he’s about to say more. 

In the same moment, as if summoned, your professor turns on her heel, walking over to your bench. 

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay without it. I’ll see you next week, right?”

He shakes a little, releasing his stare, and throws a thumbs up in your direction with his protective hand, “Yeah, see ya next week. Nice to meet you.” 

───────

After another four-hour class and a too-long nap and a break for dinner, everyone from this morning joins together in a few cars to head to a bar downtown. You meet up with Ian, who offered to drive as a bargaining chip, because he knows by now that you’d back out if you had to show up on your own.

The bar is dark and divey and perfect for being overly-observant in secret. You’ve warmed up to this crowd enough, but you’re still on plus-one basis with a lot of them, Ian serving as your invitation. You like to just listen to them at first during these outings, strategically planning your involvement so you don’t feel put on the spot when they give you a turn.

It’s a lot like being in class; the group of you occupying a dimly lit corner, a round-table of bodies, with the person in the center alternating as the topic changes. Tonight you stay at the furthest end.

You cling to the single tequila soda you ordered, watery and flat by now with pea-sized ice chips bobbing around in the center to avoid the heat of your fingers. You watch them swim, tipping your cup to see them swirl in a frenzied circle until they disappear. 

Some guy from your English class—Andre or Andrew or who cares—is talking at you, making his best attempt at what you think is supposed to be flirting. It’s really just him asking your opinions on his five favorite books, not hiding his disapproval when you mention you haven’t read one or the other. 

You watch Ian, who left you twenty minutes ago in search of the bar-top for another drink. He’s caught now on his third conversation on the way back, maybe thinking he’s doing you a favor by taking his time. You try relentlessly to catch his eye instead, and he bounds over without question when he sees you. The glass of wine in his hand is already half empty, and the English-class-guy spooks at the sight of what he probably thinks is competition. So much for that.

“Having fun?” he prods when he slips in the chair beside you, already aware that you are absolutely very much not having fun. 

Ian’s a nice guy, and he means well. You met him a week into your first semester—almost a year ago now—at orientation, because your last names were the beginning and end of the line of their respective letters. He was from somewhere in Canada, studying photography with a minor in painting and drawing. He’s maybe a year or two older than you, though you’ve never asked to confirm; tall and long and pretty, for lack of a better word, with big eyes and a permanent split in the little bangs that cover his forehead. He’s the first man in years you’ve been comfortable around, never initiating anything or pushing too hard for your friendship. All in all, no one’s been as welcoming to you, except the person you literally live with, and you’re happy to let him drag you out if it means he’ll continue to look after you the way he does.

“Of course, when have you ever known me to have a bad time?” 

“No luck with Adrian?” Adrian. You were close.

“Just likes to hear himself talk, I think. I wasn’t interested in being an audience.” 

He hums, “Someone else on your mind?” 

“Like who?” You lean the lip of your cup against your mouth.

“Saw you making eyes at the model today,” He teases, nudging you in your rib when you take a sip of your drink so that you keel over slightly. You sputter, unamused with the tactic to get you to fess up.

Was it that obvious?

“Isn’t that the point of the class?” 

“Yeah maybe, smartass, but that’s not what I meant. I saw him talking to you, saw you give him a little gift,” He bobs his eyebrows at you suggestively, “Excited for him to come back next week?”

“So I can stare more, you mean?” 

“So you can get his number.” 

“Ian.”

“I’m just saying you should try and find someone outside our section of the building. No writers, either, obviously.” He gestures to where Adrian is already trying his shtick on some girl from your class.

“He’s a little too old for me, don’t you think? His daughter goes here.” You muse. He’s mostly right about you needing to expand your reach, but you won’t let him off that easily.

“Maybe. But if you don’t care, and he doesn’t care, what’s it matter? He’s not too old to fuck you.” He makes a face and you roll your eyes. 

The thought is nice, but you know forging relationships is unlikely when you’re concerned, at least as of late, “I don’t want to spend my night talking about people I’m not going to fuck.” 

“Whatever you say.” He slinks out from his seat, mumbling something about a glass of water. A few steps away, he looks back over his shoulder, “You’re not doomed, by the way,” the asshole can read your mind, “You can enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. You’re allowed to like people.” 

And then you’re alone again. 

It’s like that for another hour, small attempts at chatter and meetings until you realize you’re too tired to fuck anyone, let alone continue to sit upright. Being up so early this morning took more of a toll than an hour nap could fix, and you're begging Ian to take you home. He agrees, spending the trip trying to plan another outing later in the week before everyone’s gone on vacation.

You give him a sleepy goodbye when he pulls into your apartment complex, making sure he’s still going to class tomorrow before letting him drive away. Once you’re inside, slipping quietly in through the front door, you realize your roommate isn’t home. She’s probably still in a late class or at her boyfriend’s or somewhere else. You enjoy the quiet enough to not think about it too hard.

The five sips of tequila-mostly-water has settled into your stomach by now, making you a quarter-second slower when you strip all your clothes off and climb into bed. 

You twist under the sheets, and after a while your skin starts to feel too hot, even in the cold air of your room. Breathing deep, you try to think of something boring to get your mind to still, but when you sense the sleep about to take over, it switches.

You see his face behind your eyelids, the man from today, strong and pretty and delicate, remembering all your favorite details—the length of his fingers and the depth of his voice. You curse yourself for assigning this importance to him. He’s just another page in your portfolio, if you even keep him, yet you can feel a slow heat bubble up at your core when you remember the stretch of his body under the robe. It’s okay to be taken with him, you think, he’s objectively gorgeous. 

Your conversation with Ian replays in your head—less about his sincere advice and more about how you need to get laid. It’s been too long; maybe you are just horny, and maybe taking care of it just this once could be enough to stop this hollow interest from growing. 

You reach a hand down under your blanket, the tips of your digits pushing into the slit of your cunt. You’re wet, arousal tacky and pooled so much that the light pressure you meant to be exploring with is enough to have you accidentally slipping inside. Okay, he’s really hot. So what? Was it really that bad if you thought so?

You dip a finger further in, timid at first; you’re used to keeping quiet for this kind of activity, and even though your roommate was gone when you got here, it doesn’t mean she hadn’t come in in the thirty minutes of rolling around you’d done before giving into your desire. You lay your free hand over your mouth just in case, teeth biting into the meat at the base of your thumb to keep yourself quiet. 

You slide in a second finger to the knuckle to join the first, the light stretch of it enough to make you pant. You see him again, hard and soft and beautiful. You think about what his skin would taste like, if he’d let you sink your teeth into the sinew of his neck. It feels weird to know what he looks like without his clothes, and you’re weirdly proud of yourself for holding back from seeing him fully; it's easier to dream about that way. You wonder how he’d present himself to you, how he’d want to fuck you. You imagine him winding a hand around the hinge of your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the soft of your cheeks. Would he be gentle? Would he make it hurt? You suspect either would be too much. You feverishly palm your clit, hips canting in an effort to climax. The pictures flash faster—his cock in your mouth, his tongue in your cunt, the way he’d spit and grip and hold—and you’re coming, drooling over your hand as you hear him say your name in your mind. 

You take your hand away after a minute, breath pushing out heavily from your nose. It’s fine, you needed to do it, just one time. No shame in that. It’s out of your system now. 

And if you see his face one more time before you fall asleep, it’s probably an afterthought.

───────

By the end of the week, you come to a horrible conclusion. 

It starts the next morning when you take your sketchbook out, itching to get a handle on the many writing assignments you’ve been dutifully ignoring, hoping for an outline or a free-flow of ideas. Nothing comes to mind. You draw a little bit to fill the space while you think, just a mess of material on the page, strokes of your hand that leave barely anything behind. 

Then on Wednesday you’re at your laptop, typing with one hand while the other one slides against the wood of the dining table, down and around in a loop, mimicking the same shape each time. 

And again last night in the shower, letting the shame of a different semi-failed night-out wash over and off of you. You slosh your foot around in the water in the basin below, catching it as it runs down and pools, ankle dragging in a tiny, controlled movement. 

It’s not until now that you put it together.

You’re sitting at your desk, with creative materials at your disposal this time, trying to make sense of what it is you’re forming. You find that no matter the medium, your hand automatically makes a single hard line. The same line, from memory. It’s negligible at first, just a light press of pen or pencil or crayon, until it drags down, down, down. It’s not until you lift your utensil that you recognize it. The hook of a nose and the crest of a top lip. 

A hard pit forms in your stomach, blood draining from your head to gather in the center of your chest, a blooming sickness of obsession you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re drawing him. You’ve been drawing him. You know this feeling, have participated in this kind of behavior. These are the actions that cause the humiliating dregs of attraction to bleed over into fixation—juvenile and universal and unavoidable.  He’s going to be a problem.

[yourlazykitkat]

I don’t know why but I always imagine azris falling in love in the the winter court.

They’d both be there for work- Eris seamlessly stringing people along with his silver tongue, Azriel spying through the pale shadows of winter. There’s a mutual understanding that when Eris notices a few rebellious shadows, he looks away with a blinding smile so that whatever courtier he’s charming doesn’t see a thing, that when Azriel watches Eris slip into the private rooms- he calls his own spies off and attends himself so that whisper of a conspiracy does not bleed out. They don’t get along at all but they are reluctant allies.

Which makes things confusing when Eris catches a glimpse of Azriel from his guest room windows. The sharp, dangerous edges of an imposing Ilyrian softening in the gentle rain of snow, sleet falling on a beautiful face which shifts from cold stone to quiet wonder. Things are confusing when Azriel as a spy, an extremely unwelcome guest, has no place to stay but cold abandoned rooms and empty rafters. Illyrians are resistant to the colder more than others but it doesn’t stop Eris taking pity on Azriel who’s shoulders are stiff and fingers are blue. Eris is warm, his hand drags Azriel to his own quarters- Azriel has never held someone who’s blood runs so hot. He wonders if all autumn fae are like this or if it’s just Eris. The autumn prince will hide Azriel in his room and it gets confusing when late nights when either of them can sleep, they start talking about Eris’ dogs, Azriel’s shadows. They argue until they have to go to bed furious at each other (but keep each other warm) on some nights and others, they confess forgotten dreams and weak promises.

It’s confusing because they’re both workaholics who know better than this. There’s no playing at work- that just leads to horrible choices and decisions that they can’t afford to make. They act on behalf of their courts, they’ve learned better than to listen to their thundering, traitorous hearts.

It was useless to fight it, the surge of emotion, the falling in love. Azriel has never felt more helpless when he treks the wintery forests with Eris one day for no other reason than the fact he wants to- watching Eris scale a tree with a fire flickering beneath his feet. Eris shakes the tree, ice and snow falls on Azriel and he can only look in the same wonder as that first night. Eris slips, on purpose or on accident, and Azriel rushes forward to soften the other’s fall. The flash of lovely red hair again the pure snow, warm laughter ringing out and Eris as an anchor in his arms- Azriel has never been more helpless.

Or Eris, who plays along with the winter nobles, with the high lord and lady. By the end of the day, he’s exhausted with these games. He doesn’t want to play with the mask. In quiet moments of respite, he sits in the cozy libraries with a book and by the frosted windows. He never finishes a book because by the time he opens to the first page, writing appears in the frost. Telling him he looks stupid, telling him he looks like a pretentious fuck. Telling him that they’ll bring back liquorice tonight from the court’s premiere confectionary even though liquorice fucking sucks Eris. Eris will write back. They’ll spar with a thesaurus: brute, prick, pain in my ass, the bane of my existence, the death of me- and one day the frost answers back a word Eris doesn’t recognise. But he is in a library and he hunts down the answer and when he does, his ears are red all through dinner. It was too much effort, he thinks to himself when laying in bed with Azriel who sleeps soundly with a strong arm over Eris, too fight against this.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Galileo Galilei Main Story

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

A few days have passed since Professor Maury and Drake took me to their house.

Sebastian: "Mitsuki, you said you've been having bad dreams lately. Are you okay?"

Mitsuki: "Oh, yes. I'm sorry for worrying you."

I said that, but the truth is, I'm still having nightmares.

(I sometimes have the same dream, and other times a different one.)

(But in every dream, I'm still a Dhampir.)

Sebastian: "They said that dreams can be either auspicious or ominous. Some historical figures achieved great things by taking their dreams as omens."

Sebastian: "Scary dreams are sometimes considered a sign of good luck, so why not treat them like fortune-telling?"

Mitsuki: "Hehe. That's a good idea."

I smiled appreciatively at Sebastian's concern.

(But the dreams I see are a little different from ordinary ones.)

(They're so vivid, almost as if they're pleading with me in sorrow.)

As I pondered this, Sebastian exclaimed next to me.

Sebastian: "We've run out of essential seasoning for tonight's menu."

Sebastian: "Mitsuki, could you accompany me to do some shopping? I need to visit a few stores."

Mitsuki: "Sure."

After arriving in town, we decided to split up. By the time I finished my part, the sun had begun to set.

(I think I got everything we need. Sebastian should be finishing up soon.)

I was looking at my shopping list as I made my way to our meeting place when一

Dog voice: "Woof!"

(Was that a dog's voice? It sounded like a scream.)

Suddenly, a high-pitched cry caught my attention, and I went into the back alley to look for the source of it.

There I found一

Child 1: "Haha, look at this filthy mutt!"

Puppy: *Whimper*

Child 2: "Dogs have to obey humans, you know!"

Several children were bullying a brown-haired puppy, poking it with a stick, and threatening it.

Mitsuki: "What do you think you're doing?!"

In a moment of panic, I moved to intervene, but something raced past me and leaped into the midst of the children.

Suddenly, a large dog with a gray coat appeared.

(Huh? A wild dog!?)

Stray Dog: "Grrr."

Child 1: "Whoa!? What's this thing!?"

The wild dog stood protectively over the puppy, glaring menacingly.

The children's faces immediately tensed as the dog, nearly their own height, appeared out of nowhere.

Child 2: "Shoo! Go away!!"

One of the children, holding a small stone, raised it, ready to throw it at the stray dog.

Mitsuki: "No, don't do that!"

I instinctively intervened, and the flying pebbles struck my arms and legs.

Mitsuki: "Ouch!"

Child 1: "Now's our chance, run!"

I crouched down in pain, and the children hurriedly ran away.

(My leg is bleeding, but I'm sure it'll heal just fine.)

Puppy: *Whimper*

I turned at the faint whimper and saw the puppy peeking at me from behind the wild dog.

Mitsuki: "I'm sorry for startling you. Are you both okay?"

Wild dog?: "........"

(This dog seems to be protecting the puppy. For now, it doesn't seem like it's going to attack.)

The wild dog seemed more cautious than alert, observing my actions.

Its eyes, upon closer inspection, had a purple hue, giving me a sense of déjà vu.

(The puppy's front paw is bleeding.)

It must have been injured earlier.

Mitsuki: "Will you let me patch that poor baby's paw?"

I took out my handkerchief and quietly addressed the dog, ensuring not to agitate it.

The wild dog seemed to understand my intention and moved away from the puppy.

(What a smart dog. Maybe it belongs to someone.)

(But it seems quite wild for a pet.)

As I wrapped the puppy's leg with the handkerchief...

???: "Sidereus, there you are."

(Huh? That voice.)

Recognizing the familiar voice, I turned around to see Professor Maury standing there.

Maury: "It's you again."

Mitsuki: "Hello. What a coincidence."

Seeing Maury's frowning expression, my voice unintentionally became sharper.

(I'm not trying to meet him on purpose, so why do we keep running into each other like this?)

Wild dog?: *Bark*

As I blurted that in my mind, the wild dog barked and walked towards him, sitting obediently by his feet.

(Come to think of it, he called the dog Sidereus earlier.)

Mitsuki: "Is that dog yours?"

Maury: "It's not a dog, but a wolf."

Mitsuki: "W-Wolf!?"

Surprised, I inadvertently raised my voice, thinking it was just a dog.

(This is the first time I've seen one up close. Is it okay to approach?)

Wolves are fierce creatures.

As I shivered with realization, he spoke as if he could see through me.

Maury: "Don't worry. Wolves don't attack humans."

Mitsuki: "I see."

Maury: "As long as you don't recklessly provoke it. Humans tend to exaggerate the ferocity of wolves due to twisted knowledge."

Mitsuki: "I see. Since it was trying to protect the puppy earlier, it must be a gentle creature at heart."

Mitsuki: "Thank you very much."

Sidereus: *Bark*

Maury: "........."

Suddenly, the wolf called Sidereus grabbed the hem of his cloak and tugged at it.

Maury: "What's the matter, Sidereus?"

Sidereus: *Bark*

Maury: "........."

Sidereus turned his head toward me as if wanting to say something.

He glanced alternately between me and the puppy behind me, furrowing his eyebrows slightly.

Maury: "Humans are truly foolish."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Maury: "They harm and persecute the weak, and that foolishness remains unchanged throughout time."

He muttered to himself and then approached me, grabbing my wrist.

Mitsuki: "What are you doing?"

Maury: "I'm going to stop the bleeding. Follow me."

Caught off guard by his unexpected words, I hurriedly tried to pull my hand back, but Professor Maury wouldn’t let go.

Mitsuki: “If that’s the case, I can do it myself. I have a handkerchief.”

Maury: “Isn’t that handkerchief wrapped around the puppy’s leg yours?”

(Oh, right.)

Puppy: *Whine*

He looked down at the puppy whining at my feet and calmly said:

Maury: “If you want to avoid getting mistreated by humans again, you better leave.”

Seemingly intimidated by him, the puppy took a step back, then looked at me and barked before slowly walking into the alley.

Mitsuki: “I’m glad he can walk.”

Maury: “........”

Maury: “Let’s go.”

He led me to the square and made me sit on the edge of the fountain, pouring water over the injured area.

Mitsuki: “........”

I endured the pain as the wound stung more than I anticipated. Then he took out his handkerchief to wrap it around the wound, but I hurriedly stopped him.

Mitsuki: “Your handkerchief will get dirty! I’m fine now.”

Maury: “What’s the point if I don’t stop the bleeding? Or are you going to leave it dripping everywhere?”

Maury: “It’s annoying to have the smell lingering around.”

(Lingering around?)

(It’s nice of him to treat the wound, but if it’s annoying him, he could just leave it.)

Maury: “Moreover, judging by the situation, you defended the puppy and Sidereus.”

Maury: “In that case, I owe you.”

His words made me blink.

(So, it’s a thank you?)

Honestly, I didn't really sense that kind of attitude from him, and it didn't seem like mere kindness either, but...

(Is he someone who sticks to his principles?)

As he wrapped the handkerchief around my leg, much like I did for the puppy, I noticed something.

Maybe it was the water or perhaps his naturally low body temperature, but his occasionally cold hand against my skin felt ticklish.

After wrapping the handkerchief, he looked up, and his purple eyes reflected me.

(Oh, I see. I just realized.)

The familiarity I felt in Sidereus's eyes was from him.

Maury: "Are there any other places that hurt?"

Mitsuki: "My arm."

I couldn't even bring myself to hesitate, so I just told him honestly.

As he rolled up the sleeve of my blouse and examined the wound, I couldn't bear the silence and searched for a way to start a conversation.

Townsperson 1: "The Paris Expo was amazing! Especially that huge telescope!"

Townsperson 2: "Yeah, I was surprised at how big it was. It was indeed the world's largest telescope."

(They were returning from the Expo.)

(Come to think of it, he's an astronomy professor.)

Mitsuki: "Um, did you happen to go to the Paris World's Fair? The highlight seems to have been the giant telescope."

When I tried to break the silence by throwing out a topic I had found, he let out an exasperated sigh.

Maury: "That telescope was too large to be practical for astronomical observations. It was basically a front they put up for the World's Fair."

Mitsuki: "I see. I had no idea."

Maury: "Those in power are more interested in showcasing the country's prestige than pursuing the truth."

I sensed a tinge of discomfort in his voice.

(He seems more lamenting than irritated.)

Mitsuki: "That's somehow sad, isn't it?"

Mitsuki: "There should be things more important than just appearances."

Maury: "........."

(When I heard about him from Isaac before, I thought he might be someone who confronts truth for the sake of principles.)

Mitsuki: "I hope the importance of pursuing truth, as you say, gets through."

I spoke my mind, and he glanced at me for a moment, then averted his gaze.

Maury: "It won't."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Maury: "Humans are creatures who define what's convenient for themselves as truth."

Maury: "Even if the truth is revealed, if it's inconvenient, they'll be condemned and excluded."

Maury: "I know of a fool who pursued the truth despite knowing this and ended up with a life sentence."

(I wonder if that person is his friend.)

He quietly and decisively labeled someone a fool, but I didn't see it that way.

Mitsuki: "I don't think that guy is a fool."

Maury: "What?"

Mitsuki: "If he ended up with a life sentence, it means there were people around who opposed him or hid the truth."

Mitsuki: "Persisting with your beliefs and pursuing the truth amidst such adversaries is not that easy, you know?"

Maury: "........."

Mitsuki: "For me, that person is braver than anyone else."

Maury: "........"

(Professor Maury?)

He lowered his gaze, concealing the lonely expression hidden behind his amethyst eyes.

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Next Part

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 7]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.3K

Chapter warning(s): Alcohol consumption.

"Tomorrow, we can sleep in!" Wooyoung cheered as he did the dishes. Today was Wednesday, which meant it would be the first off day your team has had since working at the restaurant. Days went by in a blur with how busy it was.

"I can finally go back to recipe testing." You chuckled as you wiped the table tops with disinfectant.

"After getting some sleep." Seonghwa added.

"Party pooper." You grumbled as you went to wash the cloth at the sink. Jongho and Wooyoung snickered at how you were just like a child with Seonghwa.

"What are your plans tomorrow, Jong?" You asked the youngest. He put the tray down with a sigh.

"Brunch with my parents and younger brother." He said.

"Are they still trying to set you up on dates with random girls?" Wooyoung laughed. Jongho rolled his eyes and took his tray into the walk in but that was enough of an answer.

"What about you, Seonghwa hyung? Any plans for tomorrow?" Wooyoung turned to the oldest.

"Just going to stay home and chill. I need to recharge." Seonghwa said. You knew that Seonghwa was just going to spend the entire day playing his Nintendo Switch. He was addicted to Animal Crossing. That device was glued to him 24/7, he probably uses it more than he uses his phone.

"You should make salt beef for that reuben sandwich you've been craving. Can't make salt beef on that switch of yours~" You teased. Seonghwa scoffed, flinging his tea towel at you.

"Are you guys seriously talking about cooking on your days off?" Mingi came in.

"Don't judge. I'm sure that's more productive than what you have planned." You retorted, making San wince.

"She got you good. Our plan was to game tonight and spend the whole day sleeping tomorrow." San informed and Mingi rolled his eyes but nodded.

"I will be going to my art studio." Hongjoong said. Oh yes, you heard from Seonghwa that Hongjoong does art on the side.

"What kind of art do you do?" You asked.

"Oh! I, uh, redesign clothing pieces. Repaint them, stitch different pieces and fabrics together, customise stuff... All that." Hongjoong explained, a light blush appearing on his cheeks.

"That's cool." You chuckled. Hongjoong's friends have never openly thought that his work was cool. For him to be genuinely complimented by someone that he personally has been wow'ed by was exhilarating.

"I'm stepping out for a bit." You told Wooyoung. He nodded and squeezed your waist as you walked through the back door.

"Good work today, everyone." Yunho smiled as he pranced into the kitchen after doing the accounts.

"Where's (y/n)?" He blinked, eyes wandering around the kitchen to look for you. Yeosang nodded over to the back door where you had just stepped out of.

"Shall we go out for a late dinner/ supper tonight since the restaurant is closed tomorrow?" Yunho suggested.

"There goes my gaming plan." Mingi mumbled.

"You can game the entire day tomorrow, Mingi ah." Yunho slung his arm around his best friend's shoulders. Mingi rolled his eyes and went to retrieve his bag from the locker room.

"Sure." Wooyoung and Jongho shrugged, they didn't mind going for dinner. Seonghwa too, he was going to suggest a night in with you anyway, tag along on your recipe testing or convince you to make salt beef for him. After all, it seemed that you were comfortable with this new group of people.

"Where did you have in mind, Yunho?" San asked.

"What about barbecue? We can get drinks." Yunho beamed. His heart fluttered in slight excitement, hoping that you would come.

"Hey. Ready to head off?" You came back in.

"(y/n)! I actually suggested that we go for a late dinner or supper. Get some barbecue and drinks. Would you want to go? But if you're tired, I completely understand." Yunho jogged over to you.

"Sure." Your reply was short as you looked up at the excitement written all over his face.

"Yes!" He cheered. You grabbed your apron that was on the counter and went to hang it on your hook in the staff room.

"Are you sure you're not tired? It's really okay if you don't-"

"Yunho, I said I'm good. Unless you don't want me to go?" You raised an eyebrow at him. His eyes widened as your statement and he actually looked horrified.

"What?! No! That's definitely NOT what I meant." He panicked, shaking his hands in denial. You burst out laughing, unable to contain yourself anymore. You held onto the cupboard to steady yourself. He really reminded you of a puppy and it amused you to no end.

"What's going on in here?" Seonghwa poked his head in. He hadn't seen you laugh so hysterically in public before, usually you kept your emotions on a leash and kept stoic around strangers.

"Nothing, Hwa. It was just something funny." You wiped a non existend tear and shook your head, turning back to your cubby to pack your things.

Yunho, on the other hand, was surprised. He hadn't heard you laugh so genuinely before and honestly, it made him feel a certain way.

He decided, he liked your laugh. He liked hearing it and even being the cause of it.

"Here." Seonghwa helped you put your coat over your shoulders, as he always does. He took his scarf and wrapped it around your neck, securing it properly.

"I don't need this, Hwa." You told him.

"You want to wear this thin coat, you wear a scarf. This isn't going to keep you warm. I told you to get rid of it, it's too old." Seonghwa nagged you.

"I will never throw it away. This was the first coat you bought me from your trip to Europe." You frowned. Seonghwa laughed softly and patted your head. You exited the small locker room first, leaving Seonghwa to gather his things. Yunho regained his focus and grabbed his things too.

"Look at how cute you are." When Yunho emerged, he saw Wooyoung teasing you, being swallowed by Seonghwa's long scarf. It covered the lower half of your face, leaving only your eyes peeking through.

"I'll end you." You threatened but Wooyoung couldn't care less, continuing to pinch your cheeks and coo at you.

"I'll get Jongho to end you." You tried again and that actually made Wooyoung stop but Jongho laughed.

"Get your stuff. We'll wait in the car." Seonghwa said to Wooyoung and Jongho, who obediently went into the locker room to get their stuff. You followed Seonghwa out.

"Which restaurant are we going to?" You asked Yunho, who followed you both out.

"Oh, let me give you the address." Yunho took his phone out.

"Send it to Hwa instead. He's the one driving." You instructed. Yunho paused but nodded, sending the address to Seonghwa instead of you.

"See you at the restaurant." Yunho waved with a small smile. You bowed your head and Seonghwa waved back as you both walked to where Seonghwa's car was parked. As always, Seonghwa opened the door for you to get in first.

"See you in a bit!" Wooyoung waved as he and Jongho came out of the restaurant and jogged over to the car where you and Seonghwa were already warming up in.

"Let's go." Mingi, San, Yeosang and Hongjoong came out. They rode in Yeosang's car. Thankfully he wasn't much of a drinker anymore.

"Are you sure you guys aren't too tired?" You asked from the passenger seat.

"Nope! Not tired at all." Wooyoung giggled.

"Besides, we're going to eat and drink. That doesn't count as work or anything remotely tiring." Jongho pointed out, leaning his head against Wooyoung's arm.

"But it's with our boss." You reminded.

"That's your corporate side talking." Seonghwa chuckled, facing the road as he drove.

"You know I can't help it." You mumbled, sinking further into the scarf that was wrapped around your neck. Seonghwa let out an affectionate chuckle. When Seonghwa pulled up, you all got out of the car. It wasn't that long a wait before Yeosang pulled up next to Seonghwa's car to park.

"What's famous at this place?" Jongho asked.

"Beef on charcoal barbecue." Yunho grinned at you, as if trying to impress you that he didn't bring you to some random Korean barbecue place.

"Next time, we should go to Mingi's mother's restaurant." San suggested and you attention was steered. Hongjoong went in to get a table or section that could sit all of you together.

"Your mother's owns a restaurant?" You blinked.

"Yeah... Not like the one we work at. It's a grilled eel place." Mingi rubbed the back of his neck.

"I do like grilled eel. Salt grilled. We should go next time~" You shook Seonghwa's sleeve like an excited little child. The prospect of food always got you excited.

"Sure." Seonghwa chuckled. When Hongjoong waved all of you into the restaurant, you entered and sat down at a long table.

"Why don't you guys do the ordering since you're more familiar with the place? We'll eat anything and everything." Wooyoung suggested, passing the menu over to Yeosang. Yunho made all the orders, along with a few drink orders.

"I'm the designated driver so cola for me." Yeosang ordered. The 5 watched in amusement as you, Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho engaged in an intense game of rock, paper, scissors.

"Wait, isn't the car Seonghwa's though?" Hongjoong asked.

"Doesn't matter. We drive each other's cars all the time." Jongho said as you eyed each other.

"Ahhh..." Seonghwa groaned as you, Wooyoung and Jongho hi fived each other in victory. Maybe it was meant to be, Seonghwa driving his own car.

"Beer or straight to soju?" Mingi offered as he put out the glasses for the 3 of you.

"Soju for us." Wooyoung replied. You received your shot glass, shaking it at Seonghwa to tease him a little.

"Here you go." The staff served all the plates of beef and stews that were ordered. You scooped out half of the rice from your bowl and piled it on top of Seonghwa's own full one. You'd rather fill up on meat than rice. You started the cooking for one of the grills, oiling it with beef fat.

"Shall we do some pork and some beef?" You suggested. Yunho and Hongjoong, who were sharing the grill with you and Seonghwa, nodded their heads.

"I'll help." Yunho, who sat opposite you, offered. He reached over to grab a pair of tongs.

"Wow, you're really bad at this. You already burnt the kimchi." Wooyoung snorted as he helped remove the stuck kimchi.

"I'm trying to help." Yeosang hissed. Mingi reached over to fill your glass and everyone else's. Yunho proposed a toast, extending his gratefulness to everyone at the table.

"Thank you, everyone. For helping me and supporting me so far. I think we work well together." He raised his glass.

"Cheers!" Everyone clinked their glasses and downed everything in one shot. Seonghwa, who had water in his shot glasses, feigned winces and hisses as he drank the water, acting like he was drinking the bitter alcohol along with all of you.

"Your acting is getting better, Hwa." You teased, putting your empty shot glass down. Jongho, who was beside you, refilled your glass with more soju.

"Hey, you fill mine to the brim but give (y/n) a normal amount." Wooyoung complained, holding his glass up to compare.

"Woo, you're gonna spill." Seonghwa lectured.

"Not my fault!" He exclaimed. Jongho shrugged innocently. You let out a small giggle. When you finished grilling, Seonghwa helped with cutting the meat up and distributing them.

"How is it?" Yunho asked after you took the first mouthful of meat, followed by a spoon of rice.

"It's good meat." You said as you covered your mouth so he wouldn't see you chewing. Yunho smiled proudly, glad he could impress you.

"They wet age their meats here, probably why it is so flavourful." Seonghwa pointed to the tank, where slabs of beef and pork were sitting in vacuum bags. Yunho and Hongjoong turned around to see what Seonghwa was pointing at. They have never noticed the tank here before.

"What's wet aging?" Yunho tilted his head.

"It's where you seal the meat in it's own juices to enhance the natural flavour of the meat. There's dry age and wet age. Dye aging leaves the meat exposed but it makes the meat richer." You explained.

"It's probably in those tanks because leaving it in the fridge or on the counter makes it susceptible to spoiling." Jongho said.

"Like when you thaw meat from the freezer, putting it in the water prevents the temperature of the meat from becoming too extreme too quickly." Seonghwa added.

"So like fermenting it in it's own meat juice." Mingi clarified. Wooyoung nodded his head.

"San, you're awfully quiet. Are you alright?" You turned to the male. His cheeks were bright red and his eyes were glassy.

"Are you crying?" Your eyes widened.

"N-No! I just... get like this when I drink... I'm not a big fan of drinking. But I'm okay, (y/n)." He rubbed the back of his neck shyly. His sheepishness with the dazed look on his face made you give him an endearing smile.

"Who is the best drinker out of the 5 of you?" Wooyoung asked, downing the rest of his shot.

"Definitely not San. I would say Yunho is the best? Or rather, he acts the most sober, even if he doesn't remember what happened the next day." Yeosang said.

"Jongho's the same. Acts sober but doesn't remember a single thing when he wakes up. Wooyoung and Seonghwa are the worse."

"Speak for yourself." Seonghwa scoffed at your words.

"Jongho and I are always the ones that have to put you two to bed." You glared at Seonghwa. He didn't say anything because he knows it's the truth. He never remembers how he ends up in your bed.

"You tell him, (y/n)." Jongho laughed, raising his shot glass to clink with yours before you both downed it.

"I want some pork neck, please." You pointed, holding the perilla leaf out. Seonghwa nodded and took a piece, blowing it lightly before dipping it into the ssamjang and placing it on your leaf. He placed a piece of kimchi, a sliver of garlic and some scallion salad on there too, knowing how you like to make your wraps.

"Thank you." You smiled and ate it in one mouthful. To give Seonghwa a chance to eat, you took over the cooking for a bit. You placed a few pieces of beef on Yunho's plate.

"You prefer the short rib over the ribeye right?" You raised an eyebrow. Yunho nodded in his head in confirmation, his eyes shining.

"Can you... make me a wrap?" Yunho asked suddenly, now gaining some liquid confidence from the soju.

"Sure. What do you want in it?" You asked.

"No, make it how you would make it." Yunho shook his head. You nodded, putting the tongs down and making a wrap how you would make it for yourself.

"That's a lot of veggies..." Hongjoong cringed at your overall vegetable to meat ratio.

"You're just a vegetable hater." You scoffed. Now that there was alcohol in your system, you let loose a little more and relaxed, finding yourself a little more chatty. Yunho's eyes followed you curiously as you made the wrap. Then you held it out to him.

"Looks good." He grinned, a light blush forming on his cheeks. It was either from the alcohol, the shyness or both. But he leaned forward to eat the wrap from your hands.

"It's so good, the best I've had." When he beamed, the food made his cheeks bulge. The first time, he didn't look like a puppy, more a hamster.

"It's just a normal wrap." You said.

"Still the best." Yunho insisted with a small pout. You shook your head with a chuckle and filled your glass to sip it. Wooyoung was already leaning against Jongho, mumbling and giggling to himself.

"One more bottle, please!" Mingi suddenly shot up, making you jump in surprise.

"Shhh, Mingi ah. No yelling in the restaurant." Yeosang pushed his drunkenly loud friend back onto his stool. Mingi blinked in confusion, not realising how loud he was being. San was already knocked out, laying down on the chair next to him. Hongjoong had a dreamy smile on his face.

"Looks like we may need to go home soon." Seonghwa stroked your back.

"I'm fine, Hwa." You assured, taking more food to eat. You were a little too tipsy to realise Seonghwa wasn't talking about you but the rest around the table.

Yunho was pacing himself too. He didn't want to get too intoxicated since he was in front of you and your team. A part of him was worried about looking like an irresponsible boss.

"Let's finish the food. Then we will go home." Yeosang encouraged his friends.

"We have to go before they start singing. They will not shut up then." He said to Yeosang, who burst out laughing.

After the food and drinks were done, Yunho went to pay while Yeosang started to load the boys into the car. Seonghwa and Jongho moved Wooyoung into the car, helping Yeosang with the other boys. You sat there obediently, waiting for them.

"(y/n), let's go." Yunho said. You nodded and pushed yourself to stand up, following Yunho out to where the cars were. You seemed fine but Yunho noticed you staring into space and blinking slowly.

"Hwa hwa." That was an indication of how out of it you were.

"That's how you know. She's not called me 'hwa hwa' in years. Only when we were kids. And now, when she's tipsy." Seonghwa chuckled.

"Come on. Thank you for tonight, Yunho. Get home safe." Seonghwa's arm came to your waist to steady you before he bowed gratefully to Yunho.

"Let's go, Yunho." Yeosang helped the smiling giant into the passenger seat. Yunho waved to you and Seonghwa as Yeosang led him away, sitting him down and buckling his seatbelt for him before shutting the door. Despite not knowing if Yunho could see you, you still gave a small wave back.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help send one of them home?" Seonghwa asked Yeosang, seating you in the passenger seat of his own car. You were still sober enough to buckle your own seatbelt.

"It's fine, Seonghwa. Don't you need to send all of them home too? It's about the same." Yeosang chuckled.

"Nah, I think I'll take them back to (y/n)'s. They'll go home on their own tomorrow after sobering up." Seonghwa laughed.

"That's a good idea actually. Maybe I should take them back to Yunho's place and leave them all there. But let me know when you get back safely?"

"You too." The two sober ones bid each other goodbye and goodnight before parting ways.

"Yunho is nice. They're all nice." You said.

"You've gotten comfortable with them a lot faster than any of us expected. You're usually more cautious around new people." Seonghwa pointed out. He was not sure if you would remember this conversation tomorow.

"I am... I still am... But especially Yunho, he's like a puppy, you know? You can't really help but be nice to him because he's just nice to everyone he meets." You replied.

"That's true. He's been friendly from the get go like a golden retriever." Seonghwa chuckled.

"Exactly!" You snapped your fingers.

"But usually, those kind of people hide a lot of their negative emotions behind that smile. It's like a mask to them." You said, looking out the window.

~

Series masterlist

[saintmagx]

I Knew You were Trouble ❤️‍🔥

Part 4

Pairing: Jimmy Uso × reader

AN: if you would like tagged let me know 💕 No specific timeline

❗️❗️Warnings: 18+, swearing, violence (this is the WWE after all) slight smut, infidelity, jealous Jimmy, bad writing, cringe story telling, the Usos (because they are a warning in themselves)❗️❗️

I’m sooooo sorry this took as long to get out, I kinda took a break but I’m back and so is our boy Jon 🥵 hope this was worth the wait 🫣

Day one - Rome, Italy

One of my favourite things about being a WWE superstar is getting the opportunity to travel the world. Because of my job I’ve been in more places that I could have ever imagined and made memories that will last a lifetime. Today we are in one of my favourite places, Rome.

One of my least favourite things about being a WWE superstar though was definitely the travel and itinerary- I get to a new place and don’t have time to see all the sights. its airport, hotel, gym, meet and greets, arena, match, then on the road again.

Me

hey, wanna sneak out and do something fun before the meet and greet?

Josh

what you have in mind?

Me

authentic Italian ice cream? Pizza? Your treat obviously 🤪

Josh

damn, you really want me to treat you after the way you been disrespecting me 😨

Me

fine 🙄 I’ll ask Jon instead - lil bitch

Josh

WAIT

FINE

Meet me in the lobby in 5.

I wasn’t really going to ask Jon, I mean how could I? This whole trip I have to try and avoid him, however I feel like fate has other plans, I was informed late last night that Jon and Josh would join me in doing press for the tour, doing meet and greets and TV appearances to get everyone hyped up for the shows. As long as we aren’t alone together nothing would happen…….right?

One thing I wanted to tick off my bucket list when visiting Rome was going to the Trevi Fountain. Seeing it there in front of me took my breath away, the beauty it holds, the history and traditions. Ugh to have this on my doorstep every day would be a dream. We had found a small gelato shop near the fountain and decided to find a place to sit near by the fountain.

“Okay, fine I’ll admit it, the gelato was a good idea.”

“Of course it was a good idea Josh, are you doubting me and my choices?”

“You know damn well I don’t trust you.” He says

Acting offended I shift myself further away from him, Josh turns to look at me grinning ear to ear.

“Don’t know what you’re smiling at, you’ve just bumped yourself down the list of what Fatu brother I like more.”

“Well number 2 ain’t so bad.”

“Try 3”

Annoyed he reply’s “3? What you mean 3, who else you know except me and Jon!”

Realising I got him right where I want him “well Joe obviously, I’ve spoke with him a few times and he is such a sweetheart, I think he might actually be my favourite brother.”

He didn’t have a come back, he just sat there eating his gelato like a grumpy little kid. I take a few sneaky pics to send to Trin, captioned “fun with your grumpy ass brother in law.”

Josh reaches into his pocket and places two coins in front of us.

“Let’s go throw these in the fountain then.”

“Wait, how did you know I wanted to do that?”

“Cause believe it or not yn but I listen to you, you are one of my closest friends and I love ya, if there is something you wanna do you damn sure I wanna make it happen. That’s what family does.”

I couldn’t see him, my eyes were filling with tears. Never in my life have i had someone care so much. We fight like cat and dog but underneath it all there is pure love and adoration for each other.

“Okay don’t get all soppy on me” he jests. “Let’s throw our coins and get back before there is a search party.”

Grabbing my hand we walk over to the fountain and throw our coins in tradition states if you throw a coin in you are wishing that one day you will come back to Rome and with every fiber of my being i was hoping that one day i would.

“Thank you” i whisper to Josh.

“Don’t mention it, though I do hope I ain’t last on yo list anymore?”

Laughing I announce “A solid 2 for sure now.”

Another part I love about being a WWE Superstar is getting the opportunity to meet the fans. The WWE universe has the best, most intense fan base in the world.

In the store where the meet and greet was happening, It was a basic set up, a long table, a seat for each of us and a backdrop with our image plastered over it. The queue was already around the block, with a mixture of kids, teens and adults all waiting to meet us.

“I’m really nervous, this is my first international meet and greet - what if no one is here for me.” I start to panic.

Josh looks at me and in his usual joshy manner tries to make it all better “yn we know no one is here for you, and honestly you are killing the mood. Put yo big girl panties on and let’s get this over with huh?”

And just like that the mood has been lifted and he has me laughing.

“I honestly hate you J.”

Jon who had been observing finally breaks his silence. “You can sit between us, that way we can comfort you if it gets too much.” Comfort me……..

A little too eagerly I agree. The first few fans come in and just like that all my nerves and panic washed away and I was in autopilot.

“How you doin now yn? Eased into it okay?” Josh enquires

“I’m fine J, I just let my ner……”

Heat. That was the only thing I could feel. My thigh tingling under his touch, Jon’s touch.

“Yo yn, you good?” Josh looks at me concerned.

“Yep fine, just got a little cramp in my leg, feel like we have been here for hours.” I brush him off, along with moving Jon’s hand off my leg. Think of Trin, think of Trin I repeat in my head.

The last of the fans come and go, it’s been a sweet afternoon watching Jon and Josh interact with everyone, you can see the love and passion they have for this business and the fans. Maybe teaming with them on this European tour won’t be so bad after all.

Backstage WWE LIVE, Rome Italy,

The crowd had been electric all night. There is no major storylines, no characters and no set of rules to follow just purely wrestling. Our match was a mixed tag match, myself and The Uso’s v Indie, Theory and Waller. Going out and having fun with everyone and the crowd is what it’s all about, the passion the fans give in return for the show you put on makes all the travel, injuries and lack of sleep worth it.

After any of my matches I like a debrief, things I could have done better, things I did great etc, it’s how I grow and learn, however fate was having none of that tonight. Walking back to the female dressing room I felt a strong pair of hands grab my arms and pull me into a secluded corner of the arena, from the way my skin was burning at the slightest touch I knew it could only be one man - and I was in trouble.

“Have you been avoiding me all day?”

“Em, earth to Jon? We saw each other at the meet and greet.” I laugh trying to break the tension

“Oh I remember..” Edging closer to me with fire in his eyes he continues “I’ve been thinking about how nice your thigh felt, and wondered what else felt nice.”

Gulp

Think of Trin yn.

Keep it light and funny yn “Plus I was busy with Josh all morning, he took me out for some gelato - I’m a busy woman Jon.”

“Yeah, Josh told me about the gelato. Is there a reason I wasn’t invited?”

His heavy eyes stuck on mine, waiting for my answer.

“Honestly it was a last minute thing, next time I’ll make sure you get an invite.” Trying to leave his hand leans on the wall behind me enclosing us in even closer. His free hand finds its place perfectly on my hip before it starts to lower slowly, like he was trying to memorise how each part of me felt before placing his hand on my butt, grabbing onto it with his powerful grip.

“How bout we skip the gelato and i give you some of my cream.”

Fire, passion, a need for only him. That’s all I felt in that moment. It consumed me. Jon looked at me like I was the only girl on the planet.

After weeks of playing cat and mouse, he caught me. His lips finally found their way onto mine, a low moan slowly released from his mouth, like a weight had been lifted from him, his hands tracing every inch of my body. I didn’t want him, I needed him and in that moment I’m what he needed too.

Tagged:

@southerngirl41

@missfamilyjeweles

@jeyusos-girl

@christinabae

@jeyusosgirl

@raya-hunter01

@harlem11680

@theogsamoanqueen

@harmshake

@alyyaanna

@smile1318

@jeysbae

@kumapassion

@yana3sworld

@wrestlingprincess80

[sassycheesecake]

"I love you too much“ - Shinsuke Kita x Reader

A/N: Based on the song „I love you too much“ from the movie „The Book Of Life“. Give this song a listen to, it’s beautiful. Enjoy ❤️

Warnings: none

„I love you too much

To live without you loving me back“

Shinsuke Kita is just a Fueneku Middle School student when he first met you. He saw you in his classroom for the first time, he swears everything around him moved in slow motion, eyes entirely focused on your beauty.

As the years went by, now a High School student of Inarizaki, Kita saw you grow into an even more beautiful person, personality and appearance speaking. The way you show kindness to other people, the exciting way your eyes gleam up when you see either dogs or cats on the streets. There’s only problem. Your heart belongs to someone else’s that is not Kita‘s.

It’s Aran‘s.

„I live for your touch

I whisper your name night after night“

After the loss against Karasuno in the Spring Tournament, Kita lays in his bed awake at night, unable to sleep. Not necessarily because of the loss, but because the way you hugged him to comfort the team after their loss.

It was only for a few seconds but the way your soft body felt against his, was Kita‘s dream come true. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries by hugging you back right in front of his teammate, who is also your boyfriend.

It’s like your scent still lingers in his memories. The scent of vanilla mixed rose petals.

Kita sighs deeply.

"Why can’t you be mine (Y/N)?“

„Heaven knows your name I've been praying

To have you come here by my side“

It’s a cold winter morning on New Year’s, when Kita walks up to the shrine for New Year prayers. With small steps, he enters the temple and presses his hands together.

'Please give me the chance and courage to show (Y/N) how I feel about her.’

As the Outside Hitter is about to turn around, he sees Aran walking in as well, with an extremely tired look on his face.

Aran greets Kita with a friendly smile and Kita asks his teammate about the dark circles under his eyes.

Heaving a deep sigh, Aran sends his prayer as well, before answering Kita.

“(Y/N) and I have been fighting a lot lately. I think our relationship is breaking apart and I am hoping the Gods will have mercy on me to fix our relationship.”

Hearing those words makes Kita’s stomach twist with jealousy.

Kita can’t help but hope that the Gods overhear his prayer over Aran’s.

„Without you a part of me is missing

Just to make you my own, I will fight“

It’s been years since Kita last saw you, now being the age of 24 and having his own rice farm, there is not a day that Kita doesn’t think about you. When he was on his way to deliver his rice to Onigiri Miya, he wonders if you and Aran stayed together and what you are doing now as an adult. Carrying the rice bags inside to help Osamu, the bell of the front entrance door chimes, making both men stop what they are doing to see who has entered this early.

Osamu smiles slightly when he spots you.

"Ya here early today, we don‘ open 'til 11, ya know that.“

You chuckle a bit in reply.

"I know, I know. But you said yesterday that the new rice delivery comes in the next day, which is today obviously and I wanted to help you but I can see you already have someone doing that for you.” You smile brightly at Kita.

That smile of yours is going to be the death of him.

"I am gonna go change, be right back.” You say while disappearing around the corner.

Osamu sees the blush on his former captain’s face, teasing him.

"She’s a beauty eh?”

"She’s always been beautiful.” Kita states in a quiet voice but Osamu still hears him.

"They broke up yannow? Aran and (Y/N). Too focused on volleyball and she didn’t wanna do that back-and-forth anymore.” Osamu places a heavy bag of rice into the cabinet before rubbing the sweat off with his forearm.

Kita’s wide eyes find Osamu’s gray eyes and the ravenette says one more sentence before Kita gets back into his truck to drive back.

"If ya come over more, 'm sure she would give ya a chance. Heard 'er say that she’s looking for somethin’ serious again to her friend on the phone the other night.” Osamu gives a wink into Kita’s direction and Kita makes it his goal to win your heart and show you his love that hasn’t faltered since Middle School.

„There's love above love and it's yours cause I love you

There's love above love and it's ours if you love me

As much“

Many years later, Kita sits on a wooden bench on his patio in front of his home. The gentle breeze of the wind flows through his black-whiteish hair, the sunset painting the sky with the most beautiful orange, red and pink colors that reflect on some of the clouds.

His fields blooming high, soon to be ready for harvesting.

All of sudden, he feels a pair of arms sneaking around his neck, a chin gently propped on top of his head.

He raises a hand and entangles his ring-adorned finger with yours.

"Whatcha doin?”

"I am thanking the Gods every day to have you by my side. I truly have been blessed with your kindness and your heart that you gave me to protect, care and cherish for.”

Giggling softly at your fiancé’s romantic words, you squish your cheek against the top of his head, tightening your grip around him a little bit more.

Kita moves his head so he can stare into your eyes with a lovesick smile.

"I love you so much (Y/N).”

Pressing a gentle kiss against his lips, you whisper against them.

"I love you too Shinsuke, more than life itself.”

@rukia-uchiha-98 @nerd-of-karasuno @wake-uptoreality @darthferbert @lyditheoverthinker

[reidfucker]

mitski songs that make me think of reid + a specific lyric

spencer reid is very mitski. but these were the first to come to mind. i do not take criticism.

- working for the knife

honestly, the entire song reminds me of reid, but this in particular:

I always thought the choice was mine

And I was right, but I just chose wrong

I start the day lying and end with the truth

That I'm dying for the knife

- liquid smooth

I'm liquid smooth, come touch me, too

I'm at my highest peak, I'm ripe

About to fall

How I feel this river rushing through my veins

With nowhere else to go, it circles 'round

- class of 2013

Mom, would you wash my back?

This once, and then we can forget

And I'll leave what I'm chasing

For the other girls to pursue

Mom, am I still young?

Can I dream for a few months more?

- i don't smoke

Just don't leave me alone

Wondering where you are

I am stronger than you give me

Credit for

If your hands need to break

More than trinkets in your room

You can lean on my arm

As you break my heart

- abbey

again, the entire song is very reid, but:

I am something

I have been something

I was born something

What could I be?

There is a light that I can see

But only, it seems, when there's darkness in me

There is a dream that I sometimes see

That only appears in the dark of sleep

- i bet on losing dogs

Will you let me, baby, lose

On losing dogs

I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place

By the ring

Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down

I wanna feel it

I bet on losing dogs

I always want you when I'm finally fine

- the deal

Then of course, nothing replied, nothing speaks to you in the night

And I walked my way home, there was no one in sight

Save a bird perched upon a streetlight, watchin' me

So, I stopped and let it watch 'til I found that it said

"Now I'm taken, the night has me

You won't hear me singin'

You're a cage without me

Your pain is eased, but you'll never be free for

Now I'm taken, the night has me"

- fireworks

this is perhaps one of the reid-est. here's the particular lyric:

One morning this sadness will fossilize

And I will forget how to cry

I'll keep going to work and you won't see a change

Save perhaps a slight gray in my eye

I will go jogging routinely

Calmly and rhythmically run

And when I find that a knife's sticking out of my side

I'll pull it out without questioning why

- i don't like my mind

again, the entire song is reid, but this is my pick:

I don't like my mind, I don't like being left alone in a room

With all its opinions about the things that I've done

So, yeah, I blast music loud, and I work myself to the bone

And on an inconvenient Christmas, I eat a cake

- first love / late spring

very cliché, but i HAD to include it! here:

And I was so young when I behaved 25

Yet now, I find I've grown into a tall child

And I don't wanna go home

Let me walk to the top of the big night sky

- there's nothing left for you

You could touch fire

You could fly

It was your right

It was your life

And then it passed

To someone new

It'll keep passin' on

Long after you

- nobody

And I don't want your pity

I just want somebody near me

Guess I'm a coward

I just want to feel alright

- because dreaming costs money, my dear

I once lived in the sea

Bring me to your ear, you can hear

The tide where I used to be

Though now I'm but a shell

- a pearl

Sorry, I don't want your touch

It's not that I don't want you

Sorry, I can't take your touch

It's just that I fell in love with a war

Nobody told me it ended

And it left a pearl in my head

And I roll it around every night

Just to watch it glow

Every night, baby, that's where I go

- real men

Real men keep cool in the face of a fire

Go down with the ship

And real men don't eat

'Cause they're above that, damn it

Oh, I'm gonna be a real man

- crack baby

It's been a long, hard 20 year summer vacation

Both these 20 years tryna fill the void

Crack baby, you don't know what you want

But you know that you had it once

And you know that you want it back

Crack baby, you don't know what you want

But you know that you're needing it

And you know that you need it bad

[sofasoap]

Holding you

Pairing : John Price x F!Reader

Summary: After months apart from each other, nothing better than waking up with the love of your life, and helping him with his.... "little problem".

You can either read it as a standalone, or as part of my Mini MacTavish verse, continuation after Come back to me.

Warning: Explicit. Smut, slight angst.

I apologise for any inaccuracies describing military related stuff.

A/N : This was an extension of a little midnight drabble I wrote a while ago thanks to my midnight muse @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world. I hope you will enjoy this Price ramble.

“masterlist” 

You slowly stirred awake as you feel someone gently caressing your cheek. 

Eyes fluttering open, you saw the beautiful blue eyes of your husband, gazing down at you lovingly.

"Morning love." He greeted you in his morning husky voice." Had a good sleep??

"Hmmm hmm." You close your eyes with a smile, snuggling closer to him, savouring his gentle touch. Oh how you have missed him. 

You haven’t seen each other for months. Seven months, fourteen days. But who's counting?

Apart from being absolute workaholics, fate seems to be determined to interfere with the two of you. From the tumultuous courtship, near death experiences, now trying to keep the marriage intact with so much time apart from each other.

When you are home from your deployment, he is already flying halfway across the world, ready for his next mission. When he arrived back in the UK, you were on your way to meet up with your team with KorTac.

Communication was hard. A little ten second voicemail in your inbox will be the last thing you heard from him for weeks. And a quick “I love you” text send out to him before going into a black op mission.

You will always find a little handwritten post-it note, with his worn shirt on the kitchen table when you come home between missions. John isn’t a man with many words, but you can still feel his emotions conveyed through the short sentences, how much he misses you, how much he loves you and wishing you were with him. 

Sometimes you will wake up from a nightmare, dreaming of Laswell showing up at your front door, with John’s dog tag and his personal belongings. One look at her face you knew what had happened.

You cried yourself to sleep every time, wearing his shirt, curling up, inhaling the faint residue cigar and gunpowder scent and trying to imagine his strong arm around you.

It was only two days ago you received a call from Laswell. Seeing her name showing up on your caller ID sends your mind into an endless spiral. She never calls you unless it was for any urgent business. Or an emergency. Or something has happened to one of the men. Or…. 

You always wake up right before she opens her mouth and delivers the bad news,silent scream that is stuck in your throat, heart pounding, tears streaming down your face,panic sets in until you realise you are in your own cot, in the middle of a shared tent on a mission.

Horangi and König will always know what happened the next day, with your red rimmed and dark baggy eyes.  None of them are the type that will give you verbal comfort, but a bag of Korean snacks which you mentioned once that was your favourite and a little tin of handmade sweets will appear on your cot at the end of the day.

You always smile at their thoughtfulness. 

“Are you going to pick up that call?” Horangi looking over your shoulder, “ Laswell? Must be important.”

Flexing your hand, you shook your head, trying to dispel the negative thought that was muddling your brain before nodding. 

Answering with a wavering voice, grabbing tight to the wedding ring underneath your shirt that is chained together with your dog tag, expecting the worst.

You must have sounded more distraught than expected, “John is fine. I am just letting you know the men are on their way back, they should land by late afternoon.“ She reassured you immediately. 

“Go. Just submit the report by this weekend.” König pushed you out of the office as soon as he overheard the conversation. He knew how anxious you were to get back home. 

You took the first flight you can get your hand on to the UK, drove straight from the airport to the base at Credenhill, despite your own weariness, you want to be there to greet your husband as soon as he lands.

Pulling into the car park of the base, you caught a glimpse of the helicopter coming into landing. 

You don’t know how long the two of you have been standing there for, until the other men came over and gave you a slight pat on the back, interrupting the reunion.

The guard at the gate recognises you and you run towards the landing pad as soon as they process and issue you with a visitor’s pass.

You felt your heart going to burst the moment you saw him walking out from the helo, finally being able to see him physically, safe and sound.

“JOHN!” you yelled out to him, catching his attention. Turning around, surprise was evident on his face as you barreled into his embrace. Grabbing tight onto his vest, you burst out crying. All the months contained worry, fear, doubts and longing emotions released all in one go. You heard John murmuring words of assurances into your ears, feeling of his slight unkempt beard caressing against your face as he peppers you with kisses,tightens his arm around you. 

Smiling sheepishly, leaving John’s embrace to give each of the men a tight hug, glad all of them made it back in one piece. 

“We know how much you miss the Captain. Don’t break the bed from too much fun tonight!!!” Gaz teased as they waved goodbye to you and John. He rolled his eyes while your face was burning up like a furnace, from the embarrassment and thinking what was to come that night. 

A soft kiss on the lip, bringing you back from reverie, John adjusted himself slightly, sliding his hand down towards your breast and thigh." Well, since you are awake.... "giving you another kiss, this time with more passion and sliding his tongue into your mouth, before breaking apart, "I think you should help me with my... little problem down here. " he grinds against you as he emphasises  the word  little problem. 

You let out a chuckle, teasing him,“ Last night wasn’t enough for you??” 

“I will never get enough from my beautiful wife.” His voice dripping with both sincerity and need. 

He slowly trails his kisses down your neck towards your chest, pausing to caress the bites and bruises that are spread all over your neck and shoulder. 

“… sore?” Murmuring with a hint of guilt in his voice, regretting being rough on you the previous night.

You never seen him so needy and rough before, releasing all the frustration, the pent up energy of not being able to see you, to be there with you physically and emotionally for such a long time.  He made you cum twice before reaching the bedroom, and the countless times during the night you begged him again and again to reassure you he is there, in your arm, limbs intertwine with each others, not just some figment of imagination and dreams you wake up again and again from, to an empty cold bed.

Shaking your head as you card your finger through his messy morning hair,drifting down to his beard, smiling with silent reassurance for him to continue on.

Kneading and sucking each of the breasts with the utmost care, making sure he isn’t causing more pain. You let out a contented sigh as he slowly pushes your legs apart, running his tongue languidly across your already damp slit. 

‘John… Love…” grabbing onto the bed sheet, pleading with him to give you more, to quench that fire he is stirring up within. 

“Patience. I want to just enjoy…” lapping up more of your wetness that is sipping out between your slit, “tasting you. Feeling you.” His eyes shifted up to meet with you for a moment, “ Loving you.”

You sucked in a big breath of air at his words, holding back a sob. All you can think of is how lucky you are, to have such a wonderful man, who cherishes you, accepting and putting up with all your faults, ( as the 141 men once mentioned Price was probably the only one that can hold you back on a leash to contain your recklessness.) always aims to please you, putting your needs before his. 

In a dazed post orgasm mind, you see him crawling back up towards you, stroking your face before positioning his already dripping hard cock and pushing into your still sensitive core.   

In contrast to the frantic sex the night before, peeling each other’s clothes off as soon as you pass through the threshold of the door, hands roaming everywhere, desperate for each other’s touch, how you want him to be inside you, filling that void you've been missing for the last few months. 

Now he is just taking his time to relish the short time together. Both of you know it won’t be too long before duty calls again, splitting the two of you apart. 

You don’t want to think that far. Pushing that thought to the back of your mind, you nudge his shoulder, for him to lean back so you can push yourself up, adjusting yourself to straddle him. 

You clench down hard as he hits you in a sweet spot in this new position, eliciting a moan from him. You smile lazily, rolling your hips, arms around his neck, one hand lightly caressing the nape of his neck, determined to return the favour, making sure he is enjoying it as much as you do. His hand wanders down towards your butt, grabbing both cheeks, pulling you close to him as he can.

You can feel him getting close as he rolls his head back, breathing starting to get erratic, his hip slamming up towards you, trying to chase the high.

“It’s ok love.. just let it go…I want to feel you inside me.. coat me with your hot cum, show you how much you love me…” You whispered into his ear, enticing him. Tipped over the edge with your words, he let out a loud groan as he filled you up inside. With a few more thrust from him as he rides out his orgasm, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, biting down hard on his shoulder,reaching your own high.  

“Ready to go again?? I don’t think my problem has been solved… with just one round”  He asked with his raspy voice as you felt his cock twitching inside you, getting hard again.  You laughed , and leaned in to give him a deep kiss before letting him lowering you back into the bed. 

You and Price didn't get out of bed until way past noon. 

If you are reading this as part of Mini MacTavish verse... Mini and Price are both absolute workaholics, spending more time away from each other than together until they both retire from front line. in my H/C, they never ended up having any kids. by choice or not by choice? you decide. But they are happily to shower their love on their nieces and nephews ( the little rascals Soap has produced lol ).

I apologise for bit of jumble of the smut part. I have no idea why every single time I start writing for Price x Reader, I am always in a slump depressive stage. but hey, I had bit of fun writing, I might revisit and tidy this up when I am in a better place mentally.

Tag :

@floral-force

@homicidal-slvt

@captainpriceslover

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

[wardenparker]

Preview: Down the Rabbit Hole

Jack Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.  

✨To be added to the tag list for this story, just like or comment on this post! ✨

“Jason Howe, 36, born in Northwood, New Hampshire on April 4th.”

Jack winces and curls his hand into a fist as he stands in front of the conference room table. Not having been invited to sit, nor to have the glass of ‘67 Statesman Reserve that Champ has sitting in a glass at his elbow. A drink that Jack desperately needs. “Champ, there was a gun.” Jack defends, although he knows it’s a weak excuse. Statesmen take out the bad guys, not hurt the innocent. And Jack’s killed a bystander who had nothing to do with anything.

"You've been off since Cambodia, Jack." And although Champ knows exactly why, it can't be considered an excuse. He looks back down at the file on the conference table and frowns, then keeps reading. "Two siblings. Parents both living. Soulmate so far unknown." The older man looks up, locking his eyes on Jack. "We're tracking her down."

“Why?” Jack demands, frowning at the mere idea. Statesman had never tracked down a soulmate of anyone before, why start now? “We don’t know who it is, or if they care.” He scoffs. “Better to let sleepin’ dogs lie.”

“I don’t blame you for not noticing.” Champ sighs and shakes his head before finally motioning for Jack to sit. The man is his best senior agent, his quickest set of reflexes, and his closest friend. Frankly, Champ is worried about the upheaval in Jack’s life lately. It’s affecting his perception on a base level, not to mention his work. “You didn’t come out of that fire fight unscathed, and your adrenaline was too damn high for the pain to get through to you.” Running one hand down his face, Champ huffs slightly as he sips from his own whiskey glass but still doesn’t offer Jack any. “The back of your right arm. Just above your elbow. You have a new mark, Jack.”

“Bullshit.” Jack spits, furious at the implication of what Champ is saying. “My soulmate is dead.” He reminds the older man, as if he wasn’t well aware. Hell, Champ was the one who had recruited Jack to Statesman, so he was well aquatinted with his backstory. Until this moment, he would have called the man a friend. Maybe his best friend, even though Tequila likes to claim that’s his title. “Been dead and gone for years. So there ain’t no marks on my body.”

“I don’t mean to say anything against her memory.” Champ holds up one hand in a defensive posture. With the other, he gestures to the large mirror on the conference room wall. “Roll up your sleeve and take a look for yourself. Ginger noted the appearance of scars from minor cuts and bruises and a small tattoo on your arm. None of these marks were found on the civilian that was killed or any of the other dead men that Gamma Team cleaned from the scene. Following protocols, we’re now tracking down any and all soulmates and searching databases for your exact set of new marks.” He knows it isn’t good news. It isn’t good for the agency and it isn’t good for Jack. But, despite it being a long shot, it is now more likely than not that someone out there shares these marks with him. And that makes her both a liability and a potential target. Whoever she is.

Fuck.” Jack hisses bitterly, his shoulders jerking as he shuffles out of his sports coat and tosses it down so he can start rolling up his sleeve. “Can’t Ginger remove it?” He demands, not wanting marks on his body. He hasn’t had any since the day Abigail died and he doesn’t want some other woman’s scars or tattoos on his skin either. He doesn’t have a soulmate and he doesn’t want one.

“Soulmate scars don’t work like that.” He knows Jack knows it, but he also understands the younger man’s distress as he tears his sleeve back to inspect his skin. “As far as Ginger’s nanites are concerned, that’s just your skin. No imperfections about it.”

[wheresarizona]

Gif by the incredible @pedropascalsx

Needy

summary: You’re running late for work, but skipping breakfast is worth Javier fucking you against the bathroom counter.

warning: E (18+!! No y/n, Soft Javier Peña (but he fucks hard), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), mirror sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, hair pulling (no descriptions of hair), spit mention, an ass slap, Javier feeling really bad about making you sore, bath, Javier taking care of you)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 3.3k+

a/n: Can be read as a standalone, or a part of the Learning to Live ‘verse. @iamskyereads sent me something that made me go, “Oh yes, I gotta write that!” and it fit with a prompt from @chasing-the-dark for my follower celebration that was, “Stay here, and I’ll run you a bath.” Combine those with @theorganasolo wishing for some mirror sex, and here we are. This one’s for you three, and I hope you enjoy! Shoutout to @juletheghoul for checking the vibe.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

The alarm clock hadn’t gone off.

You’d set it before bed, but there was a thunderstorm in the middle of the night, and the power must have gone out because when you woke up, the red numbers were blinking a time that it definitely wasn’t simply based on the light spilling through the curtains.

When you’d checked your watch on the bedside table, it confirmed you’d overslept, and now you were in a hurry to get ready, standing in the bathroom brushing your teeth.

Movement could be heard from the bedroom of Javi getting out of bed, the springs in the mattress creaking as he got up.

“Cielito?” His voice was thick from sleep, deep and raspy, his footsteps getting closer.

You leaned over the sink spitting out the toothpaste and turning on the water to wash it down the drain, cleaning your toothbrush before putting it in the holder.

“Morning, babe,” you answered, Javi appearing in the doorway, seeing his face puffy from sleep, eyes big and round in the mirror. He was completely naked, unabashed by his nudeness, his hair an absolute mess atop his head.

“You weren’t in bed,” he pouted.

You turned your head to look at him, taking in his broad shoulders filling the doorframe. He had a dark hickey at the base of his throat, another fading over his pulse point, freckles dotting his tanned skin, his softened belly looking kissable, the tantalizing trail of dark hair leading down to his very hard dick jutting out from his hips.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said. “The alarm didn’t go off, and I’m running late for work.”

He was still frowning as he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle, feeling his warm skin flush against your back, the hard line of his cock pressing into your lower back while he rested his chin on your shoulder to meet your eyes in the mirror.

“I had a dream,” he sighed, kissing your neck.

“You had a dream?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he spoke into your skin. “We were in a field or park, somewhere with grass and the sun shining down on us—you wearing one of your pretty fucking dresses, and riding me, tits in my face, and I woke up, wanting….” He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a frustrated groan.

You were suddenly feeling hot and a little upset that you had to get ready instead of getting dicked down. You lifted your hand behind you to rub at his hair, stroking your fingers along his scalp.

“Oh, my poor, sweet Javi baby waking up horny,” you cooed. “I’m sorry there wasn’t time for morning sex, but you could probably jerk off before you go to work.”

He lifted his head, meeting your gaze and giving you puppy dog eyes which was honestly playing dirty.

“What if I was quick?” He ground his hips into you, letting you feel how hard he was. “I can be,” he sounded hopeful. “I can be quick and get you there, baby. You know I can.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “Can I fuck you? Please, baby?”

You bit your lip at the thought, checking the time on the watch you were wearing.

If you skipped breakfast and making coffee, there was definitely time for a quickie, and the way he was practically begging and so needy had you throbbing between your legs.

“I can grab something to eat at work,” you said, looking at him again. “Fuck me, Javi. Make me feel good, but do it quick—I’ll get so much shit if I’m late to work because of sex.”

He smiled, his eyes glazing over with want, his chocolate brown pupils going black. His hand came up to turn your head, him leaning in to kiss you at the awkward angle, all misaligned, with a nip to your lower lip when he pulled away.

“You’re too fucking perfect,” he rasped, looking into your eyes adoringly before he was moving behind you.

He stepped back, pulling your hips with him.

“Hang onto the counter, Cielito,” he said.

You bent forward, gripping the edge, Javi spreading your legs, his hand moving to your center between your thighs, sliding his fingers through your wetness.

He hummed appreciatively in the back of his throat, “So fucking wet for me.”

“Always,” you moaned. Your head fell between your shoulders when he rubbed circles against your clit, making sparks jolt into your core.

“Can you take my dick like this, baby?” He asked. “Or do you want me to loosen you up?”

“No time,” you gasped. “Just fuck me,” wiggling your ass.

He chuckled, his hand leaving you. You lifted your head, watching in the mirror as Javi spit onto his fingers, using them to get his cock wet. The thick head of him, wet and warm, pressed against your entrance, his attention between your bodies, his free hand holding your hip steady—you moaned when he pushed in, your fingers digging into the countertop, Javi rocking his thickness into you and stretching you open, inch by inch, until finally, he was flush against your ass.

You felt so full, pussy fluttering around him.

“Fuck,” Javi groaned, his eyes closing and mouth falling open. “Shit, that’s good.”

“Feel so good,” you replied. “Move.”

His hands gripped your hips, Javi pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back into you hard. Your eyes rolled back in your head, soft sounds slipping from your throat as he started fucking into you, going faster and harder with every stroke until he was setting a punishing pace that had your brain feeling fuzzy. Your body was jolting from the onslaught, having to keep yourself from falling onto the counter, Javi feeling so fucking good inside you, the fire beginning to build in your belly.

“So fucking good to me,” his words were said through gritted teeth. “Perfect fucking pussy, taking me so fucking well. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You could hear his thrusts getting wetter, the slap of his skin against yours as he pistoned into you, building you up, pushing you closer to your release. His hand glided along your spine, up the back of your neck, and into your hair, getting purchase at your roots and pulling your head up.

“Open your eyes, baby,” his voice was still husky from sleep, and you complied, meeting his heated gaze, seeing his mouth slack, eyebrows furrowed, chest flush, and skin glistening with sweat. His arm was out in front of him, while his cock continued to spear into you over and over again. “Look at how fucking beautiful you are,” he rasped. You could see how good you felt on your face, mouth open in a perfect ‘o,’ eyes half-lidded, and brow shiny. “So fucking beautiful—can’t get enough of you.”

The fire inside you became a full-on inferno, overtaking your body, consuming you; your body wound so fucking tight that at any second, you were going to combust. His other hand moved to your front, his thick fingers circling against your clit, keeping his eyes on yours.

“Come on,” he grunted, a bead of sweat rolling down his face. Your moans were stuttered from how hard he was fucking you, the sounds being pushed from your lungs. “Come on, Cielito. Give it to me, baby. Come for me. I know you’re almost there.”

The hand in your hair pulled you up a little further, making you arch your back, and it had his cock rubbing against a spot that pulled a long whining moan from you.

“There it fucking is,” he said.

He zeroed in on it, slamming into you repeatedly, Javi grunting from the force.

Everything came together—his cock, his fingers, his words—it had you falling over the edge with a cry of his name, pleasure overtaking your body, bright and hot in your veins, clenching so hard around him that Javi was forced to grind his hips into you.

“That’s it,” he groaned. You opened your eyes to see his head thrown back, the long line of his throat on display, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “My good fucking girl.” He helped you ride out your high, your body tingling, and mind floaty, chest heaving while he ground his length into your wet heat.

His head came up, letting go of your hair to wrap his arm around your chest and pull you up against his front, his chin on your shoulder, hearing his hard breaths.

He started thrusting again, slowly moving in and out of you, his eyes locked on yours.

“Can I come inside you?” He husked, voice deep and sending a tingle down your spine.

Your thoughts felt like molasses, but his question had you answering quickly.

“Yes,” you nodded. “Want it.”

His body was sturdy behind you, feeling the warmth of his skin and dampness from his perspiration.

He kissed your neck, speeding up his movements, quickening his hips while he chased his high. You pushed your ass back against him, meeting his thrusts, feeling his warm breath as he grunted. His eyes were lust-blown, face screwed up like he was in pain, his mouth kissing the skin of your shoulder and neck.

The sound of him pounding into you was echoing around the small room, his hips slapping against the plump flesh of your ass, able to hear the wet suck of your pussy—he was going hard enough you knew you’d be sore later, but you didn’t care, not when it felt so fucking good.

His hand was holding your breast, his other arm wrapped around your waist to keep you against him, your brain a pleasurable haze as you moaned his name. The palm on your chest moved up, Javi turning your head so he could lean in to messily kiss you at the odd angle, his tongue pressing between your lips to slide along your own.

You knew he was close when his rhythm got jerky, his mouth finding its way to the crook of your neck, Javi panting before he pushed in hard, his teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder and making you hiss as you felt the wet pulse of him coming inside you with a rumbling groan.

His hips ground into you, feeling him fucking his come in deep until it became too much, and he stilled, breathing hard against you, soothing the bite with kisses.

You lifted a hand up to push your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

“Feel better, baby?” You asked.

He lifted his head, a blissed-out look on his face.

“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling. “Feel fucking fantastic.”

You smiled back.

“I do, too. Gotta take a quick shower,” you checked the time on your watch. “If I jump in and jump out, I can get dressed and leave—should arrive to work on time.”

He frowned, those eyes of his going rounder.

“I can’t join you?” He asked softly.

You couldn’t help but giggle.

“It will literally be a five-minute shower, and you are distracting.”

He was pouting.

“I can keep my hands to myself.”

You gave him a look.

“That’s a dirty lie, and we both know it.”

He sighed.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He pulled out of you, a gasp falling from your lips, Javi turning you to face him. “I’ll bring you breakfast and coffee before I head out to the ranch.”

“You’ll be late for work….” You pointed out.

His big hands came up to cup your cheeks as he leaned in.

“And it’ll be fucking worth it,” he said before kissing you hard. Your hands landed in his hair, opening your mouth when he licked along your lip, moaning at the way he kissed you with fervor, tasting every inch of your mouth until your lungs ached for oxygen.

He pecked you one last time when he broke the kiss, looking at you with soft eyes, the adoration clear in the dark depths.

“I love you, Cielito,” he said.

“I love you, too,” you replied.

One of his hands trailed down your body, moving to your back, and making you jolt when he smacked your ass.

“Javier,” you laughed, slapping his chest playfully. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous for you,” he grinned, grabbing your asscheek. “Now, get in the shower, baby. I gotta take one after you.” He kissed you quickly, leaning past you to grab his toothbrush.

You pinched his ass, earning a chuckle as you went around him to get to the shower, feeling the delicious ache between your legs.

Just as you thought, you arrived to work on time, and as you suspected, you were, in fact, very sore.

Javi had shown up twenty minutes after you’d arrived with breakfast and coffee, him noticing you wincing when you sat down in your chair after kissing him and accepting the food.

The smile on his face was replaced with concern, Javi glancing from side to side to make sure nobody was around before he spoke softly.

“Did I go too hard?” He asked.

“It’s fine,” you said, waving away his concern.

“You’re in pain,” he frowned.

“Javi, it’s not the first time you’ve destroyed my pussy with your dick, and it won’t be the last. As soon as I eat, I’ll take some Tylenol. It’s really no big deal. The pain is worth it,” you smiled reassuringly.

“I don’t like that you’re hurt,” he gulped, looking away.

“Javi, baby, look at me,” his eyes met yours. “You didn’t hurt me. I like when you fuck me hard. I’ll feel fine tomorrow, I’ll just be uncomfortable today, but honestly, it just reminds me of how good it was,” you wiggled your eyebrows. “Don’t fret. I promise I’m okay. Now, you better get going to work. Your dad is going to give you a hard time for being late.”

Your words seemed to have made him feel better, his shoulders relaxing.

“You know Pop loves you—when he hears you were late to work because the power went out and you didn’t have time for breakfast, he’ll commend me for bringing you something to eat.”

Your eyebrow rose.

“Yes, I didn’t have time to eat because my alarm didn’t go off, and not because I chose to get fucked within an inch of my life instead of eating food.”

“I love your priorities,” he smirked, winking at you.

“Yeah, I know you do,” you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Give me a kiss, and I can go.”

You stood up from your chair to lean over your desk, Javi meeting you to kiss you tenderly, his hand sliding along your cheek to hold your face.

“Love you, Cielito,” he whispered when you parted.

“Love you, too, Javi.”

“I’ll see you after work,” he said.

“You better,” you poked his chest. “We live together.”

“We sure the fuck, do,” he grinned.

He leaned in to kiss you one more time, and then he was saying goodbye, and turning to leave your eyes watching him as he walked away.

When you got home for the day, you stripped out of your work clothes, standing in your underwear while you put them in the hamper.

You were surprised when you heard the sounds of the front door being unlocked, checking the time on your watch to see that Javi was home earlier than usual.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you walked into the living room, finding Javi holding a paper grocery bag and emptying his pockets into the large bowl on the entryway table.

“You’re home early,” you said.

He was finished, turning to face you.

“Yeah,” he answered with a smile, walking towards you. He’d removed his shoes, his socked feet padding along the floor. “Wanted to stop by the pharmacy on my way home.” His free hand cupped your jaw when he was in front of you, Javi leaning in to kiss you.

“Hi, Cielito,” he said when he broke the kiss.

“Hi, Javi,” you smiled. “Why’d you stop by the pharmacy?”

“Are you still sore?”

“Yes?”

He nodded.

“Stay here, and I’ll run you a bath,” he kissed your forehead.

“You’ll run me a bath?”

“Yeah. Picked up some Epsom salts—they help when my back is acting up, so I thought they’d help with your aches,” he shrugged.

“Why are you so fucking sweet?”

His eyes softened.

“Just wanna make you feel better.”

You felt almost overwhelmed by the amount of affection you felt for him, feeling so soft you thought you might melt into a puddle.

“Okay,” you nodded. “I’ll take a bath.”

“Go have a glass of water, and I’ll get it ready,” he said, kissing you sweetly before heading towards the bathroom.

Minutes later, you found yourself stepping naked into the tub, the water hot and steaming just how you liked it, hearing Javi in the bedroom moving about.

You were sitting in the bathtub, the water up to your chest, back pressed against the porcelain, legs stretched out in front you. You sighed contentedly as the heat seeped into your skin, relaxing your muscles.

Your eyes were closed when Javi entered the bathroom. You peeked an eye open seeing him in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt stretching over his chest. He had a book in his hand, and you watched as he lowered himself onto the ground with a groan beside the bath, sitting next to you on the tiled floor.

“You gonna hang out with me?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’d like that,” you smiled.

“I’d like it, too.”

You placed your wet hand on the tub's rim with your palm up, and Javi laced his fingers with yours.

“Tell me about your day,” you said, closing your eyes again and just enjoying yourself.

“Well, I had a really fucking good dream—”

“A sexy dream,” you interrupted.

“Yeah, a really fucking sexy dream, and woke up harder than a fucking rock in an empty bed.”

“What did you do?”

“You know what I did.”

You heard him smirking, and it made you giggle.

“Yes, you seduced me, had me sacrificing sustenance and much-needed coffee for top-tier dick.”

“Didn’t you once say, ‘the best part of waking up—’”

“You have to sing it!” You laughed, reminded of the altered Folger’s Coffee jingle you once sang after excellent morning sex.

“Fine,” he sighed, his voice going a little higher as he mumble sang the following sentence: “The best part of waking up, is Javi in my cunt.”

Laughter burst from you, delighted he actually did it, Javi not able to hold back his own, the two of you laughing hard for a couple of minutes until you finally calmed down.

“I’m a fucking comedian,” you had to wipe tears from your eyes, looking over at him to see him with a big dimpled smile, looking at you fondly.

“You’re the funniest person I know, and I love you,” he turned his upper body, and leaned over the tub, you moving your head to meet his for a kiss.

“I love you, too,” you murmured against his lips.

He pulled back, smiling at you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said.

And from the look on the face, you knew what he said was true, making your throat feel a little tight at how much he loved you.

“You’re easy on the eyes, too, my sexy man. Now, tell me about your day after you dropped off breakfast,” you said, getting comfortable in the tub again, leaning back with your head turned toward him.

He brought your hand up to kiss the back of it, and told you about his day working at the ranch, his voice lulling you, relaxing you deeply, to the point your eyes closed as you listened.

When he finished talking, he asked how work was for you, and you told him, going through the pretty uneventful things, but Javi didn’t care; he wanted to hear all the details like he did every day.

The water was still warm when Javi started reading—a murder mystery the two of you had been taking turns reading chapters aloud to one another.

This was your life, and you couldn’t be happier.

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