#probably no excerpt tonight

[gangplanksorenji]

Pulchritude

Pairing: ITZY’s Yeji x Male Reader

Word Count: 7,089

A/N: It's been a while Orenjideul! This wasn't planned to be on my draft schedule but planned at the same time LOL (pretty much quickly written). Also, thanks for @mintwithchoco for the beta-reading that made the insights about the fic!!

This was originally part of something I've been working on with and expanded it with such vague plot to probably spice things up. Enjoy reading!! <3

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“You’re crazy for this one, Chaewon.”

“It’s not my doing—” Chaewon retorts, circling her fingers onto the rim of her glass with such a distinctive smell of a concoction that piques you, distracting you a little from her words. “—this is just a part of a test.”

She drinks from her glass and darts her eyes towards you, laced with anticipation and that hint of doubt in you. You smirk with her given stare, feeling that she's getting ahead of herself with it and she’ll soon eat up her words. Extending your arm a little onto the head of the chair, you look at her with vanity and such a playful intent that intimidates her a little. “I’d say you being here is somewhat helpful by all means…”

“And why is that?” 

Her eyes never fail to intimidate you, those orbs glowing in anticipation as she doesn't break her sophisticated demeanor. You fix your posture and lean closer to her, elbows on the table and your hands subtly clasped, answering her. “So I could let you know that you’ll be embarrassed at the end of the day.”

Chaewon’s hubris wouldn’t let your words slide and make her believe you, a chortle audible within your ears as she shifted onto her usual phlegmatic disposition. “We’ll see about that but for now—” Her well-manicured nails click the champagne glass two times, before giving a sly smile of a faulty sincerity. “—you gotta do what you gotta do.”

It wouldn’t end in a usual Chaewon fashion unless her drink is empty, sipping the last few milliliters of that delectable concoction, then getting off on her seat with her last words of the night. “Text me when you’ve done it, then we'll meet tomorrow afternoon.”

Grabbing her designer bag then leaving towards the doors of such a high-class bar, you could just sense the air reeking defeat all over you, but you’ll prove her wrong. You’ll just thank yourself for getting rid of her condescending nature albeit it really fuels your aim for victory, so is the upbeat music the bar brings. 

You’ll make things work and take that triumphant ecstasy up to your name, with someone’s panties on the floor. 

“I guess we need the devil inside me to take over.” Of course you will, and you’ll do that just about right.

---

Maybe the myths are true: sometimes, the devil does unspeakable things and it’s only a matter of time before it unveils its real nature. Not exactly an excerpt, a quote or the sayings of the elderly but mostly your own common conscience that has its own intersections of roads you can’t fathom nor follow—deep inside, you’re on a leash and Chaewon’s words intoxicates you, and you’ll prove her wrong after this. 

“We’re going to have some fun tonight.”

“Oh, do you think we will?” You ask pretty playfully and audaciously, playing with her possible games. You barely know her aside from being that time where you’d constantly steal glances with her during and after Chaewon’s existence at the bar and subconsciously know you’d always come. At that moment, you know something’s disturbed within you and it’s in a good way—this is something that’s completely going to serve gratification, and you can sense how strong your gut feeling is.

“We will.” The girl inches herself closer towards you, your back pressed against the cold concrete as she pins you with her frame, fidgeting her fingers onto the hem of your shirt and then the penultimate, such dexterous fingers circling around your chest.

You feel her minty breath mixed with a hint of tequila brush against your skin as you raise her head, eyes in contact with yours—you know she’s proving something, even just with her words but those wouldn’t be enough.

“Care for an introduction?” Your hands fancy its way onto her waist, as you endearingly looked at those sharp, monolid eyes of hers rivaling that alluring stare. 

Her eyes dart between your face and onto your body, as her voice speaks up in a volume.“Yeji. You can call me Yeji.” 

Her voice invites you, and you’re captivated with her sultry tone and god, that stare of hers would make any man fall upon your own judgment but on your shoes, it would bear such a challenge. Even with such temptation handled pretty well, you can’t help but hint such an invitation under her spell—those eyes, her sultry voice, such a beautiful face and the promised treasure of them all, her impeccable figure.

You’d like to start on something fresh, induce such a new chapter that’s bound to end up in such an incredible fashion but you could only assume those things, yet.

Well, you won’t fight yourself over some idiotic retaliation between your temptations and let yourself be the judge of her capabilities and this doesn’t help when she’s just inches away from laying such a mark that will define one’s lust.

Looking straight to the abyssal void of her eyes, you’re enticed as you lift off her chin with your finger. “There you go, I love a woman with manners.” You hit her up with her own medicine: tempting.

“Who says anything about manners?” Even such chagrins or predicaments wouldn’t stop her, not unless you tell her so as the only thing you could feel are those luscious lips locked against yours. 

The sounds of such muscle creating vacuum of sounds and suctions overpowers the fading noise of the music the bar resonates—all you can hear is her kisses up against yours and you’d love to listen to it all day. 

Nothing too short nor sweet, but god, this was enough to make such a bold verdict.

“A talented kisser, hm?” Yeji hums as she pulls away from your lips’ embrace, feeling captivated with the way you display such talent.

“A girl as pretty as you would make a man like this.” Your hands then freely roam to the limited skin her waist shows but you’re not the guy to complain, but to be grateful. “Now tell me something, Yeji…”

Yeji’s eyes widen; pupils dilate as she anticipates your next words, “Tell what?”

You smirk, as your buttons were pressed enough to make such a bold move. “Why would you want me? From all of the people there, why me?”

Yeji smirks just like you, then bites her lips, using such a modicum of her actions to indulge you even more. “I just know the world destined us to this moment—led us to this moment and god…” Yeji’s hands unbuttons the topmost button of your shirt as her hands permeate such heat onto your chest to push you onto the edge. “I know what you’re gonna give to me tonight.”

Such telepathic abilities enable you to read her thoughts, and you know exactly where she’s going towards, “Let me guess, a show for the world to know?”

“For the world to fucking know.” Yeji’s words end your sentence, and seal the deal.

Licking her lips in delight, you can feel her hands roam on your chest, your abdomen then the final stop, your growing bulge. She cups onto it like it’s something she would ruin and take care of, the best of both worlds as you let out such a nigh-inaudible moan, and Yeji knows exactly you’re liking this.

“You always need to ask.” And there she goes with her wonders.

All you can see is Yeji promptly getting on her knees, and with her absolute dexterity, does her talent to unbuckle and undress your bottom half more than a count to ten.

“God…” She’s mesmerized with the view she’s currently having: you, still in your boxers as her disposition clearly displays awe and amazement. “You’re hard already this fast? Must’ve turned you on too much?”

“Who wouldn’t with a girl like you?” It just shows your evident arousal, and Yeji’s grateful to bear such an entrance. Giving the green light, she then slowly strips off your boxers down to your ankles, mostly gravity doing the work and there she goes, such eyes gleaming with utter hunger and lust.

Her lips mouth such words full of awe as her hands cups the base of your erection, leisurely stroking it as she utters such profanity, “God, your cock is something else I didn’t expect.”

Your hubris just elevated, and let your commanding demeanor take over. “Glad it is. Now, show me what you’re made of.”

She wouldn’t lose against such a hubristic battle, and settles up for a possibly stellar moment. “I won’t disappoint.”

A clear view of her lips sends pecs around your length, letting you know the immediate worshiping and carnal needs fueling her for the time being. From the base up to your already leaking slit, she didn’t waste such precious time letting you know how much she loves this and it's just evident from the start. 

She grows impatient with her repetitive kisses and ups the ante, knowing how this will make your world go wild. “I may just find myself occupied more with this.”

“Less talking and more sucking.” As much as her patience grows thinner by the second, and so are yours. She scoffs off a giggle, knowing that the main event will be such a roller coaster ride.

With the last suction of her lips collecting that colorless liquid, she advances onto something pleasurable. Her tongue then dances around your red cockhead, swirling and permeating her saliva around, upping such sensitivity on your end and with that result, you shiver and inevitably moan in response.

She suckles on your swollen head, then advances past your frenulum to do the wonder she does to your slit and god, this was elevating the experience of such gratification.

“God, s-such a talented mouth, huh?”

“Gifted, I guess.” She continues her oral assault on your throbbing length, thrusting her head up and down as she quickly accelerates the pace up to both your likings. 

The quicker speed sums up the possible experience she has and it shows—such technique is unmatched with the way her tongue dances around your shaft and the little introduction of such a serrated culprit antagonizing the pleasure you’re experiencing, albeit, you wouldn’t bother with such little pain. She takes more than half of your shaft as spits dominate her heart-shaped lips, running down to her cheeks and onto her chin which shows the passion she’s giving in every second.

The occurrence won’t be complete without elevated stimulation: you’d just feel your balls being fondled by her right hand as she encourages more for you to feel. 

And it’s working well, too well for you to utter such compliments. “You’d make myself occupied too, i-if you want—shit, that’s great…”

An audible mhmm can be heard between her bobs as she elevated the speed, then resulting into such a mess that’s just turning you on even more. Saliva continues to drip down onto her chin and onto your clothes that’s probably damned to be given care with, tears flowing down her cheek as she takes more and suddenly, she tests her limits with a single act of boldness and bravery.

She rests her nose onto your abdomen, testing her gag reflex as she’s determined to tame it but in the end, it wasn’t in her favor. Gasps escape her mouth as she catches her breath, saliva connected onto those sinful lips was just the cherry on top yet your grow little concern, afraid she may push herself too much as soon as she coughed. “You good, Yeji?”

“I’m good—I’m good, I’m g-great—your cock is just addicting.” The succulence was evident with her repeated slurps onto your shaft, and you’re just in total bliss with her performance.

Things are not done, and she’d like to end the business with a good note.

She proved herself enough and with her immediate harsh pace, you wouldn’t be a hypocrite nor lie about it. The blurry orange-bobbing head of hers just becomes a repeated image tarnished in your brain, etched until the end of time. She continues what she’s best at, gripping your thighs for further display of talent and as a reply with the surging pleasure coursing through your veins, you opted to fight the leverage with the gripping of your hands onto her audacious head.

Constant slurps, gags and moans just became the music in the air and it’s just the paramount mood you're indulged into. You’d be damned if someone will see the both of you in such a sinful act but you don’t care anymore, not when Yeji’s mouth does explicit wonders on every inch of your body and clouding your mind with such sinful thoughts.

The head game is literally onto another level of experience, but such things wouldn’t last for so long.

She can feel your persistent throbs in her mouth, and it’s a common courtesy to ask where it will end. “You’re pretty close, I assume.”

“Yeah—” You groan in pleasure as she strokes your saliva-sheathed cock with the utmost pace her hands can muster. “—and I want it all over your face.”

Yeji just smiled mischievously, knowing how things will end up on a pivotal climax and how things will unveil between the both of you. “Then do it—cover me.”

All you can see are those pretty, sharp eyes in awe as she closes it, her visage in full display for you to paint on. This is a canvas worth investing such artwork on  and you’d besmirch it with such strokes worth millions. She moans as she feels each rope touches her face, mostly her cheeks, nose, lips, chin and some even getting onto her hair. Those fifteen seconds felt like a minute as you’re in a total state of bliss and for such a conclusion, she strokes you in hopes of milking you dry, emptying up your reservoir.

“God, that tasted great.” Yeji licks her lips and hums in satisfaction and when your senses are coming back to life, you ask her with such doubt.

“How would you clean up?”

Yeji chuckles as she stands up, facing you, “No one wouldn’t care.”

You smile sincerely as you dress your bottom-half up, satisfied as her voice invites you. “Let’s get out of here.”

She’s partly a monster; partly an angel in disguise, yet she can be the best of both worlds and it’s only a matter of time before depths will be reached.

---

Gone are the boisterous music ringing repeatedly in your ears and the alcohol that will probably dominate your body, because at this time, there’s nothing better than her lips locked against yours for the second time.

She feels ruthless and so were you, feeling her tongue dancing against yours and you gripping her waist harshly as you deepen such entanglement.

Her room was something pivotal about your already impeding arousal: dim lights, vanilla-scented air freshener and such a balcony for the both of you to enjoy, and maybe it’s something else than what’s usually known for people to do there.

“Never knew you could have such a room, Yeji.”

Yeji smirks as her nails dug into your skin gently, pressing it playfully as she mouthed her own pride. “This is nothing compared to anything you’ll see but for now, you’ll be more than my guest.” And then her eyes locked up against yours as those orbs wandered around your beautiful face.

Her eyes really tell you about her adoration, as the earlier test was just the tip of the iceberg, and guess what, you passed with flying colors.

“I’d love to be one, Yeji.”

You then share another torrid kiss with her, feeling attached to her ultimately and falling under her spell. She kisses you genuinely as you reciprocate, but you want more, so you pull out of her lips’ embrace, earning a moan from her as you find your way on peppering her neck with pecs and those sharp collar bones. 

You’d eventually take a glance of her flawless features, even though it’s evident ruined by you earlier but it’s such an important element of such undying beauty. You earned your minuscule rewards—her faint moans and chants calling you—and you’d love to double it, with more skin, your lips parts and marks.

“God, please—fuck…” Yeji’s pleas are audible enough for you to be distracted and it’s worth your while knowing it’s something that could elevate such an experience.

“Please what, Yeji?” You continue pecking her creamy, porcelain skin, suckling on it but not enough to result in hickeys and god, it just resulted in sexier moans escaping her lips. 

She’s struggling to articulate words that can formulate her wants, but she’d put up an end to such a clouding demise. “I want more—god—more, please…”

You grip her waist harsher, gaining such control as you pin her harder onto the wall and what a poor soul whimpering upon your own dominative assertion. You grant her needs as you caress her waist while peppering her with torrid kisses, resulting in such a cacophonous symphony that you would cherish hearing every second. 

You wanted more from her and her answer still made your satisfaction resting onto a low zero. “What do you want from me, baby?”

The word elicits a gasp from her mouth, feeling appalled with such a name she always finds hot and funnily enough, the stars are aligning. 

She whimpers but manages to think clearly and didn’t hesitate to be vocal about it, “Your cock, please—” 

As she’s about to advance her hands onto your clothes crotch, you stop her as you shake your head leisurely, having another plan in mind. “No—have some patience and also…” Yeji’s eyes scintillate beneath the dim light that appears as she’s anticipating what words could leave your mouth. “I gotta return the favor.” 

Your hands roamed its way onto the hem of her tight skirt, and asked such a question she can’t deny. “May I?”

She hitched a broken breath and gulped as she responded intimately, “Yes—yes, you can.”

Your fingers ran towards the edge of her skirt and eventually found the zipper and did such wonders, things that could easily soothe her and make her more comfortable. As much as you wanted to see it down on the floor, revealing her probably wet panties, you have other thoughts about your own, selfish arousal.

“Don’t want it on the floor?”

“This outfit, Yeji—” Your left hand then forced her figure pressed onto yours as she yelped with your immediate action, earning a startled whimper as her eyes looked at you like it’s her favorite candy. She loves your subtle harsh acts, and she won’t be deprived of any since this was just a gentle introduction. “—looks amazing on you.”

Yeji smiles as the compliment strokes her ego and how genuine you sounded, “Thanks, for—ooh, gosh!”

She yelped with your touch permeating on her legs as you roamed your hands towards her clothed regions which earned such a sultry, needy moan from Yeji. You can feel the heat that’s rivaling your cold hands and as the cherry on top, her wetness evident from her slit which is probably leaking right from the start.

You loosen up the zip of her skirt and god, she vocalizes how better it felt and maybe it’s mostly because of the fact that your fingers are pleasuring her crotch against that fine silk that’s about to be ruined thanks to your dexterity. It was pursuant to her and wherever she wants it, you’re going to follow it and with her subsequent moans, you’d like to let her know that your skills are up to par. Feeling the hunger running down your body, you can’t help but share another kiss, but this time, it feels chaste since all of the attention and unfeigned emotions are translated down with your fingers. They both felt like deprived lions from the wild, and such an inevitable kiss will bound to feed the pleasure the both of you are needing.

The evident bulge pokes down on your pants and Yeji was quick to notice that, cupping it and caressing to tame the beast. You moaned with her actions and so she is, too, but it's a repeated chant in your ears as she pleads with you for your own comfort. “Your cock, please.”

You didn’t care anymore, and knowing how the both of you wanted this then you wouldn’t deny her for doing the same thing you’re great at. Even with pleasure lingering onto every lobe in her brain, it won’t stop her to claim her promised prize as you help her undress your bottom-half, unbuckling your belt as she does the last step and all you can feel are your defenses going down, one by one as the raging beast that’s inside that clothed prison is about to be unshackled. 

The wait was worth it and the both of you are now in such a vulnerable state that a single touch would make a writhe or shiver as sensitivity is the culprit. Yeji’s fingers are on point and dexterous as expected—the way she danced her hands around your shaft, stroking it in a corkscrew motion is making you feel such bliss that’s unmatched and god, the scene is just hot.

You never thought the sight of the both of you masturbating would be so damn arousing and thought it was just some myth but yet again, hypocrisy is eliminated within the time being.

“God—you really can’t wait, huh?” 

“How can I? We need to mutually feel the same.” Yeji knows her pursuit against your aching beast wasn’t going to bother you, but rather the opposite. Her strokes were going livid as you groan with the lack of lubrication but it was exchanged by the pleasure that she gives you and of course, you wouldn’t lose onto this game and did the same, possibly vibrating your fingers and you maintain such an up and down motion which inevitably elicits such visceral moan from her.

The both of you did your best with your own expertise, doing such sinful things without even the main event is honestly criminal, and you would hold onto that because you want to make use of this and you’d prove to her you’re as good as she is.

“You’re fucking dripping, Yeji—god, did I turn you on so much?” Possibly a rhetorical question or maybe not, but either way, you know she’ll be a little irritated enough to defend her claim and quit such hypocrisy.

“N-No shit—you’re that talented too, huh?” You smile with her inadvertent compliment as you avert your eyes through her clothed crotch and it’s being ruined with her own doing, leaving such a masterpiece of clothing worthless, spoiled with her own juices.

“A natural, more likely—ah!” You yelp with Yeji’s sudden squeeze of your shaft in between her strokes as you glare at her playfully, her face then forming such a seductive smirk then a little scoff with your confidence. 

“You’re cocky too? God, you’re such a rare gem.”

A rare find, you suppose which is truly the truth—you’ll prove to her that there’s no one she can find that will be better than you. Your impatience is growing thinner by the second even with such a hot mess between both your crotches, and you’d let her know about your frustrations and needs.

“Yeji, I need to fuck you now.”

The tone is commanding, your face stern and her eyes widen with those simple words of need. Your eyes meet hers and they never lie—those glowing orbs of yours didn’t cease the exhilaration you’re feeling and she’s the one to blame. 

As much as it hurts for the both of you to stop, it will be rewarding once the climax settles in for such a spectacular show.

“How would you want me?” Yeji’s voice was bubbly but still hinting at that lace of seduction, being the alluring vixen that she is. 

“Strip that skirt, lay onto your stomach, and lastly, feet onto the floor.”

She is as thrilled as you are, and immediately puts up a show but doesn't go further without a question for such clarification, “Don’t you wanna see me naked?”

You would want to, but not now.

“Just the skirt, please. Everything else, on.” Commanding and straight to the point, just how you wanted all along. 

There were no complaints or the fact she’s abstaining from this command of yours, and in fact, it maybe even made it hotter. The way she’s seductively teasing and pulling her zipper until gravity does the job, it’s just a sight to behold and the final product left you in awe: the ruined black silk panties in such alongside the scribbled pattern of her stocking that just made the sight sizzle it complete heat that she emanates (figuratively).

“Like what you see?” She turns around then again, showing you her perfect figure all with your eyes to feast on as you were a step away from your final prize.

“Yes, now please turn around and lay on your stomach like I said.”

Your imperative nature sets herself in a position of reluctance but then shifts onto an immediate opposite. She does what she was told and wiggles her ass leisurely to invite you with a temptation to ruin her and even though if she won’t be vocal about it, you'd make it so that she won't be able to walk until the next day.

Yeji looks back onto her shoulder and lets out such profanity words, “Make a mess out of me—I don’t break easily.”

You won’t be convinced until you try it yourself but looking at her robustness and skills earlier, you might have to be biased with your judgment. “We’ll see about that.”

Completely kicking your garments to god knows where, you’re now in a better state of control as you tease her wet folds, earning a whimper that becomes uncontrollable as soon as you sink your finger against her raging heat. 

You can’t wait no more, you absolutely can’t because you’re dying to know what she feels like and with her last bit of defense out of your way, it’s time to do the unthinkable.

Now parting her supple legs with your hands, your eyes feast on her impeccable figure then onto that delicious cunt that’s making you drool. Unable to contain your enjoyment and your fantasies against her, you caught her by surprise with an unexpected twist—probably the twist that you’re involved in would be your tongue lathering her folds and tasting the escaping nectar that she produces.

It was succulent and you dived in it easily as the musky, floral scent of her tight cunt invites you, and you didn’t waste time as this was a golden opportunity. You wanted to tease her just for the sake of stimulation, playing a game with her ramping orgasm building up but you’d reckon the opposite and such pace ensued impatiently.

“Fuck! Such a t-talented mouth—fuck!” Yeji’s whines were coherent enough for you to increase the pace and double your efforts—you wish to let her reach her denied climax earlier with your fingers and your mouth. It wasn’t far off as you can feel her juices forming a rivulet onto her labia and spreading onto your chin and mouth, knowing how incredibly close she can be. She calls you repeatedly, gripping the sheets tight enough to rip it but it can’t and you eat her out with an effort that no one can rival.

A single wail is what it took before she screams, and there goes your long-chased win within a second away—

“I’m going to cum—” Surprisingly short and articulate, you let her give everything she has and there she goes—

Yeji’s orgasm comes in quickly as soon as she mutters those desperate words, and she immediately lays waste as she constantly spews liquid after liquid onto her sheets which instantly gets ruined. The both of you didn’t care about it but rather mind your own business while you still extended her climax, achieving such heights of her vocals.

“God—just fuck m-me now, please…”

Your cock is aching and throbbing in need, and with the penultimate action making her see such stars, it’s time for the last and the main event to take place.

You ask her if she’s in good condition and she didn’t bother to assure you, so with her green light, you stepped onto the throttle and gave in to your deepest, carnal desires.

Standing up, you then give her backside a last look before you plunge your length inside her wet hole and immediately groan with its tightness, feeling like her walls are gripping your shaft with a Herculean effort that probably was the blessing in disguise. 

“You’re fucking tight, Yeji—this feels just right.” And it is too right to be true, and you love it.

“Stretch me out—fuck, you’re crazy.”

Lust ignites you and it serves such an everlasting fuel for what’s bound to happen, and you give in just like that. You started off slow, letting her get accustomed to your length as you bury the entirety of your shaft then withdraw with just the tip inside, showing such penetration that could make any girl’s mind go haywire.

It’s starting to get to her slowly in every thrust you do—the utter pleasure your cock brings was phenomenal and with her small whines could determine how she’s really feeling deep inside. She grips onto the bedsheets like her life depends on it and it’s only going to get better once you manage such a pace that will make her think of you and you only.

Her cunt tightens once you spanked that pristine skin of hers and then called out to let her know something, “I’ll own this cunt until you see the stars above, do you understand?”

Between her wails of pleasure is her ephemeral nod with your question, unable to speak up due to the stimulation that’s coursing through her. Every stroke you do causes such slaps that adds to the orchestra of her moans that can be possibly heard outside as her room is too puny to shackle such sinful sounds of sex. You grip her hips harshly and increase your pace, making you moan on how she clenches her velvety walls once your length hits it balls-deep inside her.

“Want me to be rough, Yeji?” You hammer your hips in a velocity that’s making her brain in shambles, unable to mutter a response after a second in which you didn’t like.

A small punishment would do the job, but this is rewarding for her and a statement by yours. “I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

Her breaths are ragged between your thrusts as she cries with your immediate barrage of spanks, causing her to finally answer you even with her mind unable to achieve such clear articulacy. “Yes, p-please—I want it, ow!”

Another spank onto those pristine skin of hers never fails to make you throb with how it jiggled with such harshness, and the marks that’s finally imprinted on the soft skin tells such roughness. As she grows accustomed with your length due to her repeated chants of pleasure, you quickly opted for what could raise such an experience.

If her mind is ultimately clouded with you and can’t think straight, then you’re the opposite, clearly adapting to the situation.

“Yeji…”

“Wha—ooh! Mffh—mmh!” Ragged breaths leave her mouth as she struggles to breath with what you’ve done—you opted for a leverage that asserts your domination over her making the long, black lace at the back of her neck deemed as a leash rather than an aesthetic of her outfit. She probably liked the fact of such risking playing between life and death thanks to the asphyxiation and it didn’t stop you, but rather prove a point. 

“You like being choked and used, slut?” Your words just made Yeji elicit more moans as she’s being tamed, controlled by you and god, the way she’s creaming against your rapidly ramming length tells you about her satisfaction. The sheets will probably rip off no matter how durable they are and lastly, it will be soaked with her own juices and that’s thanks to your own doing. Her feet then raise up in the air as you give a better angle of penetration, switching between the black lace and onto her legs for leverage.

Even though she's barely stripped from her clothing, her clothes really compliments her figure and you’d like to take this mental picture and etch it on the deepest parts of your brain—something worth remembering until the end of time. The way that she's a disheveled, ruined mess right now just fuels you to break her in half and you’re not going to stop until you’ve fulfilled such destiny.

You wanted your hands to be occupied onto something and not being idle most of the time and with such a completely ruined mess of a girl she is now, you’d love to add more of it. You then grab her wrists and command her to arch her back, in which she complies and immediately, your hands reach onto those perky breasts of hers with the clothing still in the way. You caress them and Yeji can vouch she could feel such intensity even with such stellar clothing being a nuisance but there’s nothing to worry about, not when you’re giving her absolutely everything to feel.

You didn’t stop there as you leaned your frame closer to her while hammering her tight cunt repeatedly and utter the words, “This cunt is mine now, Yeji.”

She nodded and exclaimed a faint yes as you gave her pecs onto her shoulders, letting her know how much you love every single inch of hers and how you’re marking your own territory. Between your kisses is a feeling that something’s building up and you can feel it with the way her walls pulsate around your shaft—you know she's close and it’s up for you to let her wants prevail.

There wasn’t any choice and you love to see Yeji writhe as you give her such thrusts before her cardinal end. 

“I know you’re dying to cum—” You invite her to give in as she moans with your words, urging such a release that could let her see the things you wanted her to have a sight of. “—so cum on this cock. Cum for me.”

Your words act like a lever that opens up her reservoir and it feels like a tsunami surging around your length. With multiple cries to spare, you wanted to make her feel something exquisite while achieving her own orgasm, letting you finger avert her chin facing you, against her shoulder as you kissed her lips intimately. Time felt slow as the both of you locked lips and to ride off her high, you slowed down because you still wanted her to feel such intense gratification through her awaited climax.

“I n-never felt that good in my entire life.” Yeji’s breaths were jagged, as she recovers from her orgasm even with your lengthy still penetrating and possibly destroying her insides. Even with a possibly mind-fucked Yeji, she knew what you wanted all along and didn’t hesitate to ask you about it. “Aren’t you close?”

“Well, if you didn’t cum, I would’ve come first.”

An audible gasp resonated in your ears as it piqued her willingness to help you, and it was evident in her tone. “I could feel it too—just fuck me silly again and just cum.”

She recovered fast because of the evident change of her tone, and you, still a bit puzzled and hesitant knowing she may want a load deep inside her. “Don’t want it inside—”

“Then do it in my mouth—you fucking which hole is now your choice.”

Her invitation is just persuasive and alluring and it never fails you to fall a victim for. Knowing how she wanted it, as much as you wanna bother such another session being between her legs, you’d want to fulfill her wants and it’s safer with the help of a great oral ending.

“On your knees then, and open your mouth. I’m going to fuck your face.” You let her position and prepare herself for what's about to come as surprisingly, her legs are still working fine after all of the havoc you’ve brought into her.

Yeji closes her eyes, her mouth agape, ready for the taking as you stroke your length in its absolute vigor and there she goes, taking you again for the second time. This time, you take control by grabbing her ponytail that’s shockingly intact even with the ruckus you made her be in earlier. She���s taking you like a good girl as you ram into her face with abandon, skin slapping signaling the constant harshness you bring and it is perfect. She gagged and you didn’t care, yet she managed to tame it but wasn’t successful as always—you praised her attempts and wasn’t close to being futile. Her nails dug into the skin of your thighs as she let it be the leverage onto your constant rummage in her throat, and she welcomed every thrust with a gleeful demeanor, locking her gaze towards you.

She cries, tears running down her cheek as she was a disheveled mess and you’re proud of what you’ve done. You could feel the familiar sensation tingling near your stomach and a better way to end such a monumental note is giving everything you can. 

The unstoppable force meets the immovable object, as such velocity is unparalleled, hammering her tight throat like it’s her cunt and within seconds from her last gag you could feel everything coming down to this moment. Here it goes: Yeji chokes yet manages to keep your length all the way in, you groaning and calling her name like a chant and of course, the awaited climax that filled her throat up to the brim. You stayed for five more seconds, burying your length as her arms writhe with her repeated gags and then, pulls out immediately, strings of saliva adding to the mess she is and of course, the image of Yeji almost choking out your load but manages to compose herself to swallow it all, humming gleefully as she not get to taste the entirety of your delicious load.

“Like I said—it’s fucking delicious—hah.” The both of you caught your own breaths yet Yeji shows the struggle evidently. Still on her knees, she managed to show what you’ve done as your reward and the last thing you just saw her go is gulp down all of it in one go, into her stomach. She initiated the last dance with her hands grabbing your shaft, then directing it onto her mouth in order to clean the mess she made onto it. You groan with the sensitive surge she brings you, thankfully her tongue doing the work but you don't complain as within seconds, she ends her oral assault and it makes you feel spectacular for a long while.

You cup her cheeks, admiring the glamorous mess you made in which she unhesitantly neaten with her utmost capabilities. “You’re so damn pretty, Yeji.”

“You too.”

It was mutual at this moment and you never knew it would end like this but her voice wants to tell you that something isn’t over, yet.

“Help me clean up?”

And it was a hint, just out of curiosity, you’ll probably pull the trigger because how can you not refuse her invitation?

---

After countless sleepless nights and tumultuous days, you find yourself at the top of the world, and what better way to end this is just to go home, lay down and reminisce what a day this has been.

“The lights are pretty, huh?” Yeji interrupts your moment with her voice, and she locks her eyes towards yours, staring deeply into your soul as you fall onto it yet manage to snap back to reality.

“Yeah, it is—also, I just can’t comprehend how we ended up this way.” Yeji’s on the same boat as you and you could feel it in your nerves. This felt like a fever dream and you loved every second of it.

“Maybe that’s how destiny works, huh?”

You scoff, as your lips curled up a faint smile and muttered, “Maybe it is and yeah, I should leav—”

“Leave?” Yeji pouts as she inches herself closer onto yours, holding your wrist as her tone hints at her disappointment. “Don’t you wanna bother and stay just for this night?”

You can’t resist her, you absolutely can’t as you don’t want to be the bearer of bad news that will make her feel awkward.

You have a choice and you’ll stick with that… in her favor.

You smile sincerely, and Yeji’s holistic demeanor appears, “Okay, how can I resist you?”

“Up for you to find out.”

Maybe she was good, but honestly, she’s great. She is partly a monster and partly an angel, and you’ll live in those worlds together as you find your soulless heart beating rapidly for the first time in a long while.

You’re completely invigorated, and you’ll embrace this new chapter that opened.

“She’s good, she’s good—she’s great.”

---

You continue ruminating about the day you’ve had, and every moment was worth remembering. You smiled in your victorious attempts, which is having her number on your phone and sleeping with her through the night. As Yeji does her hygiene in the bathroom, a buzz on your phone piques your attention, and it was no other than the devil that made yourself look like an angel despite what you descended yourself into.

kim_chaewon on 23:15 - “Guess I shouldn’t have doubted you huh? Well done with the second phase, meet me tomorrow afternoon for further details. Enjoy your night for now—we’re still not done.”

She received it damn well minutes ago and made her eat up her words, but you’re still clearly within the base of the iceberg, and you’re still starting your remarkable journey.

“Hah… Of course we aren’t…” There was no surprise with that as you muttered in response to her text.

Yet there are multiple questions lingering in your mind: How did she know about this? How would she know if you’re lying or not? What may happen tomorrow? How long will this take? 

You could never answer those unless you figure things out, and let Chaewon introduce you to more of what’s possible between both worlds: you and everyone else’s, including hers.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Mango Bat; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Billy didn’t think to bring a bag–doesn’t actually own any bags except his backpack, which is still at the Rock of Eternity, though he guesses they could’ve used Lynn’s if he’d been okay with it–so they have to just carry the books stacked in their arms and try to look like they’re heavy. He figures it’s a good time for him to start teaching Lynn how to do that, though, so they might as well take the opportunity, right? Not that Captain Marvel usually needs to pretend to be a baseline human, but it’s come up a couple of times. So Billy gives Lynn some pointers while they walk with Tawky perched on top of Lynn’s share of the books, most of which he got from Superman back in the day, and Lynn does really good! 

He looks kind of embarrassed when Billy tells him that, but he really does do a good job, and Billy thinks it’s better to tell people that kind of thing. 

And Cadmus probably didn’t do that, so it makes sense if Lynn’s a little embarrassed, but that just makes Billy want to do it more. He just wants Lynn to be able to feel good about himself, especially because he really clearly doesn’t feel all that good about himself. 

Lynn’s not a weapon or a thing and he isn’t Superman, either. But he’s also too young to really understand that on his own yet, Billy’s pretty sure, so part of being a good dad is definitely helping him understand that. 

Cadmus really obviously didn’t want him to, so somebody’s gotta. 

Lynn looks at the sky the whole way back to the apartment. 

When they get back and get back inside, they stack all the books on the coffee table, and Billy sorts through them a little, just to make sure nothing’s gonna fall over or anything. He stacks them all up by size, then realizes now the genres are all mixed up and maybe that’s gonna make it hard to find stuff, but he also didn’t wanna end up with a book-valanche but also what if Lynn gets overwhelmed or annoyed when he’s looking for a specific book or–

He might be overthinking this, Billy realizes, and then just awkwardly picks up the cookbooks to show to Lynn. 

“Wanna figure out what we can make for dinner tonight?” he suggests. He knows they ate right before the library, but he doesn’t know how long cooking takes or what Lynn’s metabolism is like, so . . . well, they might as well be prepared, right? 

“Um,” Lynn says, glancing down at the cookbooks hesitantly. “. . . sure.” 

“Great!” Billy beams at him. Batman got them a lot of groceries, so there’s gotta be something they’ve got a recipe for in here, he figures. 

. . . like, probably, right? 

. . . as long as it’s not oatmeal again, anyway. Billy’s not sure he can trust the tastebuds of a guy who decided to buy cookies, compared every possible flavor of them in an entire grocery store, and then picked oatmeal. That’s just sad. 

And also gross. Seriously, seriously gross. 

Oatmeal.

[mamawasatesttube]

an excerpt of the "kon being a scary alien creature" wip im HOPING i finish + post later tonight...!

And then—

Something squeezes his hand.

Tim freezes.

The feeling spreads from his hand up his wrist all the way to his shoulder, and from there over his whole body, an invisible blanket draped over him like a second skin. The ropes tied around his wrists and ankles slide against each other like snakes, moving as if with a mind of their own; they loosen enough for him to easily escape their grasp, but stay draped over him so that it still looks like he’s tied up.

The invisible blanket-cocoon over him squeezes his whole body, just slightly. It’d probably be freaky if it wasn’t so familiar.

Kon, Tim thinks, his heart thundering with relief.

Wild hope zings through his chest, and he drags his tired gaze from the men at the table up into the dark warehouse. It takes him a second, but he spots a pair of eyes glinting up there, catlike; he twitches two fingers in a weak greeting, and the gentle weight wrapped around him gives him another squeeze.

Kon’s here. Holy shit, Tim’s not dying tonight after all.

Kon drops out of the air and lands just outside the circle of light from the lamp on the center of the table. He lets himself make enough of a sound to catch the four mens’ attention; all of them whip around, peering into the darkness.

“Who’s there?!” Goatee demands, reaching for his gun. “Show yourself!”

“Well, if you insist.”

Kon stalks forward, into the light. His jacket hangs from his shoulders, his footsteps eerily quiet in the darkness. He carries himself with a predatory, catlike grace; his face is deceptively calm, but every taut line of his body screams with fury. His smile spells danger.

Tim’s breath leaves him in a rush of pure, heady relief. He’s safe.

“Aw, hell—” Glasses whips out his gun and fires—BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!—three shots, right at Kon’s chest.

Kon raises an eyebrow. Glances down at himself. Brushes a speck of imaginary dust off his shoulder.

“Okay, seriously.” He gestures at the House of El crest on his chest, clearly amused. “Does the big, red S on my chest mean nothing to you? I know you guys can’t be that dumb.”

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Like the slumber that creeps to me

My first fic for @painlandweek has been posted! You can either read the first few scenes below or find the whole thing here on AO3.

Prompt: Sickfic

Length: 13.5K words

Rating: T

Warnings: none

Summary: While on a case, Charles falls victim to a cursed necklace that causes everyone who touches it to sicken and die. While his friends frantically search for a way to break the curse, a weakening Charles has plenty of time to think about his feelings for his best mate.

Excerpt:

“I fear that I will never understand the living,” Edwin says as they climb the seven flights of stairs to their office on the top floor. He hasn’t groused about not being able to mirror travel with Crystal tagging along once, which tells Charles how off-kilter tonight’s case left him. “They hear about Hell, renowned for being the worst place in existence, and they think, ‘perhaps I should create something just like that and keep it in my pantry.’ Honestly.”

“I don’t think you can blame that on the sorcerer being living,” Crystal says acidly. She doesn’t sound even a little out of breath; she’s acclimating to this climb. “You can blame it on him being a toxic douchebag who wanted to punish his enemies so badly he couldn’t wait for Hell to do it.”

“And now he’s a toxic douchebag stuck in a pocket dimension of his own making, isn’t he?” Charles probably should feel a little bad about trapping the sorcerer in the fire and brimstone hellscape in his pantry, but the way he sees it, he was an evil cunt who had it coming. Russell Mathers had been a surprisingly powerful, if self-taught, sorcerer and he’d used all that power to enact revenge on his enemies. Except, he’d had a very loose definition of what made an enemy: his victims ranged from an academic rival to a colleague that had spurned his advances to the twelve-year-old neighbor boy that trod on his lawn one too many times.

It had been the twelve year old’s spirit who had brought them the case, sobbing in their office about having escaped from the fires of Hell. Edwin’s hands shook for the rest of the day and for that alone, Charles couldn’t feel too bad for closing the door to the pocket dimension in Mathers’s smug fucking face.

“Anyway, it’s done with.” Charles pushes the memories of the raging inferno of hellfire inside the dimension away. He’s been trying real hard not to “keep things bottled up,” like Crystal accused him of doing, since Port Townsend, but this is one thing he thinks he can bottle up for now. “Sorcerer can’t hurt anyone anymore, his victims are avenged, and your wards should stop anyone else from wandering in, Edwin. Case closed.”

“Job officially jobbed,” Crystal and Edwin say at the same time, then look at each other suspiciously. Charles grins down at them. It’s adorable how surprised they both are by the fact that they’re friends now.

“And now I think we’ve earned a break, yeah?” Charles pushes open the door of the office and finds the Night Nurse standing there, standing with her arms folded over her chest and a narrow-eyed look like she’s just caught them out past curfew.

“Evening, Charlie,” Charles says brightly, just to see her eye twitch. Look, he’s mostly forgiven her for cornering him and Edwin in Port Townsend and accidentally getting Edwin sent to Hell, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think he’s earned the right to needle her a bit.

“You’re finally back. I was starting to think you were out… gallivanting.” She says “gallivanting” in the same tone she might accuse them of attending a drug-fueled orgy.

“Oh yeah, loads of gallivanting.” Charles props his elbow on Edwin’s shoulder. “Right, Edwin? We gallivanted right into a sorcerer’s house, where we saved the latest girl he’d tossed into a pocket dimension full of hellfire.”

“And kicked him in for good measure,” Crystal adds.

Charles nods. “It was a real good time. You should have been there, Charlie.”

“You would have loved the pocket dimension.” Crystal smiles in a way that suggests she would have dropkicked the Night Nurse in herself, given half the chance. Charles and Edwin may have mostly forgiven the Night Nurse for Port Townsend, but Crystal never will. She doesn’t take people fucking with Charles or Edwin kindly. Charles finds himself smiling at her dopily and has to turn away. He catches Edwin shooting Crystal a fond look and finds himself smiling dopily at his best mate instead, which isn’t any better.

“Well, now that you’re back, there’s another case,” the Night Nurse says huffily. “And she’s been waiting for hours.”

“Already?” Charles was about to suggest a night of playing Cluedo and not thinking about any fire and brimstone pocket dimensions. “We just got back.”

She glares at him. “Death waits for no one, young man. If you wanted leisure, you should have moved on to your tranquil afterlife.”

Charles grins at her. “And miss your smiling face? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Edwin steps forward with an exasperated sigh, though Charles isn’t sure which of them his exasperation is aimed at. “Who is the client?”

***

Miss Paula Morris appears to be somewhere between forty and fifty, with a cloud of long, silvery blond hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and dangling earrings shaped like goldfish. She doesn’t appear to be a madwoman, but that seems to be the only explanation for the story she’s telling them.

“So, your beau knew the necklace was cursed when he gave it to you?” Edwin stares at her across the desk, pen poised over his notebook. The living—or in her case, the very recently living—continue to confound him. “And you accepted the gift? Willingly?”

“Oh, yes.” Miss Morris smiles a little sadly. “Raymond knew how much I like spooky stuff. He was always doing thoughtful things like that.”

“Spooky stuff,” Edwin echoes.

“Oh, the usual things. Tarot decks, Ouija boards, cursed dolls.”

He suppresses a shudder. “And so he gave you a necklace that purportedly causes everyone who touches it to sicken and die within three days.”

“He said he found it on Ebay.”

Edwin turns to Crystal helplessly.

“It’s like an online auction house.” She pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll show you later.”

“Raymond didn’t think it would actually make me sick,” Miss Morris says. “Just like my cursed dolls didn’t actually put me in an eternal sleep.”

Edwin shudders again.

“So Raymond gave you the cursed necklace.” Charles leans forward, wearing that winning smile of his. “What happened next?”

Miss Morris’s smile dims. “The next day, he called me and said he felt like he was coming down with something. I felt fine until I was coming home from my book club that night and I started feeling faint. It just felt like the flu. I was tired, a little dizzy, and I had a fever. I couldn’t stop sleeping. Every time I talked to Raymond, he sounded terrible, and then he stopped taking my calls. Yesterday morning, I fell asleep and when I woke up last night, I was dead.”

Edwin gives her a moment to collect himself, cognizant of Charles and Crystal’s lectures on bedside manner. “And Raymond?” he asks after what he feels is a sensitive amount of time, at least ten seconds.

She sniffles. “Oh, he died right around the time I fell asleep. His daughter is the one who found my body when she came to tell me this morning. Otherwise, I don’t know how long I would have laid there.”

“And you’re sure it was the necklace?” Crystal asks.

“I don’t know what else it could have been. Raymond and I were both perfectly healthy up until the day after our date. Three days later, we were both dead.”

“Did he say anything about the seller?” Edwin asks quickly, because he can see Miss Morris is getting emotional.

She shakes her head. “Just that the necklace came from America.”

“Thank you.” Edwin jots that down in his notebook. “We typically do not carry out revenge missions and even if we did, the person who sold Raymond the necklace is most likely beyond revenge. If this necklace’s magic is as potent as you say, it’s safe to assume that they’re already dead.”

“What Edwin means to say.” Charles props himself on the desk, all easy charm. “Is what can we do to help you move on?”

Miss Morris smiles at him, because people are always smiling at Charles. “The necklace is still in my house and my sister and niece will be coming up tomorrow to go through my things. I don’t want them to find it and touch it. It’s a beautiful emerald necklace and green is their favorite color.. I’m afraid that if one of them finds it and takes it home…”

“That they’ll become victims of the curse too,” Crystal says when she trails off. “So you want us to break into your house and get the necklace?”

“Yes, please.” Miss Morris reaches up to toy with one of her earrings. “Allison and Maeve are my only family. I’ve already lost Raymond. I don’t want anything to happen to them.”

Edwin closes his notebook and exchanges looks with Charles and Crystal. It seems like a straightforward case, just the thing after the ugly business with Russell Mathers and his pocket dimension. The sorcerer was just the latest in a line of harrowing cases and Edwin knows his partners are starting to feel the strain. If all they have to do for Miss Morris is break into her home and steal a necklace before tomorrow, this should be a simple affair.

Charles nods and Edwin turns back to Miss Morris. “We’ll be happy to take your case, Miss Morris. But now, the matter of your payment.”

***

“Dear lord.” Edwin stares around Paula Morris’s house with the expression of someone who’s found himself back in the depths of Hell.

“Come on, mate.” Charles nudges him in the shoulder. “It’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad. How on earth are we supposed to find anything here? No wonder she can’t remember exactly where she left it. Amelia Earhardt’s lost plane is probably hidden somewhere among this rubbish.”

Paula Morris’s house seems like exactly the type of place that would belong to someone who’d fancy a cursed necklace as a gift from her boyfriend. It’s covered from wall to wall in stuff: old-timey portraits hanging on the walls, knick-knacks cluttering every surface, too much mismatched furniture for the small space. Charles kind of loves it, but he can see how it would overwhelm Edwin.

There’s a knock on the door behind them. “Are you going to let me in, or should I stand on a dead lady’s porch all night until the neighbors come over to see what I’m doing?”

“Sorry, Crystal.” Charles turns to let her in with an apologetic smile.

She looks around with a raised eyebrow. “Holy shit.”

“I know.” Edwin sighs. “It’s dreadful.”

“I don’t know, it’s kind of cute. Definitely fits Paula’s witchy vibe.”

“Should we expect to find a giant snake in the basement?” Edwin asks acidly, pressing on before anyone can answer. “We only have a few hours until Miss Morris’s relatives arrive, so we should start our hunt. Crystal, you take the kitchen and the powder room. Charles, you the living room and office. I’ll take the master bed and bath.”

Charles frowns. “You think it’s a good idea to split up? Splitting up on the last case almost got Crystal dragged into a pocket dimension.”

“I do not believe we have to worry about any pocket dimensions this time, Charles. The woman handled a cursed necklace on purpose. A magical mastermind she is not.”

“You know most people don’t really believe in curses, right?” Crystal says. “It’s the same reason little girls play Bloody Mary at sleepovers. They don’t actually expect a knife-wielding ghost to pop out of the mirror.”

“They should,” Edwin says. “Charles and I encountered Bloody Mary herself on a case in 1993. A very unpleasant woman.”

Charles shrugs. “She wasn’t that bad.”

“You only say that because she told you that you had a lovely smile before she tried to stab you.”

“I do have a pretty nice smile, don’t I?” Charles grins at him.

Edwin turns a bit pink around the ears. “She certainly thought so,” he says and turns on his heel, striding down the hall towards the bedroom.

Charles instantly feels awful. In the months since Port Townsend, he keeps finding himself saying shit like that without thinking. He doesn’t mean to tease Edwin or play with his feelings. But he can’t stop himself from testing the waters, seeing if Edwin still feels the way he did back then. They haven’t said a word about Edwin’s confession on the steps of Hell since they returned to London. It would almost seem like a hallucination his terrified mind conjured, if not for the fact that every detail still plays in vivid color in his head every time he has five minutes to himself to think.

He doesn’t want to hurt Edwin. He’d rather cut off his own hand than ever make Edwin doubt he’s the center of Charles’s universe. So Charles doesn’t know why he can’t stop trying to see if he can make Edwin blush.

“Guess we’re splitting up.” Crystal gives Charles a look that’s a bit too knowing, then picks something off the kitchen table.

“Don’t pick up any necklaces,” Charles tells her as he heads towards the master bedroom.

“Thanks, Charles, I was definitely going to pick up every cursed necklace I find. How else would I want to spend my weekend, except dying slowly of a magical illness?”

Charles doesn’t know why he surrounds himself with so many adorable, brilliant smartasses. He goes into the living room to poke around a bit. He doesn’t see any necklaces, though he does find a half dozen half-drunk mugs of tea, several lost earrings in between the couch cushions, and a crystal ball that he slips into his backpack to give to Crystal for her birthday because she’ll hate it. He’s checking under the couch when he hears a sound he’s been constantly listening for since Port Townsend: Edwin’s terrified scream.

Charles phases through the wall in an instant, cricket bat already drawn and ready to go. But he doesn’t find a giant snake, a demon ready to drag Edwin to Hell, or even a mad sorcerer with a penchant for pocket dimensions. Instead, he finds Edwin standing in front of an open closet, grip on the door white-knuckled and eyes enormous. On the top shelf of the closet, there’s a row of glassy-eyed, chubby-cheeked baby dolls.

“Bloody hell, mate.” Charles puts his hand over his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Apologies.” Edwin swallows hard as he steps back from the closet. “They just startled me. I’m being silly.”

“Nothing silly about it.” Charles looks at Edwin’s frozen expression, far too close to the one he wore while watching a demon made of baby dolls tear his body apart, then turns to the row of dolls. With a single swing of his cricket bat, he knocks the baby dolls over, sending them shattering to the hardwood floor. Bits of porcelain scatter everywhere and a single blue eye stares accusingly up at Charles. He crushes it under the heel of his boot.

“That was unnecessary,” Edwin says peevishly as Crystal comes skidding into the room.

“Are you both okay?” Crystal asks.

Edwin heaves a sigh. “We’re fine. Charles was feeling… dramatic.” But there’s a soft curve to his lips as he ducks his head and Charles feels his own lips curling into a smile in response. “You do realize one of those dolls was allegedly cursed, don’t you, Charles?”

Charles shrugs. “What are the chances Paula got her hands on two genuinely cursed objects?”

“I hope you’re right, because if we find ourselves haunted by a cursed baby doll, you and I will have words.” With one last glance at the heap of broken dolls, Edwin turns away.

Charles hesitates, not wanting to leave Edwin again, not so soon after hearing him scream. There may not have been any real danger, but there could have been. Looking around, he catches a glint of something green in the bathroom.

“Hold on.” Charles ducks into the loo and sure enough, there’s the necklace that Paula described, a gold chain with a pear-shaped emerald pendant, haloed by tiny diamonds. It sits on the counter next to the toothbrush holder, probably removed right before Paula went to bed the night she went out for a nice dinner with her boyfriend for the last time. “Found it!”

“Excellent work, Charles.” Edwin follows him into the bathroom, looking pleased, and Charles can’t help but feel the usual warm glow he gets whenever his friend tells him he’s done well.

“It was right out on the counter,” Charles says. “Not much detective work required, was it?”

“Still very well-spotted.” Edwin holds out a hand and Charles reaches into his bag to produce a magnifying glass. Edwin bends to examine the necklace closer. After a moment, he says, “I see no runes or other obvious signs of a curse, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. We can perform a closer examination back at the office.”

“Aces.” Charles reaches for the necklace.

Edwin grabs Charles’s wrist, his grip tight enough that Charles can almost feel warmth, like he’s a living boy with a living hand touching him. “Careful.”

Charles blinks down at Edwin’s elegant fingers, unsure why the sight of them gripping his wrist makes him feel strangely off-kilter. “What? This is what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

“That necklace has killed at least two people that we know of. Until we know more about this curse, caution is in order.”

“Right.” Charles looks up at him, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Mate, I’ve got some bad news for you. You might want to sit down.”

Edwin rolls his eyes at the ceiling, like he knows what’s coming. “Charles—”

“See, I’ve been dead since 1989. You were there, remember?”

“It rings a bell,” Edwin says, clearly trying his hardest to look annoyed.

“And I know it might be a shock to learn your best mate of thirty-five years is a ghost—”

“Are you quite finished?”

Behind Edwin, Crystal snorts.

Edwin turns to glare at her. “Do not encourage him, Crystal, I beg you.”

“I hope we can still be friends.” Charles can’t quite suppress a giggle. Then Crystal starts to laugh and Charles can’t help it; he starts too.

“You are both insufferable,” Edwin tells them gravely. “Can we please get on with the case?”

“Got it, mate.” Charles snatches up the necklace. At Edwin’s incredulous look, he shrugs. “Should I have asked it nicely to get into my bag?”

“I was going to suggest using a towel.”

Oh, right. Charles hadn’t thought of that. He drops the necklace into his bag and flexes his hand. “I’m wearing gloves, aren’t I? Everything’s aces, mate.”

Edwin sighs. “Crystal, please remind me to discuss Charles’s impetuous behavior once we’ve seen Miss Morris off to her afterlife.”

“You say we need to discuss that at least once a week,” Crystal says. “Twice so far this week.”

“And this time, I mean it.” Edwin looks around the bathroom with an imperious air, probably judging the smears of toothpaste in the sink and the mismatched towels. “Now, let us please exit this den of chaos. I shudder to think what else is in here.”

***

“You really do need to be more careful, Charles.”

“Can’t lecture me during boxing lessons, mate. If you’re distracted, that means you get two lessons this week.”

“That was not part of the agreement.”

“I’m the teacher, aren’t I? Think it’s the agreement if I say it is.”

Edwin huffs. It’s just before dawn, Crystal is back at her flat with Niko, the Night Nurse is off doing whatever she does when she’s not assigning them new cases, and he and Charles have a rare moment of peace. A rare moment of peace that Charles has insisted on sullying with boxing lessons, of all things. After Port Townsend, Edwin reluctantly agreed to one boxing lesson per week. He doesn’t think knowing how to throw a punch would have helped him against Esther Finch, the Cat King, or a demon from Hell, but it seems to make Charles feel better.

“You should know by now that, ghost or not, curses are not something that we trifle with.” Edwin throws a punch, which Charles easily blocks. “Do we really need a repeat of the Case of the Cursed Mirror?”

“That curse targeted ghosts specifically, didn’t it? I’m not going to get the flu from a necklace.”

“And you know that for sure, do you? Researched the origins of this curse thoroughly?”

He throws another punch and the next thing he knows, Charles has grabbed his arm, spun him around, and has Edwin’s back pressed against his chest, grip firm but gentle on Edwin’s wrist, which is pinned between them.

“That’s the third right hook you’ve thrown in a row.” Charles’s voice is low in his ear, sending a shiver up his spine. “What have I said about being predictable?”

Edwin is having trouble remembering any conversation they’ve ever had. Charles’s hip is pressed against his backside and it’s absurdly distracting.

“Being predictable gives your opponent a chance to plan their next move. You don’t want that. That’s how you end up in trouble.”

Edwin swallows. “And then you come along with your bat and get me out of trouble.”

“And what if I’m not there?”

“You will be.”

With a sound that’s half-laugh, half-sigh, Charles releases him, letting Edwin turn to face him. “Wish you had enough faith in me when it comes to cursed necklaces as when it comes to fighting.”

Edwin rubs his wrist, even though it doesn’t hurt a bit. Even if he were a human whose wrists could be bruised or broken, Charles would never be so careless with him. “And I wish you cared about your own safety half as much as you care about mine.”

“Not possible.” Charles’s eyes go soft. “I’d never get anything done, would I? I’d be too busy worrying.”

Edwin’s nonexistent breath seems to stutter in his chest. He doesn’t know what on earth he’s supposed to say to that. But before he can think of a reply, Charles steps back, stumbling over nothing and grimacing as he rights himself.

“Charles?” Edwin reaches out, ready to steady him if necessary. “Are you quite alright?”

“I’m fine, mate.” Charles flashes him one of those brilliant grins of his. “Just lost my balance.”

“If you’re not feeling well—”

“Oh, no, you’re not getting out of this so easy.” Charles raises his fists. “Try and hit me again. And if you throw another right hook, I’m tying that hand behind your back.”

***

“Charles, I think this is around where our client died, don’t you? It matches his description. The bend in the path, the pond, the bench.” A pause. “Charles?”

Charles blinks. “Yeah, mate?”

“Doesn’t this seem to be the place where our client died?” Edwin gestures to the park around them.

Charles looks down at the ground, half-expecting to see a chalk outline on the ground. But there wouldn’t be; their latest client is a middle-aged man who died of a heart attack during his morning jog, not a murder victim. There wouldn’t be a case at all, except that some prat stole the dead man’s watch, an heirloom inherited from his grandfather that he wants to pass onto his son, off his corpse.

“Seems like it,” Charles says when he realizes that Edwin’s waiting for an answer. “He mentioned the pond, yeah? And the ducks.”

Edwin pivots to face him, hands on his hips. “What on earth is going on with you today, Charles?”

“Me? Nothing at all. Just tired, is all.”

“Ghosts do not get tired.”

“We’ve worked ten cases in five days, Edwin. I was just hoping for a break after we found Paula’s necklace last night, wasn’t I?” Charles scrubs a hand over his face. His mind is filled with a kind of fog. It reminds him of the nights he would sneak out to go to concerts with his friends and still have to go to school the next morning, doing his best not to fall asleep during history class.

Edwin sniffs. “This is certainly a case that I can work on my own, if you’re not up to it.”

“Not going to leave you alone, mate. What if we’re dealing with a watch-stealing monster? Like that Fae we caught robbing houses in South Kensington?”

“I hardly think we’re going to run into another Fae with a penchant for stealing electronics.”

“I’m fine, mate.” Charles rolls his eyes up at the sky. “Let’s have a look around, yeah? Got to be at least one or two ghosts lurking around. Maybe one of them will have seen something.”

They do find a ghost, an old lady still sitting on the park bench where she died, probably around the same time as Edwin from the looks of her. She seems more interested in complaining about all the riff-raff in the park than answering any of their questions. Given the suspicious looks she gives Charles’s earring, he thinks she might consider him part of the riff-raff, so he lets Edwin take the lead.

It’s a beautiful day, late enough in the autumn that it’s bound to be one of the last beautiful days London gets for a while. Everyone seems to be out enjoying it; couples sit together on park benches, kids dart around the playground, a group of uni students are involved in a spirited, if amateur, game of rugby, joggers and dog walkers make their way along the path that encircles the pond. 

As Charles watches, a little boy dashes away from the playground, shrieking and laughing. His father lumbers after him, growling with his arms stretched out like a monster’s. A year ago, Charles would have squelched the sadness he feels at the sight. Now, he lets himself feel all the grief, anger, and disappointment that he never got to play like that with his own dad, because he had never once felt secure in the knowledge that his dad wouldn’t hurt him when he caught him.

The little boy’s father catches him, scooping him up into his arms, and the boy’s delighted scream seems to pierce right through Charles’s brain. Charles winces. All of a sudden, all the noise of the park, which had been a pleasant background hum, seems too loud. Kids laughing, parents calling out to their children, ducks quacking, the good-natured shouting of the uni students, music blaring from the speakers of a passing car. It’s all too much, like a physical pressure squeezing Charles’s head.

“Charles?”

Charles turns to find Edwin standing there, brow pinched in concern. The old woman has gone back to scolding passing children who can’t hear or see her.

“Charles, are you alright?” Edwin asks.

“Yeah, mate.” Charles grins at him. Should the sun be that bright? It like he can almost feel the heat beating down on his shoulders. He hasn’t felt the sun on his skin in decades.

Edwin’s eyes look startlingly green in the sunlight. They’re really nice eyes. Charles thinks he might tell him that, but everything is so loud around them and he’s not sure if the words come out. Edwin’s mouth is moving, that furrow in his brow deepening. Dark spots are starting to dance across Charles’s vision, but that’s alright, because he can still see Edwin’s eyes.

“I’m aces,” Charles tells Edwin, because he looks worried, right before the ground seems to shift under him and he’s falling, falling, falling…

***

Read the rest here on AO3!

[katkat030]

Hermitcraft/Life Series Fic Recs!!!

I am absolutely insane about so many of these and I genuinely can't recommend them enough. Like the post that inspired this, I'll probably tag authors if I know their Tumblr urls, but please let me know if you want me to remove any and I will!

Fair warning that most of these have shipping!

-

But oh, the bloom by @sillyfairygarden (read here) ongoing.

Ough. Whimsy, Pearlescentmoon, the best version of desertduo I've ever read, and indecipherable sounds of me screaming. If there's one fic I ever want people to read, it's this one. There's a reason I'm putting this first, as much as I hate to pick favourites! Warning: you may will fall in love with the story. Possibly my favourite author - cannot recommend their works enough <3 (The Champion's Banquet also made me go not just a little insane)

It's an absolute necessity to highlight the tags on this one: blows a kiss to the sky. for all my pearliemoon lovers searching for wonder and whimsy in the world around you // Now with more angst! // a man leaves the life he loved to explore the beauty of the world

More fic recs under the cut!

you came at the brink of the end of the world by Anonymous/ @louiessleeplessnights (read here) ongoing.

I don't know how to even begin describing this. I think it made me fall in love with Boatem all over again. It's hilarious, sad, beautiful, Scar calls Grian trouble, they're both idiots and in love, and it's everything I'd look for in a published novel and so much more. This fic permanently altered my brain chemistry and I cannot recommend it enough times. SO SO SO well written. Warning: it's rated explicit, but a few updates ago it was just mature - chapter 20 and the first half of chapter 21 are the ones you might want to skip if that's not your jam! It's just kissing but it gets... a bit heated lmao.

An excerpt from the description:

[grian is falling from the sky, scar has more magic in his blood than he realized, and everyone else is so much better at seeing than they are]

-

Redstone and Skulk by @silverskye13 (read here) ongoing.

Once again lost on how to describe this. Could I leave it at "please please please please read it I love it so much", by any chance? The worldbuilding is so fleshed out, probably my favourite example of characterisation I've ever seen and the descriptions are everything.

Helsknight and Tanguish (the hels version of Tango) are the duo ever. There's no shipping in this, just intense platonic bonds and lifetime devotion featuring a cranky knight and a pathetic wet cat. I love them so much.

Excerpt from the description:

Tanguish is Tango's hels, and they get along a lot better than most hels and their hermits should. Unfortunately, the universe wasn't made to house both of them. Helsmets were made to return to their hermits eventually, making a complete person. Except what happens when the hels is the stronger of the two? What happens if they really don't want to be?

-

there are many downsides to being a marine biologist by donnerstag/ @martynsimp69 (read here) complete.

Unashamed to say I binge read this in exactly two days; 26 chapters, an epilogue, accompanying mermay oneshot collection (read here) and nearly crying later, I'm here to say you should totally check it out too. Because fis 🐠 and mermaid Martyn Warning: some unethical experimentation, and I think there's mention of alcohol.

-

Hot Tea by @tunastime (read here) complete.

The Ethubs fic ever (and the first one I ever read!) This is what introduced me to *gesturing vaguely* whatever the heck they have going on, and I haven't been the same since. Warning: brainrot.

I'm once again stealing something from the description since tumblr oh-so-helpfully destroyed half my draft:

“Let me over,” Bdubs says again, and as he sees Etho open his mouth in protest yet again, he lurches forward, stuttering out his words. He nearly knocks the tea out of his own hands. “Just—just for tonight. Just tonight.” Etho knows he has to divide the base between them. It's the only way to settle, now, knowing everything between them. How Bdubs shouldn't be there. Etho builds the fence. Etho divides them. And Etho divides himself in the process.

-

Between Us, We Have An Ocean by inkachu (read here) complete.

Only recommending this because it made me cry, and it's so well written. No shipping, just a foster care au in which Gem and Etho are... siblings. That doesn't even begin to cover how much the story really gripped me. It's soft, it's sweet, it's sad, it's amazing. Warning: I haven't cried while reading a book in probably a decade, and this is the one exception. Not to worry, I promise it won't hurt too much (saying how it ends would be a spoiler, but I promise the ending won't haunt you forever).

It's so gooood.

An excerpt from the description:

“My mum couldn’t take care of me, so she gave me to Canada.” Gem announced cheerily, swapping her red pencil for a yellow one, drawing what could only be a sun in the top corner of her page. “Then Canada found me a new mum.” Etho clicked his tongue. “Right.” “What about your mum?” “She uh, Couldn’t take care of me either. So I go to other people’s houses and they take care of me for her.”

-

From the Archives by @sixteenth-days (read here) complete.

there's also an extra bunch of character studies/AUs/very cool bonus stories called From the Archives: Marginalia (read here) complete (?)

riverbed and mouse hole/black hole from Marginalia are my personal favourites. Playing around with like the physical structure of a text that way is super inspirational. I have all of the main fics downloaded to reread offline whenever I'm travelling/away from home! There's no need to know anything about The Magnus Archives to understand - personally I'd never heard of it before reading this. Also no shipping in the main fic :)

-

lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) by @definitelynotshouting (read here) (author's explanation of the premise here) ongoing.

Warning: I'll give the warning for this one straight up, there are heavy themes like suicide and depression - Grian is going through it! If you're going to read it at least heed the ao3 tags :)

I'm stealing an excerpt from the fic to explain this one:

This hunger is a low rumble deep at the core of him, steady in the same way one might test a newly healed bone. The kind of fragile after a respawn, when your skin has knit together but the echo of pain still lingers. It doesn't hold him hostage anymore– he can muster the strength to look past it, and that, out of everything that's happened to him over the past year, is what's most frightening.

-

Time to Kill Today by RimeThyme/ @going-to-the-sun (read here)

Featuring THE Ethubs song ever, some cool references to Mindcrack, and a really ineresting take on their relationship over the years. <33 read it, you won't regret it!

-

Laugh rule - list of titles that made me laugh, mainly oneshots

THE DIVORCE OF THE CENTURY by glossyblue/ @good-chimes (read here)

The Government Institute for Ghost Supervision (G.I.G.S.) by glossyblue (read here)

The Rules of Buttercup Camp by glossyblue (read here)

Dead Heat by glossyblue (read here)

Interlude from Another Reality: Married Life by sixteenthdays (read here)

-

Okay 2 more fic recs and I'm done, I promise xD

You Could've Applied Online by Anonymous (read here)

Actually hilarious and such fun to read! Stealing something from the description again:

Bdubs stuttered over his words, hand holding the knife tensing around the handle as he looked around the room. Was he being pranked? Did Scar do this? He couldn’t think of another conversation that had confused him more than this. Etho’s eyes crinkled around the edges, mouth subtly changing into what Bdubs imagined was a smile as he felt irritation creep into his mind. “You’re joking right now.” Another shift under the mask. He was definitely smiling now. “How’d you guess?” Or: Bdubs kills someone (on purpose), makes people angry (NOT on purpose), and somehow gets a boyfriend in the process. Or was he a bodyguard? Bdubs doesn't really know himself. Oh, and Etho just wants to pay his rent on time. Preferably without another dead roommate.

-

Spring Blossoms by Fire_Cat (read here)

Ethubs, Stardew Valley-esque. Super fun read, highly recommend :D

Stealing from the description once more:

Burnt out and exhausted with city life, Etho packs up and moves to the old abandoned farm his parents owned before he was born. It's sat empty for thirty years and it's not in a good state, but he's determined to make the most of it. The town is full of good people, and he quickly finds friendship in abundance. Amongst them all though, one stands out. Bdubs is kind and funny and exceptionally talented at a number of things. He's handsome too, and Etho can't help but crush on him, just a little bit. They get along fantastically right from day one, but Etho keeps his feelings to himself. It's just a crush, it'll go away. And besides, it's not like Bdubs would ever like him back... Right?'

-

If you end up reading and enjoying any of these, PLEASE go and give the authors some love in the comments! Writing really isn't an easy feat (or quick)

[emkayewrites]

Lukola snippet from my imagination. One cold night, Nicola and Luke are rehearsing their most intimate Season 3 scenes in his trailer when they get a little carried away...

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

2nd November 2022 – Salisbury (UK)

Nicola stepped out of the make-up trailer and onto the sludge that had once been a green, well-kept field.  Several days of non-stop rain had not been kind to the grounds of Wilton House and wellies had become essential wear for the cast and crew.  It was a bitterly cold night with a bright moon hanging overhead. Nicola pulled the big brown fleece she was wearing more tightly around herself and made her way determinedly towards his trailer.

She was equal parts exhausted and frantic.  It was a strange way to feel.  It had been a very long day of filming so she should want to do nothing more than go to bed but her mind would not let her rest.

After all, she had spent several hours on set with Claudia, filming some very emotional scenes that occurred between their characters.  Several takes had been needed because of lighting problems and because Claudia was struggling with a chesty cough.  They had finished their night seated in front of their respective vanity mirrors as the make-up team helped them scrub off the layers of foundation and lipstick, and they had talked about how desperate they were for the warmth of their beds.  Nicola had not entirely lied; she was eager to be warm.  Yet, sleep was the last thing on her mind. 

In less than two days, she and Luke would be filming the most exposing and intimate of all their romantic scenes together.  For several weeks, they had been meeting discreetly in their trailers to rehearse kissing, touching and even tentatively exploring the idea of seeing each other naked.  This had been done without the knowledge or involvement of anyone else even though Lizzy had made it clear to them that the production team would not support the rehearsal of intimate scenes without a coordinator.  Regardless, Nicola had felt that their extra rehearsals were giving her confidence but as the big day approached, she had been losing sleep.  It did not help that since Ezra had arrived less than a week ago, she and Luke had had no time together to privately rehearse.  It also really did not help that she had not seen any part of Luke under his clothes until just a few days ago.  The sight of his tight abdominal muscles, the way his jeans hung just low enough for the revealing V-shape of his obliques to be visible – she shook her head as if to try and shake the image from her mind.

How am I going to have that body on top of me and act?  She thought.  It was not just his body.  It was the fact that she already found his personality attractive – so to find him physically appealing as well would be torturous.  She reasoned that exposure would help.  She was just overwhelmed at seeing him in such great shape for the first time but repeatedly seeing him would surely dull the effect.

So, she had been grateful for the exchange of texts that had happened between her and Luke as she was having her hair and make-up undone for the day.

Luke N: Plans for tonight?

Nicola C: Staring at my ceiling for four hours before my alarm goes off. You?

Luke N: Wow, same.

Nicola C: Rehearsal would probably be a good idea.

Luke N: Definitely.  When do you finish?

Nicola C: Being de-Peneloped in make-up right now.  Can be with you in 10?

Nicola stared at her phone.  She had sent him that message over half an hour ago and there had not been a response.  She tapped out a message as she approached his trailer door.

Nicola C: You better not have fallen asleep.

“BOO!”

She was so engrossed in her phone that when the noise came, she squealed and jumped several inches off the ground.  Her phone slipped from her hand and into the mud. 

Luke was stood behind her in a black button-down t-shirt, carrying a small Styrofoam takeaway box and laughing.

“Jaysus fucking Christ!” Nicola snapped, and immediately bent down to rescue her phone.

“Oh shit, is that your phone?” The smile disappeared from his face.  “Is it OK?”

Nicola peeled the phone off the ground using only the tips of her fingers.  It was completely covered.

“Why would you do that?” She glared at him.  The intensity of her own anger took her aback.  Perhaps it was the very long day of filming or maybe it was the heightened adrenaline she had been experiencing since Ezra had arrived – either way, she was not able to do what a well-rested, clear-minded Nicola would do: laugh.

“It looks alright.” Luke spoke softly and carefully, recognising that a line may have been crossed on his part. “See, the screen’s still lighting up and there’s no cracks…”

Nicola narrowed her eyes at him.  Before she was able to fully form a thought, she found herself thrusting forward, grabbing him by the arm and then smearing the gloopy mess that covered her phone across the cotton fabric of his top.  He let out a shocked yelp and jumped back, pulling his arm away from her but it was too late, the front of his shirt was completely covered.

This time, Nicola laughed.  He looked down at his clothes in disbelief and then at her.

“Happy now?” He sighed.

“No.” She replied, holding her phone up. “My phone is still disgusting.  You’ll have to do the recording tonight.” 

It was true, her phone did not look any cleaner, instead it looked like the mud had just been more evenly spread across the phone’s surface.

“Peace offering?” Luke gestured to the box in his hands. “I got us some chips.”

“You remembered the vinegar?”

“I would throw myself down in the mud right now if I hadn’t.” He attested, leading the way up his trailer steps and inside.

Nicola stepped inside and was hit with the blast of warm air from the space heater that stood by the paisley patterned sofa.  Opposite this was a small kitchenette area with a sink and work surface where Luke placed the box of chips. 

“Oh my God, I feel like I’m melting.”  Nicola sat down, pulling the fleece off herself to reveal a black vest underneath.

“That heater only has two settings – on or off.”  Luke apologized.  “It’s better on then off right now.”

She watched him as he pulled out his phone from his trouser pocket and started to stage it on the work surface before him.  He propped it up against a cup so that it was stood upright with the camera lens facing her on the sofa.

They had taken to filming their rehearsals so that they could watch them back together to see how their performance looked.

He started to unbutton his shirt, trying to avoid touching the dirt where possible.

Nicola watched him, hawk-eyed, as he pulled the shirt off his shoulders to reveal the very sight that she had not been able to get out of her mind.  

How did he still look that ripped at the end of a day?

“I’m sending you the dry-cleaning bill.” He joked, balling the shirt up and pushing it into a laundary bag.  He grabbed at a white t-shirt that was hanging off a hook behind him.

“No.  Keep it off.” She noticed herself gulp as she said the words.  He froze and looked at her.

“I mean… for the scene.” She continued.

“Right.” He let his arm drop away from the hook and he moved towards her. 

Why was her heart racing so fast?

Jesus, he was beautiful.

He has a girlfriend. You have almost got a boyfriend. A very hot boyfriend.  A boyfriend with abs. She repeated in her mind, trying to remind both her mind and body of the facts.

He sat inches from her and a mischievous smile spread across his lips. “If I remember right, we’re both topless in at least one of the scenes.”

Nicola laughed; she knew he was joking but she could not resist commenting: “These are coming out once and once only.  When I’m being paid a crap-ton of money for it.”

“Should I be charging for this?” Luke looked down at himself.

“I think you should be paying me for this.” She quipped and placed a hand on his chest.  She felt him shiver a little at the coldness of her touch, which amused her.  They both stayed in that position for a moment, sat on the sofa, leaning towards each other, her hand on his heart.  He felt warm and his heart was racing.  She looked at him in surprise.

“Nervous?” She found herself asking.

“With you?” He half-smiled. “Always.”

She was not sure how to take his words.  She was sure a look of confusion was spreading across her face.  His heart seemed to thud even faster under her hand.

I make him nervous?  She thought.

What happened next felt natural.  

He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against hers, one of his hands was on the back of her head, holding her face against his.  It was the epitome of a closed mouth acting kiss.  

They had gone through these very movements so many times, it would have been odd for it not to feel natural.  Yes, this was what regular rehearsal and being in your comfort zone with your costar felt like, she was sure of it.

She was not sure how other than the fact that every part of her mouth longed for it to happen but suddenly, her tongue was in his mouth.  Tentatively at first.  He did not pull back.  In fact, his tongue seemed to greet hers with glee.  His hand gripped the back of her head even tighter, and he wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her so close to himself that the hand she had placed on his chest was now squeezed between their two bodies.

Wait - what scene was this even?  The question swirled very faintly in some corner of her mind that was easy to ignore. 

All she cared about was how ferociously hungry he seemed to be for her.  He held her so tightly it was almost as if he was afraid to loosen his grip for fear that she might slip away.  His lips left hers so rarely that taking in oxygen was not the easiest thing.  She didn’t care.  Oxygen no longer mattered. Barely being able to breathe felt too good.     

She could hear his breathless panting as he pulled the strap of her vest down and she felt the warm air of the room against her naked breast.  It was the wake-up call she needed to come back into her own body.

What are we doing? 

You should not be enjoying this.

The voice in her head was louder now.

What scene is this even?!

She found herself prying her lips away from his, her hand still on his chest, his heart still beating furiously.

He pulled back, breathless and looked at her.

“I-um, I…” She was at a loss for words.  She knew what she wanted to say but she did not know how to say it.  She wanted to ask him what he was thinking.  She wanted to know what he was feeling.  She wanted to ask him if he felt as crazy as she did right now?  She did not say any of this. 

Instead, she took a breath and pulled her vest back over her breast.

“Boobies out, time to stop.” She gave a chuckle that came off nervous when she had wanted it to come across nonchalant.

“Sorry. I, uh, I got caught up in it…” He trailed off. 

The energy between them was weird.  She knew it and she knew he knew it too.  They had never discussed a line that could not be crossed in rehearsal.  They had only agreed to try to be comfortable with each other and to try to portray the intimacy of their characters with authenticity.  That was the problem though.  This felt too authentic for her.

He has a girlfriend.

He has a girlfriend.

“I actually – you know, the night is just hitting me.” She sounded like a bumbling fool, but it was the best she could do in that moment. “I think I should just go to bed.”

She saw a mixture of emotions cross his face; upset, surprise, concern. 

“OK.” He had settled on agreeing with her, although she could sense he had wanted to protest. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just – exhausted.” She reassured him. “Are you?”

“I could keep rehearsing but… I didn’t have a ten-hour shoot day.” He gave her a smile. “I’ll walk you to yours.”

“It’s fine, Luke.” She was already on her feet with her fleece wrapped around her.  She stuck her mud-encrusted phone into her pocket.

As she headed to the door, she suddenly remembered his phone.  She turned and looked over at the work surface where it stood.

“Luke – I would delete this one.” She iterated to him.  He nodded. 

Moments later, she was back out into the night.  She was still exhausted.  And her mind was still racing.  In fact, it was worse now. 

I really fucking like him.

And that was a problem.

[merakimoonglade]

The Night They Met

Summary:

Hours ago the sister Elain Archeron thought dead showed up at the door to their home, alive but turned into a High Fae, with a High Lord and two faerie warriors in tow warning of a possible war.

Elain never thought she’d see her sister again, never thought four Fae would be sleeping down the hall from her. She never thought she’d run into one of them in the middle of the night.

The full story can be found on A03.

Excerpt:

Elain Archeron knew she should stay in her room.

She stared at the cherry wood door unhelpfully lit by the trail of moonlight peeking between the heavy jacquard curtains she never completely closed. She normally liked the sliver of its light. It worked just as well as candles for what she wanted, and after eight years of scarcity Elain couldn’t bring herself to be wasteful even if her family could now light the entire chateau and nearby village each night with barely a dent to their coffers. Tonight though the moon’s glow taunted her. She wanted nothing more than to go to the kitchen and make herself a cup of the tea blend that sometimes helped her sleep.

Propped up against pillows that were almost too fluffy, Elain stared at the glass doorknob that sparkled in the silvery light and the brass lock and key beneath it that gave off a flat shine. Hours ago in a voice as commanding as a queen her older sister Nesta told her not to leave her room, to only unlock the door in the morning when she came for her. Elain had easily agreed; the measure of security comforted Nesta and while she hated being treated like a child it wasn’t worth the argument. She hadn’t been surprised when her sister said she wasn’t leaving until she heard Elain snap the key into place. It was a surprise when Nesta tested the lock, rattling the knob and pushing against the door so hard Elain thought her older sister might force the solid slab of wood open herself or break the doorknob, trapping her in her room. As quickly as if she’d been stung by a bee Elain had slapped her hand over her mouth to cover the near hysterical laugh that burbled in her throat. If Nesta broke her door then they’d need the help of the very people, were they called people or something else?, that her sister was trying to protect her from. 

Elain still thought it all a bit unnecessary. Three, no four she corrected herself as she began to twist the ring on her finger, Fae were sleeping a ways down the hall in some of the chateau's finest guest rooms. They were so much stronger than humans. If they wanted to they could have the door down before she jerked completely upright. And who knew what magic they possessed? An ice cold chill skittered across her shoulders and down her spine. The man, male, her younger sister wouldn’t yet admit to herself she was falling in love with was a High Lord. Elain couldn’t begin to imagine what sort of power he wielded. He could probably blink and appear anywhere he wished.

Image by Oleksandr Ryzhkov on Freepik

[darklcy]

𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲

━━━━━━━━━━━━

‣ armin arlert x reader | attack on titan masterlist | altruistic masterlist | 716 words | fluff, armin being awkward lmao, cute interaction

‣ an excerpt from altrustic's part 3 but also a sneak peek of part 4. i enjoyed writing this first interaction between reader and armin so i wanted to make a oneshot off it :) more to come in the series!

He initially disagreed with the idea.

He knew he had to try harder, talk louder, get stronger. Maybe this was the start to his journey. Huffing down a shaky sigh and thrashing his hands against his sleeves, his throat clears for his beginning sentence.

“...[Y/N]..?”

It’s timid and meek. Could he hear himself? Did you even hear him?

When you don’t stir from your position, he tries again.

“[Y/N]?”

And then he finally sees you. The skin around your eyes was red and agitated, probably a result from lack of sleep. Your blinks were lavishly slow as you peered at him, the moment of recognition crossing onto your face right before Armin’s eyes.

“...Hey, Armin.”

You greet him carefully, he notices. He glances to the beacon of light.

“Aren’t you heading to dinner..?”

Your hand falls to dangle by your shoe.

“..Not tonight. I’m not hungry.”

He pops his knuckles at his sides. 

“You sure? Skipping meals isn’t good for you..”

“I’m sure.”

His frown deepens. 

You’ve nestled back into your home already, staring upon the shadows filtering throughout the camp. 

..His footsteps trudge over to the steps, and you face him when he sits beside you, body position matching yours. Armin lost his stare into the forest, fingers tapping sporadically from where they laid over his biceps. He doesn’t mind that you observe him. 

Armin was a calm in the storm type of person. His best friend seemed to speak for three, never afraid to holler his frustrations, but on the other side of the spectrum lay this boy, the polite boy who loved to read. He’d apologize for existing, apologize for taking up space, before he ever sat down to introduce himself. 

“You’re easy to watch.”

It took everything in you to not choke. Armin instantly panicked.

“I-In training, I mean..! When we’re doing drills? Combat drills?”

His words puddled out in a hurry, the skin of his cheeks blaring bright red. 

“I just mean, you’re impressive! Or, inspiring? I uh, I’m not good at that stuff, so-,”

Your sudden boisterous laughter made him freeze. Armin couldn’t see your face anymore now that it was ducked over your thighs, shoulders trembling with cackles. Your arms caressed your aching stomach as if it could cease the attack, but it just kept advancing. 

“Uh…”

Finally rising off your thighs, you swooped in deep breaths to calm your heartbeat, a couple giggles escaping here and there.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you laugh..”

You waved him off with a hand. 

“No, no, don’t be. I liked it.”

His face was a never ending tomato. Now it looked like he was sweating a bit. 

“But, what you were saying…you watch me?”

Armin smacked both palms to his face. “I was trying to compliment your skills, but I apologize that it came off as stalkerish.”

Another wave of laughs pass through your smile. “It didn’t, it just caught me really off guard.”

He reveals his blue eyes to you again. “That’s good, I guess..”

Your expression slightly dims when you turn away from him.

“Well, thank you.”

Armin’s lips part, but then close.

He’s relieved when you wave him off, instead of barreling down on him like the weirdo he is. You even thanked him for his terrible attempt at a compliment, and it makes him want to smile. He didn’t mess this one up..!

Wafting through the crevices, the moon rejoins you on the steps, this time encasing Armin in her light, as well. By now, the mess hall was dismissed, sending cadets off to bed to end the day and rest for tomorrow. 

“Guess dinner’s over..”

His comment reawakes your reality, that tomorrow brings new hardships and restless nights. It makes you grimace.  

“I’m gonna..head off to bed. Goodnight, Armin.”

When you finally part ways for the night, he feels like there’s more to say, more he has to get off his chest, but he can see how exhausted you are.Enough is enough for tonight, he decides, and he bids you goodnight. He daringly feels better on the walk to bed, somehow proud of himself for speaking to someone new. He doesn’t register his best friend’s greeting inside, instead heading straight for his bunk with a dazed smile on his face.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Playing Pretend

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn

A/N: Hnnnnnnnngh, something something, commentary commentary idk. I'm caught up with the manga. Life is meaningless lol. Hopefully this chapter can ease the pain a little (though probably not much since we're hopping right back into angst town lmao, I'm so sorry)

Read Full on AO3

[excerpt]

Luxury. That was the word of the night. Everything about this experience dripped with luxury. Luxury was in the limousine that All for One had been so generous to charter for their pick up. It was in the Don Perignon chilled and waiting for them inside that her parents were kind enough to let her have a glass of. And it was in the Palace Hotel Ballroom that the company had rented out for this party. From every tuxedo-wearing waiter carrying trays of canapes around the room, every member of the string quartet playing Schubert as they entered, even to every Swarovski crystal ornament on the ceiling high Christmas tree in the center of the room. It was all pure, unadulterated luxury.

And it honestly had her wondering for a moment.

“You sure we’re in the right place?” she whispered to her mom, earning a reassuring squeeze.

“No, I’m not,” her mom joked back, just as hushed, “But we’re going to pretend like we are regardless.”

She looked back at her mom curiously. If she was feeling uneasy about the sky high expenditure and decorum of this place, she could only imagine how out of her element her mom was. She herself had spent her entire life ping-ponging between lower and upper middle class. But her mom, even before she’d been in foster care, had only known the heights of a paycheck to paycheck smalltown flower shop. Tie in the not insignificant times she’d spent living exclusively in manga cafes, and she could only imagine what an out of body experience she was having at this moment.

Although, maybe she wasn’t as out of her element as she thought.

If her mom was feeling any nerves or apprehension, it all went away the moment they were approached some of her father’s new, upper echelon bosses and colleagues, beautiful women on their arms (some being the mens’ wives, some being definitely not the mens’ wives), and she was rubbing elbows and talking the talk like the best of them.

“So, was that your first time in a limo?” Yamamoto, one of her dad’s bosses asked the bunch.

“Is it that obvious? ” her mother smiled politely

“Oh on the contrary. I think you all look quite natural at an event like this,” he turned then to her father, “A very handsome family, son. You should be proud.”

Her father smiled, giving her shoulder a little squeeze, “More than you can imagine. My oldest here is a senior at Kamino, and one of the top in her class.”

“Is that so?” Yamamoto said, turning to her, “Entrance exams are just around the corner, aren’t they? You feeling ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered, trying not to think about it too long, lest she get nervous.

That was pretty much the course of all her conversations tonight, so far at least. If it wasn’t asking her about her college plans, it was middle-aged VP’s telling her what a looker she was and how she “must have guys lining up for her at school”. Blegh.

All throughout she just smiled and nodded politely while trying not to look around too much for Shigaraki, who surprisingly, for the first quarter of the party, was nowhere to be found. Same for All for One. 

Weird, she thought at first, considering that this was their freaking party. Until she overheard one of her dad’s coworkers mention to him, “You know how much that ol’ bastard likes to make an entrance.”

As if on cue, the double doors to the ballroom opened (she hadn’t even realized they’d been shut?!) And in strutted All for One, standing tall and pompous as ever. She had to fight the biggest eye roll of her life as a soft applause filled the room, and he waved them off as if he wouldn’t have been completely pissed had the room been silent.

But just as fast as annoyance crossed her face, she couldn’t fight the skip in her chest when Tomura Shigaraki followed into the ballroom behind him. 

He’d cleaned up, and he’d cleaned up freaking good. 

His typical ill-fitting sweats and hoodie had been switched out for an impeccably crisp, slim fit suit that did his long legs and defined figure all the favors in the world. His hair was not only brushed, but obviously had some care put into it, fringe still in his face, but strategically so. He kept his eyes, staring forward intensely, intimidatingly, in full view. 

And on top of it all, much to her shock and joy, was the red jacket she’d bought for him hanging off his shoulders almost capelike. He’d even kept the fur part on and she’d be remiss to say it didn’t make him look like royalty.

He didn’t just look amazing, he looked like a leader. 

Her mom leaned down to her, nudging her not so subtly out of her awe, “Didn’t I see you bring home a jacket like that the other day?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” she said, swatting away at her, but still unable to take her eyes off Shigaraki through it all.

The two crossed to the center of the room, stopping directly under the giant Christmas tree, where a member of the hotel staff was there to meet All for One with a microphone.

“Thank you all so much for coming tonight…” he started an inevitably long and pompous speech that she was eager to tune out.

And it was easy to do so, the longer she stared at his ward, admiring the way he stood off to the side of All for One, head held high, but still unmistakably himself as he stuffed a hand into his pant pocket. 

She smiled at the sight. Seeing him like this, she couldn’t help but be brought back to a few months ago. To that fateful dinner her family had shared with the Shigarakis. The one that Tomura had worn a ratty old hoodie to and had spent the whole night either slouching in his chair, avoiding eye contact, or feeling her up under the table. There was none of that immaturity or recalcitrance here tonight. While he may not have learned the ways of the fake smile and schmoozing that practically permeated the air here, the hard bitterness in his expression was one that could actually be interpreted as polished stoicism. An authority that was hard to impress. And above all, the model heir to his guardian’s company.

Continue on AO3

[quiet-admirer]

Devotion

As promised, here is a little excerpt from Chapter 3 of my current work-in-progress, an enemies-to-lovers M/M queer weight gain kink and feedist story, Devotion, about 2 hardcore punks in 1979 :) Enjoy!

The walk home from the 7-Eleven was tantalizingly, excruciatingly long at first, but once Ira threw out a “How d’you think that bassist tonight got tone like that?” they got to talking shop, and it was like Diego blinked and they were at his apartment door.

Diego flopped onto the futon with the box of SusyQs on his lap and unwrapped his third of the night while Ira unlaced his boots across the room.

“Want a drink? There’s beer in the fridge.”

Ira slid off one boot then the other and stood them neatly by the door. “I don’t drink. Or smoke,” he said with unrestrained disdain. “I don’t do anything. I’m not going to waste time and money poisoning my body and my mind. I want to actually experience my life.”

God, Ira being not only totally straight but also a self-righteous snob about it made so much sense that Diego didn’t know why he’d even thought to offer him a beer in the first place.

“I don’t. Grab me some mind poison, will ya?” Truthfully, he was more in the mood for a Dr. Pepper, but giving Ira a hard time was more satisfying.

Ira pulled a face. “Get it yourself.” He sunk into the couch next to Diego and nudged the box of snack cakes with his foot. “Keep eating, SuzyQ. When you get through this box I’ll order the pizza.”

Diego had never before met anyone who gave him a truly carnal desire to throttle them and yet at the same time kiss them to within an inch of their life. It was as if this one shorter-than-average man single-handedly generated so much irritation that it flooded Diego’s brain and had nowhere to go but to overflow directly to his dick. And somehow he’d also enjoyed every minute he’d spent with Ira in the days since they’d made up. Only Meena could’ve made Diego smile more than he had in the past few hours.

With so many opposing emotions flooding his veins, all Diego could manage was to stuff the cake into his mouth pointedly before retrieving both a beer and a Dr. Pepper for himself, and knocked into Ira maybe a little more than was necessary when he returned to the futon. It took him two more SuzyQs to feel levelheaded enough to resume his questioning.

“So, how does this eating part usually work? Do you handcuff me to the chair and make me eat? Blindfold me? Spoon-feed me like a baby? Am I supposed to act like I don’t like it – is making someone eat how you discipline them – or are you more of a praise guy? Or do you just jerk off while you watch?”

“Hm, well… Any of those, I guess. There isn’t one way to do it, everyone’s different. Just depends on what gets ya hard – and gets you eating, you know?” He looked at Diego thoughtfully. “You’re kind of creative, when it comes to weird sex stuff.”

“Thanks for specifying that the creativity is for weird sex stuff in case I got confused and thought you meant I was a creative person generally, or as, say, a musician.”

“You’re welcome,” Ira said with a nasty sarcastic smile. “With the guys I’ve been with, a couple of them did want me to tie them up and act like I’m forcing them to eat. That’s fine, I don’t mind that. My favorite is probably just feeding someone, though. So, basically I keep giving them food until they physically can’t eat anymore.”

“Huh, okay.” Diego was no stranger to that feeling, and it sure wasn’t a bad one by any means. He mulled the logistics over in his head. “Let’s try that. So, you’ll just keep handing me slices of pizza until I tap out?”

“Yep. And if you’re too full to keep feeding them to yourself but you want to keep eating, I’ll feed them to you,” Ira explained.

“Too full to keep feeding myself but want to keep eating…” Oof. Okay, this was sounding more and more like Diego’s kind of sex. “You know, I can really put it away under the right conditions, but… you’ve been with some serious eaters, huh?”

Ira laughed. “You could definitely say that.”

“And is there any roleplay or anything? Are there certain things you want me to say or things you want to say?”

He shook his head. “No roleplay the first time. Especially since you’re new to all this. I want you to get a feel for what it’s like eating that much. It can be a lot for some people.” Ira reached over Diego’s lap and retrieved the Dr. Pepper, and Diego let him even though it had definitely been for himself. Ira cracked open the can with a hiss and took a long gulp. “And you don’t just want to eat: you want to put your 30 pounds back on. But the thing about gaining a lot of weight is that it’s not like other pervert stuff where you can just put on a costume when you’re feeling horny; it’s not something you do here and there. You have to eat more on a regular basis.” Ira stood and paced halfway across the room before turning back again.

“Not everyone likes doing it this way – the eating a lot at once way. Some people prefer eating a little more at meals and snacking throughout the day,” he gestured in the air with his can of Dr. Pepper like he was a professor giving a lecture. “So, tonight we’re just seeing if you’re into this kind of eating. I’m going to be responsible for your weight gain, and– well, you already know putting weight on and keeping it on isn’t as easy as it looks, so I like to play to a guy’s strengths to get that to happen. That’s why I want to see what your real reactions are when we start out. We can add the fun stuff as we go.”

It sounded surprisingly sweet when Ira talked about it in a practical way and not just in a heat-of-the-moment ‘I’m going to be the one to put all this weight on you,’ cue evil laugh, kind of way. He was dominant in the sense that he was looking out for Diego; taking care of him. Not just fattening him up, but helping him gain weight. A dictator maybe, but a benevolent one, which on Ira was ridiculously endearing.

“I think I get it,” Diego smiled. “‘With great power comes great responsibility.’”

Ira looked at him with distaste. “Is that from the bible or something?”

Diego snorted. He grabbed the phone off the upturned milk crate beside the futon and shoved it into Ira’s chest. “Just order the damn pizza.”

Diego finished the first box of SuzyQs and they’d moved to necking on the couch by the time two large pizzas arrived.

Ira opened the first box but paused halfway through reaching for the first slice.

“Oh, you said you were into leather, right? Do you have gear, or– anything you wanna wear while we do this?”

“Oh. No,” Diego scrunched his nose. “It’s all too big for me right now.”

“That sucks,” Ira said, with actual sympathy. He picked up the first slice of pizza, pepperoni, and offered it to Diego. “Maybe I can help you out with that.”

Diego took as big of a bite of pizza as he could fit in his mouth before taking the slice from Ira. “Please do,” Diego said through a full mouth.

“You should try them on for me so I can see what we’re starting with.”

“Sure.” He crammed in the rest of the slice and stood, kicking a box out from under the futon. Still chewing, he dug in the back of the closet for his jacket and pants.

They weren’t anything fancy, no bells or whistles, just a pair of black leather pants and a simple leather jacket; vintage, but he took a sense of pride in them all the same.

Diego stripped, then pulled on the pants without bothering to unbutton them. Kneeling, he removed the lid from the box.

“Boots. Harness,” he pointed. He slipped the harness on, then the jacket, and stood again. He had to widen his stance a little to keep the pants from sliding down.

Ira had another slice of pizza in hand as he joined Diego in the center of the room. Same as the first slice, Diego took a bite as Ira held it up for him before taking it for himself.

Ira circled Diego like he was inspecting him, appraising him. It sent a little thrill through Diego’s stomach knowing that as fat as he already was, it was clear from some of the things Ira had been saying that he still thought of Diego as pretty small.

Good. Diego never wanted to be this size again. Ira had better get a good look now.

After a final turn, Ira hooked a finger in Diego’s waistband and tugged a little, exposing about an inch gap between the leather and Diego’s skin. He did the same with the harness: a hand-me-down from a guy who probably had about a hundred pounds on Diego, so Diego had already been on the smallest holes of the buckled straps before he lost the weight. It would be easy to have a bootblack add in another set of holes, but that thought always made this size seem long-term, permanent.

So here he was: harness hanging limp off his chest, leather pants loose through the thighs, shoulders and biceps not quite filling out his jacket. But he couldn’t bring himself to be self-conscious. Ira’s hungry gaze roaming over him, and the quickly vanishing second slice of pizza infused the buzz of potential into the air. The space between himself and his leather wasn’t feeling quite so large tonight.

Ira was smiling as Diego finished slice number two. “You look hot. I’ve never really been that much of a leather guy, but… you might’ve sold me.”

“You should see me when they actually fit.” He brought his hands to his hips and gave Ira a cocky smile. “My ass looks really great in leather.”

“Already does.” Ira stepped in. His hands slipped past Diego’s jacket, fingers ghosting along Diego’s sides. “I can’t wait to get you filling these out again. C’mere.” He dropped back down next to the pizza box and beckoned.

Diego shed his gear. He didn’t bother with a shirt but pulled on a pair of well-worn, comfy sweats – a larger pair; tonight was calling for eating pants.

He settled on the couch next to Ira, making himself comfortable.

“I see somebody knows what he’s doing,” Ira poked at Diego’s elastic waistband.

With a smile, Diego reached for the next slice.

[crumbledcastle28]

Joel Miller: Rotten

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Summary: After a rough night, Joel Miller proves that he is much more of a man than you thought he was.

Excerpt: You didn't want him to sleep alone. You didn't want to sleep alone. You wanted Joel. You wanted this to end. And so, before he could get all the way onto his feet, you grit your teeth and said, "I heard you." He froze, sitting back down slowly, and you turned to look at him. His face had visibly paled. "What... what do you mean?" You swallowed, staring into his dark brown eyes. "On the way up here. I heard what you said to Ellie." A small smile graced your face. You could see his shoulders drop as you quoted him. "The smartest person I've ever met." He stalled for a moment, before adoring a small, awkward smile. "Oh," he said with a chuckle. "Did you mean that?" you whispered, the red flames painting the side of your face in oranges and burgundy. His eyes burned into your own as he paused. You didn't fill the air. All you did was wait.

Warnings: off canon, major descriptions of drinking, descriptions of past sexual encounters, Joel is an ass when he's drunk, fighting, silent treatment, probably incorrect gun talk, Joel's accent comes out when he's angry, Joel cannot confront his feelings to save his life, Ellie cameo, l word, kissing, suggestive ending.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Hey Joel. It's been a while.

Pedro Masterlist My Writing

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

(gif from pinterest)

You anticipated waking to footsteps.

Ones set at a pace of celerity, swiftness, softness. Ones in a rush to find you, but not in a rush to be heard, a weapon already in the human attached's hand, a vendetta already planted in their brain.

A vendetta to kill you in your sleep. A coward's slaughter, in your opinion.

What you did not anticipate, however, were the footsteps to be ones the complete opposite of swift and soft. They were the direct antithesis of anything attempting any sort of subtlety.

They were sloppy. Loud. Uncaring. Oblivious. Inconsistent.

But, familiar.

The rifle in your shaking hands loosened in your grip, as well as the tightness of your sheets you had wrapped around you. Your breathing slowly steadied as the stomping got closer and closer to your bedroom door, and as the door finally slammed open, the ambiance of the fan whirring above your head became intermixed with the culprit's heavy breathing.

Joel fucking Miller's heavy breathing.

You set the rifle down next to your bed as he steadied himself on his feet, dazed and dizzy with how quickly the door opened for him. He nearly slammed against the wall with it. The whiskey in his hand sloshed out of his cup as he did so.

Finally, with a shake of his head, his eyes met yours, and a wide smile etched over his face.

"Y/N," he said, stumbling his way to you. "Oh Y/N."

You said nothing. Your face painted with a drowsy, unamused expression with a hint of annoyance beginning to grow in your eyes.

He staggered his way to your bedside, setting the glass on your dark-wooded bedside table, and leaning onto the bed to bring his face close to yours. You could smell his breath, his clothes. Both were a mix of stale beer, expired cigars, and sour bourbon. He smelled greasy, sweaty, rotten.

You didn't hide your grimace. You couldn't.

"How - how are you?" he asked, still wobbling. "Ha - Is - is Ellie here?"

You fucking hated when he got like this. You fucking hated it. You declined a response, only blinking your languid, puffy eyes up at him.

"Oh, don't be like that sweetheart," he mumbled, now tucking his face into your neck and pressing your body down into the springy mattress. You didn't touch him, resorting instead to just allow him guide you. In any other situation, your heart would flutter at the feeling of this much of his body pressing against yours. Not tonight.

You were too fucking tired for his shit.

"Smell good," he said, groaning as he set his entire body weight on top of your own. "Smell so good."

You didn't even have the energy to roll your eyes.

"Joel," you said. He didn't respond. Not even a hum. "Joel."

"Hm. What?" he said, his hot, spoiled, disgusting breath coating your neck and jaw.

"It's five in the fucking morning," you said, palms still glued to the mattress beside you. "We have to be out of here in an hour. I'm not going to wake your sorry ass up."

He mumbled something incoherent against your neck as he rolled off you, eyes bloodshot, one hand on his head and the other on his stomach. "Fuck off."

You wish that was the worst thing he had ever said to you while intoxicated.

You rubbed your eyes with the heels of your hands and peeled the covers off you, standing up completely. You grabbed your pillow and the comforter, forcing from underneath Joel's body. He groaned as you did so.

"The fuck are you going?"

You didn't respond. Just kept walking.

"Hey -" he said, his voice booming, sending a wave of fear down your abdomen, but he was cut off by you shutting the door behind you. You sighed - deeply - as you threw your pillow on the living room couch, along with your blanket. You then walked to the kitchen sink, feet and legs erupting with goosebumps, and filled a small, slightly cracked glass with cold water. At least, as cold as sink water from a random apartment in post-apocalyptic Boston could be. You walked quietly back to the bedroom, opening the door softly. His deep, flem-filled snores gave you some relief.

You took the now lukewarm whiskey off the bedside table and replaced it with the water, as quickly and quietly as you could, before turning back around to leave.

As your bare feet padded against the floor, you heard something behind you. You thought it was an inflection in Joel's deep breaths, but as you began to close the door behind you, you were proven wrong.

"Y/N," he mumbled, so quietly you wondered if he was still asleep. "Y/N. I love you."

Your body froze on you, even as his snores once again started to fill the room. Your breaths became shaken. Your throat dried. Your heart pounded in your ears. Your hands shook.

And hot, angry tears flooded your eyes, dribbling down into your wide-open mouth.

You shut the door, stormed over to your bed for the evening, and cried yourself back to sleep.

~*~

You woke to sunlight streaming through the windows, littering over your swollen face, and a sticky pillow beneath your cheek. Your throat felt clogged and sore, as well as your muscles. You stretched yourself awake, glancing at the clock hung above the brick fireplace.

5:30. Perfect.

You wiped the crust from your eyes before standing up, your sleep shorts dangling from your hip bones, forcing you to tighten them. You walked quietly to the bathroom - washing your face, brushing your teeth, stabilizing your breaths. You then took a deep breath and headed to the bedroom; the pain of the night previous still seeping its way through your bloodstream like a strike of lightning. It was fresh. Bleeding over your psyche. Your brain. Your heart.

It still burned.

Luckily for you, both Joel and the water were long gone. You sighed from relief and walked over to your designated dresser. You slipped on jeans and a long sleeve shirt before draping your rifle and backpack over your shoulder. Your handgun remained in a locked drawer in the kitchen.

As you left your room, warm air drifted from the second bathroom down the hallway. It smelled of dish soap, shampoo, and maybe even a hint of cologne. Your nose twitched, unused to such a smell. As you entered the kitchen, however, the smell only became more pungent.

This was due to the fact that the smell was now attached to a man.

Joel stood tall - surprisingly tall - as he made himself a small cup of coffee. He was dressed to leave - loose jeans, a long sleeve grey shirt with a dark green flannel layered on top. His boots tied tightly on his feet. His hair damp from the shower. His skin golden in the rising morning rays.

And that bolt of lightning hit you all over again.

You swallowed thickly, loud enough for him to hear, and he turned around to meet your gaze.

It seemed as if a bolt of almost the same caliber hit him at the sight of you as well.

He cleared his throat once, twice, before saying softly, "You want some?" His throat was coated with exhaustion, and his under eyes were sunken deeply into his face.

You said with as much composure as you could muster, "I'm good."

You did not smile. You did not grin. You did not emote at all.

You walked past him to get your gun, unlocking the drawer quickly and taking the firearm into your hand. You checked the state of the ammo.

"You eat anything yet?" he asked you. He spoke as if you were a bomb about to blow up in his face.

This made you smile.

You popped the muzzle back in place, satisfied with the amount you had left. "Not hungry."

He chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, me neither."

God you wanted to fucking smack him.

You closed the drawer and locked it up tight, ignoring the heat rising into your cheeks and up your back. You then turned back towards the living room, hoping to pack some waters and food into your backpack, when a hand gripped around your forearm. It wasn't harsh, but it was firm.

You nearly elbowed him in the mouth. Nearly.

He looked you in the eye as he spoke - at least, he tried to. His breath now smelled of mint and coffee with a hint of his precious vanilla creamer.

"Hey," he said, his eyes filled with remorse, "about... about me, last night -"

About me.

The iteration of those two words finally snapped your brain in half, and without thinking twice, you ripped your arm from his grip and used your other arm to push him backwards into the kitchen island, effectively pinning him there. His somber eyes turned cold with shock, and maybe even fear.

"If you say 'me' one more fucking time -," you whisper yelled, face inches away from him, nostrils flared, body heated with rage. You could feel your entire arm shaking against his chest. " - I will leave you here and take this kid myself, got it?"

His chest rose up and down quickly, and a single bead of sweat dripped down his nose.

"Do you hear me?"

He nodded. Begrudgingly, but he nodded.

"Never - ever - come into my bed like that again," you said, brain and heart roaring with every emotion under the sun you were surprised you got any words out at all. "Never touch me like that again, never speak to me like that again, and never even come close to me when you are in that state of mind ever again. I am not your fucking caretaker. You want to OD in the middle of the night, fuck some random bitch be my guest, but I do not want to hear one word about it."

Tears started streaming down your face as you spoke, and you could have sworn a small puddle had gathered in Joel's left eye as well.

You scoffed, removing your arm from him. Rage still overriding every single logical thought you had.

"You are lucky I didn't kick you out and leave you on the fucking street," you said, walking away from him now. Your heart was banging against your chest so harshly you felt nauseated.

Maybe later you would think you were too harsh. Too mean. Too vengeful. Too much.

In that moment, you couldn't give less of a fuck.

You finished packing your backpack in your bedroom. Alone.

Joel did not leave that spot against the island for some time.

~*~

Joel's head was throbbing. A mix of hangover, regret, anger, and confusion giving his brain the perfect cocktail for a migraine.

Ellie's nagging voice trailing behind him didn't help matters.

"Come on," she said, a notable whine in the teenager's voice. Despite already having been on the road for three hours, she kept good pace with him, never once faltering from his stride. "I heard you two arguing this morning. Actually, correction, I was woken up by the two of you arguing this morning, so I think I deserve at least some sort of explanation."

This caused Joel to look up ahead of him to you, walking ahead of both him and Ellie by what seemed to him like at least half a mile, but in actuality, was not even a quarter.

It was far enough, however, that both him and Ellie assumed you could not a hear anything they were saying. An assumption that would bite Joel in the ass later.

Your steps on the forest path were calm, steady, consistent. Your back was straight and strong. You appeared to not have even broken a sweat, despite the humidity of the Massachusetts air.

Joel, on the other hand, was sweating in places he didn't even know he could.

He only exhaled in response to Ellie's pleas.

"What are you two anyway? Boyfriend and girlfriend, really good friends, fuck buddies -"

"Enough," he said sternly, and kept walking, wiping the sweat off his brow.

How did you seem to look completely unaffected, while he felt like he was melting into the forest floor?

He knew it wasn't just the heat that was making him feel so goddamn lousy.

Ellie was silent for a while, allowing Joel to finally force himself to think about something else - anything else - besides the words he said to you the night previous.

It didn't work. Nothing worked.

He was such a fucking coward.

Before Joel could really begin his spiral of self hatred, Ellie interrupted.

"Does she even know where she's leading us?" she asked, sounding suddenly annoyed. "We've been walking three hours without a break, let alone any sort of end in sight. Did she even tell you where we're going? I swear it's like we've been walking in circles."

Joel's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Ellie was quiet for a few moments, taking large gulps of her water as she followed Joel silently. It wasn't until the three of you made it to one of the biggest hills Joel had ever seen and you began to climb it that she spoke up once again.

"Are you fucking serious," she complained, sounding like a child. "Does that woman even know how long we've been fucking walking fo -"

Joel finally snapped. He knew why couldn't help but defend you. Of course he knew. He admitted it to you merely hours before.

He spun on his heel, facing her completely, and blocked her stride with his body. He waved his pointer finger in her face, contained icy rage present in his tone and eyes.

“That woman," he said, voice dark and venomous, "is the smartest person I have ever met. Do not question her until she gives you a reason to, and do not talk about her that way ever again, ya hear?"

He could tell he stunned the poor girl - her eyes wider than saucers and mouth agape. She immediately nodded in response, swallowing grimly, and Joel nodded as well.

"Good," he said, noticing his hands beginning to shake. "Now come on."

When you finally made it to the top of the hill, the three of you took a short break, coated in only awkward silence and audible chewing sounds, before you carried on.

~*~

The sun was beginning to set when you finally made it to your lodging for the evening. It was an old, dark wood cabin, stashed with old cans of soup, ammunition, and a shit ton of guns. You had used it for a base many times in the period before you met Joel.

You always wondered how beautiful it must have looked before the world went to hell.

You ate your meal alone, sitting by the fireplace as you did. Your eyes felt heavy and sunken, as well as your muscles. You were enjoying the noise of only the crackling fire in your ears.

Until, Joel made his way to you, sitting next to you on the floor, a glass of cold water in his hands.

As he sat next to you, you felt your psyche tear you in two.

Half of you wanted to get up and walk away. Yell at him. Scoff at him. Roll your eyes at him. Make every bodily movement you made prove to him how fucking angry you were. You didn't want to hear an apology. You were sick of his empty words, never filled with proof in his actions.

The other half of you, however, kept replaying the way he defended you without a second thought.

The smartest person he had ever met.

You wanted to know if that was true. Among other things.

On top of this, your body couldn't help but become...at ease around Joel. For as long as you two had been together - in bed or otherwise - you had developed a kind of comfort when he was around you. You were so familiar with each other, so used to each other's presence, that you had a hard time not feeling a little bit at home with his body and breathing near you.

You were being pulled in these two different directions - one by your head, the other by your heart - when Joel cleared his throat next to you.

"I -" he stopped, correcting himself, "you did a...a really great job today. This cabin is incredible. And safe. You're...you're truly incredible."

You bit at your lip, pulling the skin off of it in nervousness. You didn't know what to say.

"You don't have to say anything back to me," he said, solemnly. "I just...you deserve to know that. You deserve... a hellova lot better than me."

You hadn't faced each other yet. The two of you just staring into the fire, watching the wood crackle and the flames grow and grow. It was then, however, that his gaze burned into the side of your head.

"And..." he said, inhaling sharply, "...and I am sorry for how I acted. I... don't deserve your forgiveness, but I can promise you it will never, ever happen again."

He stared at you for some time, but you couldn't bring yourself to look back. To face him and by default everything that had transpired over the last twenty-four hours. You couldn't do it.

And so, Joel nodded, and began to stand up, likely headed to bed.

You didn't want him to sleep alone. You didn't want to sleep alone. You wanted Joel. You wanted this to end.

And so, before he could get all the way onto his feet, you grit your teeth and said, "I heard you."

He froze, sitting back down slowly, and you turned to look at him. His face had visibly paled. "What... what do you mean?"

You swallowed, staring into his dark brown eyes. "On the way up here. I heard what you said to Ellie."

A small smile graced your face. You could see his shoulders drop as you quoted him. "The smartest person I've ever met."

He stalled for a moment, before adoring a small, awkward smile. "Oh," he said with a chuckle.

"Did you mean that?" you whispered, the red flames painting the side of your face in oranges and burgundy.

His eyes burned into your own as he paused. You didn't fill the air. All you did was wait.

He deserved a minute to face his fear, just as you had.

When he finally did speak, his voice was confident. Unwavering. "Yes. I meant it." He took a deep breath. "And I also meant what I said to you last night."

Your heart rate accelerated, as well as your breathing. You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

You caught your breath as best as you could before saying softly, "Then say it. Say what you said to me last night."

His adam's apple bulged as he swallowed, and said without blinking. "I love you, Y/N. I'm in love with you. I have been for... for a while."

Instead of replying with your words, you leaned into him, and replied with a kiss.

His lips were wet from the water, and his breath tasted of warm soup and hot air. You smiled into the kiss, satisfied that he had finally started eating again, and he smiled too. He brought you closer by placing both of his palms on your cheeks, and brushing his tongue against your lips. You allowed him to enter happily, groaning slightly at the passion he was bringing into it. You kissed him back just as harshly, nibbling slightly on his bottom lip, hands in his soft hair, chests pressed together.

You couldn't even count the amount of times you and Joel had kissed before. You knew what he liked, how he kissed on couches versus beds, pressed against walls versus on the floor. You knew his body better than he did.

But this was different. This wasn't just an escape. This was real.

It was addictive.

You couldn't help yourself. You pulled him on top of you by his shirt, praying Ellie was a deep sleeper, the heat of the fire and his body making a small layer of sweat coat your body. Your kisses picked up speed, the desperation for the other present in every aspect of your beings. It was cooking the both of you alive.

As his hands began to wander up to the zipper on your jeans, you pulled away from his mouth, lips burning from his scruff. You knew it was now, or never.

"Joel," you said, voice lust and love filled. "I'm so fucking in love with you."

He smiled down at you, eyes filling with tears, and he kissed you again and again and again. Everywhere he could. Anywhere he could reach.

Whispering the same three words over and over again.

I love you I love you I love you.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @untitledarea​ @avengersfan25 @lexloon​ @aninnai​ @darling-murdock​  @daphne-turner​ @ellesvoid @morks-watermelon @notmyideia @farintonorth @axshadows @biggestsimponhere @thepascalofus @paleidiot @projectionistwrites @leeeesahhh

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You, Part 13 (Polin, Rated R)

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

A03 link if that’s more your jam

Chapter 13

The gardens were empty, giving Penelope the opportunity she needed to sneak into the Bridgerton house through the back.  She made her way inside and up the staircase, exercising caution so she wouldn’t be caught. Normally the house would be bursting with servants in every corner but the staff were busy with the dinner party Lady Bridgerton was hosting tonight. Fortunately for Pen, the dining room was on the first floor in the east wing and in the opposite direction of where she was heading.

As laughter and conversation flowed in the air, she couldn’t help but feel sad. In the past she would have been invited as Eloise’s guest and they would have spent a joyous evening laughing and gossiping together. Now she was no longer welcome, and the loss of their friendship was a gaping wound in her heart. 

Throughout the years Penelope had always admired and cherished Eloise, because her best friend was never afraid to speak her mind. Eloise didn’t care about convention or societal expectations, and Penelope had always been in awe of that kind of confidence. While Eloise probably wouldn’t agree, Penelope recognized that a large part of her friend’s strength and independence was borne from the unconditional love provided by the Bridgertons. Penelope hadn’t been that lucky, and consequently, was forced into the shadows – until Whistledown gave her the freedom of anonymity to speak her mind. Unfortunately Eloise wasn’t willing to listen or understand her reasons, and Pen suspected her friend never would. Maybe in the past Penelope would have simply ignored all of that and still begged to reconcile with Eloise, but over the past few months she came to realize it wasn't enough. 

Penelope was at the end of the hallway when she heard voices coming up the stairs. Immediately, she ducked into the library. After so many years of playing hide and seek in the house, this room in particular, she was familiar with many of the noises of the floorboard including the creak just outside the library door. That’s how she knew someone was coming in behind her. With quick steps she hid behind one of the shelves, choosing a spot that still afforded a partial view of the front to avoid being surprised. Her hopes of the intruder being a maid were dashed as soon as she spotted Eloise entering the library. Wearing a silver-blue dress, her hair up in a chignon, Eloise looked lovely as usual. However, it was the concerned expression on her face that caught Pen’s attention. Deep in thought Eloise paced the floor, wringing her hands together.

Something was wrong, Pen realized it instinctively. Was Eloise in trouble? Did something happen? Her first thought ran to the Queen. Had she threatened Eloise again? Panic surged through Penelope, only to be caught by surprise when Cressida came in abruptly.

Instead of exchanging greetings, Cressida and Eloise simply stared at one another. No words were shared. The energy between them was palpable, their attention locked on each other.  

Penelope was used to a sneering Cressida, always ready to disparage and cut others down to tears with her sharp words and insults. Yet the expression on the blonde’s face was now a complete contrast to the smugness she usually wore. There was vulnerability there, tenderness even. And Eloise appeared just as shaken, heavy emotions shining in her eyes.

“I didn’t think you would attend tonight,” Eloise spoke, her voice uncharacteristically fragile.

Cressida inched forward. “I couldn’t stay away.”

The air cackled with intensity. A strange feeling came over Penelope, reminding her of the butterflies fluttering in her stomach whenever Colin looked at her.

Cressida swayed forward, her movements tinged with a hesitation that was unlike her. The distance narrowed between them until Cressida was nestled right against Eloise, cradling Eloise’s face with a lover’s intimacy. Then, her lips closed over Eloise’s.

Penelope froze, unable to move. She blinked repeatedly, wondering if the scene in front of her was a figment of her imagination. How was this possible? This couldn’t be… could it? Ladies kissing ladies? Eloise kissing Cressida? How?

A multitude of emotions flooded over Penelope, her brain trying to make sense of what was happening. Arthur had once mentioned a male friend who harbored romantic love for another man and the thought had astonished her. Never exposed to such a thing before, she had been so curious and prodded him for more information - but he’d been reticent to divulge more. Despite that, it hadn’t occurred to her that women could also feel love and lust for other women. In hindsight, Penelope felt silly for not recognizing that inevitability. If men could, of course women could as well.

But why did Eloise have to feel that for Cressida? The same girl who had taunted and belittled Penelope for so many years. Anyone else – anyone – and she would have been so very happy for her best friend but not with Cressida. The betrayal was potent, akin to a punch in the stomach. And yet it was clear from where she stood whatever was happening between Eloise and Cressida had nothing to do with her. Their embrace was too sensuous and emotional for it to be a ruse. Which was perhaps worse, because it meant whatever Eloise felt for the other woman was true and sincere.

Suddenly Eloise pushed Cressida away, her breath labored. “Stop! We can’t. You know we can’t.” Her voice cracked as she turned away, clutching her chest. Penelope spotted all the conflicting emotions flit across Eloise’s face and her own heart ached for her best friend.

“Please leave,” Eloise ordered.

Cressida tried to reach for her but Eloise moved away, still refusing to look at her.

For the first time Penelope felt a wave of sympathy for the blonde, seeing the pained expression on her face. She knew firsthand how excruciating the anguish of rejection was. In the blink of an eye, however, the icy glare returned to Cressida’s face and she was fully composed again. “I will see myself out.” She walked to the door and left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Eloise stood there, her eyes closed, and Penelope debated how to approach her. There was no doubt Eloise would be furious but Penelope had to console her friend, she couldn’t stand the thought of Eloise in agony. Before she could make a move, Eloise swiped the tears from her face and headed for the door to exit the library, leaving Penelope alone again.

***

Later that night Penelope was waiting in Colin’s chamber, growing weary. The whole purpose of sneaking into the Bridgerton home was so that she could speak with him but that had been hours ago and he had yet to come up. At first she had assumed he was lingering downstairs with the remaining guests, but then she covertly watched the guests leave and knew the party had ended. Did he even attend the dinner party? She didn’t know. All she could do was wait, which allowed her to ruminate on what she witnessed in the library.

Her heart sympathized with Eloise, pondering how isolating it must have been for her friend. She knew what it was to be looked down by the ton, how ostracizing it felt when you didn’t fit in with society. And being in Eloise’s position and loving someone who was forbidden? Another woman? The ton would flay her alive and Penelope’s heart shattered at the thought.

She closed her eyes, falling back on Colin’s bed. The sheets smelled like him, filling her senses and assaulting her with memories of him. The way his eyes darkened when she looked at him, the intensity on his face when she touched him - just the thought of him was enough to excite her. She loved him with everything she had, and he made her feel emotions that both thrilled and terrified her in a way no one else could. Was that how Eloise felt? Madly in love and frightened out of her mind? Or was it simply lust? Men were capable of intimacy without emotion, it was the very reason why brothels existed, but didn’t that mean women were too? What if the relations that existed between Eloise and Cressida were just physical? That was possible, wasn’t it?

She closed her eyes, feeling tired and exhausted. Where was he? It was clear he hadn’t attended the dinner party, or he would have returned to his chambers by now. That meant he was out elsewhere for the evening, and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach led her to suspect he was at a brothel. Where else would he go so late at night if not there? Her eyes flew open, the anger rushing through her so furious and intense that it took every bit of resolve she had not to scream and rip the room apart. How could he? How could he do that? It was only yesterday he had been in her home proposing to her, and today he was already pursuing the company of harlots!

It was then she heard the door jostle open. She sat up, watching Colin enter the room, close the door behind him, and stop in his tracks instantly upon spotting her. His hair was unkempt, the top buttons of his blue shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up, coat dangling from his fingers. Their gazes locked. They inhaled each other in, as if they hadn’t seen one another for an eternity despite only seeing each other yesterday. She was used to feeling entranced around him, always seeking his presence in a crowd and stalking him silently from her corner. Did he feel the same way about her?

“I’ve had this dream often, except you’re always naked in them.”

The words were a seductive purr, soft and practiced, not revealing any signs of intoxication. Did that mean he was fully sober when he was whoremongering? Knowing he made such a decision with his rational mind rattled her to the core. “I don’t doubt it. Considering your rakish behaviour, I’m sure your mind is quite busy conjuring dreams of many women.”

His eyebrow quirked up, dark blue eyes gleaming with amusement. “You sound jealous, Pen.”

She stood up. “Where have you been?”

Dropping his coat to the ground, he sauntered towards her. His gaze held her captive, forcing her to look up at him when he came to a stop directly in front. “Are you asking me that as a friend or as my betrothed?”

“Your response would be different depending on who asked? Who would you lie to?” She tore her focus away from him, shaking her head. “Don’t answer that, it doesn’t matter. I’m leaving.” She walked over to the settee to pick up her cloak but he followed behind her, gripping her elbow to pull her close. With her back pressed against him, her body trembled when he bent forward to whisper in her ear.

“Do you really believe I will let you go?” His voice was a throaty whisper, equal parts soft and menacing.

“Were you at a brothel?”

He forced her around. “You’re the only one I want.”

She took a step back, trying to put some distance between them. “That’s not a no.”

“Of course it’s a fucking no!” He bit out through clenched teeth, running his fingers through his hair out of frustration. “Since you kissed me, I have no desire to fuck other women.”

“Good! I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else!”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Yet you won’t marry me because of some ridiculous idea about me falling in love with another. Why is that acceptable to you but not me fucking others?

“I would prefer to see you happily married than indulging in debauchery.” The thought of him with anyone was devastating, but at least she could live with the idea of Colin having the life he was meant to.

Her words were intended to comfort but they had the opposite impact. His throat bobbed, face conveying such vulnerability it made her insides coil. She watched helplessly when he physically withdrew from her, choosing to take a seat on the edge of the bed. There was a quiet lull in the air while his gaze bore into hers. Only minutes ticked by yet when he finally spoke again it felt like an eternity had passed. “How am I supposed to be happy when the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with would rather be my mistress than my wife?”

Her stomach twisted into knots, realizing how much her words wounded him.

“All I want is you. To build a home with you, a future. I want you as my wife, the mother of my children, but you won’t even consider it.” His eyes were wet with unshed tears. “Do you find me so lacking, Penelope?”

“Of course not!” Unable to hold back, she rushed to him. “You would be a wonderful husband. Any woman would be lucky to have you.” Standing in front of him, she cradled his face. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted since I was fourteen.”

His hands encircled her waist, digging into her hips. “Then why won’t you marry me?” There was sudden contempt in his voice as he demanded answers. “Is it because of him?” He stood up unexpectedly, forcing her to crane her neck. “Do you love him more than me? Do you desire him?” Fingers still curved into her sides, he tugged her closer. “Or is he titled and that’s why you chose him?”

“It’s because he values me!” The words expelled out of her in a swift hurry. “I didn’t have to convince him of my worth. From the very beginning he saw me when I’ve always been invisible to everyone.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Including you.”

And she saw his heart shatter on his face, the hurtful impact of her truth flooding over him. A part of her expected him to lash out, to defend himself, but he didn’t speak, simply watching her with a pained gaze. After a short bout of silence, he sat back down on the bed, taking her with him. One arm snaked around her waist, the other took her hand on his own while she sat nestled on his left thigh.

“You asked me where I was today.” His hand squeezed hers, as if gathering courage from her touch. “I was at Will’s club, determined to drink away my sorrows. And for the first hour I did just that, angry with you, with myself, with everyone really. And then I noticed Will with his wife, Alice. She helps run the club with him. Usually they are on the best of terms but things were strained between them today. Apparently they had an argument, but Will didn’t seem concerned. He assured me they would work things out, like they always did. And it made me realize happy couples do have moments where they fight. Just because I couldn’t recall my parents ever arguing didn’t mean that was true for everyone. And a quarrel didn’t have to mean the end of the world for both parties. Whatever the difficulties may be, it could be sorted and resolved.”

His eyes met hers.

“So instead of idling in the club, I went house hunting. We have several properties in the family so it took me a few hours but I think I found the perfect one. It has a giant library in the second storey of the house, with wonderful French windows that lead out to a balcony. There’s also a fireplace we can use in the winter when it gets too cold. It’s quite beautiful and reminds me of the library here. I know that has always been one of your favourite places.”  

It was surprising that he remembered that.

“In our letters you often mentioned wanting to see the world, so I was hoping we could travel to the Ottoman Empire for our honeymoon. I’ve never been there and I thought it could be something we discover together. Would you like that?”

She stilled. A part of her was thrilled at the idea, but could she really cast all her doubts aside and take such a risk? And what of Whistledown? Being with Colin meant she would have to give that up. Was she really prepared to leave that behind?

“It may have taken me longer but I do see you, Penelope.” His eyes marveled, shining with veracity. “You’re all that I see now. You’re the center of my world, the most important person to me. And these feelings that I have for you, they’ve altered me irrevocably. I'm not who I was before, because I didn’t have a purpose then. Now I would destroy anyone who gets in between us and I would have no regrets."

The change in him still unsettled her, she didn’t know how to respond.

“And I know you worry that I’ll hurt you again, but I I would destroy myself before letting any harm come to you. I swear it.” Releasing her hand from his grip, his palm smoothed up her body, pausing momentarily on her ample left breast that spilled over the neckline of her dress. Her breath heaved from the heat of his touch coursing through her skin. His thumb caressed her nipple through the fabric of her dress yet it felt as if there was no barrier between his hand and the hardened nub. Growing aroused, she squeezed her legs together, and it didn’t escape his notice, his eyes darkening. “Marry me, Penelope, and I promise to care for you, cherish you, protect you till my last dying breath.” He angled forward, kissing the spot where her shoulder and neck met, sucking on the sensitive spot with his tongue and making her melt. “And make you feel more pleasure than you could ever imagine.”

His mouth closed over hers, ravishing her and driving her wild. Threading her fingers through his hair, she returned his kiss with equal fervor, lost in the erotic chaos of pleasure.

When he pulled away unexpectedly, allowing them to finally breathe, she found herself wrapped around him, his body heavy on top, her legs encircling his thighs. His shaft was thick against her, beckoning her to touch him. And she wanted to, she wanted to so badly. Feeling reckless she reached below to undo his britches, but he grabbed her hands and pinned them on either side of her head. Breaths panting in unison, he finally spoke. “Tell me you’ll be mine,” he ordered, his voice rough with desire. “And I’ll give you everything you want.”

She wanted him. She loved him. And even though he didn't love her, he was saying all the right things to make her heart soar. Would it be so terrible to give into him? To choose the happiness he promised? Not everyone was so fortunate to get a chance at love. Eloise would never be able to pursue marriage with another woman if that’s what she wanted, and yet Penelope had the freedom to marry the one she loved. Didn’t she owe it to herself to follow her heart?  

“Say yes, Pen.”

“Yes.”

He didn’t move, as if frozen in place.

She tried again. “Yes, I’ll marry you… if you still want me. But there’s something I must do first.”

“What is it?” he prodded gently. 

“I must speak to Arthur. He needs to hear about us from me. I owe him that.”

Immediately Colin shifted back on his heels. His shirt was undone, his hair disheveled from her hands running through the strands. Even with the passionate anger stamped on his face, he was statuesque and beautiful. “No, absolutely not.”

She sat up, noting how his heated gaze trailed on her breasts. He was still aroused and it made her feel unexpectedly powerful. “I’m not seeking permission, Colin. I'm telling you this is something I must do.”

“You can write him a letter.”

“He is on his way to Mayfair. He's expected to reach here tomorrow. Besides, this is not the kind of news you deliver through a letter."

Colin jumped out of bed and started pacing the floor. “Then I shall be with you when you tell him the truth.”

“No, that would humiliate him further. I can’t do that to him.”

“Why? Why does it fucking matter how he finds out?”

“If you were in his position, wouldn’t you want to hear the truth from the person who wronged you? I owe him that at the very least.”

“And what about me?” Tears bespoke his hatred and frustration, tracing streaks down his face. “What happens to me when you’re alone with him and your feelings return? When he convinces you to choose him instead? Will you cast me aside when I'm not there to keep you from him?

There was fury in his tone but there was also fear, his voice breaking with it, and her chest constricted upon seeing how afraid he was of losing her. She scooted to the edge of the bed, stood up and reached for him, curving her arms around him in a tight embrace. 

He was rigid at first, refusing to give in. Despite his reluctance, it was only a few minutes before he hugged her in return.

For a long time they simply held each other, lost in the moment. Eventually he pulled back a little, lifting her chin to lock eyes with her. “If he tries to take you from me, I will kill him.”

She had no doubt he meant it, his words sending shivers down her spine. Standing on her tiptoes, she palmed his face. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember. That has never changed, not even when I was with Arthur. I promise you-”

His mouth closed over hers possessively, clearing her mind of all thoughts.

To be continued...

A/N - As always, thank you for reading. If you have the time to share your thoughts, I would be very grateful!

Taglist: @cringycat24, @josephine-waters

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for @qwertynerd97; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!

Lynn picks the smallest bedroom of the three, which Billy thinks is a little weird because he would’ve expected him to want either the biggest or second-biggest one, since the biggest is the biggest and the second-biggest gets the best light, especially in the morning. Then again, Lynn’s sort of a teenager, so maybe he wants to sleep in? And Billy guesses he probably doesn’t think he needs a lot of space, since he doesn’t really own anything much yet? 

Well, they can always switch stuff around later if Lynn changes his mind, he figures. 

Billy decides to take the biggest bedroom for himself, since that makes the most sense to him. It’s not that he needs the space either, obviously, but if they do end up using the spare room as a place for Lynn to do stuff he likes in, Billy figures he’ll appreciate having the windows in there while he’s like . . . doing crafts or playing games or whatever he likes to do with himself. Or ends up liking to do, at least. 

He leaves Lynn to get settled in his new room and to set his stuff up however he likes and maybe move the furniture around a bit if he wants, and then peeks into his own room and feels a little . . . weird about it, actually. He hasn’t actually had a bedroom in a while, much less a bedroom that was really, like . . . his bedroom, and not just the latest foster family’s or children’s home’s or . . . or just whatever. 

It’s–weird, yeah.

Billy stares into the very empty bedroom that he has nothing to put inside except his own half-empty backpack, which is currently sitting in a corner at the Rock of Eternity, and then closes the door and goes to wait in the living room for Lynn instead. 

He’ll worry about the room later, he tells himself. 

He sits down on the couch to wait and figures that once Lynn’s settled in a little, they can make lunch together, maybe, and then maybe just watch some TV or a movie or something? Something quiet and not too demanding but still occupying, so there’s no pressure on Lynn to talk to him if he doesn’t wanna, but he can if he does wanna. And then maybe over dinner they can have the “no” conversation, and also work out some of the house rules and stuff. At least the basics, anyway. Billy doesn’t expect to figure them all out first thing, if only because there’s probably stuff he hasn’t thought of yet or stuff that’ll just come up later. And it’s a lot to put on Lynn all at once, too, so he doesn’t want to overwhelm him or anything. 

Well, he guess it’ll just depend on how Lynn handles those conversations and everything, so . . . yeah, they’ll just have to play it by ear. They’ve got some time to settle in–Billy’s off-duty for the League for the week and the logistics for the sidekicks’ team are still getting worked out, apparently, so Lynn is too–so they don’t have to cover everything tonight. They couldn’t even if they tried, Billy’s pretty sure.

He really wants to make this apartment a nice home for Lynn and a place that he can feel safe and secure in, though. He’s worried about what’ll happen if Lynn doesn’t ever feel comfortable here, or doesn’t get along with him long-term, or if he dies–who’ll take care of Lynn if he dies, he means. He still needs to talk to Batman about that.

Billy did ask what would happen to Lynn if he dies to Batman when they were first discussing all this, since obviously being a superhero is the kind of job that tends to get people killed or at least injured enough to be out of commission for a while, and Batman had gotten very quiet for a moment and hadn’t really answered. He’d said they’d talk about it more later, though, depending on who else in the League Lynn got to know and felt comfortable around. So . . . that’s good, at least, Billy thinks. 

Well–it’s better than Lynn ever ending up stuck with or taken advantage of by some asshole like Uncle Eben, so . . . it’s good, yeah. Not that anybody in the League would ever be like that, obviously, just–yeah. 

Billy just doesn’t like the thought, that’s all. 

Really doesn’t like the thought. 

Lynn doesn’t come out of his room for a lot longer than just rearranging some furniture and unpacking half a backpack should take, and lunchtime kind of passes by. Billy assumes Lynn’s just anxious or worried or nervous, at first, and then wonders–does Lynn know he can come out of his room? If he spent all his time at Cadmus stuck in a pod and not allowed to come out for anything . . . 

Shit, Billy thinks, and tries not to wince. 

“Lynn?” he asks, glancing down the hall towards Lynn’s room but not bothering to raise his voice–Lynn has super-hearing too, after all, so there’s no reason to shout and maybe startle him. “Do you want to make lunch together in a bit? Oh! Or we could order takeout, since it’s kind of a special occasion?” 

“. . . what’s a special occasion?” Lynn asks quietly, not raising his voice either. He sounds like he’s in his closet, so Billy guesses he’s still unpacking after all. 

“Um, well,” Billy says, a little sheepish. “People don’t get new family members every day, right? So I think it’s special, at least.” 

“Oh,” Lynn says. “Um. Yeah. Okay. Let’s do . . . that.” 

“Cool,” Billy says with a grin, resisting the urge to bounce in his seat on the couch. Not very convincingly dad-like, even if Lynn isn’t in here to see him right now. He still wants to make sure he’s acting as dad-ly as he can; get himself in the habit and all, same as the “totally normal adult human” secret identity practice. “I know some good local places, if you know what kind of food you like yet?” 

“The snack cake,” Lynn replies, his voice still quiet, but also a little abrupt. He doesn’t say anything else. It’s not much to go off, but Billy figures it’s a start. It’s not like Lynn’s had time to try much food, right? But the snack cake was strawberry shortcake, and he’s pretty sure the diner a couple blocks over makes actual strawberry shortcake, so they could order from there and get some for dessert? And maybe, like, some pie or cobbler or something else that Lynn could try, if he likes sweet things and fruity desserts. 

“How about we order burgers or sandwiches, then?” Billy suggests. “I know a diner that makes strawberry shortcake that’s pretty close.” He doesn’t really eat at restaurants, usually, but Batman did give them a lot of money and it is a special occasion, so . . . 

“. . . fine,” Lynn says, and then Billy hears the closet door slide shut. 

Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but it’s not a “no” either. Which, uh . . . might still not be really “fine” or really “no”, but–well, they’re gonna work on that.

[irb-pascalito-99]

Text you Later

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: Joel calls while at work for some lunch time shenanigans.

Warnings: phone sex, masturbation, pictures, dirty talk, praise, semi public sex

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter twelve of my ongoing fic Always an Angel, Never a God to read more visit A03.

I try to ignore the buzz of my phone in my back pocket as I carry my end of the armoire. Bill huffs when I adjust the piece of furniture in my arms. Once we’re in position we put the legs down carefully.

I automatically pull out my phone to check my texts once my hands are free. A smile spreads across my face when I see it’s Joel again.

Joel: Meet up for lunch?

I bite my lip and look up at Bill who has continued to walk around the store adjusting other items. I lean my hip against the armoire as I type out my reply.

Me: Can’t :( leaving early today for Ellie’s appointment

Frank appears over my shoulder as I press send. I jump as he attempts to glance at the screen.

“Who you texting?” He asks with a sly smile. I shove the phone back in my pocket. I shrug in response and walk toward the front counter. “A man?”

“No Frank,” I lie. “It was just Maria asking if we could hang out tonight.”

The look on his face says he clearly doesn’t believe me. I ignore the next buzz from my phone, and the one that comes immediately after.

“Okay then…” Frank says. “Well I just wanted to see if you wanted this desk we just got in. I know you mentioned wanting to get something Ellie can use in that room.”

Ellie and I agreed to change our parents’ room to an art space the two of us can use. We’ve already packed all the stuff that remains there in boxes. Joel helped put them in the attic for safekeeping. Tomorrow everyone is coming over to help move the furniture out and paint the walls

I follow Frank to the back of the store where we keep the inventory before we put it out. While his back is turned to me I quickly pull out my phone to respond to Joel.

Joel: But I miss you…

Joel: Can we call at least?

Me: Give me like 15 minutes ;)

I throw my phone back in my pocket as Frank stops in front of an old writer’s desk. I run my hand along the cherry stained wood. It’s in great condition, probably worth a decent amount of money.

There’s a lot of drawers as well. I open a couple, they seem decently deep so Ellie could probably store a decent amount of supplies in it. She’s been getting really into sketching lately so a place where she could sit and draw would be really nice.

“How much do you want for it?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about it,” I turn to Frank as he waves his hand. I give him a frustrated look, while I appreciate his generosity it doesn’t feel right to constantly like Frank and Bill take care of me. I don’t want to be their charity case, but Frank won’t hear it. “Think of it as me supporting local artists. You can pay us back with a painting or have Ellie draw something.”

“I’m sure Bill would love whatever she draws of him,” I joke. Frank laughs. I run my hand over the wood again. It would really mean a lot for Ellie to have her own dedicated space in the room.

I let out an exasperated sigh. Frank grins as I concede. He pulls a SOLD sign out of his back pocket and puts it on top of the desk.

“I’ll have Bill load it up when we come over tomorrow.” He says.

He wraps an arm around me while we walk back up front. I feel my phone buzz again. Frank must hear the sound of the vibration because he looks at me amusedly.

“Maria again?” I shrug and walk around the counter to keep myself busy until I can find an excuse to go somewhere private and talk to Joel. “Girl can’t seem to get enough today, you’ve been glued to that phone all morning.”

“It’s probably that contractor guy,” Bill grumbles from across the room. I snap my head to him, trying to keep the blush off my cheeks. “The one she’s all goo-goo eyes for.”

So much for not blushing. I try to hide my burning face from view of Bill and Frank. I feel like a child caught crushing on the popular boy at school.

“Ahh yeah, Joel right?” Frank says. He turns back to me. “Is he coming to help tomorrow?”

“Joel? I think so. I know Maria said Tommy’s coming to help out with the muscle so I’d imagine Joel would be there too.” I try to act casual, but my voice comes out slightly higher than normal.

“Hmm, yeah we know that one has some muscle,” Frank says. I blush even more, just barely managing to stop myself from dropping my jaw at Frank’s comment.

“Sounds like you’re the one with the crush, Frank.” Frank laughs.

“Just making an observation,” he chides. “I think you could use a man like that…”

“Stop,” I beg. I hide my face in my hands. Frank laughs. Bill walks over to help a customer who just walked in while Frank pats me on the shoulder. “I’m taking a break.”

Frank shakes his head, still laughing. I walk toward the back of the shop. I take one more look over my shoulder before I disappear into the backroom.

I make my way to the bathroom and pull out my phone. I lean against the bathroom wall as I call Joel. He answers almost immediately.

“Someone’s needy today,” I joke. I make sure to keep my voice down so anyone who is outside of the bathroom door can’t hear.

“Babygirl, you have no idea.” I shudder at his nickname for me. His voice is deep with a sultry thickness pouring out like molasses. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Haven’t seen you all week, it’s killing me.”

“I know,” I respond. I half whisper into the phone. “I’m sorry, I miss you too. It’s just been crazy with work and Ellie. Getting Ellie caught up with classes has been rough. Turns out I’m really bad at math…”

“Darlin’ why are you whisperin’?” Joel asks.

“I’m in the bathroom at the shop. I don’t want Bill and Frank to hear me, they’ve already been making jokes about me crushing on you. I don't need them to hear anything else.” Joel laughs on the other end. “Stop that, it’s not funny!”

“Sorry sweetheart, but it kinda is.” I roll my eyes. “So you’re crushing on me huh?”

“Shut up,” I grumble. Joel laughs again and then the line goes silent.

“So…what are you wearing?”

“Oh, so it’s one of those phone calls. You’re really over there making fun of me while you’re waiting for me to help you get off?” I tease.

“Well I was going to pick you up and fuck you on a back road in my truck somewhere, but someone couldn’t get away from work.” I whimper at the thought.

It has been getting increasingly harder to sneak around these days. I’ve had to put so much focus on Ellie in order to prove to Marlene that things are solid with us. Joel has been extremely understanding, and my relationship with Ellie has never been better, but it’s been frustrating not to have alone time with him.

“You like that huh? Want to ride my cock in the front seat of my car, naughty girl.” I feel my pussy start to drip at his words. Fuck, I need him. “Go on, tell me what you’re wearing princess.”

“I can send you a picture…” I say. I smile when I hear Joel groan.

I position myself in front of the mirror and adjust my clothes a bit. I pull my neckline down a bit to show off more of my breasts. I turn to the side slightly so he can see the curve of my ass and then hook my thumb in the top of my jeans and pull them down just enough that he can see the top of my lacy black panties.

I take a couple pictures until I get one that I really like and send it over to him. I hear him moan when I pull the phone back to my ear, and then the sound of his belt clinking as he undoes it.

“Another baby, please. Let me see you.” I go back to the door and crack it open for a second. I don’t see anyone outside so I close it and lock the door.

I walk back to the mirror, setting the phone on the counter for a second, and take off my shirt. I push my jeans off as well and stand in front of the mirror wearing only my bra and underwear. I should be embarrassed doing this in the store bathroom, but a rush if adrenaline pumps through my veins as I position myself in front of the mirror. I nice one hand down, ghosting the lips of my pussy on the outside of my panties. I bite my lip and throw my head back, taking the picture and immediately sending it to Joel.

“Fuckk baby, so pretty for me.” I moan quietly at his praise. “Touch yourself gorgeous. Touch that pretty pussy for me. I want to hear you.”

I lean against the wall again and snake my fingers inside my underwear. I run them through my soaking folds, my underwear drenched as I hear the faint slapping sound of Joel’s fist moving up and down his cock.

“Oh Joel, I’m so wet for you,” I moan, making sure to keep my voice down.

Joel groans and a shiver runs down my spine. I dip two fingers inside my hole, my thumb starting to make circle motions. I whimper into the phone as I start to pump my fingers in and out. I try to match my pace to the sounds of Joel jacking off on the other end of the line. He moans loudly at my noises.

“Tell me what you’re doin’ right now sugar. What’s makin’ you make those sweet little noises?” He starts to pick up his pace, panting into the phone desperately.

“I’m touching myself.” I huff. “I got…got two fingers inside… wish it was your fingers, or your cock. Fuck, Joel wish you were splitting me open right now.”

Joel groans again, the sounds of him pumping himself getting louder.

“God, babygirl fuck. I wish I was there too.” I speed up my fingers, my climax building as he goes on. “Wish it was your pussy clenching around my cock right now instead of my hand. Got me fuckin’ jackin’ off in a goddamn parking lot, that’s what you do to me.”

I moan, a little louder than I probably should have. I move the phone to rest between my face and shoulder so I can cover my mouth as my other hand continues to move underneath my panties. I close my eyes and picture him in his truck outside his job site, thrusting his cock into his hands with his phone to his ear.

“Can anyone see you?” I ask. Joel chuckles darkly at my question.

“I don’t think so, not right now,” he grunts into the phone again. “Why gorgeous? That get you off? You like the idea of me gettin’ caught fuckin’ my fist to the thought of you?”

My stomach tightness and I moan again. I’m so close. So fucking close.

“Yeah, I think it does.” His words send another wave of pleasure through me. I’m right on the edge. “I think you like what you do to me. Think you like how desperate you make me, can’t stop thinkin’ of that pussy all goddamn week. You gettin’ close baby?”

“Yes, god yes, Joel please don’t stop.” Joel groans again.

“That’s it darlin’, I’m almost there too. Come for me babygirl. Come for me.”

I keep pumping my fingers in and out of my pussy until I’m finally pushed over the edge, panting and moaning around my other hand as I try to muffle my noises.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to follow. His groans sound more animal than human as I hear him pump his cock a couple more times and then stop. We both pant into the phone as we come down.

After my heart slows down I walk back to my discarded shirt and jeans on the floor and put them back on. I hear Joel’s belt clink again on the other line as well.

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then?” Joel asks as I straighten my shirt in the mirror.

“Yes, but remember it’s going to be a full house so you need to behave,” I remind him. He scoffs at my remark.

“Darlin’ I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” I chuckle at his remark.

“Would a gentleman jack himself off in a parking lot in the middle of the day?” I ask.

“You got me there,” he laughs. “But I’ll do my best to keep my hands to myself tomorrow, no matter how hard it’ll be after not seein’ ya for so long.”

I smile sheepishly, giddy at the thought of him having missed me so much after just a week.

“Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” Joel agrees and we say our goodbyes. I wash my hands before heading back out to the front of the shop.

To read more visit A03

[jiubilant]

poking around my wip document to figure out what i feel like working on tonight so here are some excerpts. i took a brief stab awhile ago at drafting the forsworn conspiracy questline from viarmo's pov—probably won't pursue that further because to get his voice just right i'd need to read the prose edda and get a doctorate

[icallhimjoey]

i neeeed soft!joey x reader sleeping with their head in the others lap. dont mind which way it is but still 🥹 too soft i cannot

okay so, i know that this request asks for me to write something new but, i've got things planned and i didnt want this to drown and disappear into my inbox to maybe be found months later, so, TO MEET YOUR NEEDS, here's an excerpt from all goes south that i wrote early feb 2023. hope it suffices!! Wordcount: 0.9K

---

Taken From: All Goes South

excerpt taken from part four You thought everything was going to change when Joe texted you, “Are you busy tonight?” and you looked around your small, dingy flat before answering,

“Other than falling asleep to bad TV and sleeping off this splitting headache, not really”

You’d just finished doing dishes and were quite literally excited to lay down on your sofa and not move for the rest of the evening.

“Sounds lush, come do that here”

Joe hadn’t yet been over to your place, and you’d been weird about it that first night, so Joe had never asked to come over again. You were glad; your place was a filthy shoebox compared to Joe’s home. A real grimy one, all sorts of drab, with a messy flatmate, because who the fuck could afford their own flat in central London as an undergrad?

You sent Joe a pic from your position on the sofa, your legs spread out with your ankles crossed on the coffee table.

“Don’t wanna move”

“Text your address again?”

Joe made that sound all kinds of casual. You’d never texted Joe your address before, and him coming over to your place was definitely not what you had planned for.

You probably would’ve hoovered had you known earlier in the day.

Now? Not a chance.

Joe’d dropped you off after a photoshoot once, so he vaguely knew whereabouts your lived, but he’d never been over.

You knew you’d hate yourself for it later. Joe had no business being in your dirty little flat. But you didn’t reply with a joke, or a sly comment, or even something flirty. You just texted your address, because, actually, you really fucking wanted to snuggle up to Joe, even if that meant Joe was going to see your unhoovered flat, and maybe meet your flatmate.

When Joe entered, it was obvious to him why you needed a proper job. He didn’t comment, but you could see him look, which was fine - you’d looked around his place the first time you’d seen it too.

Different reasons, of course, but, whatever.

He joined you on the sofa, and tried to make polite conversation. Said he brought gin, because he knew it was your favourite, but you hardly reacted. You weren’t joking before when you said you had a headache. And so Joe dropped it. Just sat next to you and was happy he got to be close.

That was all he wanted anyway.

To be close.

It didn’t take long before you found yourself nodding off, head bobbing, jerking itself back up every time it fell forward. You were fighting off yawns and kept rubbing your face in a weak attempt to stay awake. It was hard work, and your headache started getting worse, but you had a guest over, and it was rude to just fall asleep next to them, so you fought against all instincts until you heard a soft chuckle from Joe.

“You’re allowed to sleep, you know? Come, lay down,”

And then he offered you his lap.

So much for taking things slow.

Sure, you weren’t about to deep throat him exactly, but that was some close penis-to-face interaction you were about to get involved in.

But you were so tired.

And you really liked Joe.

So you moved, and scooted, and your head found Joe’s lap. Four arms worked together to cover you with the throw blanket, and before you knew it, Joe’s hand was patting your hair, and then a kiss got pressed into it before he sat back up.

His hand remained, and fingers raked, brushed and softly played and all of it made you fully relax.

Turned you into putty.

Made you melt into Joe’s touch. 

Nothing was going to beat this. 

Ever.

It only took you a few seconds to drift away. To float. To hover in flight, the wind keeping you stationary.

Somehow you felt yourself slipping away from Joe whilst simultaneously moving towards him more.

Joe made small comments about whatever you were watching, but his voice was a faraway, deep thing that melted over you a little.

You drifted and floated and hovered until you found yourself in this bubble where it was just warmth, comfortability and tingles from scalp scratches.

Your thoughts went fuzzy, and you didn’t think about how you always seemed to self-sabotage everything in your life. How you always pushed away whoever was trying to get close. In your bubble it was safe, and Joe was allowed inside, and nothing could hurt you in there, in Joe’s hands.

Teetering on the edge of falling asleep, of fully slipping under, Joe noticed your breathing had become steady and slow, so he pulled his hand away, afraid that his touch would wake you back up.

But the second his fingers stopped playing, you stirred, hummed, and then blindly reached behind your head to find his hand and placed it back. It made Joe’s chest swell. Made him think things, like he wanted this forever, like he wanted to kiss you silly. Wanted to cuddle you close until your individual smell became his and his became yours. Wanted to inhale you, fill his lungs up the to brim with you. 

Be close. 

Forever be close.

Joe was in trouble.

Trouble had found him in the form of a pretty girl and Joe was absolutely fucking gone for you.

You thought everything was going to change then, but it hadn’t. Not at all, actually.

---

read All Goes South here

(skipping the taglist on this one because posting this feels like cheating since it's not new writing)