#we where just both talking about their lack of content and where like if you want something doing do it yourself

[nouearth]

“POLKA DOTS AND MOONBEAMS”

steve rogers x male reader.

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 & 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓—headcanon [ 4.1k ] 〳 part one

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒—male reader 〳 domestic!au 〳 mid-century!era 〳 'roommates' 〳established relationship 〳 secret husband!steve 〳 mentions of period-homophobia 〳 brief quarreling 〳 sexual content: top!steve, bottom!reader, love-making, breeding, milking, praising, verbal, dirty talk, body worshiping, guidance.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who coasted the city and was on a mission to find the best spaghetti and meatballs with you.

‣ "Verdict?"

‣ Steve's gaze looked right past the fork held before your lips, watching your mouth and expression twist and turn like the spaghetti noodles around the fork prongs prior.

‣ "It's good... not great. The sauce isn't as thick as I'd like for it to be... but it tastes fresh? Basil leaves adds a nice balance to the acidity... but the meatballs are a little overcooked. What do you think, Steve? I'm too picky, aren't I?"

‣ It was written all over your face. Satisfied, but not impressed.

‣ Unlike the last restaurant where you two had the misfortune of eating bloated pasta noodles and watery red sauce, this place was edible and especially generous with their serving.

‣ Decent, if Steve had the chance of writing a one-worded review for the paper.

‣ "You're not picky, just particular, but I agree. Red sauce is good—Padrino's still better. Meatballs are pretty tough, aren't they... but I do like the flavor of them. You can tell they used a fattier mixture compared to the rest. A lot of garlic too, which makes up for the lack of it in the sauce..."

‣ "Not as good as Mama's?"

‣ "The moment we find a spaghetti that's as good as your mother's, is the day we find a way to squeeze water from stone, (M/N)."

‣ "Don't mention that to her. I don't need her ego to be any more inflated than it already has been."

‣ Dates like these were never boring.

‣ No matter how many times Steve had watched your face wrench in disdain or light up in surprise, he always found it a joy to watch you participate in this arbitrary—now routinely—idea of critiquing spaghetti and meatballs so earnestly.

‣ To be fair, it wasn't like you two had a slew of options to make dates seem... more like dates.

‣ In fact, there shouldn't have been any options offered on the table in the first place.

‣ Any intimations that you and Steve were on a date would've been subject to a location change.

‣ Most likely, a candle-lit dinner in a jail-cell, dined over cold hard concrete, and Steve was sure the spaghetti and meatballs served there was going to clutch last place in his ranking.

‣ Though, Steve was hopeful that the romance would still be alive and well had it ever come to that point.

‣ You had a thing for restaurants with a gimmick.

‣ "Seven out of ten sounds about right?"

‣ "What about dessert? We can't leave without getting the tiramisu, Steve."

‣ "Since when did we factor in desserts for the scoring?"

‣ "What—since we started. Don't tell me you've been only ranking the spaghetti and meatballs... it's all about the experience, the... the je ne sais quoi—heard that on the radio once!"

‣ "The je ne sais quoi—this is why I wanted you to be the one logging everything down, (M/N)!"

‣ It took more of a toll on him than it did on you.

‣ Well, if it did, then you did a stunning job at maintaining your usual optimism.

‣ Whenever you two were out in public, Steve felt hammered by this distance pushing him apart.

‣ It was a conscious effort on both ends—a natural one that pertained to the business of being in a homosexual relationship

‣ Or just being a homosexual, period.

‣ Steve understood it. He abode it. And he hated it.

‣ Often, when the conversation between you and him would come to a slow, Steve would look right past your shoulder, right at the lucky couple who were in his sight-line—a gentleman with an impressive mustache and his lady—and simply stare.

‣ His thoughts wandered.

‣ The gentleman was unabashed in his public flirtations with the woman.

‣ Massaging her hands, tending to the aches in her knuckles with firm, but appeasing presses.

‣ The smell of his cigar was pervasive, but the lady didn't seem to mind. It seemed like she thought it was rather charming when he blew a smoke towards her face.

‣ One hand would run up her arms in several strokes, rough callous grinding down her goosebumps, and the man would compliment how soft and supple her skin was.

‣ The lady would bat her eyelashes, giggle at the man's public display of affection whilst also maintaining some sense of courtesy to halt his advances when a pair of curious eyes were enough to render her cheeks scarlet—like the lipstick she had worn for the evening.

‣ Steve hated this restraint. This lack of freedom that forced him to talk to you as if you were his co-worker.

‣ To look at you as if he had no affection for you whatsoever when that was further from the truth.

‣ To touch you as if you were an infection that could cost him his life, and him to yours.

‣ That wasn't completely off from what society thought of people like you and Steve, was it.

‣ "It's not nice to stare, Steve... quit it."

‣ "If I can't even look at my own lov—you, what else am I supposed to do?"

‣ "Steve—come on, not now. You know how it is. It's hard, I know. But... we can't just be cooped up in our pad and wear out its virtues. It's nice to go out every once in a while, even if—it has to be like this."

‣ "It's just not—fair. Maybe—maybe we can do something. It doesn't feel right if we're doing nothing about those bar raids too. They're increasing, you know? Becoming more violent and—"

‣ "Hush. People are staring to look."

‣ "Why do you seem completely fine with this? Hiding ourselves—"

‣ "Look, I don't like it as much as you do. Hell, it's killing me on the inside that I can't even smile at you like how it would naturally come. But I'm okay with hiding—because it's for my safety, and most importantly, for yours. I don't ask for much, but I've envisioned the near end of my life to be fulfilled and labored with no regrets. With a house where I can harvest my own apples from my own tree. With a lazy pup that knows better than to eat through my laces. All of that would be possible because I hid—no—because I endured. And I would heavily prefer it if you would join me in that life. Call me a coward, spineless, or selfish, but I don't want it to be our last, Steve. It's terrifying—to know that any day I could lose you to violence and persecution, myself included. So, please—just hold it out for longer—that's all I ask of you."

‣ Most of all, Steve hated that he was envious.

‣ He wished he could be the one wiping sauce stain off your lips.

‣ He wished that he could hold your hand over the table and stroke the ring on your finger that you could've kept on.

‣ He wished that he could stop the tears from welling in your eyes like he often did back at home.

‣ He wished that he could tell you that he loved you, either with a mouthful of meatballs or none at all, because in the end—it would've felt better than communicating those three words with three taps of his foot to your shin.

‣ You nearly reached over for his hand to calm him down, but pulled your back straight upon the fright of a passing waiter and opted for the cipher that was could only be cracked between you and Steve.

‣ Three gentle kicks to his shin, once more to his other leg, and Steve sighed for pardon, returning the cipher gently to your own shin.

‣ He wished he could openly compliment how handsome his husband looked tonight, ramble how grateful he was to have you in his life, or complain about how you kicked him a little too hard, but that was all well and fine because it meant that you were still present.

‣ Freedom—All of it, the positives and negatives, without the looming threat of a policeman pummeling you and Steve with a nightstick afterwards—because that was normal.

‣ Because that was life.

‣ A life that will pay in the long run.

‣ "Check, please."

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐄.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who ambled the misty street of Brooklyn Heights with you, the night dew giving everything a hazy look as you and Steve passed through moist air, side-by-side.

‣ "I was brash tonight, Steve. I apologize."

‣ "No, no... you were right. If anything, I was being a fat head. I was out-of-line. I'm sorry."

‣ "You were right too, you know. It's not fair. It's not that I don't want to do anything about it, I really do. I just—it can't be the two of us tackling something bigger than us. Everyone is petrified, Steve."

‣ "I know... but if we somehow all come together in some kind of union, then maybe—we can call for a difference. Show them that enough is enough. Show them that fear is no longer something they can instill in us."

‣ "Like a rebellion or something?"

‣ "Well, if it has to come to that, then so be it."

‣ "You know a guy, don't you..."

‣ "I know a guy."

‣ "Is it Bucky?"

‣ "What—how'd you know?"

‣ "Steve, you only know one guy."

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who was detoured into a dark alleyway between business building blocks. There was the droning sound sound of night, the low and humming resonant as the city had fallen asleep, all but two guests.

‣ "(M/N), what are we—"

‣ "All that quarreling made me forget to tell you how dashing you looked tonight. You know I especially like your hair combed back like that, Steve-o."

‣ He didn't need much of a hint as to what you were getting at.

‣ Squeezing in between a narrow passageway that would luckily only admit two bodies at a time, you and Steve were obscured from any wandering eyes.

‣ From judgement of the world.

‣ "Steve, you ought-ta listen to me more. Blue polka dots look darling on you."

‣ "If I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted me to wear a pink tie, darling."

‣ "Pink would've made me sauced my pants..."

‣ "You. Are. So. Vulgar."

‣ Shadows cast over his squashed body against yours, the moonlight only lighting the parts that mattered the most right now.

‣ The laughter that left your mouth after each peck Steve would grace you with.

‣ The lips that had him feeling withdrawal symptoms after an unbearable few hours of watching you lick sauce off your lips.

‣ The hand that tug Steve closer by his tie.

‣ The eyes that drew Steve in closer, until the tip of his nose touched yours.

‣ "Have I told you how much I love my cologne on you, darling?"

‣ "Have I told you how much I prefer your cologne rubbing off on me, as opposed to me spraying it on directly?"

‣ Slowly, breathing, pacifying; Steve's invisible stubble made your mouth twitch with a scratch, one of your many quirks he found himself silently obsessing over.

‣ And that was enough to push him over the edge, and finally kiss you like he'd wanted to since the evening had started.

‣ It was slow, almost careful like Steve was afraid of breaking you.

‣ Steve wasn't expecting this self-restraint from you. He wasn't expecting your hands on his jaw, tenderly massaging at either sides to keep your hands preoccupied while he slid his tongue alongside yours.

‣ He wasn't expecting to hear his own pulse because you were so stubborn in maintaining this control—you refused to summon urgency by vaulting your moans into the back of your throat.

‣ But Steve knew you more than he knew himself. He knew how you liked your eggs in the morning. He knew the perfect temperature for your bath. He knew you from the mole on your back, to the stance when you were impatient.

‣ He knew that if he led one of your hands right here—feeling the cusp of his growing bulge—that you'd give Steve what he wanted, and fall completely apart.

‣ And Steve knew that—by the eager palm of your hand, shoving into his unbuckled pants and groping—he was right.

‣ "Steve—just fuck me right here, yeah? I can't take it anymore."

‣ "Honey, we don't have any slick..."

‣ "Then give it to me raw. Use your spit. The rain. I don't care, I need you—"

‣ Your lips were warm and soft when Steve kissed you from rambling into the void again. His hands were against your stomach and chest, and your moans sent shivers down his spine.

‣ "Christ—turn around."

‣ Against the brick wall, teeth sinking into your forearm, you took Steve in without any regrets. Cold sweat breaking over your skin like evening dew collecting on window sills.

‣ "O-oh, fuck—slowly, Steve—"

‣ You could feel Steve's heart beat against your back, pushing further into you, huffing into your neck.

‣ "I love you."

‣ "I love you."

‣ From then on, you and Steve lived without any regrets.

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who relished every inch of your body; with his eyes, with his mouth, with his hands, with his body, with his being—until you found yourself transported wholly to all different kinds of sensations, and he'd repeat to discover new ones for you.

‣ "You're good at this, you know."

‣ "Humor me?"

‣ Steve was mouthing at your inner thigh, one hand stroking your leaking cock, and the other pumping his Vaseline-slicked fingers into you.

‣ He looked up from his eyelashes, teasing your sack with a lick.

‣ Another lick, because he liked being distracted by your body arching off the bed, crinkling the sheets in the process.

‣ "Good at loving me. You know what I want, what I need—just like that. Putting another finger into me without asking of me if you can. Twisting—fuck—turning me out, all based on how my body responds to you."

‣ "Well, it's not difficult to gauge what you need. Your nails dig into the sheets when it's too much. Your fingers and toes curl when the pleasure's coming in. Your hips roll—when you need more, or a new fix. I'm no magician you're making me out to be, (M/N).

‣ "You notice all of that? That's embarrassing... and here I thought I was being alluring..."

‣ Steve layered his thick cock in slick, capping the tin and tossing it to the bedside counter after.

‣ He teased your prepped rim, observing how the ring of muscle would catch a string of his pre-cum and latch onto it with a clench.

‣ At the sound of your moan, at the sight of you toying with your nipples, at the torn decision between preening—you knew that he liked the sight of you biting your lips—and ceasing his taunts.

‣ Steve's cock veins pulsed, his cock pleading for him to fill that delicious hole before him, otherwise it would live in agony for as long as it could leak.

‣ "I do, and it's not embarrassing. I love how you—mm—like that. I love how you immediately wrap your arms and legs around me when I finally push my cock inside of you.

‣ "Oh, Steve—"

‣ "I love how you call my name, just like that. Say it again."

‣ "Steve..!"

‣ He pressed his forehead against yours and groaned with you. His hips racketed off your ass in a slow, but increasing rhythm.

‣ You held onto him, hands over his neck, anchoring him close until the only way you could have your fix of air was through Steve's lips.

‣ Steve's mind was empty, except for the thought of your hot tongue roaming into his mouth and the swelling grasp your walls had around his loving cock.

‣ "Like that... I love how I can decipher every meaning behind the way you call out to me."

‣ "Fill me up so well, Steve—baby. Can feel you deep inside of me. Ruining me with your cock. Your balls slapping against me, God—Steve!"

‣ Your moans tasted delicious on his tongue. If they were seeds, they'd bloom colorful hybrids of fruits because your love for him couldn't be defined by one singular hue.

‣ You were an array of colors—a prism conjured by the way Steve loved you.

‣ Red, because you were gritting your teeth as Steve had you taking him balls-deep, filling you up to the brim, and stretching you to the shape of his pistoning cock.

‣ "Fuck me harder, Steve—"

‣ "You're taking me so well, darling..."

‣ "When have I not?"

‣ Orange, because Steve rendered you speechless except for a few gasps, with his cock grazing your prostate and his hand over your cock, stroking while kissing at your neck.

‣ "O-oh, fuck—oh, fuck!"

‣ Yellow, because you were on top, straddling Steve's lap and yielding to the nearing high that you both had been gauging.

‣ You took your sweet time to make love to Steve with your body. Hands braced on his chest, combing your fingers through the light hairs, deeply rocking back and forth on his cock after a couple of lighthearted bounces.

‣ You marveled over his well-built body, following the contours of his muscles with one hand while silently admiring his broad chest, perky nipples, and wide shoulders with your tongue.

‣ The smell of aftershave on him was infectious when you came up for a brief kiss. You kissed at his lips, then his chin, licking at the short blades of stubble before pulling away to preen again.

‣ Your back straightened and you spread your thighs apart for Steve to get a good look at how hard he was making you.

‣ Your cock throbbed, swollen a pronounced shade at the tip, bouncing to the rhythm of your hips, all while you devoted your mouth and tongue to Steve's thick fingers, suckling and laving your tongue over every digit, every vein, every knuckle—thanking him for opening you up so well with the slick of your saliva.

‣ Steve was absolutely keen on watching you worship him with one hand tucked behind his head, the other stroking your cock when he would finish appraising your body with a couple of fond strokes.

‣ "God, look at you. You're so beautiful. I could do this all day, watching you ride every vein on my cock..."

‣ Green, because you built up enough energy to reverse your straddle and take the lead for once. You wanted Steve to see all parts of your body, especially the asset that had been drawing out those glorious moans deep from his gut.

‣ You knew it was a pretty sight that would teeter Steve closer to the edge.

‣ Sweat ran over the plump mounds of your ass as you were propped up on your forearms, slamming down onto his thick cock.

‣ Skin rippled when your ass repeatedly hit his groin, and then prickled, when Steve grabbed a handful of your sweaty flesh out of pure enchantment before swatting it as a stimulus to your slowing hips.

‣ "How's the view?"

‣ "Stunning..."

‣ Blue, because your body was covered in shivers from the way Steve had captured you into his arms and pummeled icicles into you from behind.

‣ Kneeling upright, Steve had embraced you tightly, supporting your core with a flat palm while simultaneously engaging his, thrusting into you.

‣ His hand was around your throat to feel every vibration that would squeeze from your throat and then pour into his mouth like a saucer of milk as he swallowed your sweet moans.

‣ Like Steve's cock, his other hand was equally uncompromising. He squeezed into the pulsating veins of your cock, stroked your shaft, and teased your glans with a thumb.

‣ When you sank back into the dip of his hips, Steve would propel you forward with a strong thrust, forcing you to fuck his closed fist in midst as he held you from ever retreating back on all fours.

‣ He loved that dazed look on your face. Wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Flushed like how you were abashed by his compliments to your novice cooking, yet only a hundred times worse.

‣ He also loved the way he had fucked you into being inarticulate, muttering a slurry of words—warnings of you coming soon, Steve would later learn after turning his ears up.

‣ "Steve, stop, stop—I'm going to c-come—seriously—"

‣ "Come for me, (M/N). I want to see you stain the bed. Want to see you come because of me. Only me. Want you to drench my fist and—Christ, there we go..."

‣ Violet, because you were red, and Steve was blue.

‣ You spilled heavily over his fist, shooting large, thick ropes of cum over the bed sheets. The sound of the cum splatters making your cheeks run hotter than the warmth drawing out of you.

‣ Each spurt shot further and further the harder Steve pounded into you and milked your orgasm with unrelenting strokes to your shaft.

‣ His thighs slapped into yours, resonating the bedroom with a sharp thunder that was sure to wake up the tenants.

‣ His cock punctuated deep into your guts, hard and sweet against your prostate.

‣ You cried out as Steve battered your insides with his cock, with his undying love for you. Biting into your shoulder to contain his groans, but Steve had enough of this restraint, of constantly holding himself back.

‣ He growled behind your ear, filtering out the resentment society had instilled in his body as he let his grunts loose, replacing that bitter feeling with the antithesis of knowing that he wanted to live life to the fullest.

‣ With a house that grew oranges alongside your apples.

‣ Steve thrusted harder.

‣ With an indifferent cat that couldn't care less about your torn shoelaces.

‣ Your moans hitched at the sharp snap of his hips, his cock digging somehow deeper into your guts when he pushed you lower into his groin.

‣ With a fulfilling life that was lived without regret.

‣ Steve felt himself come undone upon the last thrust. Every fiber of his muscle unraveling like pointe shoes after intense wear.

‣ He held you tight as he shuddered against your, his pulse anchored and soothed by the palm of your head on his cheek, stroking him affectionately.

‣ Silken white, he spilled his hot seed deep inside of you, weakly propagating the warmth from the outer rim of your raw, swollen hole, then to the deep depth of your walls and prostate, milking himself until he was jelly in the legs, until you were creamed, from inside and out, with his thick cock.

‣ You and Steve shared one more kiss, another breath, heaving and panting like you two had never kissed before, before his stance eventually gave out and made him collapse over your body.

‣ "Think—I might bump the restaurant earlier up a few spots, (M/N)..."

‣ "Why's that?"

‣ "Must've put some kind of aphrodisiac in that spaghetti... I'm deeply spent."

‣ "I disagree. It must've been that couple! I told you it was all about the experience—that je ne sais quoi that I've been talking—"

‣ "You really aren't going to stop saying that, are you?"

‣ "Shouldn't have fixed my radio if you knew you were going to be disappointed, Steve."

‣ "That's where you're wrong. If you think anything about you is disappointing to me, then I'm not being a great husband, am I?"

‣ "Well, look at you being all sappy tonight."

‣ "Too much?"

‣ "Never too much. I'm far too gone to ever think otherwise, Steve-o."

‣ "Me too, darling. Me too."

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[rehmes]

Nothing Solitary about Us : ⋆༘ Wriothesley / reader | headcannons . oneshot

‗ content / trigger warning: bigger story / reader background not fully mentioned, reader is a refugee, Wriothesley swooning (in his own way), thoughts of self doubt, fluff/angst?? Like a weird mixture of the two, not beta read, we die like Wriothesley's adoptive parents. ‗word count: 4k ‗ author's note: If you saw when I accidentally posted this the first time . . . no you didn't! Apologies if it's ooc, a little long, or has errors in spelling. English isn't my first language and this is the first time I've written for Wriothesley! Any suggestions to improve will be much appreciated! :D

Wriothesley could still remember the day he saw you, the day that you had come into the Fortress after, purposefully, committing a crime to gain some sort of refugee status; Why you thought to come to a prison, of all places, to receive such a thing baffled him the most. And it had baffled him for the longest time until you had told him why:

You and The Duke first met when The Duke wasn’t even The Duke; Meeting as cellmates in the Fortress, having been put in the same age group for practically everything that the Fortress had to offer at that time. Which wasn't a lot, and with Wrothesley’s lack of enthusiasm to even look in your direction, it made everything a lot more insufferable. But, Wriothesley didn’t know that; He was just intent on staying out of your way and not causing any more trouble for himself. Likewise, the thought of making friends with you did creep into his mind but so did the doubts that you might hate him after you figured out why he was sentenced here. So, it took a lot for Wriothesley and you to actually begin talking, despite being paired for a lot of the backbreaking activities. And, Wriothesley does still remember that day, too: It was after a tiring shift, where you were both thoroughly whipped out and about to crash at the dinner tables. You both had used coupons to buy food, and didn’t even have the energy to sit at different tables, muchless to open the containers containing your dinner. It felt as though every muscle in your bodies had been torn, limb from limb, muscle from tissue and bone, it was excruciating… and you were about sure you could appeal to the Iudex about this being considered some sort of child labor. Maybe even murder if they kept pushing you both like this. Luckily, you guessed, Wriothesley looked a little better in shape than you did, but he was not far lagging behind. With shaking hands he reached out to open his dinner for the night, to only pause and stare down in horror at what was on his tray. It made you nervous to even peek into yours, seeing the way Wriothesley’s face contorted; A corner of his left eye tightening, his eyebrows furrowing down to create visible creases along his forehead, and a scowl you’ve only ever seen when someone bothered him. A look of pure disgust.

Yet, you still checked yours away. You didn’t know that Wriothesley had glanced up to see if you had gotten the same horror as he did, and by some god awful prank (or pure disluck) you also had the conglomeration on your plate. Some weird, mysterious meat that sat on the plate, sometimes twitching like it was still mooing, sometimes resting as meat should rest. Equally unappetizing and making your hunger even more apparent, as you were tempted to taste the horrific creation that came out of that unsanitized kitchen. “You know,” Your voice caught Wriothesley's attention, as his had drifted down to the plate of food in front of him. His eyes shot up and barely met yours, “it could be worse?” You shrugged your shoulders in a joking way, giving Wriothesley an awkward look paired with an even awkwarder smile. He was a bit baffled at your conclusion, “It could be worse?” He questioned, calm and steady, confused and a bit curious on where you were going to go with such a statement.

In his fatigue, he had broken the one rule he had set for himself in this place; Don’t talk to anyone, don’t make yourself known, don’t make any friends. In his fatigue he didn’t believe answering you would be so wrong nor did he believe that you two would ever speak again after his point, so why not entertain you… and himself.

“At least they didn’t puke on our plate?” The joke fell from your lips with the weakest chuckle you could muster. Your eyes drooped and the pain was evident in the way your eyes shined ever so less than normal. Wriothesley was about to respond, yet you managed to get at it before him; “You know, where I came from, if you didn’t have a fire you had to eat your fish cold! Like, ice cold. And there was nothing you could do about it… other descale the thing and pray you didn’t just eat your last meal.” “Is that right?” Wriothesley cocked an eyebrow up, unsure where you had come from yet didn’t enjoy the images that came into his head. Well, one was particularly funny and it was the thought of you trying to bite into a frozen fish and hurting your teeth. Not like he wanted that to happen, maybe. “Well, don’t give the kitchen staff any ideas or maybe they’ll just import that from your weird homeland.” It had been a while since Wriothesley had laughed, and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly alongside you. The conversation was a ridiculous one, especially when first conversations usually went along the lines of introducing yourselves to each other. Yet, oddly to Wriothesley, it felt about right. And from that day, Wriothesley was sure he didn’t know of a day where he didn’t talk to you. Even if it started with a small greeting in the hallway or pointers on how to do a job more efficiently, small conversation gradually turned into the two of you chatting for hours eating lunch or dinner and even trying to talk after lights out. It finally felt like you had escaped your past and had a friend in a place you named your refuge, and Wriothesley finally felt like he had met someone (though this feeling was slow and gradually coming) that would accept him, despite his past doings.

Wriothesley interlocked his fingers, resting his elbows on the table, and nestled his chin on the finger net he had made. His eyes were softer than usual, yet that piercing blue. Back then, when you two had simply been inmates trying to work out your frustration and struggles with the world; Now, you laid on the couch in Wriothesley’s office in the fortress, with his coat draped over you like a blanket, napping. From outside eyes, you both would look like the perfect couple, yet he hadn’t even managed to ask you the question yet; But, he had an inkling you understood, just as he did, how he felt about you. Otherwise, Wriothesley couldn’t fathom why you decide to spend your nights in his office, keeping him company, when you could be in the nurse wing with Sigewinne or doing “orderly duties” for the fortress above on the surface. It made a small smile twitch onto his lips seeing you, you always managed to do that; But, it also bubbled the age old question in his mind . . . is this life good enough for you? Wriothesley is usually a calm man, a collected one, who didn’t often question why people came to the Fortress and simply gave them a second chance at peace – well, more frankly, at life. He understood how such a thing could quell the anger that simmered in convicts and made it his life work to make sure everyone was treated as fairly as they worked for. Yet, you? You were a different question. He still wasn’t sure why you had come to the Fortress in the first place, yet had deduced from several conversations you came from the Snezhnaya. Sure, he could go into the room lined with file drawers with the reasons why convicts had been placed into captivity, but that room was one, far too crowded for his taste, and two, he didn’t wish on peaking into your personal life. At least, without your permission. 

Yet, still, the thought always crossed him on why you were here – by choice! Not that you walked in and checked yourself in, yet you committed many crimes to be noticed in Fontaine, trailed in court, then admitted to your crimes to be placed into the Fortress. The thought of doing such a thing made him cross his arms and lean back in the chair, his eyes more settled on your sleeping form and the way his jacket hugged the curves of your body. You always looked so happy on the surface, to see the sky and breathe the fresh air. Wriothesley wouldn’t want to keep you trapped in the Fortress. “I’ve never seen you so pensive before, Duke!” A voice suddenly appeared besides Wriothesley, causing him to jerk out of his train of thought. He sat up straight, a little suddenly, as he quickly turned to notice the all too familiar nurse of the Fortress: Sigewinne. The Duke played off his thoughts with a chuckle, “Ah, yes, well, I was thinking about something, Sigewinne.” He would half-heartedly joke, as the nurse gave him an all too unamused look. ‘No shit’, was what he was sure she was telling him in her head, but he only responded with a cool snicker. “Well, the tea you ordered from Liyue arrived at the Fortress and I came wondering if you wanted some,” The offer hung in the air, and Wriothesley knew the nurse would tag on a remark. “But it seems like you may need to talk out some problems.” She wasn’t an expert on human emotions, but she was better than spilling his mind to an inmate, Wriothesley guessed… or maybe even you. A pensive hum left the Duke’s lips as Sigewinne walked over, a hop away from skipping, and settled her tray with tea onto his desk. Promptly, she would nestle herself properly into a chair on the other side of Wriothesley’s desk, hands resting over her stomach and a pleased smile on her face.

“Go on, Wriothesley! I’m open ears.” Chimed the Nurse. Though only playful sarcasm came from the Duke as he poured himself a cup of tea, “Hmm, talking about my emotions? That seems like such a fun topic.” He knew it was needed, if not wanted. Even more so when Sigewinne didn’t seem too pleased with his half-hearted answer; As she pouted her lips and let out an extensive huff; “As the nurse, I care for everyone in the Fortress and that includes you too, Duke! Please, don’t make my job any harder than it needs to be.” There was an earnest tone in her voice, and Wriothesley knew she was getting better in her studies.

Even more so when she shook her head after his moments of silence, “Your eyebrows are frowned and your eyes rest everywhere but me or,” Wriothesley’s eyes drifted to you when Sigewinne pointed you out. You had shifted in your sleep, now laying on your back. You were peaceful; It made his eyes soften. He remembered when you used to have trouble sleeping by yourself, never feeling safe enough… Now you were sleeping like nothing in the world could ever hurt you. Like those fears of the past were nothing but fears. And they were; Wriothesley will make sure of it.

Sigewinne’s eyes had drifted off to you too. She was silent as she surveyed the way you slept and then the way Wriothesley lingered his attention on you. “You’re still debating whether or not to tell her, huh?” “And where did you hear that?” There’s the cheeky Sigewinne that Wriothesley knew. Of course, he knew her more caring side as the Nurse but he had a hunch that she also knew about why he had been so “thoughtful” – to put it colorfully. Though Sigewinne would shake her head and smile, “You’re very obvious sometimes! I think even Miss Clorinde knows!” That wouldn’t be good. Not at all. “Does she now?” But Wriothesley had to remain cool, collected. Now, it wasn’t that Wriothesley was embarrassed for others to know of his crush on you – well, by this point, it’s lasted so long he was sure he could dub it love, but better safe than sorry if you didn’t return his feelings – but he was simply cautious about other inmates knowing. After all, you were still technically one of them, an inmate. Your sentencing had been for about three years, maybe four, but you never left. You had chosen to stay since the first day you came, technically giving you a life sentence on your own will. So, if the other inmates know about the two of you – or well Writoehsley’s feelings – it could put your life in danger. There was a tick of silence again, something Wriothesley was rather fond of sometimes… like in this case. Yet, his eyes did not miss Sigewinne standing up from her chair and striding over to where you rested on the couch. There was a careful, cautious, way she held her hand out as she checked you.

“She’s still asleep,” Sigewinne noted.

And Wriothesley hummed in response, “I couldn’t tell.” Where was Sigewinne going with this, Wriothesley’s eyes narrowed slightly, though they were not harsh.

“Maybe she’s dreaming about you, Duke!”

Wriothesley is a hard man to crack. He was the Duke of the Fortress, a peacekeeper among the convicted, and yet sometimes when he was with you he couldn’t help but be that ever so lenient. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to confess to you after Sigewinne had come skipping into his office late one day while you were in her Medical Bay. It wasn’t uncommon, of course, being in the Fortress there were few people to speak to you with the kindness Sigewinne does; And you two often had conversations, even nights where you would have quote-on-quote sleepovers. Yet, today you went due to a headache. And, no less than an hour later, Sigewinne came skipping into his office like she had won the lottery – and Wriothesley half-entertained such a ridiculous thought. “What’s the good news, Nurse Sigewinne?” Wriothesley played along with her bubbly demeanor; Enjoying the change of pace from his slow, meticulous work which dragged on for hours on end. He swore to himself when he was half way done, he would go check on you, yet he was only a ¼. Luckily, seemingly, the news had been brought to him. “Well, they’re doing a lot better! It only appeared to be a headache due to not drinking enough water, but that tends to be normal.” Sigewinne reported as she came to a halt beside Wriothesley’s desk. “But, she also spoke rather colorfully about you!"

“Oh?” Wriothesley’s curiosity peaked, though a voice also nagged him about respecting your privacy. “Is that a good thing, or perhaps a bad thing, Nurse Sigewinne?” He knew she wouldn’t be able to tell him much, as there still was patient confidentiality, even in the Fortress. But, by the way Sigewinne’s face beamed and the way her hands animatedly rested upon her hip, he was sure she was about to tell him to shoot his shot… once again. He thought it was enough she had gotten the others to bug him about it, while also still placing stickers upon his back, but he couldn’t stay angered, or even annoyed, at them for long. Or at all. “I can’t say much, but I say you have a very good chance of landing her, Mr. Wriothesley!” Sigewinne beamed, and Wriothesley swore her smile went ear to ear.

Wriothesley was a private man, as private as one can get for being the Duke of a prison, yet you can always tell how he felt about a person from his actions. He was, and is, a man of few words … he always had been since you two were teenagers. And you never failed to take notice of it. Especially when he first began to give you some favor. 

Of course, it was nothing too big, nor grand, when you were teenagers going onto young adults. It was small gestures that would brighten up your day ever so slightly more, like holding open the door for you or walking closer when a nasty group of inmates sent creepy looks your way. He had even gotten into a fight with one of them after they approached you. Wriothesley had walked away for a second, going to get you both your lunch, when he turned around to see the guy grabbing your arm. Seeing you wriggle and writhe under the man’s disgusting touch was more than enough for Wriothesley to send a nasty blow to the side of the guy’s head, which caused him to crack his head open on the floor below.  It had been one of the few complications he had gotten into while at the Fortress, and he never regretted it. At least, that’s what he constantly told you and you had to believe his word. But, that event had been the first time that you felt some sort of pang in your heart regarding the, now, Duke; And it surely wasn’t the last. Especially after you were sure that Wriothesley was sending signals your way constantly by his small actions that always made you feel safer, closer, to him.

Yet, you had always had your own reservations on confessing to the Duke; Mostly having to do with where you came from, why you had left, and who was currently looking for you. You didn’t want Wriothesley, no matter how many times he defended you and said he would punch someone’s lights out if they messed with you, to get hurt because of the people you used to know. So you always waited for him to confess… and then tell him the dangers. But, day by day you compiled more and more reasons as to why Wriothesley might love you, and many more reasons why you loved him back. For one, he was a complete gentleman; To that, while he tended to be a little short and cold, he very much made it apparent that you could tell him anything, or even just lean on him if you needed. When you two walked, sometimes his hand would rest on the small of your back rather than your waist, and he would open the doors for you when you entered a building. Then there was the glares to the inmates who tried to mess with you, which was a little less fun to deal with, but a comfort nonetheless, and the visits to the Medical Bay he’d personally take to check up on your well being. There was, of course, a lot more that Wriothesley did that always made you feel special, more than you could ever count in a lifetime. And you were sure if things were different in your life you would have confessed to him long ago about the feelings that continuously welled in your chest, like a rapid river bashing against a dam begging to be freed yet never feeling such freedom. Man, wasn’t that poetic? 

“Hey, we need to talk.” Wriothesley’s voice was like a net, catching your attention and bringing it to shore – bringing you back to the present moment and back to Wriothesley. You had been at lunch, having brought up your meal you bought with coupons up to Wriothesley’s office and was currently toying with it on his floor. You would usually be sitting on the couch, waiting for the Duke to spare some attention to you which he tended to grace you with more than others. (Seriously! You had watched Neuvillette have to sit and wait for about an hour or more to speak with the Duke as he finished up some paperwork. It was slightly painful). But, you decided to not test your luck that day and possibly stain Wriothesley’s couch with… whatever you were eating. Honestly, you were so lost in thought you had forgotten what they had served, and now looking at it, it was too much of a mess for your brain to piece together. “A talk? That’s never good,” The sly comment shortly dropped from your lips, a snicker across your face as you glanced up at the Duke. His arms were crossed in a somehow pensive and relaxed (you weren’t sure how that's feasible, but he made it work) fashion as he leaned back against his chair, having taken his eyes off of his work for the first time in a few hours. Unknown to you, he hadn’t been able to complete some of the papers that flooded his desk because his mind kept drifting back to you. You. God, you were so perfect in his eyes. Even if he logically knew that no one could be quote-on-quote perfect, he sometimes chose to ignore that fact for you. Only you, really. 

“Nah, I think you’ll like this one,” Wriothesley continued, a chuckle present upon his lips that gave his stubble some light. When was the last time he shaved? The thought crossed your mind. You didn’t mind it, of course, you always enjoyed his stubble, it made him look more handsome in your eyes. But, even so, his looks weren’t enough to evade your skeptical side glance and the cock of your eyebrow. Even if Wriothesley snickered, knowing you had been checking him out a little; After all, he sometimes purposely lets his stubble grow out for you. Wriothesley was a man of few words, and even sometimes his words tended to fail him. So, there was a brief moment that his eyes lingered onto yours, and yours lingered right back to his. A beat, maybe even longer, before he stood from his desk and strided over to where you sat on the floor, kneeling down to your height. And, being so close, you could almost see all the words that were swirling in his head in his eyes; The regrets yet also momentums that wanted to pour out, yet he kept locked inside, as he reached a hand out and wiped a smug of food from your cheek. To others, his face might have seemed cold or indifferent, but you could tell there was some sort of attentiveness in his eyes that gave him away. It always had. And, just like Wriothesley, your own eyes and body always tended to give you away to him. The way your eyes crinkled ever so more when you laughed at one of his poorly delivered jokes. The way you always entertained the joke of Sigewinne being your shared child, much to her dismay, and the way you always naturally floated to his presence when he was in a room.

“You’re a horrible liar, you know that, right?” Wriothesley would tease, as a crinkle appeared in the corner of his eye. You knew what he was talking about and it made your heart flip. Both in a good way and a bad way. You would feel guilty putting Wriothesley into the fire that you had forged, which burnt down everything you had ever known beforehand. And yet, you were unaware that Wriothesley was equally as revered as confessing to you due to the likeness that the Fortress might become your shared home. He didn’t want that life for you as much as you didn’t want your life for him. And yet, despite that, Wriothesley was shooting his shot, as despite all the uncertainties that clouded both of your minds, there will still always be a shared affection for one another that wouldn’t fade easily, if ever. So, you snorted and confessed, “You’re not much better yourself, Duke.” Despite your mind screaming at you differently.

And, it was strangely peaceful to get that heavy weight off your chest, even if it felt like your heart was being crushed all the same. Though, if you were able to weather your own struggles with anyone, you know it would be with Wriothesley – in turn, Wriothesley knew that if push came to shove, you’ll be there to lend him the extra strength to deal twice the blow. And so it always felt right, in your hearts, for you two to be together. Yet, why did that new found heavyweight only grow heavier?

Home | Masterlist

[nadvs]

Blurb where reader and Rafe are friends but they are secretly in love with each other and they go swimming in the lake during moonlight and they end up kissing

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

content warning drug and alcohol use

You always knew that there was more to Rafe Cameron than people thought.

He had a reputation for being reckless and arrogant, but there was something about him that made you think he wasn’t as simple as the gossip made him out to be.

The summer after high school graduation was when he finally got up the courage to speak to you. He’d seen you around school and at parties. It was hard not to notice you.

He’d spent most of senior year wondering how the hell to talk to you. And the longer he delayed approaching you, the more he psyched himself out.

Finally, one night, Rafe saw you standing alone and looking bored at a house party. He chugged the rest of his beer, crossed the room, and jokingly asked if you knew that parties are supposed to be fun.

You spent the rest of the night talking, your conversation flowing so effortlessly that before you knew it, the sun was coming up. Rafe wanted to kiss you, but you left so quickly that he lost his chance.

The next time you saw each other at a party, you both got so high that you decided to run out to the beach and lie in the sand under the stars. All you did was talk - about how fast life was going by, about your plans for the future, about what life beyond the island you both grew up on could be like.

Eventually, the conversation trickled to insecurities. Why the hell you were so easy to talk to, Rafe didn’t know, but he opened up about what he hated about himself. You did the same. And neither of you agreed with the negative things you had to say about yourselves.

He wanted to kiss you, but again, he couldn’t find the right opportunity. Later on, he even resorted to bringing up other girls to you just to see if you’d be jealous. You didn’t seem fazed at all.

He was obviously just a friend to you. The tightness in his chest once he realized this was more painful than he was prepared for.

Once Rafe started asking you for dating advice, it was clear he didn’t return your feelings. You pretended to be okay with it until you eventually were.

You dealt with it because your assumption was right; he wasn’t what everyone said he was. He had a depth to him that he hid behind layers of phony self-importance. If what you had with him was purely platonic, you’d take it.

In August, one of your mutual friends planned a getaway at their family’s lakehouse over one of the last weekends of the summer.

The finality of the season ending, the knowledge that everyone will soon be going their separate ways, is an unwelcome presence wedging its way into the humid air.

You’re sitting around the bonfire with everyone on Saturday night, wood crackling and crickets chirping over overlapping conversations.

After months of friendship, Rafe thought it’d get easier to accept your lack of feelings for him. But as he watches the flames cast shadows on your pretty face, he realizes he’d rather take the hit of your rejection than the agony of never knowing if you feel something, too.

Once your friends start to retire to their rooms, Rafe waits for an opportunity to get you alone. You’re at the bottom of the stone steps leading back up to the house when his warm hand cups yours.

“Let’s swim,” he says into the warm night air.

“Are you serious?” you laugh, looking up at the moon, a crescent in the black sky.

“Don’t tell me you forgot how to have fun again,” Rafe jeers, referencing the first thing he ever said to you.

“Rude,” you say, nudging his shoulder. “I know how to have fun.”

“Then come on.” He tilts his head towards the large lake behind him.

“God,” you sigh with a roll of your eyes. But you step past him, walking towards the water, glancing back at him. “What, were you bluffing or are we actually doing this, Cameron?”

Rafe smirks to himself and follows you.

You strip down to your bra and underwear and plunge into the cold water, swimming up to the surface and shuddering from the cold.

He’s standing on the dock, boxers only, hands on his hips as he looks down at you. It gives you a moment to take in his broad frame and taut muscles in the moonlight. Being friends with him is especially hard in these moments.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” he teases, dimples deep in his cheeks.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter, treading water. Rafe laughs and ruffles his hair. “Wuss.”

He is a wuss, but not for the reason you think. He’s been nothing but cowardly, keeping how he feels from you for so long.

Rafe dives into the frigid water. It’s a shock to his system as he bobs up beside you, his body breaking out in goosebumps.

“Fuck,” he shudders.

“It’s painful, right?” you say, matching his laughs. “What a stupid idea.”

Rafe gazes at you, eyes dropping to your bright smile.

He’s quiet for so long that you worry you hurt his feelings. You remember him telling you that he’s insecure about his intelligence. Your heart twists with pain.

“I’m messing with you,” you say. “Sorry. It wasn’t stupid. You’re not stupid.”

This - the opinion you have of him, the way you emphasize that a joke is just a joke after he gets quiet like this - is what made Rafe fall for you. Shit. This isn’t just a crush. He’s falling for you.

“Something’s off,” you say.

“Huh?” His heart is hammering.

“You haven’t insulted me back,” you reply. “You feeling okay?”

You put a hand on Rafe’s forehead, pretending to take his temperature, and the feeling makes his stomach flip. You retreat and break contact.

“What?” you laugh after he doesn’t respond. You gaze at the water droplets scattered over his handsome face as you rock together in the cold water.

“Remember when we got shit-faced on the beach?” he asks.

You think back how loudly the waves crashed on the shore that night as you lay in the sand with Rafe, gazing at his profile while you talked about anything and everything. It was your second time hanging out. And it was unforgettable.

“Yeah,” you say.

“I don’t…” Rafe looks to the side, eyeing the cabins on the far edge of the lake, yellow lights peeking through rectangular windows. “I don’t talk with anybody like that.”

Your throat suddenly goes dry. Rafe is not one to get touchy-feely. It must be the nostalgia of the summer ending that’s making him so sentimental.

“Me, neither,” you respond honestly.

“Be honest with me,” Rafe says. The sound of water ebbing as you float together hums beneath you.

“I always am.”

“Was there…” He breathes out a nervous chuckle. “Did you ever think we’d be more than friends?”

“What?” you say, unsure you heard him right.

Rafe gazes at you through heavy-lidded eyes. The shock in your tone sends a pang of disappointment through his body.

He realizes if he continues to wait for the right time to kiss you, it’ll never come. He can’t keep waiting.

Your heart thrums as he drifts closer to you, eyes darting to your mouth. He cups your cheek and you’re in disbelief that this is happening.

“I said,” he murmurs quietly, “did you think we’d be more than friends?”

“No,” you respond. He stills. “I mean - I hoped. But I didn’t think that you…”

“You hoped?” he says. The sanguinity in his deep voice is soft, but it’s there. You know it’s there.

You nod, your eyes locked on his.

“Say it,” he tells you.

“I hoped we’d be more,” you admit. “But you were…”

“What was I?” he asks, shifting closer, his nose nudging against yours. You realize your breaths are shallow.

“You were asking me about other girls, Rafe.” His lips are inches away from yours, the anticipation twisting inside of you.

He hates himself for playing games. He lost a whole summer with you because he was too gutless to risk rejection. And he refuses to waste any more time.

Rafe’s warm lips press against yours. His touch is so much gentler than you expected. But this is what Rafe does. He surprises you, again and again.

You part your lips, deepening the kiss, head numb from the sensation he’s giving you. You’ve imagined this, daydreamed about it. But you never thought it’d be a reality.

Every time you looked at him from across the room or laughed with him or shared innocent touches, he was longing for you, too. It makes your head spin.

When you pull apart, you stare with anticipative expressions, as if you’re expecting the other to say this was a mistake.

But neither of you do. You smile and he smiles back, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone.

“You were the girl I wanted,” he rasps.

“Were?” you say, unable to ignore the opportunity to mess with him.

Rafe huffs a laugh, his tongue jutting under his cheek.

“Are,” he corrects himself.

You take the initiative to kiss him this time and his heart buzzes. His friendship with you was a collection of hopeful maybes, but now he’s certain. He’s sure you feel the same way. And he’s not wasting another minute hiding his feelings for you.

[reidmotif]

Not-Friends with Benefits

Summary: Reader and Spencer have been hooking up with no strings attached just fine, until a singular bed threatens to change that.

Prompt: Reader and Spencer are JUST hooking up. Then, one bed. Forced to be more intimate by sleeping together, than actually sleeping together.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut/Angst (Happy Ending)

Content Warning: Reader POV, friends-with-benefits, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, he picks her up, heavy making-out, unprotected sex, Idiots in Love

Word Count: 7.1k

The first time I met Spencer Reid, I don’t think I really got him. 

It didn’t matter though, because in these moments where my hands are knotted in his hair and he’s pushing me up against the wall, kissing like a man starved, I understood everything about him perfectly. My hands went to wrap around his neck, pressing his body flush against mine. 

“Eager, Reid?” I ask, in between hungry kisses, a smirk lingering on my face. 

“Could say the same about you.” He replies, equally as cocky, his hands sliding to the backs of my thighs in an instant.

I yelped as he picked me up, my legs immediately wrapping around his waist. I could feel a deep kiss being pressed against my lips for my implicit understanding of the action, and registered the movement of his legs working away from the motel door that I had just been at, and towards the cheap bed in the middle of the room. He threw me down, and immediately caged me in between his arms, giving me another fervent, heated kiss. 

If you’d told me six months ago that I was not only sleeping with a coworker, but just sleeping with a coworker, I’d probably laugh in your face. If you’d added on and told me that the coworker I’d made that arrangement with was none other than Spencer Reid, I’d have probably keeled over with laughter. But here I am, being fucked in a cheap motel bed with his face buried in the crook of my shoulder, pressing wet hot kisses over the expanse of my skin. 

And fuck me, was he good at that. 

I could feel my moans reverberating around the room, as he removed himself from his place on my shoulder and placed a hand over my mouth, never once faltering with his deep, hard strokes into me. 

“Mm. Gotta stay quiet, right? Don’t want the team to know how much you like being fucked like a whore.” He taunted, looking at me with those goddamned hazel eyes that drove me insane with lust. 

I attempted to roll my eyes at him to show my displeasure at him for covering my mouth but at a particularly harder thrust than the others, they simply rolled into the back of my head and I screwed my eyes shut at the sensation, hearing him chuckling lowly at my reaction above me. 

“Like that?” He baited, and I could literally hear the smirk in his voice.

I also, however, could feel the twitch of his cock, and his impending release and simply nodded, opening my eyes and giving into his provocations. I was implicitly begging him to go faster and harder with a simple gaze, and thankfully, the genius understood. 

In a few moments, we were both unraveling in each other’s arms, Spencer’s thumb brushing over my clit to guarantee my release before his, and as soon as he caught wind of my shaking thighs and the blissful feeling of my climax around him, he shortly followed after, and I breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar warmth pooling inside my deepest point. 

He pulled out, sweaty and panting, moving to the other side of the bed and lying on his back. “You good?” He asked, as I slowly started to regain some semblance in my post-orgasmic state. 

“Mhm.” I nodded, completely fucked out. I turned over, starting to leave the bed. “I’m gonna go shower.” 

He nodded back, not questioning the lack of spoken word that was being passed between the two of us right after we’d just had sex. 

I hopped into the shitty motel shower, washing away the evidence of what we’d just done. The warm water allowed me to revel in my thoughts for a few minutes, my eyes closing as I felt the droplets hit my skin. 

Spencer and I didn’t have, by any standards, an “ideal” relationship. However, for our particular circumstances, the agreement we’d settled on worked completely fine. Pure sex, nothing else. No talking. No feelings.  Nothing that could lead to something beyond the physical pleasure we shared with each other after a long, hard day at work. 

The first time it’d happened, it was entirely unexpected behavior from the both of us. I’d come to his hotel room in search of a file I’d loaned him for the case we were working on. At this point, Spencer and I weren’t exactly what you’d call close friends, but we weren’t exactly just co-workers either. The trauma of each case presented to us and being subjected to the other for most of our time led to a strange bond of understanding and acceptance of the other. A relationship that was probably incomprehensible to outsiders, but made perfect sense to either of us.

Underneath that, however,  was an underlying tension neither of us could deny. I wasn’t dumb.  We were both young, attractive and single, and I couldn’t lie and say that I hadn’t, on occasion,  imagined his long fingers working relentlessly at my core, bringing me pleasure in a way mine couldn’t. I know he’d most likely fantasized about something in a similar context, given the way he’d stare at me just a split-second longer than he should have when I'd wear a lower-cut blouse, or a short skirt. His actions weren’t unnoticed, and it wasn’t like I didn’t want that either, but I’d always been exceedingly realistic with myself. We were both agents in the FBI, in the same unit. Besides the headaches we’d cause HR if we were to present ourselves as a couple, there were emotional boundaries we’d cross if we were to be romantically involved. Emotional boundaries I was simply uninterested in crossing at all with anyone at all, especially Spencer Reid.

That night I visited his room, it seemed (in retrospect) that both of our inhibitions were low. I watched him dig through his satchel on the floor, attempting to locate the file I’d come there for, and in a moment of weakness, I had watched those damned hands of his again. I couldn’t help it. His fingers were just so, so long. Even if he wasn’t so attractive, I think any person would be eager to have those inside them. Just from a physical standpoint, you know? When he looked up, his gaze caught me off guard and I couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful it’d feel to have him at his knees for me. He cocked an eyebrow as he rose from his position, now handing me the file. 

“You okay?” He asked, his arm stretching towards me as I went to intercept the file from him. “You look a bit.. warm.” He said, his voice quipping a bit at the last word. 

Fuck. 

“Fine, you know how these motels are.” I replied quickly, hoping to offer some logical explanation for why I was so flushed, other than the fact I’d just been imagining him fucking me. “Shitty aircon.” I added, hoping to not seem suspicious. 

My body seemed to give me away though, as when I went to meet his outstretched arm, some slip of my finger made it so the contents of the file tumbled out, leaving a mess of papers at our feet. We both instantly sunk to the floor, trying to gather them as quickly as we could. We were both bent at the knees fully focused on collecting the documents, unaware of our proximity until he handed the papers to me. I looked at his hands, then his eyes, and realized our faces were approximately five inches apart. I could see his gaze drift to my lips, then back to my eyes. 

“So, I’ll um. I’ll take the papers.”  I said, my voice almost a whisper, beginning to rise. 

“Yeah, you should.” He said, his voice restrained as we both got up together. 

As he handed the last bit of papers, his fingers brushed over mine and we both felt it. That jolt, that itch, just begging to be relieved. I looked up at him, his figure looming over me, and in an instant, something seemed to pass between us and his mouth was on mine, kissing me with overwhelming passion. I could feel my knees colliding with the foot of the bed as he guided me towards it, feeling him pushing me into the mattress. He’d asked feverishly if I’d wanted this, and I nodded eagerly. 

And that was that, and after we’d finished our act of spontaneity, still panting and breathing heavily, I could feel the regret seeping in. I’d slept with a coworker, friend .. whatever he was, I’d slept with him and couldn’t take that back. Flashes of awkward conversations came to mind, ones filled with ‘what-are-we’s’ and ‘it’s-not-you-it’s-me’ and in my anxious stupor, I blurted out, “I don’t want to be in a relationship with you.” I looked at him a little wide-eyed after my outburst, surprised at myself for saying it like that.  How stupid could I be? It was blunt, stupid, and definitely not something you said right after sex.  I waited for him to call me a cold, heartless bitch, or to yell at me to get out of his room, but to my relief, he didn’t. He agreed. 

“Wait, what?” I asked, unsure if I’d heard him right. 

“I’m not really looking for a relationship either.” He repeated, but then slowly added. “But I’d also be an idiot if I didn’t tell you that was one of the best hookups I’ve ever had.”  He looked at me, expectantly, as if I was meant to understand something from his words alone. 

I narrowed my eyes, biting my lip. “What are you saying?” 

Spencer turned to me, running a hand through his hair, made messy by my incessant pulling on it just a few minutes ago, breathing out.  “I’m saying we’re both detached and clearly want the same thing. An outlet.” He paused, and looked at me.  “And I mean, do you really want this to be a one-time thing?” He tacked on, cracking a bit of a smirk at that final remark. 

“I mean..” I started, then paused. “So, this would be just sex. No feelings on either of our ends, no ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ stuff, just .. sex.” I asked, trying to make sure I understood his intentions perfectly. 

“Yeah.” He replied, nodding. “Just sex. I mean that.” 

 I looked at him, and something passed through us once again, but this time it wasn’t lust. It was the unstated trust that we held between each other, that neither of us was going to violate the other’s wishes, and this was truly what the both of us wanted from the other. I nodded wordlessly, agreeing, and he cracked a stupid, boyish smile. 

“Really? You’re actually agreeing to this?” He said, incredulously. 

“What, you want me to fight you on it and leave?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You make a good point. There’s no use in denying ourselves a good time, especially if we’re so clear in what we want.” I said, reiterating what he’d said to me. 

“Alright then.” He said, nodding slowly. “In that case, and I hope you don’t take offense to this. You should probably leave my room before-” 

I was already getting off the bed, grabbing my clothes and flashing him a soft smirk to let him know that not only did I get the message, I was already planning on doing so long before he even opened his mouth. 

“Don’t worry. I know.” I said, slipping on my shorts and t-shirt that I’d previously been wearing. “There are rules to what we’re doing, and I think sleeping in the same bed would definitely violate those.” 

“Glad you understand.” Spencer replied, watching me from his place in the room. He awkwardly called out as I started to leave.  “So, uh. Take care?” 

I laughed at that. It was clear he had no idea what to say, and I opted to give him some grace in my reply.  “Yeah. Sure. You too.” I said, before cautiously approaching the door of his room, checking the hallway for any of our team members, and slipped out quietly without another word to him and into my own bed, the aforementioned file being forgotten as I fell asleep in my hotel room alone, feeling more than okay with the terms we’d come to.

We’d continued this regimen with no problem for the six months following that initial encounter. If there was one thing Reid and I excelled at (besides the sex), it was following the rules. We were careful to never cross any lines with each other. No innocent, lazy makeouts in hotel rooms, no whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears, no longing stares or subtle brushes when we were with the team, nothing that could break the bubble between us that could lead into any possible intimacy at all. This is what we wanted, and we made that abundantly clear to each other through our actions, or more accurately, our inactions with each other. 

Our ritual, however, seemed to be put on halt when Hotch came into the lobby of the motel we were staying at for a case, addressing our team as one. 

“It looks like this place is mostly booked, so we’re going to need a few of you to double up.” Hotch announced to the team.

I internally groaned, realizing that if everyone was paired up, there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to sneak to Spencer’s room, or vice versa. Whatever. I can go a night without sex from him. Derek and Hotch were an obvious choice when it came to sharing a room. The two of them were surprisingly neat, considering they packed lightly. Emily and JJ too. They’d been friends for much longer than I’d ever even been on the team, and it didn’t surprise me that they’d choose to room together. Everyone paired off quietly, leaving Rossi, myself, and Spencer. Rossi shot a look at the two of us, and shot me a particularly apologetic one. 

“I don’t mind you all that much, but I’m drawing the line at sleeping with the kid.” Rossi said, with an air of finality in his tone, indicating he’d end up being the one to get the one solo room amongst us. 

I gave a look to Spencer, shrugging. To the rest of our team, our bond seemed as normal as it could be. I never treated him differently than I did any of them, and even in a room full of skilled profilers, I doubt any of them could sense that it didn’t even cross my mind that Spencer and I could end up sharing a room. It already felt intimate. More intimate than I wanted. We had a strict rule about not falling asleep together in the same bed after sex, and even if there were going to be separate beds in our motel room, the idea of being able to watch him sleep, hear him breathe five feet away from me triggered a strange sensation at the pit of my stomach, something I could only chalk up to a bout of nerves since I was unsure on how to navigate the situation. 

As we approached the door, the two of us were a little stiff. I could tell he was probably thinking the same thing as me. I stopped right in front of the door, turning to look at him, and realized I’d gravely misjudged the distance we’d been walking apart, as my sudden halt nearly caused him to collide with me. 

“Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to catch you off guard there.” I said, quickly, placing my hands palm-up against my chest to avoid a head-on collision. He nearly tripped, but balanced himself before shooting me a confused look, wondering why we’d stopped just in front of the door. “I just..” I started to speak, and then paused, wondering how to phrase this. Meaningless hookups are what we excelled at. It was natural, it was easy- but somehow the idea of us sharing a hotel room just felt a bit .. much to me. I wanted to somehow abridge the idea of us maybe not having sex that night, but before I could even formulate my words, he interrupted me. 

“Look, (Y/N), it’s been a long day. How about we just go to bed tonight?” He said, looking right into my eyes, making the intentions behind his words incredibly clear. It’s like he’d read my mind, and I suppose in a way he had. We’d become so attuned to each other’s needs in the months we’d been having sex, a natural byproduct of how our time together was spent, and I think he could tell I was already nervous about the situation we’d found ourselves in. 

I nodded, gently. “Yeah. My thoughts exactly.” I gave him a small, reserved smile before taking my keycard and swiping it against the door. I  walked into the room, only to knit my brows in confusion at the sight laid out in front of me. 

“Aren’t there supposed to be two beds?” I asked, moving deeper into the room to look for the aforementioned second bed, instead of the singular king that stared us right in the face. 

He looked equally as confused, running a hand through his pretty curls. He instantly saw my discomfort, reading me like a book.  “Hey, look. It’s okay, I can take the floor.” He said, already starting to move away from the bed to look for a way to make a make-shift bed on the floor. 

I looked at him, rolling my eyes. “Reid, you have a bad knee. I should take the floor.” I reply, trying to get in his way, while flashing him a look of incredulousness, as if the idea of him taking the floor was absolutely ridiculous. 

He flashed me a similar look, shooting back his own response.  “Well, you can’t sleep unless it’s on a bed.” 

I looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know that?” I shot back, a bit confused how he knew that about me. He shrugged, looking at me as if it was the simplest thing to figure out. 

“You never sleep on the jet, like ever. Or the breakroom, or at your desk.” He says, looking at me. “Even if you’ve been up an unreasonable amount of time. I suspect it’s because you pretty much exclusively fall asleep in beds.” He finished off, looking a little too smug for his own good. “Am I right?”

I sigh. Profilers could be so fucking annoying sometimes. “Yeah, you are, but it isn’t a big deal.” I say, biting my lip. “We both can’t sleep on the same bed.” I reasoned, looking at him. 

He looks at me, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean..”

I immediately shook my head, crossing my arms. “Spencer, no.” 

He takes a breath. “We’re not having sex tonight.” He points out, reminding us that we weren’t technically breaking any of our rules by sleeping in the same bed tonight. “And we both know each other well. We’re both too stubborn to let the other sleep on the floor.” 

I pondered his words, knowing he was right. And his reasoning was sound too. And God, it was late and I could feel myself already drifting towards the king-sized bed that beckoned me towards it. 

“It is a big bed..” I reasoned out loud. 

“Exactly.” He said, nodding. He yawned, and the exhaustion was clear as day. “It’s been a long day and I’m ready to just crash, aren’t you?”  His voice clearly marked with the same tiredness I was feeling at that moment. 

I nod, already moving to my go-bag to change into something more comfortable. I suppose this was one perk of sleeping with Spencer Reid, I really didn’t  care if he saw me changing. The man had gone down on me more times I could count, I think the sight of my bra was probably one of the more tame things we’d end up sharing between us. He was about the same, unbuttoning his dress shirt in favor of a plain cotton t-shirt with no regard for what I’d see whilst he changed. We both naturally went to our own respective sides of the bed, looking up at each other before beginning to climb in. 

“So, I’ll see you in the morning?” He asks, beginning to pull the covers over his body. 

I nod. “Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.” I pause, before playfully adding, “stay on your side.” I flashed him a small smirk, which he returned with a coy, “Do you even have to ask?” 

I smiled at that, finding myself rolling my eyes fondly at him. “Night, Reid.” I say, turning my back away from him. 

“Sleep well, (Y/N).” He replies, shutting the room’s lamp, enveloping us with darkness and the way his final words hung in the air between us. I kept my eyes open for a moment, and couldn’t hear anything besides the sound of him breathing less than two feet away from me. His breathing was rhythmic and soothing. I don’t think I’d ever realized it up until this moment, but Reid’s presence simply had a way of making me feel safe, even outside of the context of having sex. He was always so good at responding to my sexual needs, that even in a situation that wasn’t related to that, some subconscious feeling inside of me reassured me that he’d keep me protected. The thought provided me a feeling of comfort and dread all at once, knowing that even just sharing a bed was somehow becoming more intimate than us having sex ever was. I shook my head, almost hoping to erase the thought from my head altogether. I closed my eyes more definitively, and slowly, I fell asleep to the sound of Reid’s light breathing, the sound lulling me to sleep like the sweetest lullaby. 

When I groggily came to in the morning, I quickly realized I was in an entirely different position that the one I’d fallen asleep in. When I’d closed my eyes, I was on the far-right side of the bed, curled away from Spencer, making sure to obey my own sentiment of staying on our respective sides. However, as of right now I found myself nestled into the man’s chest, an earthy and light musk permeating from him. My legs were entangled with his, and his arm had somehow found its way to lazily drape across my waist. My shirt had ridden up in the night, and his fingers touched the expanse of my bare skin, providing a warmth I never knew I could receive from him. 

I slowly moved away from him, careful not to disturb his sleeping figure so that our faces were an inch or two apart, and from this angle I could take in every pretty feature on his face. I watched the way his chest rose up and down in his sleep, and the straight peak of his nose. The way his eyelashes fanned out when his eyes were closed. His face looked softer when he slept, an entirely different sight than I was used to when it came to him. My memories of Spencer were filled with passion and lust, and until now I believed that was all he could make me feel. But at this moment? I could only recall the absolute tenderness in my heart, and the sensation of fondness blooming all throughout me for this man. 

I felt myself focusing on his lips, the way they parted in his sleep. They were a light shade of pink, and had a certain plumpness to them I’d never really noticed. When we kissed in the past, it was heated and rushed. Right now, though, I wanted to lazily kiss every inch of the skin, reveling in the slow movement of his lips against mine. I was so lost in my own fantasy, looking at his lips, that I didn’t even notice when the man stirred, until I saw the slight curve of a smile, causing me to look up at his eyes, which had been watching me for God knows how long. 

“Good morning.” He murmured, his voice deep from just waking up. 

God, did his morning voice have to be so attractive? 

“Reid!” I said, attempting to move away, but his hand that had been lazily draped over my waist gripped me a bit more firmly. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “Good morning. Um. How long have you been up?” I ask, biting my lip a bit nervously as I felt a blush creeping over my cheeks. 

“Long enough to know you make it a habit to stare at sleeping men you share beds with.” He says, his voice light, a small chuckle in his tone. 

I squeezed my eyes, visibly embarrassed. “Sorry, I woke up and realized we were in.. this position, and I didn’t know how to move without waking you up. I must’ve gotten in my own head.” I said, using a combination of half-truths to hopefully sound as convincing as possible. 

He watched me, his hazel eyes scanning over my face, and I could feel myself getting smaller under his gaze. 

“It’s alright.” He slowly responded, as if not to scare me. “I don’t mind someone watching me if it’s you.”  His free hand rubbed circles on my exposed waist, sending a chill up my spine. I took in his words. Nothing about our position was sexual, but somehow his innocent touch resonated on a deeper level than any physical intimacy we'd shared before. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, nodding. 

“I’m still sorry.” I responded, my voice just above a whisper.

“Don’t be.” He said in return, his gaze a little more gentle now. 

I watched him watch me, and could feel that little voice screaming at me to just move away. But I couldn’t. That familiar bloom of fondness came upon me, and I realized in this moment I was feeling a lot more than lust for this man, and it terrified me. I gave a straight smile, realizing if I didn’t move this instant, I was going to give into my desires and kiss him in a way I swore I never would. If I didn’t move, I’d kiss him like I’d loved him from the start. And in a war between my heart and head, I made the decision to firmly move away, moving his hand off my waist and rising from the bed. 

“I’ll see you with the rest of the team.” I say, quickly. He looked a bit surprised by my sudden movement, trying to grab my hand before I could leave and sat up in bed. 

“(Y/N), wait.” 

I stopped, allowing his hand to envelop my mine,  attempting to ignore the feeling of how wonderful it felt to just hold his hand like this. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to seem as normal as I could. 

“We’re..” He paused, and then narrowed his eyes. “We’re good, right?” He said, looking at me carefully. 

I responded almost immediately. “Yeah, of course we are.”  I said the words as confidently as I could manage, because, no, we were not good. I was starting to catch feelings for the coworker I’d been hooking up with for the past six months, of course I wasn’t okay. This was against every rule, every boundary I’d set for myself, and I could feel the panic seeping in. “Nothing’s changed.” I add, to assure him. 

He let go of my hand as I said that. “Right.” He responded, a little more detached this time before quirking his mouth up. “I guess I’ll see you with the rest of the team.” He said, mirroring my words. 

I nodded, biting my lip, before turning around to grab my clothes for that day, getting ready as quickly as I could manage, leaving Reid in the room without even saying goodbye. 

That entire day, I could feel Reid’s eyes on me, and I’d be a hypocrite if I said I didn’t stare at him when he wasn’t looking. I couldn’t stop replaying the events of the morning. For a moment, I could almost imagine his gaze mirroring the same fondness I’d felt for him, but I’d quickly try to rid myself of those thoughts. Not only was it delusional to imagine Reid actually gaining feelings for me after all this time, it was even more deranged to imagine a universe where we’d work as a couple. I’d always prided myself on being exceedingly pragmatic, so why was I imagining a reality where I could wake up next to Spencer Reid everyday? 

Throughout the day, I found myself increasingly frustrated about my situation with Spencer. The case we were working on required quite a bit of collaboration and desk-work, and I found myself flitting between my team members, exchanging information and files, and coming into contact with Reid more times than I’d hoped for that day. Every time I spoke to him, I could feel my heart in my throat, struggling to make eye contact for more than 3 seconds without deteriorating into a blush. I’d been fucking this man for six months, and this, this is what ruins me? 

It’s not like Spencer made it any easier. His gaze was laser-focused on me, almost purposely brushing our fingers together when we’d exchange files. We were breaking every rule we’d set for ourselves, and with every glance and touch, I felt myself yearning for something I knew I could never have. And it was driving me fucking crazy. 

It wasn’t until much later, where the team was wrapping up for the night, where I’d finally had enough. I had been reviewing the last of the files necessary for our case,  when Reid strided over to where I was. I didn’t turn back, but I could feel him watching me. Slowly, I could feel him creep over, to the point where my back was nearly flush to his chest. He leaned over, his warm breath tickling my neck as he said, “I’m heading to the room.” That damned voice of his. I took a breath, and could feel myself getting antsy. Had I always been this hyper aware of Spencer’s presence? Had we always been like this, and I’d never even realized it? 

I gritted out a curt response, “Fine.”

I knew it was unfair. I knew he wasn’t privy to what I was thinking or what I was feeling, but a small part of me couldn’t help but blame him. It was childish, but I’d said it anyway. He heard it and stepped away, knitting his eyebrows.  

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, retracting his position to be slightly away from me, but close enough that no one else could hear. 

“Not here. Not now.” I said, holding back any visible emotion on my face. 

He nodded, and ran a hand through his hair nodding. We packed our things and walked together to the hotel room, silent. He opened the door for me and I walked in, turning to him as he closed the door. 

“What.. what are you doing?” I ask, crossing my arms. “This.. you’re being weird!” I exclaim.

“I’m being weird?” Spencer asks, dumbfounded, whilst raising an eyebrow at me. “You wanna talk about ‘weird’, (Y/N)?” He says, using air quotes. “You’re the one that left like that this morning- and you were lying to me!” He says, raising his voice, especially at the last part. 

I felt a muscle in my jaw twitch as he said that, and I spoke, trying to cover up my deceivement from earlier that day. “What? No- I wasn’t lying-” 

He interrupted me. “(Y/N). I know you. I. Know. You.” He says, pointing at my chest and emphasizing each word. He continued, looking right into my eyes. “That means I know when you’re lying to me.” He asserted, challenging me as he stepped closer. 

I took a step back. He took a step closer. 

“You know what, Spencer.” I say, trying to manage a tone of finality, while creating as much space between us by raising my hands in between us. “I’ll take the floor tonight.” I swallowed a bit, looking for an opening I could use to move away from this situation, to end it before we got messy. Instead, he stood firm as I was left watching his face morph into one of confusion and hurt. 

“Stop doing that!” He exclaims. “Stop.. stop pretending! I see the way you look at me!” He exclaims, seemingly getting defensive. 

I furrowed my brows. He was not about to pretend he was guiltless in the situation we’d found ourselves in. 

“And I see the way you look at me!” I yell back, not backing down. “So, what’s your point?” 

“God, you just never get it, do you?!” He bursts out, and I can’t even begin to discern the expression on his face. He looked wild, running his hands through his hair once more. 

“What don’t I get, Reid?!” I reply, breathing harder now as my voice rises, and I get closer to him. “Is this too much for you?!” I say, knitting my brows. “Do you want to stop, is that what you’re saying? Because I’ll have you know I am more than okay with shutting this thing we have-” 

Before I can finish my sentence, he grabs my face with both hands, pulling me towards him and pressing me into a knee-weakening kiss. But instead of being heated and rushed, it’s sweet. It’s languid. Like we had all the time in the world to kiss like this. His lips moved slowly against mine, savoring it in a way I knew he never had before. He pulled away slowly, his lips red, and his hands still firmly on either side of my face. 

“I don’t want to stop.” He says, breathless. “I don’t wanna get rid of a good thing just because we’re scared.” 

I looked at him, my face riddled with confusion as he looked at me, and I could finally see the fondness I’d felt that morning reflected in his expression at that moment. 

“But we said-” I began. 

“I don’t care what we said.” He shoots back. “And I don’t think you really care either.” He adds on, softly. “I think you’re scared of being hurt, and I won’t pretend like I wasn’t either.” 

My eyebrows scrunch as I look up at him, breathing out through my nose. “Why now then?” I ask, softly, my lips parting slightly. “What changed?” 

He sighed, caressing the smooth skin of my cheek, smiling slightly at me. “I’ve felt it before.” He murmurs. “When I see you work, when I see you laugh.”  He takes a breath. “But I think I felt it the most when I woke up and watched you watching me.”

 He gently lifts my chin, and I look up at him with possibly the most love-struck gaze I’d ever managed in my life. He continued, looking into my eyes. “And at that point, I couldn’t ignore it. I don’t want to go another second pretending what I feel for you isn’t real, or something we need to bury.” He fixed his eyes on me, looking at me with a new tenderness. 

I look up at him, biting my lip, holding back a smile. He sees the joy in my eyes, and I can tell he’s doing the same.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, his voice a whisper. 

I nod, already moving towards him. 

And he’s there again, kissing me slowly and affectionately, his hands wrapping into my hair, and pulling him closer to me. My hands wrapped around his neck, and I kissed him back in the same leisurely fashion. I could see lifetimes ahead of us. Lifetimes of happiness, of kisses like these, where we could take our time because for once, we had it. 

He guided me gently to the bed, and placed himself over me. It felt so different from all the times we’d shared our lust together. It felt like we were starting something entirely new. He kissed my lips, then my cheek, and then my neck. He knew my body as well as his own, finding the spot right below my ear that consistently made me moan his name. He grinned as he heard the noise escape my parted lips, rising to move the hair out of my face. He kissed my lips again, mumbling against them. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says, leaning closer and I smile softly at the words.

 I bring him down for another kiss, and this time around, he’s slowly removing the buttons off my work shirt. With every button he removes, he kisses the newly exposed skin. I can feel his lips tickling the swell of my breasts, my sternum, and my stomach, eventually removing all the buttons and shrugging off the shirt. He then goes back all the way to kiss every place his lips hadn’t touched, and then some. It felt like an act of worship, of devotion. As if he was remembering me all over again, as if he couldn’t get enough of it.

He undid the buttons of my jeans, whispering sweet nothings all the way, and a pleasurable sigh escaped my lips, feeling his lips trail near my inner thigh. He pulled down my underwear, taking a breath in as he saw the glistening folds. He situated himself between my thighs, looking up at me. 

“Can I?” He asked, clearly eager. I found it adorable he asked, as if he could sense the newness in what we were doing as well. I nodded, and brought my free hand to his curls, the other laying on the sheets. I could feel his smile as he brought himself closer to my heat, and gave a long lap of his tongue against me. I moaned out at the feeling, and it seemed to spur him on. He hooked his hands beneath my thighs, and began to delve into the hot flesh like a man starved. I breathed out his name like a prayer. His tongue darted out and licked harshly against my clit, and I could feel myself devolving. Even in this moment of vulnerability, I trusted him enough to fall apart, knowing he’d put me back together, and that’s exactly what I did. With another movement of his tongue, I reached my peak, moaning his name as  my thighs nearly closed around his head, his strong arms holding me open. 

He smiled breathlessly, my arousal coating his chin as he leaned over to kiss me one more time. As he did so, I moved my arms to start undoing his belt, and to free his cock from his briefs, the tip already leaking pre-cum. I guided him to my wet heat, pushing him in slowly. I moaned at the fullness and could feel myself enter a stage of total bliss.

He began to thrust into me, slowly at first, but increased the pace. He cupped my cheek, jutting his hips against me like a man possessed. 

“You feel so fucking good around me, you know that?” He cooed,  looking down at me. “So perfect for me. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” 

I smiled, dazed at the words, feeling myself rapidly approach my peak as he pounded into me, and I could feel the same for him. I opened my eyes, looking up at him with an expression that was full of lust and love all at once. “You’re all… I ever wanted .. too'' I moaned, feeling him start to go even faster at my words. 

“Yeah?” He said, grinning again. “Then take it. Take everything I’m giving you.” He moved his fingers to begin circling around my clit, and moments later I was falling apart all over again. I came with a loud moan of his name, convulsing as he continued to thrust into me. 

“Just like that, pretty girl.” He said, smirking. “Come all over my cock.” 

I moaned at his words, squeezing my eyes shut as I felt him move faster against me, bottoming out inside me before I felt the stuttering of his own hips, followed by a warmth at my deepest point. He moaned at the feeling,  pulling out afterwards and leaving me so empty. The feeling didn’t last long though, as he moved over next to me on the bed, pulling me close and kissing my forehead. 

“You’re so amazing, you know that?” Spencer says, stroking my hair. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head whispering, “You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” 

I knew at that moment he wasn’t talking about the sex. We’d done that before. But this? This was different, and it was god-awful terrifying, but I think I could forget about the fear when Spencer was playing with my hair, treating me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever touched in his entire life. I nestled into his arms, allowing the warmth to envelope me. 

“You know you have to get up soon, right?” Reid muses, playfully.  “Peeing after sex, and all that.” 

“I know.” I murmur into the bare skin of his chest, sighing. “Just let me stay here a little longer.” I say, hoping he’d give in and just let me relax on him. 

“Mm.” He replies, and I could feel the vibration of his lips from where I was. “There are some words I never thought I’d hear from you.” He answered, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.

I playfully hit his shoulder, laughing as I pretended to move away in mock offense, but he wouldn’t even allow that, pulling me even closer.

“Stay.” He whispers. “You feel nice.” And so I did, pressing myself against him and breathing in his scent. 

He felt like a new person to me, and even now, I was absolutely insatiable for him. It’d never felt like this before, to feel so safe and loved for. We’d done that. We’d created that love for each other. 

I recalled a quote I’d seen a lifetime ago, smiling at my own thoughts.

“Do all lovers feel like they’re inventing something?” 

With Spencer, I think I truly was. 

aa! second fic. this one was long. i hope you all liked it. reblogs, likes, comments are all gladly accepted. my reqs are also open so! go nuts. thank you for reading :3

[thema-nr-2]

im so sorry if i start spamming you with requests 💔💔 anywaays dom 2010 bill maybe?? with like an f reader you can ddcide like the plot n shit i dont wanna control you 🙏🙏

just you wait til i get you home - b.k

✮ synopsis - you and bill are at dinner with your friends and you take the time to tease him under the table. Pissed off, bill makes you suck him off in the bathroom.

✮ genre - smut

✮ word count - 2.2k

✮ content warning - nsfw, fem!sub!reader, dom!2010!bill, semi public freakiness 👅, slight choking if you squint, praise, oral (m!receiving) cum swallowing idfk, gagging, teasing, bills mad pissed at y/n 😞, use of pet names, let me know if i missed anything

✮ 1 request out of 3 done, thank fuck… 2 more fics coming soon guys trust 😭 (ive already started the 2nd one) bonus points if anyone can recognise the lyrics in the tittle

“Why can’t we just stay inside tonight, Bill? I don’t wanna go out!” You whined as you held up your dress in front of the mirror, debating whether or not to put it on.

“As much as I’d love to, schatz, we were invited to this dinner.” Bill started. “We can’t say no just because we don’t feel like it. That’s not fair on our friends.” Blah blah blah..

“But-“

“No buts, Y/N!”

You slumped down on the edge of the bed and watched as your boyfriend buttoned his shirt up. He didn’t look too keen on going out to dinner either. Reluctantly, you slid out of your comfy pyjamas and put on the dress that you had been so eager to wear. Just not tonight. You admired yourself in the mirror for a minute, checking yourself out. It really was a beautiful dress. And Bill had picked it out just for you. Sleek, black, silk hugged your figure perfectly. It was practically tailored for you. You were under the idea that you could easily distract Bill with just a few touches. And when you looked like that? Surely…

“Wouldn’t it be so much easier if we just… called in sick?“ You began, speaking in a slow tone. You walk up behind Bill, wrapping your arms around his waist and fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. You started to unbutton them one by one, but unfortunately, Bill wasn’t in the mood to put up with your antics as he pushed your hands right off him.

“Easier, maybe. But that doesn’t mean it’s right. Now hurry up and finish getting ready. We need to be there by 6.”

—

You knew it was risky. A dangerous game to be playing, yet you were willing to risk it all just for the result. But you knew it was over for you once you met Bill's gaze and saw that look his eyes. A look that either said “I’m gonna kill you when we get home” or “I’m gonna ruin you when we get home”. Nonetheless, the thrill had you soaked already.

Bill’s breath hitched in his throat as he felt your hand caress his thigh underneath the table, getting recklessly close to his crotch. He shot you a subtle glare, which only landed him a proud smile from you. Fortunately for him, nobody noticed. Yet. It was your mission to get him as worked up as possible, to the point where he couldn’t contain it and had to get up and leave. (And obviously take you with him)

You spent the evening making pointless conversation with your work friends, small talk about work and how life was going. Really nothing interesting, and the lack of stimuli was driving you insane. You had let Bill eat and talk in peace for about an hour and a half before you began to feel bored again. Both of you had finished your meals so it’s not like you had anything else to do besides tease him again. As you two let out forced laughs at your friend’s unfunny jokes, you subtly placed your hand on his thigh again, rubbing it gently. Bill didn’t seem to take too much notice of it, which was good. It meant you could get away with more, easier. You smirked to yourself as your hand started to palm him through his tight jeans, this was where Bill finally started to notice what you were up to. He turned to you, not with an angry expression but with a confused one. You felt as he started to get hard in your hands, and you continued to palm him, ever so subtly slipping your hand underneath his jeans and rubbing his now slightly clothed dick. Bill let out a cough to cover up the moan he almost let slip, a bit of an unrealistic one unfortunately.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” A friend asked.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” He said bluntly, never once taking his eyes off you. You simply giggled and continued to rub him over his boxers under the table. Beads of sweat started to form on his brow as it began harder and harder to hide what was going on. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and covered his mouth, removing himself from the conversation as best he could. Before long, it was too difficult to stay quiet, he had let you get away with too much. Out of nowhere, Bill pulled your hand out of his pants, and stood up.

“I’m not feeling too well, I’m gonna head to the bathroom…” He said, somewhat nonchalantly. Your friends gave him a weird look of disbelief, then they turned to you with the same expression. You watched as Bill walked away. He looked behind him and made direct eye contact with you. Though he didn’t say anything, you could tell he wanted to follow him. And that there’d be bigger problems if you didn’t.

“Uh, I’m gonna go check on him..” You said nervously as you excused yourself from your seat. Your heart was racing as you caught up to Bill, who hadn’t yet entered the bathroom. As soon as you got close enough to him, he seized your wrist tightly and dragged you into a stall, locking the door behind him. Thankfully nobody was in the bathroom at the same time as you guys. Once the door was locked, Bill slammed you up against the bathroom stall door, pinning your hands to each side of your head as his lips attached themselves to your neck. You let out a gasp of pleasure as he began to suck harshly on the sensitive part of your neck. After a minute, he pulled away, admiring the hickies he had left.

“What’s got you so worked up, huh?” You asked sarcastically.

“You think you’re fuckin funny? So fuckin clever?” Bill said, his pent up anger clear in his tone

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You batted your eyelashes innocently at him, hoping to gain some sort of ease.

Bill’s eyes narrowed at you as his hand moved up to wrap gently around your throat. “Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N.” He whispered, his fingers tightening around your throat the more he talked. “You think teasing me back there in front of our friends, and total strangers was funny? Is this all because I wouldn’t let us stay home tonight? I nearly fucking blew it thanks to you.”

Bill pressed his body against you as you tried to squirm free of his grasp. “Stop struggling, slut. You wanted this.” He growled under his breath as he held you firmly in place. Once you had stopped moving, you looked at the floor anxiously, the regret from teasing him already setting in. Bill grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. “On your knees. Now.” He ordered. You immediately complied, not wanting to piss him off any more. Bill smirked proudly as he watched you sink to your knees in front of him. You wasted no time to undo his belt and pull his jeans down along with his boxers, where you could see stains of precum. Part of you was rather pleased with how your teasing really did a number on him. Even though you hadn’t done much. You took his cock in your hands, gently kissing the tip while pumping him ever so slightly.

“Think about teasing me for another minute and I swear you’ll regret it.” His words sent shivers down your spine. You trembled beneath him as you finally took him into your mouth, gaining a guttural moan from Bill. He leaned against the stall door, tilting his head back. “Mmm, that’s it, baby. Good girl..” He groaned.

You bobbed your head up and down his dick, slowly building a steady pace. But it seemed like Bill wasn’t having it. He grabbed a fistfull of your hair, turning it into a makeshift ponytail for him to pull your head down. You gagged as you felt his tip reach the back of your throat, and his balls hit your chin slightly. You rested your hands on Bill’s thighs for support, dragging your nails down his pale skin. Even after deepthroating him, Bill didn’t let you go. He kept your hair gripped firmly in his fist, controlling your rhythm completely. You let out a muffled whine as you tried to come up for air, which only gained you a scowl from the man looking down at you.

“Who said you could stop, huh?” He snapped. He raised his eyebrow, waiting for your pathetic response.

“I just-” You stuttered as you began to speak, however you were swiftly cut off by Bill forcing your head back down onto his throbbing dick. It caught you by such surprise, you felt tears piercing the corners of your eyes.

“You’re crying now? I thought you could take it. Aren’t you my good girl?” He queried, raising his eyebrow. You nodded rapidly as you moved your head along with the rhythm Bill had forced upon you. He moaned out soft praises as he felt you swirl your tongue around him, every now and then grazing it over his slit. You felt him twitch in your mouth, his orgasm catching up to him. “Scheiße, liebe..” Bill felt his knees begin to weaken as he got closer. He savoured every second of your warm mouth around his cock, savoured every muffled sob from you, every choked moan.

Tears fell down your cheeks, not only from how much you were trying not to gag, (and failing) but from now hard Bill was pulling on your hair. Your knees began to ache from the cold, hard, bathroom floor. They’d surely be bruised the next morning. And you were sure the floor had torn a small hole in one of your knee high socks. Which was a shame, they were quite pretty.

“Fuck, gonna cum, baby…” Bill moaned, barely getting his words out. “And you better fucking swallow…” You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand at his demand. He was so hot when he was like this. Dominant and commanding. You wished he would be like this more often, even if it meant week long aches in your throat, legs, or back. Bill threw his head back with one final, loud moan as he released his hot cum down your throat. You whined, doing your best not to let a single drop waste. You adored his taste. You swallowed as much of him as you could. After you pulled off his dick, you continued to lick his slit, gathering the rest of his cum. Once you were done you looked up to see your boyfriend's expression of approval.

Bill smiled warmly as he gave you a light pat on the head. “Atta girl.” He praised. “You did so well for me, took my dick so fuckin good.”

You panted heavily, taking in as much air as you could. Bill’s taste lingered in the back of your throat and on your tongue, the last thing you were about to do was complain about that.

Bill reached out a hand to help pull you up. He looked down at your knees and frowned. You were confused about what he seemed so sad about, until you looked down yourself to see the very prominent tear in your right sock. Guess you were right.

“And they were the ones you bought me, too…” You grimaced.

“It’s okay, schatzi, I’ll buy you a new pair. Or you can keep wearing them to remind yourself of what a slut you were for me tonight.” He smirked.

You blushed profusely at his comment, somewhat enjoying that idea.

“Do you think our friends are gonna be suspicious when we go back out…” You reluctantly asked.

Bill sighed, remembering what they were doing in a public bathroom in the first place. He scratched the back of his neck in disappointment. “Yeah, most likely. You got an excuse?”

“To make up for your flushed face and my bruised knees? Not a clue.”

He giggled. Bill led you out of the stall, making sure nobody was lurking. You had a glance at yourself in the mirror, and after seeing the state of disarray your hair was in and about $60 worth of makeup smudged across your face from where you had cried, you realised you two were both definitely fucked.

AHHH i’m sorry this was so ass i’m not used to writing for sub reader 🤧 hopefully it wasn’t gut wrenchingly bad though!! i’m so sorry to keep people who have requested waiting but i’m juggling a lot right now so i haven’t had the time or motivation to do anything productive in the last month 😝😝

[is-the-sky-blue]

WHY DIDN'T YOU NOTICE: GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, satosugu x reader, public sex (no one gets caught), handjob, oral (m receiving), praise, penetration (only during the bonus)

You didn't notice it at first.

You sat perched in a little oak chair, the plump cushion comfortable as you leaned back, listening to your friends chatter, the long tablecloth draped over the wooden table spilling to the floor in front of your legs and you slipped your toes beneath it, the fabric cold against your exposed ankles, feet dressed in pretty pink heels as your manicured nails, a present from your obnoxiously wealthy boyfriend, toyed with the sparkling silverware.

Today was a day of fun.

The pendant lights hanging above you casted a warm glow over your group of friends as the atmosphere was alight with laughter, the consistent hum of conversation never ending as it continued to flow languidly, shifting from one topic to another as you all cracked joke after joke.

You honed in on the many different snippets of talk happening around you, listening as Shoko whined, leisurely sipping on wine, that stained her already lipstick painted lips, red as she complained about all the nuisances coming in with what she claimed to be minor injuries, "They can just slap a band aid on it and call it a day," she complained, holding the stem of her glass tight between her fingers as she went for yet another swig.

"I don't think putting a band aid on a broken arm will just magically heal it," Utahime laughed incredulously, and you had to stifle a giggle as Ieiri furrowed her brows, drunken lips pulling into a pout.

"You are supposed to be on my side!"  

You didn't notice it as you watched Haibara elbow Nanami, watching as the blond man sighed as the dark haired man merely laughed.

"Come on lighten up a little," he grinned, "it's not every day we can all hang out!"

"Yeah Nanami," you tease, the said man merely closing his eyes, pinching the corners with his fingers, he really didn't get paid enough to hang around with fools like you.

Your table was roaring with laughter and idle chatter but quickly what you did notice was how the overeager voice of your most endearingly obnoxious partner, Satoru, was yet to be heard. It was strange, he was always one to butt in on any and all conversations with his unasked for opinion.

You turn your attention to in front of you where both your boyfriends sit contently, backs against the wall as they sat on the side of the booth with the couch, much to your dismay. As you faced them Suguru only offered you a loving smile, his hair framing his face delicately and you had to admire your handiwork as before you left the house you finally managed to convince Suguru to fix the bun he half-assedly threw his hair in. Despite wanting to admire your lover your real concern lied with Satoru.

 You cocked a confused brow at him, "You okay Toru?" you ask, trying to figure out what's wrong as despite his lips being curled in a grin it didn't hold as much shit eating coyness as usual, it was as though he was trying to paint an image on his face to show that he was fine, but you've stared at his teasing smiles enough throughout the years to know when he was faking one.

"I-" he chokes out before biting his tongue and you began to grow more concerned, "m' fine," he slurred together, was he drunk? He couldn't be... could he, he doesn't even like alcohol.

"Are you sure love?" you question, reaching for his hand that was pressed in a tight fist, causing his knuckles to turn white but as you lay a comforting touch he jerked away. "Satoru?" you say again, growing slightly anxious as he began to now reach for you, gripping your offered hand, fingers digging into your palm as he grit his teeth. His face was oddly flushed. He has to be drunk, but that didn't make sense, he doesn't even have a wine glass on him, was he drinking Suguru's?

"He's alright baby," the black haired man finally spoke up, you weren't worried about his lack of remarks in the group chatter, he was always one who liked to listen and offer up a random snappy quip that usually sent the table howling, but the glint in his eyes had got you feeling suspicious.

"Uhuh," you bite your lip, tasting the cherry lip gloss that your sweets loving boyfriend always begged you to wear, trying to see through the man afore you who had his glasses beginning to slip down the bridge of his nose but made no move to adjust them. "Are you feeling overwhelmed Satoru," you question, the clammy skin of him palms pressing against yours as he tightly interlocked your fingers, but instead of an answer your query only seemed to spark a certain smugness to alight in Suguru.

"Mmm are you feeling overwhelmed Sa, to, ru" he sang mockingly, leaning into the snowy haired boy's ear as he broke apart the syllables of his name and you could only feel the man clutch your hand tighter, his facial expressions not betraying him but the bead of sweat that formed on his forehead, and the quiet curse he mumbled had the dots connecting in your brain.

"Seriously," you gape, running a soothing hand over the man's knuckles as you stared utterly shocked at Suguru.

"What?" he mused, shit eating grin that usually planted on Satoru's lips now mirrored on his, and you could finally see all the signs.

Satoru being awfully quiet, the lacking coyness in his demeanor, his slurred words, his blushed cheeks, his tight grip on your hands and the out of pocket teasing cockiness exuding from Suguru.

"Here," you hissed in disbelief and you extended your foot under the table, knocking Satoru's spread ones and while he was one to man spread like a lunatic you could feel the muscles in his legs spasm.

"Whatever do you mean," the dark haired man grinned.

"I think you know."

"I don't think I do." 

You rubbed a comforting foot over Satoru's calf as you brought a gentle kiss to his knuckles, trying to ease his suffering inflicted by the lunatic sitting next to him. "Where's my kiss," Suguru smiles and you only send him a glare, taking note of how only one of his hands were present atop the table, the hand furthest from Satoru.

You watched as a muscle pinched in your white haired partner's forehead, his lips pursing tightly together to keep any sound from escaping his mouth. "You don't get one," you spit, watching as his lips fall into a half-hearted pout.

"So cruel."

"Says you," and you are careful to keep your voice low, despite everyone being borderline drunk and tipsy, you didn't really want to deal with anyone figuring out that your boyfriend was giving your other boyfriend a hand job under the table, your bonds may be close with your friends but they weren't that strong.

"I-" a quiet whisper of a sob, "mm," he hums instead, his voice weak and shaky as Suguru continues his relentless motions, "gonna-" he whimpers and you hear the perpetrator tut at him, tsking as though Satoru was the one misbehaving.

"If you do it now everyone is gonna notice," you can hear Suguru chide, chuckling at how Satoru visibly deflates, muscles straining and behind his glasses you spot a wet sheen threatening to break over his eyes.

"You need to stop," you whisper and the black haired man only coos. 

"You can't really be asking me to leave him like this," he feigns a pitying gasp, leg lifting yours and you could feel yourself brush against Satoru's rigidly hard weeping member, a slick sheen of pre-cum staining your skin and you see Satoru bite back a moan, leaning closer into Suguru's shoulder, his head shaking.

To anyone else it'd look like Satoru was being his normal clingy self, shoving himself into Suguru's space and whining about something mundane as usual. The look on Satoru's face, while you would call it desperate, others wouldn't be able to tell otherwise and you had to commend the man on having such good control over his facial reactions.

"Pl-please I can't, I need to, need to," he started to beg.

"I want to but our little princess won't let me," and he passes the mean role onto you as he stares at you as though you were the one putting your submissive lover into such a sorry state.

His pretty pink lips jutted into a pout, nose crinkling as his hands pawed at yours, clinging to you tighter. "Please," he whined, desperate and pathetic and you swore you could see the tears begin to form, "P-please, please, please," he recited like a mantra, voice high pitched and shaky as he forced himself to remain quiet. "I-I'll d-do whatever ya want, please baby," he dug his nails into your hand and your captive leg brushing against him could feel as tiny blobs slipped down his shaft, wetting your flesh, you could feel Suguru's knuckles as he stroked at a menacing pace and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together, your mouth suddenly dry as you stared into his despair filled eyes, pleading for relief.

"I- Satoru," you tried to chastise but you felt too sorry for him to really hold any anger, "take him to the bathroom," you try, conflicted eyes shifting to your dark haired partner and you could hear Suguru tsk.

"You think nobody is going to see our little baby boy's problem," he says condescendingly and you can tell from where you sat Suguru placed a taunting squeeze on your writhing angel.

"P-Please," he hiccupped quietly into his partner's shoulder, staring at you wide eyed, those big blue irises shaking with need and you left out a sigh of exasperation. These two were going to be the death of you.

Carefully you pulled your leg away and the look on Satoru's face had your heart melting with pity as you slipped your hand from his grasp, ignoring his sobbing plea as you reached for a piece of cutlery, carefully toying with it, the prongs of the fork pricking the tip of your finger before you set it down dangerously close to the edge of the table.

You could hear Suguru coo sweet nothings into his white hair as you 'accidentally' bonked your elbow into the edge of the fork, causing it to clatter to the floor. 

"Shit," you murmur as though you had inconvenienced yourself, heel sliding against the tile as you tried to pull the fork closer to you so you could lean down and pick it up, only for you to once again, 'accidentally' kick it further under the table. "Oops," you laugh so fakely that if your friends weren't nearly 5 bottles deep in alcohol they'd surely call you out on your bluff. You could only hear Shoko murmur a slight, "oh no," before returning to her glass.

You turn to face the two boys once more and the smug grin on Suguru's face had you sticking your tongue out at him before you slipped from your chair and kneeled to the floor, pulling yourself beneath the table cloth as you ducked your head underneath the table, carefully crawling forward as you patted around, pretending to search for your abandoned fork as you eyed the sinful sight in front of you.

Merely a breath away he stood throbbing, beads drooling from his tip in tiny rivulets, catching at his tense balls that strained in pain. His crying head red and needy, the sheen coating his length shimmering beneath the light that ever so slightly crept in from where Suguru slipped in his hand, thick fingers fisting tightly, sliding up and down as Satoru's dick jumped in his grasp. Satoru's long legs, fidgeting and tensing, were spread wide enough to let you slip between them, and carefully you blew a gentle gust over his hanging balls, listening to the schlick, schlick, schlick, of his pre-cum dragging across his cock from Suguru's unrelenting strokes, listening to the very quiet whine that had Satoru's hips squirming.

Leaning forward you press a tender kiss to his sticky tip, feeling your lip gloss smear with his essence as you extend your tongue, kitten licking the small droplets that formed on the end incessantly, the salty liquid coating the inside of your mouth. Suguru held him steady, angling his springing dick, that wanted to jut up and hug his chiseled torso, forward so you could easily capture him in your mouth, carefully letting him slip between your lips.

You watched as one of the hands he had gripping the booth couch snaked forward, aiming for your hair to pull you further down his length and you harshly swat it away, you still had to come out from under this table looking like you were searching for your fork, not sucking off your boyfriend's throbbing cock. Instead you grabbed his hand and laced your fingers, resting it atop his knee as you used your other hand to smack his inner thigh as punishment and you could feel him jump in your mouth as you captured him further.

If you truly wanted to be mean, and if this was happening in any other place that wasn't public, you would've pulled off his dick and wait until he begged you with apologies, but you were feeling quite nice and Suguru was already tormenting him enough.

Loosening your throat you let yourself slip down, bracing yourself on his thighs as you pushed your weight onto your knees, that would bruise in the morning, circling him with your tongue as Suguru moved his fist, groping his balls as he let your mouth squeeze the final pumps out of him.

The cherry lip gloss you wore coated his skin as you bobbed your head, squeezing his hand in yours as you carefully swatted at Suguru's knee, 'let him cum already'.

There was a heavy breath of silence as you continued your suckling, chest thumping in anticipation until you could barely hear the words, "cum," echo down from above you. Not even a beat later thick white streams poured down your throat in salty, bitter, but somehow slightly sweet spurts. Carefully you drank it all up, focusing on not spilling even a drop, not wanting to leave a single spec of evidence of your little adventure beneath this table for anyone to find. As you licked it up, tasting the very last squirms trickle into your mouth, you swallowed, feeling him grow limp as you pulled off with a satisfying pop.

Licking your lips, you carefully lapped up the final juices that clung to the underside of his softening dick, watching as he squirmed from overstimulation as Suguru let go of his balls. Soon salty fingers found their way shoving into your mouth and you grimaced before obliging, suckling his fingertips regardless of the fact that you were still mad at him for doing this in a public place, and around your friends no less.

Let's just say you bit down on him before pulling away.

Taking a breather you waited a moment, using this time to pat around the floor before finally exclaiming a phony, "aha!" as you grabbed the fork that had ended up laying next to Satoru's foot the entire time. Clutching the fork in your grasp you collected yourself before clambering out from under the table, returning to your seat, looking the same, only a tad bit breathless as you placed the utensil onto the tablecloth that had hid your sinful excursion.

"Oh you found it," Suguru chimed, grinning, tapping his spit soaked and bite mark fingertips atop the cloth as Satoru leaned into him, resting his eyes, and you began to wonder what type of faces he made as he came.

 Damnit Suguru! 

If he did this at home you could've at least watched the erotic show, now your lip gloss was gone, smudged all over Satoru's dick, and you were all hot and bothered and you had to sit here until the night was over.

With a fuming huff you stared at the spent Satoru and smug Suguru.

Today was supposed to be fun, but you weren't supposed to be having this type of fun

You furrowed your brows, letting out a sigh as you moved to reach for your glass only for Suguru to place his only clean hand on your cheek. You send him a glare but your face flushes as he runs a finger over the corner of your mouth, collecting the little gift Satoru had given you before licking it off his thumb.

Damnit Suguru, if only you had noticed it earlier

Bonus:

Your thighs began to burn as you felt deft fingertips run over your clit, your head, burrowed in the crook of Satoru's neck as he pounded up into you, Suguru taking you from the back as your sweat soaked bodies tangled together. Satoru's lithe fingers cascading through your hair as he pulled your bleary eyed face into his view.

"Shoulda let me put my hands into your hair earlier," he sinfully sang, pressing a kiss to your moaning lips and you could only let out a whimpering laugh as he pulled away.

"Hell no," you smirk, feeling him thrust up in retaliation at your little snicker at his expense, "shouldn't have done it in public then," you whisper between breathy whines, feeling the knot in your stomach grow.

"Mmm but wasn't it so much fun," Suguru rumbled over into your back as he thrusted quickly, trying to chase his high.

"Mhm" is all you could snarkily murmur as you leaned into Satoru, this time his back was pressed up  against the plush pillows of your bed, "I think this is more fun," you huff out, feeling your orgasm creep.

"Think yer just greedy," Satoru taunts, watching as you come undone from all the attention they gave to your ravenous little hole.

"Says you!" you swat at his chest weakly, feeling the cord snap and you began to start spilling, hips grinding for more friction as they pampered your writhing body with kisses.

Maybe it was a good thing you didn't notice it at first. 

[huramuna]

growing on you - oneshot.

modern aemond x (ex) girlfriend reader

content: smut (specifics under the cut), afab reader, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, descriptions of depression and its effect on the body, probably an unhealthy relationship, aemond being an idiot, probably ooc aemond, reader not described, no use of y/n, targtowers seek therapy: the story, fluff at the end bc hehe

work is 18+, minors do not interact or you shall be smited.

word count: 7.4k (oops)

a/n: i've had this one in the drafts for a while. tweaked to be a fun 'lil angsty end of year holiday fic. as is my motto: fuck it we ball. a/n 2: i pivoted from a third person pov fic to a second person pov fic 3/4 through writing this using the find and replace tool, so if there are grammar errors, i apologize! also my first time doing second person pov, weehee.

monsters - all time low ft. blackbear • why do i - set it off ft. hatsune miku

warnings: p in v, creampie, cockwarming, slightly tipsy sex

Everything in your life was enveloped by him. your clothes smelled like him, small strands of his hair were woven into every nook and cranny of your apartment together, his fitness regime protein powder and ketogenic supplements were littered in your kitchen cabinets. 

You couldn’t get rid of him, not even if you tried. Aemond was all you'd ever known— you have known one another since the age of seven, and have been in a relationship since fourteen. You were both now twenty-six. Twelve years you’ve been together romantically (longer, even, but you were both too stubborn to admit it) and nineteen years you’ve been in each other's lives in some capacity or another. 

You’ve been involved together longer than you’ve not known each other. You hardly knew who you were without Aemond— a thought that scared you deeply. 

It’s been two weeks since he moved out, only temporarily he’d said. He needed space. He would still pay his share of the rent and you didn’t need to worry about that. 

But what about everything else? What about him warming you at night? Comforting you when you had nightmares? What about his items in the fridge, surely you’d spoil if he didn’t use them soon. What about Vhagar? Their— no, his geriatric cat that he took with him to God knows where— she must be terrified, surely. 

Was he giving Vhagar her medicine before bed? Of course he was— he was the more responsible one anyway. 

You paced back and forth until the soles of your feet ached and then some. Knowing Aemond for so long, you had intimate knowledge on everything about him, you were woven into each other's DNA like vines on a trellis, growing and expanding until you swallowed all of the other plants whole. 

That is what happened, wasn’t it? You grew too large, too comfortable and became stagnant. You weren't unaware of his rising workload at his firm, but he had always been a workaholic— throughout their teenage years, through college and grad school. It never slowed him down so you didn’t understand the change in behavior. 

Aemond was closed off. He always was a bit emotionally stunted due to his upbringing or lack thereof from his father and everything that happened surrounding his eye, but he had a soft side for you, always for you. You could retrace every part of him perfectly from memory, always could make him laugh, could comfort him when he recused himself, and the rare times he did cry, you were there. 

But the last few months there was a shift— a change in him. Where he had been hard to open before, like a rusty hinge just requiring some oil, he was now padlocked, ironclad and impenetrable. Attempts to talk were shrugged off, ignored or diverted. 

“Please, just talk to me, Aemond,” you said one night as you sat on the couch. You were watching your collective favorite show and he wasn’t even commenting on it like he usually did, he was silent and deadpanned. “I don’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t talk about it.” 

“There's nothing wrong, therefore, nothing to talk about. I’m just tired from work,” he responded gruffly. “Stop whining.” 

His tone was clipped and harsh, sending a wave of hurt trickling through your body. you were overly emotional, where he was under emotional— usually, you balanced each other out and struck a good middle ground, but in times like these, during fights, things would get explosive. 

The tears started right away, your little sniffling cries stifled by a hand over your mouth. You turned away, wrapping yourself in the blanket. 

“Seriously?” he growled, “I didn’t even say anything and you’re fucking crying again.”

“I d-don’t appreciate your tone, Aemond— you’re being mean,” you sniffed, wiping away tears that were soon just replaced by new ones. “Please, don’t be mean to me.” you were always soft hearted, and it was one of the things Aemond loved about you— or he had loved at one point. 

“I’m not being mean,” he pinched his brow, “you’re overreacting and I do not have the capacity to deal with your antics anymore.” 

Of course, your mind hit the panic button. ‘Anymore’ meaning that he didn’t want to deal with you at all, ever. The tears increased and you recused yourself further into a ball. 

“Fucking hell.” he cursed, getting up from the couch and stomping outside to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette. He was out there for about an hour— you had cried yourself to sleep. 

It was many situations like that for weeks that finally just… broke him. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said one day, slamming his keys down on the kitchen table, “I seriously cannot deal with your childish shit anymore— I’m working my ass off at the firm, actually bringing in money and I still have to come home and tend to you. you’re twenty-six, grow up and stop crying at every little thing. It’s fucking infuriating.” 

“You know I can’t control that part of me!” you screamed back, your temper rising immediately to match his. The words flowing out of your mouth didn’t feel like yours, but some sort of defensive mechanism. “You can’t do this anymore? You’re not doing anything Aemond, except pushing me away. God, you haven’t even touched me in weeks.” 

“Oh, so this is about sex?” he countered, getting closer to you, nostrils flaring. “You’re mad because I won’t fuck you? Are you that desperate?” 

That one stung, to be sure. Aemond had been your first and only— you only ever knew him, only ever had him. “No, not just sex,” you murmured, “you haven’t even… just touched me normally. No hugs, no little caresses, nothing— it's as if I’m an aversion to you.”

He backed up from you, “Maybe we’re just too close,” he admitted, “We’ve been together too long. It's not fun anymore, it’s not new— it’s the same old, same old, going through the motions for release, not because I actually like it.” 

“I don’t understand.” you said, your voice sounding disconnected from your body. The tips of your fingers felt numb, the numbness spreading through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted to escape. 

“I need space. I need to think about this.” 

“This?”

“Us. I need to think about us and if this is something I really want,” he paused, “You’re… too much and not enough right now.” 

“Wh— Aemond, please,” you whispered, your voice broken, “What can I do? I’ll… I’ll change, I won’t cry or whine anymore— please.” 

He stared at you, his prosthetic eye unmoving while his remaining one bored into you, “I will think about it.” 

“What… does this mean?”

“We are taking a break, alright? I’ll have my essentials out and I’m going to stay with Aegon.” 

“Please— don’t go. I need you.” 

That was the end of that conversation. That was the last time you spoke, two weeks ago. You expected him to text you at some point, to check in on you, to maybe try to talk things out. 

Nothing. There's been nothing. Radio silence. 

You felt isolated— you had no family, as your parents were estranged from you. you couldn’t go to Aemond’s family, as close as you were to them all, it just simply wasn’t an option. 

You didn’t have friends. All you knew was Aemond. 

It was early in the evening and you were in a deep pit of self-loathing. You decided to text him. 

You swallowed thickly— the green meant he either turned off his phone or blocked you. You hoped that it wasn’t the latter. 

The next few weeks were a blur. You felt like you were barely living, merely going through the motions to stay alive— not that you really were. 

You woke up, went to work, came home, scrounged up food and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Weeks become months of your monotony, and no word from Aemond. He still had half of his stuff left in the apartment, you felt like you could barely breathe. At every turn there was something to remind you of him. 

You’d lived in this apartment together for four years, the evidence of your relationship etched into the very walls. It was like the space was closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath, barely keeping your head above water. 

You had to move out— you had to get away. 

You managed to find a place, a cheap studio above a coffee shop downtown. The landlord was an old lady who was sympathetic to your situation and agreed to let you take the space quickly. 

There was still the matter of your and Aemond’s current apartment— or, rather, it was just Aemond’s now. 

Saving yourself the embarrassment of seeing if you were still blocked, you called Aegon. He was a better messenger than none. 

“Hey, Egg,” you said, sitting on the couch. you bounced your knee up and down, biting at the skin of your lip. You and Aegon were amicable, not necessarily as close as you and Aemond, but you grew up together. Aegon ran in different social circles than you and you were somewhat polar opposites so you never really stuck— you did have your phases of friendship, though– which pissed Aemond off to no end. “Um, I don’t know if this is the right way to go about things but, do you mind relaying a message to Aemond for me?”

“Yeah, ‘spose I could. What’s up?” Aegon replied, his tone nonchalant like usual.

“I’m moving out of the apartment into my own place, so I guess he can go back. I’ll have all my stuff out by tomorrow.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Aegon said, “He’s been driving me up the wall with his tidy, feng shui bullshit. He rearranged my whole place like five times and has taken up all the space in my cabinets with that nasty no-carb shit,” he paused for a moment, “I… didn’t mean that in a bad way to you, ‘course. I’m sorry it had to come to this. He’s a fucking idiot.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your first laugh in months. “Yeah– he… tends to do that. He left half of his stuff here, it feels like I’m living in the twilight zone. I just… gotta get away, you know?”

“Hey, I get that– you don’t have to explain yourself to me. He’s a dickhead and doesn’t understand how good he has it. If you want, I can bring my truck over tomorrow and help you move stuff.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Egg.”

“I want to– please.”

Your brow furrowed– Aegon usually wasn’t so persistent on anything unless it involved drinking or drugs. But, you hadn’t had real human contact in eons besides at work so… maybe it could be good.

“Okay, see you tomorrow. Thank you, really.”

–

It was rainy the next day– nasty and wet, droplets pouring down like tears. It felt somewhat familiar.

But, Aegon showed up like he promised, rolling up in his old, fading yellow pick-up truck. His hair was much shorter than you remembered and he looked actually well kept– Aemond must’ve been whipping him into shape.

He waved and ran through the rain, standing under the eave, “So– it’s raining.”

You snorted, “I think I can see that,” you teased with a tiny smile, “Not sure when it’ll let up.”

“I brought uh…” he paused for a moment to think, stretching out his arms in a square shape, “Y’know?”

“A tarp?” 

“Yup– that,” he gave a lopsided grin, inviting himself in through the open door, “you aren’t going to kick me out if I don’t take off my shoes, right?”

You glanced down at his boots– they were a bit muddy and definitely wet. Aemond wouldn’t have let him step two feet through the threshold without taking them off. But– you weren't Aemond. “No, keep them on if you want. It’s not my problem if you track dirt through the place anyway.”

He nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket for a moment and shooting a quick message to someone. “Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s just… he’s my brother. It would be kind of… I dunno, crossing some sort of unsaid boundary if I visited his… girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. I guess,” you corrected softly– but you didn’t really know yourself what it was. He wouldn’t talk to you, “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to really reach out anyway, because of that… unsaid boundary thing.”

“We should’ve. you’re a part of our family with or without Aemond. Me, Helaena and Daeron have a whole group chat about it. Even mom asked where you’ve been,” he scratched the back of his head absentmindedly as he sent out another text, “Someone should’ve checked up sooner.”

“You’re acting like I’m some sort of neglected puppy, Aegon,” you turned to him, “... do I really look so terrible?”

Aegon glanced up at you, his mouth formed in a hard line. He cracked his knuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. You look half dead.”

You blinked. Hard. Moving towards a mirror in the hall, you looked at yourself. Dark circles under sunken eyes, your skin was a pale pallor and your hair needed a trim desperately, your split ends curled and fettered. You were gaunt, as well– having lost a bit of weight over the months. “Jesus,” you muttered. Glancing over at Aegon, he was texting again. “Sending an update to the group chat, I guess? ‘Good news, she’s still alive, barely’?”

He snorted, “Yeah– something like that,” finally, he locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “I made sure to text Aemond, too.”

Your mouth felt dry at the mention. “Why?”

“He asked.”

“Asked?”

“He asked me to… make sure you were okay.”

Goosebumps prickled at your skin, the ever familiar feeling of nausea and despair swirling in the pit of your stomach. Nibbling at your lip more, you turned away, feeling a bit too exposed. “And what’d you say?”

“I said you were alive but you are not okay.”

Your lips pursed into a line as you tasted a bit of copper in your mouth from chewing on your lip. “I guess that’s right,” you muttered, “Why would he ask?”

“Aemond is… complicated. you know that better than anyone. I don’t know what kind of bug he has up his ass these last few months but… even through all of this, he still cares.”

“Like hell he does,” you snapped, feeling the sting of tears, “If he did, he would’ve given us a chance to talk it out, to… to try, maybe even go to therapy, I don’t fucking know– he would’ve reached out– anyone should’ve reached out,” your hand went to your hair, right at your hairline at your scalp, picking at the hairs there– another self-destructive habit you’ve picked up in your months of isolation, “I’m so fucking alone, Aegon. He knows… you all know I have absolutely no one else. I’ve been going through this on my own. I have no friends, no family– no brother to go live with when I need space, no family group chat. I don’t have shit, Aegon. All I’ve ever known in my life is him and you and Helaena and Daeron and mom. Why… why does it feel like I was cast off the island without even… a tribal council or something?” you sniffed, the tears coming in full force now. 

Aegon was silent, coming up behind you. “I’m… sorry,” he murmured, putting his hands on your shoulders, as frail and skeletal as you were, “We should’ve been better. We… will be better.” he turned you around and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in his arms. “We thought you would’ve been… fine without him. He made it seem like that– that you were strong enough. I only figured it out yesterday when he was up my ass about texting him as soon as I saw you. He needed to know if you were feeding yourself, if you were keeping up with your medication, if you still had nightmares. A fuckin’... laundry list of questions– I told him to stick his questions up where the sun don’t shine and to see for himself,” he took a breath, “He settled on one question– if you were okay.”

“I think he got his fucking answer, then,” you whispered, “I am not okay. I haven’t been okay in months. I… I need help.”

“I know,” Aegon shifted you slightly to look at your face, “We’ll help you– I promise, you won’t be alone anymore. Look, I’ll even add you to the group chat, okay? I’ll rename it to ‘Aemond Sucks’, how does that sound?” 

You cracked a tiny smile, sniffling. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

– 

You ended up moving your belongings to your new place the same day, effectively ridding yourself of the constant shadow of Aemond’s memory.

Aegon even took you to Michael’s and HomeGoods to get stuff for your little studio, so you could really make it yours. It was a bit intimidating at first– you weren't used to being able to decorate things the way you wanted, as Aemond always opted to keep things simple and minimalistic. 

You, admittedly, went all out. Your new studio looked like a Pinterest board titled ‘cottagecore’. You were incredibly happy with it all, practically jumping up and down at it.

“It looks so good! I love these little mushroom chairs you picked out, Egg,” you hummed, patting some plush felted stools in the shape of mushrooms, which you put near the window. “I bet Helaena would love it.”

“Let’s take some pictures for the group chat, Hel will literally be all over this. you two always love that cottagecore, fairycore, fantasy… shit.” he grinned, stooping down to take some very out of perspective pictures of the mushroom chairs, making them look fifty feet tall.

You settled into your new place quickly, having Helaena, Aegon and Daeron over quite often for drinks and movies. Your health steadily improved until you were mostly back to normal physically– there would be a lot of scars internally, however that would take longer to heal, if you ever would. You had developed a trust issue complex since Aemond’s unceremonious exit from your life and hadn’t gone on any dates, you didn’t know when or if you would ever be ready. They did you the courtesy of not mentioning Aemond, until Daeron said something odd.

It was about four months after you moved in, and almost a full year since you’d last seen Aemond. You were all a few mixed drinks in, Aegon had made them and you were heavy on the alcohol, light on the ‘mix’, and you were all kicked back on the couch, with Aegon laying on the mushroom chairs stacked next to each other, lazed back like a cat. 

“Mom says she wants you over for Christmas dinner,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his drink, “She figured it’d be fine with Aemond going off with his new…” he blinked, catching himself. 

Helaena nudged Daeron in the ribs as a warning, staring at their friend warily.

“... his new? His new what?” you asked, your voice so quiet that it must’ve been like a squeak.

“... new girlfriend.” he finished.

You were silent for a while before sighing. “I figured it would happen eventually. I can only hope that it… wasn’t too soon after we broke up– or whatever… happened.”

“We all told him it was fucked up that he just left and ghosted you, lovey. Even mom got on his ass about it, and he is her favorite child who usually can do no wrong.” Helaena put her drink down, wrapping her arm around you. “You should come to Christmas dinner, everyone would be super happy to see you! And Aemond won’t be there, so even more reason to come. Please.” she whimpered, using her best puppy-dog face.

You mulled it over in your mind for a few moments. You couldn’t think of anything more painful than being alone during the holidays, so you nodded.

–

It was snowing on Christmas day, the flurries coming down and melting against your skin as you waited for Aegon to pick you up. You were wearing a red checkered tapestry dress with a flannel jacket, a white fluffed scarf wrapped around your neck and lower face. As soon as you saw the familiar color of Aegon’s truck, you practically booked it into the passenger seat. 

“Merry Christmas, you look fantastic,” Aegon mused, ever the charmer. “I’ve got the heater on full blast, I promise– but y’know my old boy’s puttering these days. We’ll need to get some speed for it to really warm up.” 

“Mmm,” you murmured, your teeth chattering, “S’cold.” 

He reached back and grabbed a well-used blanket, draping it over your legs. “Better?”

“... yeah– but,” you blinked, raising a brow. “What do you have this in the truck for?”

Aegon laughed as he began the drive to his family’s estate. “I think you know.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve fucked someone on this blanket, Aegon.”

“Someones– not just someone. But I keep it clean, no worries!”

The drive to the Targaryen estate was about an hour and a half from town, nestled deep into an expansive forest where there weren’t any other homes in at least five miles. It was a gorgeous, Victorian style mansion and according to Daeron, was most certainly haunted. You had been here numerous times, of course, but it’d been a while. As you pulled up in the driveway, you saw Alicent standing outside the door dressed in a gorgeous red and green festive dress, hair curled to perfection. Nothing less was expected of Alicent, though.

“Oh, my darling,” Alicent cooed, holding her arms out to caress who she thought of as her fifth child. “It’s been too long, I’ve missed you.” 

Your heart warmed under Alicent’s caress, someone who had become more of a mother figure to you than your actual mother. You sniffed, pressing your forehead into Alicent’s shoulder. “Missed you too, mom.” 

“Come on, you both can cry inside in the nice toasty house, yeah? I’m freezing my balls off here, mom.” 

Alicent huffed, ushering both of you inside. “Don’t be vulgar, son– it’s Christmas.”

Helaena and Daeron were already there, as well as Otto, who gave you a stiff nod as a greeting, as was his usual means of communication.

You settled into the kitchen, Alicent pouring everyone apple cider and dishing out at least six types of holiday themed cookies. About an hour after arriving, there was a knock on the door. 

“Oh, that must be Rhaenyra and Laena. Can you answer the door, darling? I need to take the roast out of the oven. I’m sure they would be happy to see you!” 

“Mhm!” you mused through bites of cookies. You loved Rhaenyra and Laena, who were technically married with husbands, as was Alicent, but the three of them were in a secret, not so secret to anyone with eyes, polyamorous relationship. It always amused all of their kids when they tried to hide it. 

You turned the doorknob, fully expecting to see Rhaenyra and Laena. It was not. 

Aemond.

“Fuck.” you blurted out, eyes wide. It had been the better part of a year since you had last seen him. His hair was longer now, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck, his cheeks a bit more gaunt. He still wore his earrings and his rings– including the one you had given him almost a decade ago. 

“Shit.” he responded, seemingly caught equally off guard by seeing you again. The pupil of his non-prosthetic eye dilated until the iris was almost consumed in black, before he flexed his hand and reeled himself in. 

You couldn’t help but notice he was alone– no ‘new girlfriend’ as Daeron had put it. “Aemond,” you breathed, feeling like you were outside of your own body, your head filled with fluff and static. “Merry… Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” he responded gruffly, “Can I come in?”

“Oh– yeah, duh,” you chastised yourself, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” he grunted in his usual manner. That seemed to be a habit he hadn’t dropped. 

You all but retreated to the kitchen, the expression on your face telling everything. Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena gathered around you.

“I didn’t invite him, I swear.” Aegon whispered.

“Well, neither did I!” Daeron professed.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t invite him. He left me on read three weeks ago when I sent him a picture of a bug on my windowsill.” Helaena sniffed.

A new voice chimed in. “I invited him,” Alicent spoke, breaking up the little posse, “I told him to come over or he would be grounded for three months.” 

All four of you stared at Alicent, deadpanned. 

“Mom– he’s… almost twenty-seven. you can’t ground him,” Daeron said, confused. “And moreover, why? Wasn’t he busy?”

“Well, first off, he is my son, so I wanted to see him for Christmas. Two, I believe we have someone here who has some unresolved issues with him.” Alicent responded, staring right at you pointedly.

“... I don’t know… I… I don’t know if I can talk to him. It’s been too long… I feel like I was just getting over all of this.”

“Well, do I have any say in this?” Aemond barged into the circle, his hands in his pockets. 

You suddenly felt overwhelmed, the familiar bubbling of everything being too much rising in your stomach. You were teleported back to months ago when you were barely alive, trapped in your own mind. “I… I need… I need a minute.” you muttered, your voice sounding distorted as you made your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. Chest heaving, you were already crying, the waterworks starting somewhere between the hallway and the sink. 

“You’re always fucking crying, I can’t take it anymore.” Aemond’s voice from months and months ago echoed in your head, causing the tears to flow more. You bit against your lip, tasting blood right away as you willed yourself to stop crying. 

“S-stop… stop crying,” you whispered, fingers messing up your hair as you held fistfuls of it. You couldn’t catch your composure for the life of you, sliding against the bathroom wall onto the floor.

Vision blurring, you don’t know how long you were incoherent for. When you came back to yourself, Aemond was in front of you, crouched down.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, the door closed behind him, “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, still numb as he pried your fists from your head, out of your hair, smoothing it down.

“Look at me, can you do that? Nod if you can hear me.”

You nodded slowly, the feeling coming back to your extremities in a sprightly tickling sensation. You blinked tears from your eyes, the liquid smearing your vision. 

Aemond rasped a thumb over your eyes, effectively clearing the obstruction from your vision. “Just breathe,” he continued to whisper. It was ever reminiscent of when he would calm you down after a nightmare, voice low and scratchy in a way that comforted you. He was so close now, closer than he’d been in forever. He still smelled the same, the scent triggering a deep aching within your chest. A scent that took you forever to get rid of, but you never truly could. “Can… we talk?” he asked then, his voice sounding more vulnerable than ever. 

It felt like whiplash, visions of your previous fights plaguing you, where he had been so closed off, so far away, so distant that you couldn’t reach him– and now, he was here. In the present, in the flesh. In front of you, opened. Not opened completely, but you could see it, like the slit of a cracked door, the light bleeding through. It was there.

“... yeah.”

“I… I’m… I’m sorry. What I did was fucked up. It was fucked up and wrong and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You’re right about that,” you muttered, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “I didn’t deserve it.” 

Aemond’s mouth twitched slightly before he sat down next to you, propping up his legs in a criss-cross. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, before closing it. His hands flexed and unflexed in quick succession– he was clearly thinking very carefully about his next words. “... I’ve… got issues. You know that better than anyone. I don’t know what was going through my head those months that we fought. I can hardly remember it now, it was like… I was in a fog, a haze– I was working myself half to death, I just wanted dad to notice, to fucking… appreciate me,” he put his hands on his head, “I was so… tied up in this illusion that if I made junior associate at the firm so young that he would congratulate me on my achievement and…” Aemond let out a sigh, “And… in the process… I pushed you away.”

You looked at him, feeling your gaze soften ever so slightly. You knew that his father was a sore spot for him and that trauma ran deep. “You didn’t just push me away, Aemond,” you sighed, reaching out a shaky hand to pry one of his from his face. “... if you would’ve just talked to me, I could’ve helped. You didn’t push… you… you shoved, you shoved and ran in the other direction.”

His one violet eye danced towards you. “I know. I’ve been kicking myself for it. When Aegon told me you weren’t doing well… I almost left work to see you.”

“... you did?”

“Yeah. Aegon basically told me not to– that… this was something you needed space for. Kind of like I did but… maybe in a more healthy way.”

“A text wouldn’t have hurt.” 

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone– his wallpaper was still the same as it was, a picture of you, him and Vhagar very unhappy in an elf costume. He scrolled to his notes app, which was filled with messages addressed to you. “... I thought it might, after what Aegon had said. I was… ashamed of how I acted, how I handled the whole thing– how I left you alone without a word. He told me how you looked… dead. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Your eyes scanned the messages, picking out some words. The main ones that caught your gaze were ‘sorry’, ‘love’, ‘regret’. A huge breath left your lungs, feeling as if everything had been knocked out of you at once. You felt like you were being whipped back and forth in the wind, trying to grab onto anything. If you both weren’t so stubborn and just messaged one another– well, no. You did message him, one time. “I thought you blocked me.” 

“... for five minutes, maybe.”

“God, we’re so fucking stupid, Aemond.”

“You aren’t– don’t say that. I’m literally a dumbass. All of my siblings told me so, even my own mother, and you know she never curses.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked onto your face as you jostled his shoulder. “Yeah… you are a dumbass. I am allowed to say it at least once. So, um,” you shuffled slightly, “Daeron kind of let it slip that you had a new girlfriend?”

Aemond pinched his brow. “Of course he said that. He is twenty-one years old and still doesn’t know how to use his goddamn ears. I said I was seeing a new therapist, not that I had a fucking girlfriend.”

“A therapist?”

“... things got really dark for me after I moved back into our… no, my… place. After you officially moved out. It felt lifeless, all of your things were gone, the fucking warmth sucked out of the place. It felt like it’d been sterilized of anything… good. I feel into something– I don’t know, a depression? I guess, that’s what Aegon called it. He suggested I see a therapist, citing me as ‘an emotionally stunted asshole who needs more therapy than him’.” he exaggerated the last bit with air quotes, rolling his eye.

“... he isn’t wrong. I mean, I love your family, but all of you are all kinds of fucked up. Maybe I am too, practically being a part of it.”

Aemond chuckled, giving a tight lipped smile. “We are fucked up. I realized that… I really do not give a shit what my dad thinks, because nothing will ever be good enough for him. He’s so far gone now that he probably doesn’t even know we exist. I’ve come to terms with that and honestly… it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad you could… work through some of that, Aemond.” you say sincerely, resting your cheek on his arm absentmindedly. 

“... I want to talk about us.”

“... us. Okay.”

“I don’t expect you to want to jump right back into things. It would be unfair to think that– but… maybe we could try?”

Your chest feels a bit tight at his admission– he wanted to try. Every fiber in your being wanted to say yes and jump back into it like you’d never left. But you knew you couldn’t. There were still parts of you scarred by this whole experience, some parts that may never heal. It would take a long time and a lot of talks like this to even get some semblance of what the both of you had. “Well… before we were together, believe it or not, we were friends. Could we… try that for right now?”

His chest visibly deflated a bit, but he nodded. “Whatever you need, okay?”

–

The days following Christmas, leading up to New Year’s were… different. You and Aemond were back in contact, going out for coffee and lunch a few times.

On the day before New Year’s eve, you texted him.

Turns out, timing the movie to sync with 12 am on New Year’s day to Toby Maguire saying ‘Pizza time’ was difficult. Well, it wasn’t difficult for normal people– but you and Aemond were a bit tipsy, as Aegon had left some hard apple ciders in your fridge, to which you both indulged.

“Okay, okay,” Aemond stared at his phone, “5… 4… 2… wait, no, fuck, 3… 2… I think we fucked it up– just go, go!”

Quickly, you started the movie. “Maybe we should’ve practiced– can we start over?” you plopped on the couch, sinking into the sofa and taking a swig of the cider.

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. Can’t turn back time.” he mused softly, squatting down on one of the mushroom stools. “Pretty comfy.”

“Aegon picked those out, nifty, huh?”

“Nifty.” he parroted. 

The movie continued on, but as it went on, there was an unspoken tension growing. Aemond hadn’t sat on the couch, but rather, the stools that were on the other side of the room. It felt like a chasm had formed, the strain almost palpable. 

You chewed on your lip anxiously, contemplating whether or not to say anything. But, you had both been trying a new technique called ‘communication’ – a pretty cool and helpful thing that Aemond’s therapist had taught him. You remember laughing when he posed it that same way– but it was extremely important. You cleared your throat. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“... um. I wanted to try the mushroom seats, I guess.”

“You don’t want to sit next to me?” you countered, feeling especially brave. 

“Is that… alright?” 

“Um, duh. I invited you over for pizza and a movie so we could… sit together. Not for you to be half a mile away sitting on a mushroom.”

“As long as it’s alright with you.” he murmured, sitting up from the mushroom stool and making his way over to you, sliding onto the couch, still a few feet away from you.

You weren’t sure if it was the atmosphere, the pent up emotions, the small buzz of alcohol, or a destructive cocktail of all three, but you inched closer to him. Closer, closer… until your thighs were touching. You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he responded, his voice low and warm. It caused a balmy and comforting vibration to go through you, reverberating in your chest. 

You became all too aware of your movements, your closeness to him, the skin of your thigh grazing against his jeans as you got as close as you could. Your lips parted slightly as he stared back down at you. “Can… we?”

“Can we, what?” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your loose hair, gently grasping it at the nape of your neck. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“... kiss. A little bit.”

“Just a little bit?” 

“Mhm. A teeny bit.” you leaned up, Aemond meeting you halfway as your lips came together. The culmination of your year apart, all of the emotions, the sadness, the frustration and anger, the passion, love, tears– all of it came together at this moment as the two of you melded together perfectly, as if you’d never left. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment, followed by what could only be articulated as a moan. 

It caught both of you off guard, Aemond pulling away for a moment, his lips still ghosting over yours. “Fucking hell,” he breathed against your skin, sending goosebumps tingling from your tailbone up to the nape of your neck, the hairs on your body standing on end. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you responded before latching onto him once more. It started off loving and slow, your lips moving against one another like two old lovers dancing together– then it began to heat up, your mouth parting to accommodate his tongue, gnashing against yours as their dance turned up a notch. Your hands roamed his body, everything you committed to memory for so many years still in its same spot. It felt good, it felt like home. “Please, Aemond– I… I need you. It’s been so long… too long…”

“Too long since I’ve had you, had this,” his hand reached down, cupping your mound still hidden beneath your panties. Somehow, you foresaw this moment before it happened and thankfully wore a light dress. “Let me in, love.”

You parted your legs, feeling the ever familiar crook of his fingers slide down the front of your panties, testing the waters. The pad of his thumb and middle finger locked on instantly to your clit, swirling the sensitive bud, sending electric shocks through your extremities. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, pressing your forehead against his. “Need you inside, now.” you all but growled as you peppered little kisses along the soft flesh of his neck.

He wouldn’t keep you waiting long, as it seemed he needed this as much as you did. He parted your panties to the side, propping you on top of him and sliding you down his length, earning a hissed gasp from both of you. It took all of his strength not to burst in you right then, as you enveloped him in your tight, wet heat. “You were made for me,” he breathed, biting down on your shoulder, leaving red marks. One of his favorite things to do was to mark you, leaving hickies in his wake as he worshiped every inch of exposed skin he could reach. “Melded so perfectly, just for me.” he grabbed the flesh of your bottom, squeezing gently at first, then landing a smack on it as he began to thrust up into you.

You nodded fervently, hiccuping little moans as you dug your face into his shoulder, biting him in turn. Your nails sunk into his skin, indenting against his spine as they always had, as they always were meant to. It felt much like a pianist resting their fingers on the ivories after a long break, the pads of your fingers sinking into the ridges of his very being. You were meant to be here, he was meant to be here. You could feel your end coming on all too soon, his cock filling every nook and cranny of you, bullying that spongy, delicate sweet spot just right. You began to clench, your tell-tale sign to him that you were close. 

“I love you,” he whispered, panting slightly, using one hand to push your face back so you could meet his gaze. His wild, pupil-blown out gaze, cheeks reddened, mouth parted, brow furrowed. “I love you, I fucking love you. I missed you– fuck.”

“I l-love you,” you responded before he parted your lips with his thumb, “Love you so much– p-please, s’close.” you whined into his mouth.

“Let go, sweetheart, c’mon,” he grinned against your lips, nipping and biting at them. “Come for me.”

That was all you needed, the twine of your climax coming undone right in your core, snapping like a taut thread. Your usual habit was to hide your face in his shoulder when you came, whimpering and panting– but he didn’t let you this time. He held your face, staring at you intently as if you were a piece of fine art on display, and he was a connoisseur. 

You clenched around him tightly, spurring him to his own end. His hard wrought fingers gripped your ass like it was a lifeline, grunting as he found his release deep within you, where it was always meant to be. 

Coming down from your high, you slumped against his chest, mouth parted. Embarrassingly enough, a little drool wetted your lips. You were fully and thoroughly fucked out, not even registering that Tobey Maguire said “Pizza time!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Aemond murmured against your hair, nestling you tightly against him. He didn’t pull out– he preferred it this way, having you warm him through until you both fell asleep. 

“... Happy New Year,” you whispered back.

–

Two and a half months later, it was Valentine's day. You and Aemond were officially dating again as of January 2nd, much to the surprise of no one. 

You both took things as slow as you could, keeping separate apartments for the time being– but you’d given him a key to your place about two weeks in, and he was there all the time, taking much needed leave from work. 

Unlocking the door to your apartment, you walked in, seeing Aemond lounging on the couch with a scruffy brown furball on him. 

“Oh, Vhagar! You brought my baby,” you mused, dropping your items (with some grace, so as not to scare the geriatric cat), walking over, “Oh, I hope she remembers me.” you frowned, kneeling down and offering your hand to her.

“Of course she’ll remember, she yelled at me for a good three months at Aegon’s when we were without you.”

Vhagar sniffed your hand for a good minute before blinking her sleepy, lazy eyes at you, then promptly rubbing her scraggly cheek fur on your hand. You were elated, scratching her cheeks, hearing the tinkling of a little bell. 

“A new collar?” 

“Mhm, take a look.”

You swirled the collar around, looking for the name tag– only to find… a ring. An opal and moonstone ring. Your heart stopped in your chest as you stared at Aemond.

“I would get down on one knee– I was intending on you coming home and Vhagar running to you and then you finding it… but she’s on me, and I can’t get up. Cat rules,” he mused, unclipping the collar from her neck and slipping the ring onto your finger. “I know we’ve only been dating for… a month and a half, so stop me if it’s too soon.” he grinned, his toothy smile.

Vhagar gave a croaking meow, promptly jumping off of Aemond’s lap. As soon as the old cat was off, you threw yourself at Aemond, blubbering. “This… this…” you sniffed, unable to form words.

“Just so there isn’t any confusion… will you marry me?” he asked, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“Yes, yes– I will,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest and sobbing. 

He let you sob on him, getting his shirt all snotty and wet, all while smiling. 

After crying for at least ten minutes, you manage to take a picture, sending it to the group chat, with the caption: “I think we should add him to the chat now, guys.”

Ding.

“Is this group chat named ‘Aemond sucks’?” 

[notmyneighbor]

a new neighbor | francis mosses x female reader

chapter 4

words | 3.8k

cw | cheating, explicit sexual content

ao3 link

taglist | @kaislashes @unicorngirly1 @charli33-b33 @natiii727227 @the-lazyyy-artist @teeesthings

Francis Mosses stares at you seated across from him and he wants.

Frustratingly close and yet still so far out of his reach. He forces himself to make small talk, to consume the meal that’s been placed before him. The voices become garbled and his responses evolve into noncommittal murmurs. The food tastes like ash. Nothing will satisfy him because it’s not you.

He knows he’s being obvious and yet he cannot stop. He is in far too deep, far too quickly.

“I’ll meet you outside your door in an hour,” he manages to hiss against your ear as he helps you with the dishes once the meal finally draws to a close. He cannot resist dragging his fingers across the tiny buttons at the rear of your dress, where they secure the fabric between your shoulders. Beneath the cloud of soapy water, he can safely touch your hands, even when your father brings another forgotten utensil that needs washing. The milkman offers a friendly smile to the college professor while his hidden fingers caress yours, twining them with his. His breath presses hotly to your temple as soon as the other man departs. “Touch me. Any part of me, I don’t care what.” You look frightened, and aroused, all at once. Startled by his words, by the lack of self control you both exhibit. Your citrus scented fingers stroke across the crooked bridge of his nose, the divot above his top lip, then linger against the center of the bottom one. His eyes flutter closed and you say his name and then you move apart because the other option, to be closer, is impossible right now.

His gaze is hungry as you part ways at the door, the promise of later now tantalizingly close at hand. He returns to the apartment one floor above with Nacha and Anastacha and waits for the allotted time.

***

“I’m going to get some fresh air.”

Nacha looks up from the shirt she’s mending for Ana. Their daughter is already tucked into bed. “You’re going outside now? At this hour? What about…”

She means the doppels, of course, and he’s taken this into consideration as well. “I’ll go up to the roof. I just need…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t admit the truth.

He grabs the throw draped over the couch. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry about waiting up. I know you’ve got work tomorrow.”

“So do you.” She bends her head and severs the tail of the thread with her teeth, surveying her handiwork.

The milkman shrugs. “I barely sleep anyway.” He starts towards the door, halted by his girlfriend’s voice.

“Be careful, Francis.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says.

***

You’re not outside your apartment door yet, but Francis isn’t overly concerned.

It’s more difficult for you to sneak away, he knows. Waiting for your father to fall asleep, pretending to be doing the same. The door eventually creaks open while the older man waits, blanket thrown over one arm, rocking on his heels, hoping no one else emerges to find the two of you together. They don’t. You shut the door carefully behind you and it’s all Francis can do not to grab you, to drag you against him. He clutches one of your hands and guides you to the stairs.

“Francis, where are we going? I don’t have my papers with me.”

“We’re not going downstairs. We’re going up to the roof.”

You allow yourself to be led up the last flight in the stairwell, the heavy steel door parting to reveal a mostly flat expanse beneath a field of stars. It’s a beautiful evening, mild and pleasant. The incessant rain has mercifully stopped.

“The guys come up here to have a beer in the summer, sometimes,” he explains, nudging at one of the brown glass bottles left there from the previous year. He’d been invited to those gatherings but preferred coming here alone. Or at least, he had. Before you had come into his life.

He spreads the blanket out so you have someplace to sit. There’s a bit of an overhang from the roof of the stairwell exit that shields the top of the building, offering a dry patch to settle down on.

“I can’t stay long,” you caution, joining him on the slightly padded surface, tucking the hem of your dress beneath you.

“I know.” He tips his head back, letting it rest against the brick and mortar. “Next weekend I’m going to take you out on a proper date. We’ll go to the drive in. I’ll say I’m out at the bowling alley. You can think of an excuse to be away for a few hours?”

“A study group, maybe. I never socialize. Dad’ll know something’s up if I say I’m out with friends. I don’t really have any.”

“You have me.” Francis reaches for your face, tucking his fingers beneath your chin. He’s forcing himself not to rush this stolen moment, savoring you for a little longer. He knows once he starts kissing you, it will be a struggle to stop.

When he finally surrenders to that desire, he finds you taste like peppermint toothpaste. His hands wander over your body, sliding over breasts and hips and beneath your dress. He presses you down beneath him on the blanket. So little time. Your legs part and he grinds against you, rutting, wishing there were not the layers of clothing shielding your bodies. “I’m so crazy about you already.” He whispers this secret against your throat. “It almost scares me how much.”

“You’re trembling.” Your fingers sift through his hair, your knees hugging his ribs.

He huffs a short laugh. “I told you. Scared.”

“Of getting caught.”

“A little of that. But that’s small in comparison to the other. This feeling.”

You lift your head and capture his lips. “I feel like every time with you is new. Taking me apart, making me into something else.”

Francis draws back to look into your eyes. “I want to do that. Take you apart. I want to be inside of you,” he growls against your ear, his face dropping, tongue darting out to taste the sensitive patch of skin just behind the lobe and you hiss in response, your breath harshly expelled. “Move on your side. I want to try something.”

You frown but cooperate, waiting for him to move before you lie on your side, your dress a rumpled mess around your uncovered thighs. The older man lies down beside you, his body spooned against yours. “Keep your legs tight together.”

The milkman thrusts into the close tuck of your thighs, sawing between them from behind you, rubbing his now freed erection against your bare pussy after he’s hastily shoved your panties down. One hand digs into your hip, then reaches for your clit, kneading it, his mouth wet against your neck. “Want to feel you from the inside, baby girl. Someday soon. Take my time. Open you up for me. Fill you. You feel so good. So hot and wet against my cock.” The finger circling your bundle moves faster, pressing more firmly against the swelling flesh, the sex organ violating your thighs increasing its pace. He moans your name and you shudder to completion and his turgid member pulses, coating your legs with his seed.

Francis uses the blanket to wipe you both off. He’ll be leaving that up here to deal with some other time. Sensing your eyes on him, he looks up midway through zipping his fly. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to get pregnant.”

“Of course not. You’re too young for that. And I certainly don’t want to make that mistake again.” He pauses, shaking his head. “That came out poorly. I’m not saying being intimate with you would be a mistake. I do want it. Badly. I’ll use protection.”

You nod, smoothing down your dress and patting your hair.

“When you’re ready. I’m not going to force you. I’m not forcing you with any of this, am I?”

“No, Francis.”

“I’m trying to do right by everyone here. In spite of how it might seem. I don’t know. Maybe I am just being selfish now.” He touches your cheek. “I wish we had more time. There’s never enough.”

You’re escorted back downstairs. Francis peeks out into the hallway and then nods for you to follow. He steals another hurried kiss in front of your apartment door and whispers about seeing you tomorrow. He touches your hair and inhales your scent and then he returns to his apartment, finding it quiet and dark. He lays on the couch and he stares into the void above until sleep brings him a temporary respite from the never ending huger for you.

***

In the park the following afternoon, Francis watches you and Ana trying to outdo each other on the swing set.

You’ve changed out of your school uniform, wearing jeans now, your hair pinned up but already falling loose from activity. You’ve chased Ana around since your arrival, playing tag and helping her with the challenges of the jungle gym and running until the roundabout had gained enough momentum, sending the pair of you spinning around and around, his daughter tipping her head back and giggling, saying she was getting dizzy.

The next time Ana insists her father and her sitter ride together. He’s able to generate greater speed, his shoes digging into the grooved earth that’s been trod upon by many previous participants, making it impossible for the grass to ever have a chance at reclamation. Your grip is white knuckled on the bars and you squeal in alarm as you lose your balance, colliding into the solid barrier of the milkman’s chest. He wraps one arm tightly around you, clutching the railing until at last the merry go round grinds to a squeaky halt. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers in your ear before you’re tugged away, led forward by the elementary schoolgirl’s urging.

He takes turns pushing both of you on the swings, his hands forever lingering on yours wrapped around the lengths of chains. Ana complains that her father is giving you an unfair advantage, spending more time aiding you. He protests and laughs and his fingers drag against your spine before he returns to his daughter.

At the picnic area Ana busies herself with crackers and juice and Francis rests his hand on the bench. You’re sitting beside him and your fingers nudge his.

“Your little girl is beautiful!” An elderly woman croons nearby, her own pair of grandchildren and a small rat terrier in tow.

She means you and the milkman. As if you are a couple. Francis worries a splinter on the surface of the table.

“Daddy, can I go pet the doggie?”

“If she says it’s alright. Remember what I showed you. Hand flat out. Let it sniff you first. And don’t go too far.”

“I know,” she huffs, unaware of how much she sounds like her father in that moment. She slides off the bench and cautiously approaches the animal who takes to her immediately, nosing her hand and then jumping up to lick her cheek.

“She’s been asking for a pet for ages. I don’t know. It just seems like a lot of responsibility. It would be us getting the pet, not her. I don’t think an apartment is a good home for a dog anyway. They need a yard. Ana should have a yard…” His voice trails off and he looks at you. “She thought she was ours,” he nods towards the elderly woman.

“She’s old. She can’t see well,” you laugh good naturedly. “I’m not offended.”

“I wish she was right,” he whispers.

The smile slides from your features. “Francis…”

“Do you ever think about it? If I was free. If there were other options.”

You shake your head. “I’m still in high school.”

“Not for much longer.”

“I’m still not sure about college. A career.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He abandons the sliver of wood and begins working on one of the peeling strips of evergreen paint instead. “Sometimes I get carried away.” Ana has started to head back, the dog now occupied with chasing a frisbee. “I would be proud to say she was ours. That you were mine. Does it ever hurt here, when you’re lying in bed at night, one floor below…” The fist he rests against his chest drops and he plasters on a smile for the youth with an identical set of tired looking eyes. “Go pick one more ride to go on and then we’ll head home, okay?”

The young girl scowls but nods, heading back towards the swings.

“You never hear about the doppels taking children, thank God,” he murmurs, watching Ana settle into one of the scooped swings once again.

“Why do you think that is?”

He shrugs. “Maybe they think it’s pointless. They won’t get access to anything they really want or need if they pose as a child. Who knows?”

“I do,” you say, and his gaze shifts from his daughter to you. “I do feel it.”

Francis doesn’t respond.

There’s nothing left for him to say.

***

Francis is seated on the living room couch later that evening.

He’d put Ana to bed early. She’d been tired from her busy afternoon at the park. He was worn out, too. Not just from the added activity after working a shift. There’s a kind of inner weariness, gnawing away at him. That initial effervescent feeling he’d gotten from being with you is evolving. It’s something weightier now, more solemn. He doesn’t even hear his girlfriend say his name when she enters the apartment, drumming the secret code on the door frame to alert him that she’s not a doppelganger.

“Hmmm? Oh, hi. Sorry, long day.”

“Did you take Ana to the park?”

“Yes. She had a great time. So great, in fact, that she wore herself out. She’s in bed already.”

His pretend fiancée nods, sitting down beside him. “Found this in the back of my car.”

Your piano book is dropped onto his lap. He stares at it and his stomach lurches. He’d completely forgotten about it, when you’d been in the back seat with him. Shoving it to the floor before you’d…

“Is that the sitter’s?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I gave her a ride home the other day. When I went out to pick up groceries, remember?” He hopes his words sound convincingly innocent.

“Right. Didn’t you go bowling that night too? No wonder you look even more exhausted than usual.”

“I guess I have been doing a lot.”

“Well, that was kind of you, in any case. Don’t forget to return it. I’m going to head to bed. Unless you want to? It’s your turn, actually.”

“No, go ahead. I’ll stay here.”

Nacha nods, rising to her feet. She’s halfway out of the living room before she pauses, turning back to face her partner. “It’s good that you’re getting out more. Maybe you’ll meet your special someone, hmm?” She smiles and he nods and then she disappears through the hallway.

He stares at the cover of the book in his lap for several moments, finally lifting the cover. Your name is written in neat cursive inside. He flips through the sheet music. He can’t read a single note, but he bets you’ve got most of them memorized. He lets the cover drop back down and sighs. It was time to get ready for bed. Quick brush of teeth and glass of water and undress until there is only a layer of undershirt and briefs clothing him. He tosses and turns and ends up on his stomach, his arm hanging off the couch, his fingers on the cover of your music book. He thinks about being with you at the park, pressed into his arms by centrifugal force, brushing hands on chains, nudging fingers on the bench seat. Too much, too fast, and going further still.

***

It rains the night Francis plans to take you to the drive in theater, but he’s not too upset by it. If anything, it just greater heightens your privacy together.

He’s pleased to see you’ve dressed appropriately—skirts were so much easier to deal with than pants—and relieved to not actually be where he’d claimed he was going to. He’ll have to go out with the guys from the apartment building again soon, but for now, it’s just a convenient excuse to be out of the house.

The milkman stretches an arm out across the seats and lets it curl around your shoulders. The film is some science fiction fantasy about invaders from another planet, a tale that hits a little too close to home nowadays. The actors are much too old to be playing teenagers, but that was the way Hollywood worked.

Still, it’s not a bad movie, and under different circumstances he might have devoted his full attention to it. But he’s got you tucked against him now, and that’s too much temptation to resist. The windshield wipers squeak agains the glass as his mouth finds yours. You’ve got some kind of cherry lip gloss on that he laps clear little by little. His hand moves beneath the hem of your skirt, then your panties, and you shift, spreading your legs a little further apart.

“I want to try something, baby girl. It’s going to hurt, but after…oh after, I promise, it’ll be so, so good.” His middle finger rests at your entrance. “Do you want me to attempt it?”

He can feel the uncertainty wafting from you. Anticipation, too. Radiating heat. You nod and he sighs and he presses slightly. You wince instantly and he freezes. Only to the first joint and you’re snug, resisting the intrusion.

“Okay, honey. Relax. Let’s try something else for awhile.” He distracts you with kisses, with his fingers teasing your bud. When he feels you becoming slicker and more relaxed he tries again, this time shoving a bit further in. His mouth muffles your moan of pain when he reaches inside of you to his knuckle. The score of the film rises to a crescendo perfectly in time with his digit invading deeper. You’re squeezing him mercilessly and it’s impossible not to think of how his cock is going to feel being surrounded by all that muscle, milked until bursting through that narrow channel.

“Francis.” You spit his name through gritted teeth, struggling to endure that violation of your virginity. He does not dawdle, finishing the penetration and then withdrawing, wishing you were wetter, recognizing the sticky hot feel of blood now staining him. He thinks you must hate it right now, that awful burn and stretch, so he lavishes you with kisses and praise and tries to be gentler now, not pressing in quite as far, trying out a more shallow drag, making sure to stimulate your clit. He’s completely lost track of the plot of the film at this point. Had the Earthlings triumphed? Surely they had. Most movies had happy endings. No one wanted to see a villain emerge as the victor.

Am I the villain? Deflowering this young woman. Stealing a moment she can never have back again. Wrapping her up in lies to shield others from the truth. Her secret, older lover.

The windows are becoming clouded. The closing credits are rolling. There is always a brief intermission between films. He knows he can’t keep you through the second one. It will be too long an absence to explain to your father.

Still he makes no move to start the car and you do not mention it. He’s stopped fingering you for now. He thinks it’s enough for one night, even though he wishes he could make you enjoy the experience more. His cock gives a dissatisfied lurch that he ignores.

You, however, do not. Your hands are there and he hums a weak protest, saying you don’t have to. You say you want to and he can’t deny you. Your soft fingers stroke his prick and he tucks his face into your neck.

“Are you sorry? I shouldn’t have…maybe this wasn’t the best place…”

“No, I’m not sorry.” You smear precum over the head and massage the frenulum and he sucks in a deep breath. You’re too good at this. You know his body so well already.

“I want it to be good for you. I want you to be happy. Happy that you’re with me.” He huffs the last couple of words out as the pleasure of your touch overwhelms him. His climax is fast approaching.

Francis’ head lifts and he looks into your eyes. “I couldn’t live without you now. I don’t know how I ever did it before. You don’t know what you mean to me, sweet girl, my girl…” A broken sound almost like a sob and then he pulses against your stroking fingers, spewing out streams of release. His face is hidden in the space between your neck and shoulder again, his breath coming in soft pants.

“Francis. Francis, I have to go home now,” you murmur.

“I know.” He reluctantly straightens, staring at the screen for a few moments. The second film has advanced well past the opening credits and a musical number. This one looks like another alleged teenage driven tale about a young woman’s sister being framed for murder.

He hates this feeling he has, this sudden resentfullness, this sullen attitude that lingers after you’ve both fixed clothing and cleaned as best you could. He can see there is still blood tucked around the cuticle and surrounding the nail bed of his middle finger. He swallows thickly and starts the engine. The vehicle exits the theater, the car jostled a few times by pot holes in the long dirt driveway that leads to the site. He bitterly remembers how he’d cautioned you about how this affair would only get more difficult as time wore on, and he absolutely despises how right he’d been.

The milkman stops before reaching the apartment building, pulling over and killing the engine. You look over at him for an explanation.

“I don’t want you to think I’m upset with you.”

“I know you’re not.”

“It’s the situation.”

“Yes.”

“Do you still feel like you’re sharing me?”

“A little. But I’ve seen how you are together firsthand. I know it’s not the same as it is with us.”

He runs a finger over the steering wheel. “Are you sore?”

“Yes.”

He likes your bluntness, even if he’s sorry for your answer. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I know you have to go home. I’m taking you right now. I just wanted you to know…”

“I know,” you say, taking the older man’s face between your hands and kissing him. “I know, Francis.”

He turns the key in the ignition.

[softshuji]

𝟐𝟑:𝟐𝟑𝐏𝐌 | 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎

Title: Nights like This

Summary: Sanzu has always thought of you as his perfect angel, incapable of committing anything as bad as he has, but he can't deny the pleasure that comes from finding out you're just as bad. Back to master list here!

Cw: fem!reader, explicit gun usage and violence, mentions of drugs, Sanzu and reader are messed up I'm ngl, some suggestive content but nothing explicit, brief mentions of gunplay and bondage, cursing, pet names (princess, angel), both reader and Haru are a little sadistic. reblogs appreciated!

Nights like this are hard to come by for you and Haruchiyo. Quiet ones, where the moonlight is enough for you to walk by across the park at night, the crunch of leaves loud underfoot and streetlights winking in and out of life.

You’re lucky, it’s a rare day off for him, and you can tell by the calm warmth of his hand in yours, the lack of buzzing energy, the absence of the shake that’s usually so present on his skin, that he’s clean today. You’re proud, if it can be said, of the effort that would be minute to anyone else, but is immeasurable for you, especially when you consider his reliance on them, the red and white pills that fill his pockets as amply as gum.

He’s looser today, despite the tight coil of terse thick tension coiling in his chest, he smiles often, gives you a softer look, though he’s always had a tenderness for you. You hold his arm, one gloved hand flat against his wrist, the other curled around the swell of his toned forearm, the two of you huddled in thick coats against the early autumn chill, red scarves brushing your chins in tandem. 

In truth, he’s trying not to think about it. The pills, the cigarettes, the way he longs for something a little stronger than the bottle of wine you’ve helped down back at the restaurant. His hands are itching and it takes considerable effort for him to keep them still, to keep his thumbs brushing achingly slow circles over your knuckles, an action that has your stomach jumping in time with your heart. 

But you know, and you appreciate the effort all the same. 

‘And then what happened, Haru?’ you say and you nod in encouragement, a small smile curling at your perfect mouth and Haruchiyo is ashamed to say he loves it, loves the small gestures, the tiny inflection of an accent saying his name, all sugary sweet from your even sweeter lips and he would drown in it if he could, the simple but divine and almost sensual way your lips part to use his name like some toy. He likes the other part too, the coolness of you that calms his heat, that simply listens, and he feels like more than just a glorified criminal for once.

‘Hm? Oh and then Mikey told me to shoot him and we ran for it.’ He finds himself leaning into you occasionally, as if you could warm the cold down to his bones and curl your warm hands around his soul. Well, whatever is left of it.

 He likes that you’re not afraid either, that he can simply speak, can come home bloodied and bruised and cuffs dotted with blood and you understand on instinct, take in his face, the glassy eyes that are still alight with adrenaline and pull the ache from his bones with nothing but the softness of your lips on his skin. 

He knows you like to mark him as much as he does you. There is no taming your mouth and the hot and fiery bites it leaves on his otherwise pale chest but it gives him a thrill to know that you have the same on yours, that it’s a territorial mark, the both of you sating your hungry appetites with each other.

‘Mhm, is that how you got the blood on your suit earlier?’ And you say it so naturally, with such reckless abandon, such welcome, that the heart Haruchiyo thought was dead in his chest pulses with heat. 

You like hearing him talk really, like that he feels comfortable enough to do so with you, to let you in after the years of trying to tame the bratty attitude that had him breaking out in a fever of sweat when he was alone. It’s a perfect balance. You enjoy the sadism of his unpredictability, the wild glint in his eyes when he twirls a gun around his lithe fingers, the softness that melts the razor edges when he touches you, as if he could break you by touch alone.

And he enjoys you, your smart mouth, the quick and dizzyingly attractive comebacks that have his pants tightening when you mouth off at him, always with a suspiciously teasing look in your eye. But he also enjoys this, the ‘you’ that lets him in, both fear and excitement, the understanding that comes from two perhaps equally monstrous souls. He hasn’t failed to notice the way your eyes glass with the clear shine of adrenaline, excitement and thrumming nerves when he twirls a gun in his hands, when he trails it down your lips, blank of course he makes sure (though you are none the wiser) and presses it between your sternum, between your thighs, your hands tied to the bedframe and him, holding your life between his lithe fingers. He likes it, you like it, him wrestling power from you like that, teetering on the edge of life and death.

‘It is, got his blood all over those cufflinks you got me as well, sorry about that Princess,’ he says and you touch your hand to his wrist on instinct. 

You lean against him, the fine pink of his hair tickling your cheek, kissing at your earlobes. It’s a perfect picture really, and you warm at the softness of his hands on yours, the lingering scent of gunpowder on his neck, cologne and metal and smoke clinging to the collars of his coat. 

‘S’okay Haru, I’ll just buy you another set if you like.’ You bite your lip, engrossed in the sharp shine of his eyes, the cut of his cheekbones darkened by the slant of moonlight, the smoothened diamond scars on his mouth that you long to press your lips to. 

The visibility is poor, and perhaps that’s what catches him off guard at first. The rush of a dark shadow barrelling towards him and it’s instinctual, the way he puts himself between you and them, a hand moving for his gun and the other holding you at arms length, angling his body to take the brunt of the hit as the man all but falls onto him.

‘You motherfu-’ He starts and the gun is loaded in his hand, his senses sharpened by the crisp night air, moving to press the trigger when your nails dig into his wrist as the man lowers himself against the wall, his hands thrown up in surrender. 

A drunk, that’s all, but it has your teeth on edge immediately. 

You dig your nails into his wrist, the glassy shine of your eyes now swirling with the copper hue of the streetlight. ‘Haru, are you okay?’ And you bend, a hand on his forearm to look over him, at the gun that glints metallic silver now pressed to his palm.

He glances at you, then at the man cowering against the terracotta brick, hands thrown up to shield himself, as if the zip of a bullet cannot tear through his flesh. 

‘I’m alright, Princess, just going to deal with this prick-’

‘You don’t need to-

‘Huh? Of course I do, he put you in danger Princess,’ he says, fast breath coming in plumes and curling against your nose.

And then, an idea that burns to life in your veins as his eyes flick to you and your smaller hand bunching up the fabric of his coat.

You test it on your tongue, chewing it up as you weigh the scales. ‘Why don’t you….let me?’ 

He frowns, a shrug of his shoulders as he turns from you to the man against the wall again. ‘Don’t be silly Princess, I just need to-’

‘Haru.’ Your voice an octave lower, authority and command and the click of heels moving into his periphery. He’s raising the gun to the man’s head and he can almost see it already, the back-splatter on his new cufflinks, the one’s he bought for today specifically, the sag of the body as the head lolls against the chest, a splash of red against even redder brick.

‘Haru,’ you say again because something is stirring in your stomach and the rush of adrenaline is coming to life in your veins. ‘Give me the gun.’

‘What?’

‘Give it to me. Let me. I want to.’ Your eyes alight with the pulse of the excitement he’s come to worship. You and Mikey, his deities.

It takes a second, a moment stretched out in time, in which his brows crease and his eyes search yours for the certainty, the surety of what you’re asking. He knows you like to live dangerously, like the power trip as much as he does, the give and take, the delicious and euphoric thrum of authority in your veins.

‘You’re sure?’ 

You nod and your lips are a firm line, the moonlight falling over a part of your face, cloaking it in shadow. You’ve never tried it before, at least not all the way. You’ve held his guns, weighed them in your hands, felt the warm kiss of his breath on your neck as he teaches you to aim down your sights, the intensity of his stare, the brush of his lips that has your thighs clenching and warmth pooling between them. 

For self defence you said, but Haru knew better. You liked it, watching the tilt of his head, the release of power that was so sexy to watch it had goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

‘I’m sure.’ You hold your hand out and the man watches as Haruchiyo hands it over, closing your hand around the barrel, your finger hovering over the trigger. ‘He disrespected you so let me do this.’

He wants to stop you, to stop you taking the plunge, from becoming like him. You, his laughing, smiling angel. You, cute and sweet and there for him when the pulsing in his head becomes loud enough to hear under his skin but he can’t deny there is something so deliciously erotic watching you throw back your shoulders, the hard set of your jaw as you stare down at the man who pushed into him, the cold fury in your eyes that has his pants tightening again.

He expects you to go for it immediately, press the trigger and hear the bang but you don’t. Instead, you pull your hand back and smash the barrel of the gun on the man’s jaw, all bone and sinew cracking with the blow, blood spurting from his cut lip and disfiguring his nose, his hands moving to shield him. He taught you that, and you remembered. It had taken a few practice runs, a swing of your arm without fear, without holding back like he knew you would. And oh is he proud, when the crack of bone reverberates, when a reddened welt appears almost immediately and he could kiss you, could worship you entirely. 

‘Apologize to my Husband,’ you say and bend, grabbing a handful of hair as you bridge the distance, your hot breath now fanning the blooming bruise along his cheek. You tug harshly and he whines, the gun now pressed up against his temple, trailing lower till the cold barrel is pushed between his bloodied lips.

‘Did you not hear what I said?’ You dig till he all but gags around the barrel and Haruchiyo’s jaw drops in awe, shock and pleasure and adrenaline all beating through his chest at once. Something twitches in his pants.

He watches, critically, euphorically, as you pull the gun out and push the man towards the ground, the barrel now firmly denting the back of his head as he lands on palms and knees, a hairsbreadth away from Sanzu’s shiny dress shoes. He recognizes this, the setup of it. It's his own, his little game he plays with victims, breaking them before the release. He really has trained you well hasn't he? 

The drunkard whimpers, and Haruchiyo almost feels like doing the same in his own twisted way. 

‘Kiss his shoes and apologise,’ you say, and the sharp edge of your voice is colder than Haru has ever heard it, colder than the spike of frost clinging to the streetlamps. 

This. This feels like power, it feels like pleasure, pride, authority. Anticipation, adrenaline, holding life and death in your hands. You, the grim reaper. You like it, and judging by Haruchiyo’s slack jaw,  the extremely obvious bulge in his pants, he likes this side of you too, the calculating side that has him aching with need. It’s at this point he realizes just how much he’s corrupted you, how much he has tainted you with his blood-spattered hands. His angel, falling from grace. And yes, he could easily kill this man without a gun, with one hand in fact but he loves your efforts, your possessiveness, your hold on him.

‘Will- will you let me-?’ 

‘Yes, yes, I’ll let you go after.’ It’s dismissive, almost bored in tone, as if this is a chore or punishment you’re doling out unnecessarily. 

So he grovels, and slides on his hands and knees till he’s a hair's breadth from Haruchiyo’s shiny black shoes. You think you hear him whimper again as he bends, his dry cracked lips trembling with the effort it takes to hold in his tears and control the shake in his voice.

And then he swallows against the tide of shame in his throat and Sanzu’s eyes are saucers as he presses a light and hesitant kiss to the instep of his shoe. It happens quickly , and the man is shuffling backwards as soon as his lips have parted from the black leather.

‘Okay good, now back up against the wall,’ you say and the gun is on his temple again, digging into the bony flesh of his cheek, hard enough to feel the indent against his remaining teeth. You can feel it, the way the flesh parts for you, the pudginess of his cheek underneath the cold barrel, the harsh sharpness of his teeth that block the way. There’s something interesting in it, something so fascinating about how the flesh parts with a little force, so obedient and disciplined.

He gropes blindly for purchase along the tarmac, the streetlight casting a golden light on the filth of his nails, the way they’ve cracked with strain and use, bleeding slightly from where they’ve scraped. He puts his hands up again and shakes, his whole body wracking with the tremors and you can’t deny that despite how shameful it is, how wrong, how perverse, the delicious shiver of pleasure running along your skin is too prominent to be ignored. 

Haruchiyo’s lips part to lick at the saliva pooling at the edge, to suck in his bottom lip and pull it between his teeth in need. 

You spare a glance at your husband, who stares at you with eyes pooling with lust, affection, admiration, that fine line between love and fear, before moving your sharp gaze back to the man cowering against the brick with his hands raised.

‘You-you said you’d let me go if I did it.’ He shrinks back as you take a step forward, the click of heels deafeningly loud on the otherwise quiet street, the frost kissing at your boots from where the snow has melted on the expensive leather.

‘I did…’ You make to lower the gun, skimming it along his jawbone. 

He waits, lets out a breath that’s all mist and dampened sniffles. 

‘I lied.’ And in one swift motion, you dig the barrel into his throat and pull the trigger, hard enough, the sleek metal parting for you like the lips of a lover and the bullet is fast and hot as it pierces skin. The splash of blood on your gloved hand is warm too, the smoke curling towards the sky as his head lolls against the terracotta brick, before falling completely, slumping against the tarmac, his hands still raised in shocked surrender.

The gunshot is loud, deafeningly so, a ring and drum of explosive noise that dies just as quick. 

‘Princess…’ Haruchiyo is all shock and awe, his voice a muted but lust-driven whisper, his throat dry with anticipatory longing.

It’s over far too quickly for your liking, the metallic tang of blood weak and dissipating into the air, coagulating already between the seams of your leather gloves. You lower the gun and your breath is quick and sharp, shallow enough to be pulsing in time with the ringing in your head.

Haruchiyo moves to take the gun, and it slides from your hand as you stare vacantly at the body, a carcass really, a suit of flesh and meat. And it’s funny, and yet not so, that that’s all it really is, a meatsuit of bones and blood tied together with stringy sinew, a life winked in and out of existence by a few minutes of your time, a split second decision.

Haruchiyo tucks the gun into his trousers, and takes your hand, still sticky with blood, and rubs it between his own. He warms it, brings your wrist to his mouth and presses a hot and chaste kiss to the vein in the juncture. He’s holding himself back, the ache between his legs an unforgettable thrumming of sweet pain. But he knows this is a big moment for you and so he’s letting it simmer for a minute, letting the gravity of your sin unfurl like an autumn leaf crushed underfoot. The weight of it descending on your shoulders is a boulder that presses firmly on your bones.

‘Princess are you okay?’ Despite himself, the vicious, blood-thirsty side that cackles loudly when blood is spilled, that’s hungry to sink his teeth into you in a place as shady and unsavoury as an alleyway, he’s letting you have this, this moment of clarity. His Goddess, his Queen, tainted enough to take to hell with him.

‘I-I’m fine Haru.’ Your voice, when you do find it, wavers on the end of each word, and now that it’s over, the clarity hits like a freight train. The shiver that had run along your skin is beaded with cold and the sweat rolling down your back elicits a dazed shake of your head.

‘Sure?’ He searches your eyes, looking for the come-down, the glassy eyed adrenaline replaced by the shock. Your lip trembles and he presses a quick kiss to your cupid’s bow. You sink against him and he holds you there, under the bronze streetlight, the frost clinging to your skin, dewy and wet and flushed with desire. 

‘I killed him…’ you whisper into the fine threads of his coat, your voice woven against his ear, dizzying and confused and almost shy.

‘You did. Now Shall we go home?’ 

‘Yeah, please.’ Your nails dig into his coat, his perfect lips close enough to feel the breath on the tip of your nose, his neck clean and clear of any marks your mouth might beg to put there. It’s shameful, how deplorable the both of you can be, how you both rein in the desire at once, how your thighs are clenching with the ache settling between them. 

He grins, slides a hand down the small of your back and ghosts his lips over the shell of your ear, bites at your earlobe before pulling away entirely. He can’t decide which part he enjoyed the most, the power you held now, with the gun pressing into the gaunt cheek or the part where his shoe was kissed almost reverently at your behest. 

He feels divine, he feels as if he could eat the whole world raw and oh is he going to enjoy positively breaking you when you get home.

He shoots a bored look at the body still lying prone against the wall, the splash of red almost black under the bronze streetlight, running in thickened rivulets into the cement. Eh, Bonten will cover for the both of you, he thinks and shrugs. You are, the both of you, untouchable, godly, dripping with unsated power.

Right now he has only one thing on his mind, and that’s pinning you to the bed by the neck and sinking into you for as long as the night lasts. And, he thinks with a glance at the moon now unfurling behind a cloud, the night…is young yet.

a/n: I have nothing to say but the fact that I wrote this with my clit- ok im jkjkjk lol, I have been wanting to write this for ages because nothing excites me more than the idea of my puppy boy getting down awful for a woman willing to kill for him that's all. I need.

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @sweet-seishu @burnishedcrown @nikokopuffs @mitsuwuyaa @haruwuchiyoo @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013 @wotakuhime @severellamahottub @anxious-chick-loggedoutpermanen

[setsugekka]

❥summer hair = forever young (m)

↳ Only three weeks after being broken up with by your long time partner, you’re dragged along for your friends summer vacation plans despite your best attempts at staying home to do little more than feel sorry for yourself.

Day one? Dinner and a movie.

Day two? The bar down the street that smells like old socks.

Day three? Well, that’s the waterpark, and the cute, blonde lifeguard that seems to make the lazy river his mainstay is a bit of a sight for sore eyes.

lee jeno x fem!reader — summer fling, strangers to lovers, fluff, light angst, porn with plot, explicit sexual content. [18,1k wc] cws: alcohol consumption, penetrative sex, oral sex (f), praise, dirty talk, body cum-shot, Lee Jeno has a Big Dick.

J♡ [22:40]: i just think with summer coming up it's probably for the best, we had fun but we both knew it wasn't a forever thing anyway

A year and a half. Just like that.

Even now, two days after the break up text from your boyfriend — the boyfriend that you were very much in love with and very much thought it to be at the very least a potential forever thing with — you find yourself coming back to it. Rereading it. Wondering what it was that brought the two of you to the here and now of it all.

Though, the pictures of him at a party that had been posted the following day sort of gave it away, you suppose.

Still, there had been talk of future plans, futures together and what that looked like. Maybe not quite a family and the white picket fence just yet — but there had been discussions over romantic dinners and between the sheets after some particularly enjoyable bedroom romps. At least, you had thought as much.

In hindsight, a break up always causes you to put every interaction leading up to it under a microscope. What could you have done differently, better, how could you have avoided the reality that you now find yourself in.

You choose not to reread over the texts you've sent him since, mostly out of humiliation of the fact. Through the crying and the begging and the reducing yourself down to someone that you don't even recognize even in the worst of times, the only thing that makes it that much worse is the lack of any such acknowledgement from a man who had once promised you so much of himself. Not granted even so much as a conversation — hell, he couldn't even be bothered to meet you in person to do it properly — the most likely case? Jaehyun met some girl at some party that in the moment he felt was worth ending the relationship for.

And in times like this, you realize it's difficult to think that you ever really know someone at all.

In the following weeks, your friends are kind, but even you can tell that they begin to get fed up with your insistence on being miserable over a guy that couldn't grace you with even an ounce of the same thoughtfulness.

Constantly turning down plans in favor of staying home on the couch with a bag of snacks and some shitty romance flick, the squad of pals that you've collected over the years only becomes more and more pushy of your getting up and out there once again — in the nicest way, of course. Comments about how he wasn't even that handsome (a lie) and wouldn't end up being all that successful anyway (also a lie) sneak themselves into conversations at any brief moment that any of them can sneak them in, as if attempting to convince you of the fact; rather, the reminder of him only serves as just that. You don't need it, because you're still at a point of pain in your chest where Jaehyun is always there. Knocking, jabbing, not allowing himself to fall off from your mind even for a second.

They mean well, but these things take time. You're thankful that with summer vacation coming up and the girls having plans to go out of town for a few weeks that you'll be granted a small amount of reprieve from the barrage of commentary, at the very least.

That is, of course, until the day comes.

"Rise and shine, darling! We're going on a mission!"

Waking to the shrill voice of one of the girls as she rips the covers off of your body — simultaneously exposing your freshly opened eyes to the offending illumination of the sunlight outside as another girl pulls open the curtains of a window just across the room — you briefly attempt to reach for the duvet before instead accepting defeat and instead slumping back into the cushion of the mattress, anticipating whatever nonsense these women have in store for you this time.

"What kind of mission?" You ask with a dry and throaty groan.

With blankets bunched in her arms, a girl with long, silver hair brings herself just next to your head while you remain lied and despondent in bed. "Today we leave for summer vacation."

One eye cracked open at the words from Winter's mouth, you groan again before answering her. "Yes, you all leave for summer vacation. I told you I wasn't going."

"Why?" Another girl chimes in from the doorway. A beautiful woman with long, silky black hair. "So you can stay here all month long and continue feeling bad for yourself? That guy was a fuckin' loser anyway."

"Karina."

"What?" She adds in retaliation. "He was."

Still standing by the window and with a white curtain in hand, Giselle rolls her eyes at her friends bluntness. Really, you know them all to believe it to be the case, but Karina is the only one willing to go to such feats to speak on it.

"What she means is that it would probably do you some good to get out and come away with us," Giselle amends, garnering a rather unbothered shrug from Karina along the way. "It's only two weeks, it certainly couldn't hurt."

Sighing at the words, you remain laid out in the comfort of your bed. Staring at the ceiling, you realize that there is still a small part of you that can't help but consider the possibility of Jaehyun calling you to tell you of the mistake that he has made, that the two of you should meet up and rekindle things, and the thought of being far away and well out of reach should that time come to pass causes an uncomfortable twisting in your gut that you're not all that ready to disclose to your friends in the room.

Partially because you know it to be so far from the realm of possibility, and partially because it's not a conversation that you're all that interested in rehashing with them now, either.

Regardless, you know there to be truth in their words. Staying home and feeling bad about where your love life has ended up thus far is not going to serve you: not in the near or the far future. Knowing as much, it then begs the question...

Is it worth throwing away an entire summer vacation for?

Inhaling slowly, your lips part to speak, but as your eyes fall upon Winter once more, you watch as her face begins to twist into that of glee before the words even begin to leave your mouth.

"Yes!" She exclaims with a jump before turning and ushering the other girls to begin packing belongings for your last minute trip.

It's only a few hours over to the next town by the beach, anyway, so if they forget anything of importance you'll easily be able to find something to make up for it upon arrival. You leave them to it over the calamity of delighted squeals as the women shove your belongings into a bag, and as you stare up at the ceiling over your head for one last time before your departure, you can't help but wonder: what are you getting yourself into this summer?

Four hours and twenty minutes in the backseat of Ningning's luxury SUV.

It's not the worst way to get somewhere, but the additional hour of travel time most certainly could have been shaved off if any of the people in the car capable enough of navigating a GPS application.

Instead, the time there offers you far too much ability to live with your own thoughts about whether or not you're in the right headspace to truly be making this trip. Granted, it's a little bit too late for that now on account of not being able to back out should you even want to — rather, you can't help but wonder if you're already regretful of having allowed yourself to be dragged along for such a thing.

Every ten minutes or so you check your phone for a message, not that you're keeping track or anything.

The concern is alleviated for a time upon finally reaching the summer beach house, at least. From the outside it's nothing fancy; perhaps appearing as nothing more than a typical, large family home at a glance — but putting together the knowledge of it being just walking distance from the sandy coast out back and the large count of at least six bedrooms inside — you know it to be far beyond just the way that it may present. Expected, of Ningning and her affluent family, and at the very least you're thankful in knowing that you'll have a bedroom for yourself that most likely has a lock on the door should you wish to take some time away from the girls at hand.

You feel somewhat guilty in thinking that, though: friends that you've known since the beginnings of high school and now well into the tail end of higher educational years, people who have been with you through thick and thin and through all of your poor decisions, messy break ups, and rash meltdowns. For whatever reason, this one feels different. The desire to be away and alone with nothing more than your feelings of sorrow, and sometimes you find yourself even lamenting the fact that you have to acknowledge anyone or anything outside of that.

It's good to feel your feelings, this much you know. It's probably better to not allow them to consume you, however uncomfortable it is, though.

Blonde hair swishing through the air as she twirls with keys jingling in hand, Ningning turns with a wide smile to the rest of you as she pushes the front door open and subsequently removes herself from the doorway to allow you all to go before her. "Home sweet home!"

Upon entering the premises, you can't help but think that 'sweet' may be an understatement: two stories and ceilings higher than you can really even fathom with more window paning serving as a perimeter than proper walling — it's most definitely a luxury home, and one that you couldn't really fathom ever owning for yourself, or even really being able to afford renting for a getaway such as this without the additional help of a well-off pal.

It's beautiful, and it makes you realize just how lucky you are to have friends willing to drag you out of your misery to force you to come along and experience it with them.

"Bedrooms are upstairs except for the largest one, which I'll be staying in on account of familial ties," the girl proudly explains as you all enter and set your bags down in the living room area. "Kitchen is to the left, as is another, smaller living area, pool, deck, and then obviously you guys can figure out how to get to the beach."

It goes without saying, because even though the sun is out upon your arrival, you can't imagine not being able to see the crashing of waves even in the nighttime from where you stand now. Looking out towards the coast, it makes your heart swell with promise and thankfulness once over.

You gotta give it to them, they might have been right.

Still, you've checked your phone twice since you've arrived.

"Should we freshen up then have dinner?" Karina asks suddenly and with evident excitement in her voice. You all nod.

"Dinner and a movie in on the first night," Winter adds, grabbing her bags once again. "But after that I expect nothing but trouble until we have to go back home."

Somehow, you don't doubt that to be the outcome, either.

Day two is simple, and much to Winter's displeasure. You, however, are a bit thankful for it on account of your inability to truly settle in. It helps after having gone to the bar just down the way and having a few drinks — that always does the trick in getting you to dreamland, but the aid of alcoholic beverages isn't one that you wish to rely on as a crutch for sleeping during your two week stay and without another plan of action, you think it best to take it easy and lie a little low for what may be the remainder of the trip for you.

When day three rolls around and Karina excitedly throws out the option of the enormous, landmark of a waterpark that the city is known for — everyone is beyond elated at the suggestion, even you.

Some sun and a little outdoors could probably do you good, and on top of that, you'll be far too exhausted from a day out not to get a good nights rest by the time your body meets the comfort of your bed.

With swimsuits on and towels in hand as the five of you enter the gates of the park, you realize that you had overlooked how busy it would be — and by quite a wide margin.

Crowds not really your thing and especially not during some of the hottest days of summer, you bite back any possible complaints you could have and instead focus on the positives: you and your friends are looking fine as hell, there's a comfortable breeze that you couldn't be happier to feel right about now, and your phone is tucked away inside of a locker — far from your sight until the day is over.

You're hopeful for any thoughts of him being just as tucked away as a result, too.

In the meantime and barely out of sight long enough for you to even notice, Giselle pops back up to your side with a bright blue slushie in one hand. "What should we do first?"

"Where did you even get that?" You can't help but question.

Turning and pointing, Giselle brings your line of vision over to a shirtless man standing at a small kiosk only a few feet away. "Hot guy selling them."

"We should definitely see if there's any more of those around here," Karina adds upon looking, and as a result, you cock your head somewhat confused. "Slushies?"

"Hot guys," she confirms sternly.

The thing about post-break up heartbreak is that often times the blinders to other people some times turn themselves on without your knowing it.

That is to say that even though you're not actively thinking about Jaehyun, and there are extremely attractive men here, you can't say that you're all that interested in the fact.

Standing back, you find joy at least in watching your friends enjoy themselves as they flirt with strange guys and playfully pat their arms and shoulders — laughing at jokes that aren't funny but for this, we can pretend — you know it all too well, and you suppose that from an outsiders point of view, it certainly is amusing, and given how long the line is up to this slide, you're thankful for the entertainment.

Nearing thirty minutes in line for one attraction in the hot, beating down summer sun is far from your idea of a good time, but you can see the end soon approaching, and while you cannot imagine that the ride down be worthy of this sort of gathering of people, the faster you can get up there, on the ride, and down, the better.

With only a small family of four ahead of your group now, you and the girls stand just near the very top of the water slide. Sweat pooling in all sorts of places that you'd really rather it not on account of the heat, you find yourself nearing the end of your willingness to enjoy this place, and more than that, you're happy that this is one of those slides that holds numerous people at once so that no one has to wait to get down from what you might consider now to be the highest mountain in the pits of Hell.

The family goes along their way, and with Karina ahead of you and the other behind you, the girl leans back to whisper towards you through the loud shouts of happy children surrounding you.

"Oh, girl—"

Granted, you don't know what this means as you continue with the last couple of steps to the top. Not until you get up there and your eyes land on precisely what it is that you know garnered that type of reaction from her.

Standing just beside the opening of the slide and preparing an inflatable tube for your party of pals, he doesn't take notice of you and yours before your lot does of him, and for that you're somewhat thankful considering the way that your eyes rake over the toned, tanned, display of arms and a bleached-blonde undercut of hair with the sides and back all too freshly shaven, at that.

With a loose tank top covering his torso, you can't help but feel a bit disappointed in the fact. A modest man working at the waterpark, you think, and it brings a bit of a grin to your lips despite the joke only being known to you.

In that moment and with it now being your turn to ride, he looks up and makes eye contact with you, in particular — a wide smile of teeth that's matched by an equally pleasant eye smile, as well — punctuated by a small freckle just at the lower corner of his right eye.

"First time riding?"

"What?"

You realize as soon as the affronted response leaves your lips that it is no ones fault but your own that you've responded to such a normal question in this way. Perhaps entirely on account of your eye-fucking the cute lifeguard before he even manages to get a word in edgewise, you watch him cock his head to the side inquisitively at your answer before snorting out a bit of a chuckle through his nose and continuing on as if you're not a complete fucking freak in public.

"Is it your first time? On this ride?"

"Oh," you answer back as normally as you can possibly muster up. "Uh, yeah, first time."

"Cool," he says, holding the raft still while your friends climb on and get into position beside you. "Hold onto the railing, don't let go, don't stick your hands out and try to touch anything along the way."

With a knowing grin, Karina leans forward to grab his attention as he pulls you and your girls towards the opening of the slide. "What happens if I lose a finger? Are you going to come down there and rescue me?"

It's flirtatious, although you can't help but think the logistics of it could potentially use some work.

But with little more than a shake of his head and a smile, the cute blonde answers the inquiry in the best way you think him to know how.

"I work at a waterpark, don't think you want me sewing anything on you back together. Have fun!"

And with that, the hot lifeguard disappears into the dark, black abyss of the waterslide.

When the day comes to a close and simultaneously, the park itself, with gentle sunburns gracing you and your friends skin and with slushies in hand, the five of you finally retrieve your belongings from the lockers near the entrance.

You check the screen of your phone to find little more than a text from your mother, asking how you're doing and if you're having a good time.

Looking forward to the day in which not finding a message from your ex won't make your throat feel like swallowed needles, as well.

"I see everyone made it out with all of their appendages."

The voice and joke are familiar in a sort of way that you can't seem to place just yet, but upon raising your sights from the depressing display at hand and towards the person in which the words have come from, it all comes rushing back to you at lightning speed. Eyes wide and taken quite aways aback, you just about drop your phone and as a result of scrambling to not let it meet the wet concrete of the floor below, nearly make a mess of the icy, blue beverage in hand, as well.

Thankfully, neither disastrous outcome make themselves to be — but still, your inability to be even a little bit normal in front of a man you've known for all of two minutes is getting a little out of hand, at this point.

Still in the same white, cut up t-shirt from back at the slides, the two of you make eye contact for a moment before you realize that you should probably actually say something to him in response.

"Yeah, well," you start with a nod back behind him and towards where Karina stands. "She was the one with intent to remove fingers, not me."

Pausing to glance back over his shoulder and acknowledge the other woman, he gives her a nod before turning his attention back and towards you.

"Good, because I really mean it when I say I can't sew for shit."

You can't help but chuckle at the words. "Would be quite a repertoire of skills under your belt if that were to be the case."

"Indeed. You live around here or on vacation?"

Sly, you think to yourself. Granted, you don't hate the attention especially since he seems keen on directing it to you, in particular. It does beg the question, however, of how much of a point is there to any of this, really? A summer fling can be fun, sure, although not exactly your usual speed of doing things — and especially not off of the back of some of the worst heartbreak you've ever experienced — you look the man in front of you over just one more time before parting dry, chapped lips to respond to him in some form or another.

"Vacation," you grant him, albeit slowly, as if anticipating something suspicious in his questioning. "Why?"

It's sort of a stupid question, you know.

Perching a well-defined arm up against the metal locker next to the both of you, he leans into it and maintains eye contact with you before answering as much. "We should do something while you're in town."

Reeling at how forward he is, your answer comes out a bit more stuttered than you would have liked to begin with. "I—I'm not sure there's much point in tha—"

But regardless, Karina is there to interject, anyway.

Nudging herself into the scene and with her own phone in hand, the woman stands between you and him to do something that you stand a bit half and half on: it's somewhat annoying, and a bit out of bounds especially as friendships go to be giving out your number to men that you've only barely just met...however...

He is so fine, and a bit charming, to boot.

"Here's her number," you hear your friend say as she stands with her back towards you. The whole thing takes place in a matter of seconds, and as he slides his phone back into his pocket, Karina makes haste in whisking herself back out of the scene, but not before flashing you a knowing, mischievous smile.

"Trouble that one is, huh?" He says, thumbing back over his shoulder as she disappears into the rest of your friend group.

"You have no idea," you sigh in response, and now resigned to the fact that this is definitely going to be some kind of thing, you figure it best to move along towards the next most obvious course of action. Whatever this is going to be, after all. "So, what's your name?"

Corners of his mouth pulling into an all too pleasant curl, you hate how much it sort of makes you melt at the sight of it. An unfortunate side effect of much too attractive and seemingly also kinda cool guys, you figure.

"Jeno," he says, as if delighted by the fact that you would ever even ask. "Lee Jeno."

Over the next handful of days — through a shocking amount of quiet evenings spent at home around take-out boxes and cheap wine with the girls — texts from the cute blonde at the waterpark that you now know to be named Jeno come far more frequently than you realize you had anticipated.

For one, he knows that you don't live around here so you can't imagine there to be much of a reason for him to be pursuing you for much more than a fun romp in the sheets, only to then never speak to you ever again. It's not an arrangement you're all that opposed to under normal circumstances, though you can't help but consider that where you are mentally and emotionally right about now is far from normal circumstances.

And two, he hasn't really laid on the same sort of aggressive, sexual interest that you may have expected from a guy looking for that sort of thing.

In fact, talking to Jeno is just pretty...casual.

Seemingly making it a point to text you late into the night and right before bed (incredible timing every time, you note), you chuckle every time thinking that this time to be the one where he comes on strong. After all, most men only text women that they're interested in this late at night for one thing and one thing only, so every time as the chime of your phone receiving a message comes through, you arm yourself with the armor of anticipating something heinous to some degree — you can only hope that it's not a dick pic, at least.

Phone in hand, lights off and snuggling into the plush, comfortable sheets of your bedding, you unlock your phone and navigate to your messaging application to see just what it is that lies in wait for you this evening.

Jeno [01:23]: good morning, or night, i never know how to announce myself at this time of the day

It's sort of annoying the way you can't help but smile, but you're thankful enough for the fact that he is unable to see the effect he already has on you in such a way.

In the wake of being told that you're not wanted, not desired — sometimes it's nice to have a reminder that not everyone feels that way.

You have no intention of engaging in anything more than basic flirtation with this man, but hey, that can be enough.

You [01:24]: how do you always know exactly when i'm settling in for bed?

Typing bubble popping up immediately after sending your message, you can't help but wonder just how eager this guy really is to be the receiver of your full attention.

Jeno [01:24]: i have karina on look out so she can let me know precisely the right time to hit you up

You [01:24]: creepy, but i respect your willingness to tell me, at least

Jeno [01:25]: well, you know what they say, honesty is the best policy. what are you guys doing tomorrow night?

Taking a moment to mull over the question before you begin typing your reply, you answer him easily, but mostly out of curiosity in why it is that he's asking.

You [01:26]: i don't think we have anything planned? you can ask karina ;p

Jeno [01:26]: very funny, are you going to hold that terrible joke over my head forever? anyway, my friend is having a party at his place, parents out of town for a week, you guys should come by.

You're none too proud of the way your heart beats just that much harder for a split second in time at the coming through of the invitation. Still, play it cool.

You [01:27]: i'll ask the girls tomorrow if we have anything going on and i'll get back to you. are any of your friends cute?

You're not sure you've ever seen the typing bubble pop up that quickly in your life after sending that message.

Jeno [01:27]: really man? already trying to scope out my friend group to see if you can get an upgrade? :(

You [01:28]: i have friends...they will want to know...it will likely be a huge deciding factor in whether or not we show up at all so think carefully lol

Jeno [01:28]: fine! yeah i guess some of them are handsome, not quite as handsome as me but you know what can you do? hehe

Rolling your eyes but with grin still plastered across your lips, you begin typing your response back to him.

You [01:28]: i'll pass the message along then

Jeno [01:29]: cool. get some sleep then, you really shouldn't be texting strange men so late at night anyway, who knows what could happen hehehe goodnight, rest well

Part of you wants to rebuke the claim despite very much having already considered it for yourself, but in an effort to not appear too interested and too eager, you simply leave the conversation alone and with that as the last message sent for the evening.

Butterflies in your stomach and the promise of who-knows-what at this party tomorrow leaves sleep hard to come by, but you figure it's at least a little worth it if it means checking your phone for text messages from a different man whose name starts with a 'J' for once.

Of course, you're none too surprised once you find yourself at said house party.

A bit more rambunctious than what you'd typically like to find yourself at back home — with slews of college-aged people running, yelling, dancing and talking amongst themselves as well as throughout the entire premises of the property both in and outside — as you and your friends make your way inside to the enormous stacking of alcohol bottles and disposable plastic cups, it's one particularly bright head of blonde hair that catches the corner of your eye as he makes his way across the room and towards you with a smile.

Nudging your arm gently with his elbow, as if to say 'I told you so' about your being there at all, Jeno grins even wider once your eyes meet. "So? What do you think?"

Looking around briefly, you glance back towards him with suspicion plastered across your face.

"I'm starting to think you might be too young for me."

Jeno reels at the suggestion with eyes wide and full of shock. "Why? Adults can party. You don't party?"

"I do, just not typically messy frat house parties...at least, not anymore."

Knitting his eyebrows together and slanting his grin, Jeno cocks his head sideways to look at you with something of a twinge of judgment. "It's a beach town, and a popular destination for summer breakers obviously, what do you expect? Maybe try winter break, next time."

Nudging you again to punctuate the thought playfully, you look back towards Giselle who quickly pushes an alcoholic concoction of you'll-never-know into your hand with a grin before her and the others begin to disappear into the crowd.

"Wait! Where are you guys going?"

"You have your date, we're going to find ours," Winter answers back with a casual flip of her hair. Then, her attention pulls to the man standing just beside you. "What was his name again?"

"Jaemin."

"Whatever," she says quickly and as if nothing he could have possibly responded with would have made any sort of a difference either way. "We'll be around, we all have our phones. If you need someone, you know how to get us."

Panic subtly settling in at the thought of being left alone with this guy that you barely know at all, it's not that you feel unsafe with him, or that you can't trust his intentions — no, it's far from anything so insidious that has your nerves firing and the anxiety bubbling up in your gut.

What if it's awkward?

"Ta-ta!" Ningning chimes as the four of them walk away, and it's in that moment that you realize you are deep, deep into the lions den, now.

In a room full of busy people, you can't think of a time that you've ever felt quite so alone.

Then, you feel your phone vibrate. A message from Karina.

Kari [20:42]: let the hot guy from the waterpark make it all better :p you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else

Turning your phone far out of sight of Jeno upon reading the message, another comes through before you have the chance to begin typing any kind of reply to her.

Kari [20:42]: or bent over by someone else, or on top of someone else? well you can fill me in on the details when he's done filling

You don't bother reading the rest of the message as you quickly lock your phone and shuffle it back into your pocket, but you're thankful enough when your attention comes back to Jeno that in the meantime he has struck up conversation with another guy just beside him. It gives you a moment to look him over for the first time, too: messily slicked back blonde hair and black button down shirt that's equally messily tucked into far too nicely fitting black jeans with a carefully placed aesthetic rip at one of the knees.

He looks good, and you're glad you didn't over or underdress in your fitted jeans and simple blouse, also.

"This is my friend, Renjun, he's the home owner...well, sort of," Jeno starts once he realizes you're finished with the nonsense going on within your cellular device. "He's one of the handsome ones we touched on briefly last night."

Introducing yourself in kind, you shake hands with the new acquaintance as he laughs at the concept of being discussed. "Thanks, happy to know I made the cut, I guess. What are you doing talking to this fuckin' guy, anyway?"

Jeno's eyes widen at the sudden attack. "Hey! I just complimented you, come on!"

Not helping the laugh that erupts from their jest, you take a sip of your horrendous drink before responding. "It's been a little out of my hands from the get-go. I'm just sort of along for the ride, he keeps texting me every night, what am I supposed to do?"

"Ah, yeah, I've heard that about this one before," Renjun nods and sighs, with Jeno spiraling into disaster beside the both of you all the while. "Can't let him start texting, he'll never quit. I hate to tell you, but you're basically married, now. He's a level five clinger."

"I am not a level five clinger!"

"That's unfortunate," you casually respond, carrying on the conversation with Renjun as if Jeno not even standing there at all. "Hopefully he doesn't have any weird quirks that are hard to live with, then."

Renjun shakes his head as he takes a sip from his own cup. "Nah, he's a pretty simple guy, all things considered, I think you'll have a pretty easy time with this one."

"Well that's comforting, at least."

"Hello!" Jeno finally interjects with success, stalling the ongoing banter and bringing both of your attention back to him. "I'm literally right here!"

Smiling then, Renjun brings a heavy hand up and to the back of Jeno's shoulder before turning on his heel and beginning his exit in the wake of destruction. "Have fun, call me if you need anything."

With a lull in the ongoing messiness that so far is this evening as it stands, you and Jeno stand calmly before one another for a few moments with no words spoken; that is, of course, until his lips part and he gently offers up an idea of his own.

"Want to go some place quieter so we can talk?"

There's certainly a distinct level of unease that courses through your bones with every step you take towards the second level of the home. Passing by people already paired off for the evening and making out on the steps for what feels like forever — you can't help but wonder if this is some kind of preliminary entry into what he thinks is going to be on the agenda for the evening. Yes, you had already considered this much, and yes, you're aware of precisely the types of things that go on at parties such as this, but it doesn't mean that just because you're here and to see a guy, at that, that you're resigning yourself to partaking in any such festivities.

Jeno leads the way, and once the two of you make it up to the dimly lit hallway lined with a handful of doors — some open, some closed, and a handful of people leaned against the walls engaging in their own, private activities — it's as he continues towards one of the open doors of what you could only presume to be a bedroom that your heart sinks into your stomach and you dig your heels into the ground.

"I don't—" Is all you can manage out, because it's awkward and you don't really want to make an ordeal out of this either. You don't know this man, and especially not well enough to know how he'll take to being denied the thing that he seems to be under the impression that he will be obtaining tonight. As a result, you lay out the 'soft no,' in hopes that it will be enough to get the point across.

Head turning and glancing back at you upon hearing the words, you're a little taken aback by his response: less because of any of the potential, aforementioned reasons, but rather...because he appears confused.

Did he really think he had it in the bag that easily? Just because you showed up tonight?

The thought is enough to raise a level of irritation in you that has you feeling comfortable enough in asserting yourself just that much more. "I don't want to—I'm not going to—"

It still takes a second, but when he finally realizes, it seems to hit him like a semi-truck.

"O—Oh, no! No, no! That's not...I wasn't...I didn't think—"

Hands up in front of his chest as if in full retreat just on account of the mere implication of it, you're a little charmed by the tinge of blush that takes across his cheeks and especially highlights his ears.

But more than that, you believe him in his earnest.

"I just thought because it's quieter up here, no music and less people...I didn't think anything was going to—we can keep the door open! Or go back downstairs, anything is fine by me."

You're charmed, just a bit. You hate to admit it to yourself, and you certainly aren't going to admit it to this man, but you are.

Offering him a gentle smile, you nod back towards the direction in which he had been heading just prior. "It's fine, we can go—" you say, stepping forward again with insistence that Jeno do the same, and as the two of you meet side by side once more, you're careful to add one more addition, just for clarity sake.

"—But keep the door open."

A couple of days later and once the banging drum of headaches and hangovers have worn off, with the friend groups now thoroughly enough enmeshed on account of Renjun's family home and an absolutely unfathomable amount of adult beverages, the next most obvious plan of action is set into motion.

Dinner and bowling.

One thing about this town that you've come to realize is that there is little to do — and especially during the summer time — that doesn't directly involve alcohol and partying. With most restaurants and shops closed until the middle of August at least, the guys are happy enough to inform that there is still one mainstay left that doesn't involve having a terrible time the next morning.

The dinner seating is something that you can't help but take note of: two, long tables pushed together by the wait staff to accommodate such a large party of patrons, with Jeno sat right across the table from you, you notice the way that certain budding couples seem similarly paired off. It's sort of cute, in a way, but you choose not to pay it much mind. Sure, chats with the handsome blonde just along the way serve as a pleasant way to pass the time, and you'd be lying to yourself (and doing a terrible job of it, at that) if you tried to say that you hadn't at least briefly considered where else this could go just for a fun little before the vacation were to come to an end.

Just as the thought comes to its conclusion in your mind, your eyes come up and meet Jeno's over the brim of his beer glass.

That charming-ass eye smile.

Slowly, he brings the glass down while maintaining eye contact, his hand disappears under the table, and you watch his eyes fall to whatever it is that he's doing under there.

Your questions are answered promptly, however, by the vibration of your phone in your jacket pocket.

Jeno [18:12]: interesting seating arrangements we've got here

You try to bite back your smile. Easier said than done, and dealing with his texting antics much simpler when from the comfort of your own bedroom.

Still, you play along and begin typing our your response.

You [18:12]: almost like they're hinting at something

Jeno [18:12]: i'm not too good at signals, need someone to spell it out for me hehe

Glancing back up from your phone, you catch his eyes as he does the same with a knowing grin plastered across his lips.

You [18:13]: you'd have to ask them, i don't know anything about it :p

Jeno [18:13]: okay will do, but speaking of spelling it out...you look amazing tonight

Stilling in your seat at the sudden forwardness of the message, a typing bubble pops up again just as quickly as the previous message is received.

Jeno [18:13]: like really...you looked amazing the other night at the party too. do you always look amazing or is it just when you happen to be seeing me?

Clearing your throat, you shift in your seat just slightly before reaching forward and taking the glass placed in front of you into hand in preparation for a much needed sip of water. You ignore him purposefully, but you can feel the sharp gaze of the man in question as he monitors your every move.

Jeno [18:14]: don't think i didn't notice the way you were looking at me the day we met :0

Unfortunate, but you had been a bit obvious, largely on account of not having expected being faced with seeing this man ever again. You'll have to reel it in better next time.

You glance up again, this time with intention of meeting his eyes — from across the table, Jeno sits with one corner of his lips curved upwards ever so slightly, as if knowing precisely what it is that he's doing. Not surprising, of course, he's not coming onto you now on accident — but he's never been this forward and the only thing you can really chalk it up to now is the dwindling time left on yours and the girls remaining vacation time.

As they say, 'shit or get off the pot.'

But are you interested? Frankly, you're not really sure.

Handsome? Without a doubt. Nice? Sure, seemingly so. Trustworthy? Probably enough to enjoy a night together.

However, you can't help but remain starkly aware of the still gaping whole in your heart where Jaehyun not so long ago resided.

Looking over his features again, Jeno takes another sip of his drink: messy, blonde hair, beautiful eyes, the most charming smile and all accented by that devastatingly stunning mole seated just on his cheek bone.

Yeah, maybe you are, because when you take him in as he sits before you now, just like this, enjoying each and every physically enamoring aspect of a man all the more infatuated with you, as well — you can't help but wonder...

God, how nice is your dick, then?

And just like that, is if everyone in the world having a window of insight into your mind, your phone vibrates again. Naturally, your first thought being another text from Jeno as your eyes remain glued to him, but with every round of vibration that sends through the device it quickly dawns on you that not only has he not dipped his vision back down from you to fire off another round of flirtation, but rather that the disturbance coming through is not a text message at all.

It's a phone call.

Looking down, the number isn't one that you recognize although the location code is. Eyebrows furrowing in thought and vague concern as the screen continues to illuminate in your hand, you feel the gentle tap of a foot under the table and from quite evidently — right in front of you.

Eyes now upwards again, you meet Jeno's concerned ones, but you don't have much time to quell whatever worry he may have before you're up, out of your seat, and heading outside to take the call.

Your first thought is one that sends anxiety through every nerve under your skin: family or friends in emergency, god forbid something terrible having happened, but once you reach the parking lot and are met with the cool breeze of the coast just down the way — when you answer the phone, you come to find yourself no more quelled of fears upon hearing the voice on the other end.

"Hey," the voice says, low and seemingly already defeated. "Sorry, I know you're out of town, I just wanted to talk to you."

Heart beating nearly straight through your chest and hands shaking as you strain to hold your phone to your ear, you stand in silence as your mind races with the how's and why's of what this is and could mean.

After having not received a reply for so long that you don't even notice the amount of time passed, the man on the other end speaks again.

"Hello? Are you there? It's Jaehyun, sorry, I changed numbers."

"Uh, y—yeah, I know who it is, sorry, I'm just—" you pause again to think through your words carefully, as well as garnering yourself more time in an attempt to steady the quake in your voice. "—I wasn't expecting to hear from you."

Chuckling lightly, he carries on, and just before he does you catch a glimpse of the blonde previously seated across from you at the table as he carefully exits the establishment to check on your whereabouts.

"Yeah, I know. Is it a bad time? I think you might agree that we left off on the wrong foot."

Swallowing down the lump in your throat as you quietly acknowledge Jeno's presence, you're not entirely sure where to go from here. The way that your heart thumps strongly at hearing Jaehyun's voice again is one that's hard to ignore, but the way that he broke up with you and only now is contacting you again lies equally as much on your mind.

He doesn't deserve a conversation, and especially not a second chance, but it doesn't change the fact that deep down you want to grant him both.

For better or for worse, however, now isn't a good time.

"I'm out with the girls right now but I can call you tomorrow night, when there's less going on. You know how they are, always have me up to something."

"Sure, you have the number, call me any time," he says with the most calm and nearly adoring of tones. "I miss you, have fun."

"Th—thanks," you answer slowly, and with that, the call ends.

Standing in the middle of the parking lot with Jeno only a few feet away in silence, you suppose that it's probably written all over you the sort of affect that something like this has on you. Despondent and borderline broken after having only so much as heard a few simple words from a man who despite all of his poor treatment of you still holds such a strong place in your heart...

There's no other word for it, simply put, it's pain — and soul-crushingly so.

You can hear he gravel under Jeno's shoes as he slowly approaches you, and there's a small part of you that wishes he just doesn't. Go back inside, stop pretending to care about this or us beyond just wanting a quick fuck, quit playing the nice guy.

But you know you're projecting, and you bite back the venom of your thoughts so that they don't manifest into underserved words.

"You okay?" He sheepishly asks and with concern weighing heavily on his features. You force a half-assed smile in response.

"My ex-boyfriend called," you huff out a laugh. "Broke up with me over text a bit ago, now he wants to talk. Said he misses me."

"And you're gonna tell him to go fuck himself, right?" Jeno says, and much to your surprise. Not used to such a strong response from him in regards to, well, much of anything.

Shrugging, you let out a defeated sigh. "Maybe? No? Probably not."

Silence. Then you glance back towards him.

"I love him."

"Yeah, of course you do, it's fresh," he says delicately, closing the distance between the two of you to take your wrist into one of his hands and carefully usher you back inside. "But that doesn't mean he's deserving of it."

"I know."

A small squeeze of your wrist, as if just to let you know that he's there despite your already being well aware, and looking up towards him as the two of you re-enter the building, Jeno smiles at you widely with teeth and eyes on full display in a way that sort of reminds you to just live in the moment — the here and the now — and to worry about that, whatever that is, later.

"I'm just a guy, I get it," he starts with his face leaned into the side of your head to whisper the words directly into your ear. "But sometimes accidents happen on purpose."

Turning to look at him and meeting so close to his face that it has you just about startled, you roll your eyes and snort at his attempt to bestow aged wisdom upon you in your time of need.

"That doesn't make any sense, is that your idea of giving advice?"

Slinging an arm up and around your shoulders to pull you in tighter against him, he once again brings his face to the side of your own. "Yeah, how'd I do?"

"Terrible."

"Hey, but you laughed, though."

As it turns out, there are perks to making friends with the guy who works at the waterpark.

That is, beyond his good-looks, pleasing disposition and the fact that he tends to be quite into you, when Jeno invites you and yours back to the waterpark for some free-entry fun, the five of you can't help but take him up on the offer.

Besides, it gives you just that much more reason to have your phone out of sight and subsequently out of mind.

Rather than the typical morning arrival, however, Jeno tells you to come later in the evening on account of things tending to be more quiet. This turns out to be the case and much to all of your delight as the crowds have long since thinned out and lines to rides are much shorter than your last foray at the place of amusement. Still, it's less time to do as much as you all probably would have liked, and as the closing hours quickly approach, you and the girls make your way back to the lockers to not only collect your belongings, but once again meet with the man who brought you all there to begin with.

You come to realize that you're quite fond of how he looks fresh off of a work shift, with tousled hair and a bit of a sun-kissed glow to his skin only amplified by the glisten of water and sunscreen — when Jeno approaches the group you find that while yes, you have seen this man now numerous times before so the way that he looks is of no surprise to you, something about him like this, like right now, is different.

And as usual, when it comes to Jeno, you're the only person in the room.

One strong arm up and against the metal just like the time previously meeting like this, he all but cages you in as he leans casually against it to speak to you. "I've got to stay a bit late to do some minor maintenance in the backend, want to stay with me and we can go out afterwards or do you have somewhere to be with your friends?"

It's a lovely offer, and the idea of seeing a waterpark long past closing is an enticing one just for the thrill of it, but you're not one to pass up on dinner with the girls that brought you here for an after hours slide ride.

"We were actually about to head out to dinner, text me when you're out though and maybe we all can—"

"No. Way!"

The shrill voice comes from Ningning this time, and a bit to your surprise as it's typically either Karina or Winter with something loud and boisterous to say. Regardless, the woman comes up quickly from behind Jeno with arms crossed fiercely as if personally slighted by your unwillingness to ditch her.

"Dinner at the lil' diner down the block can wait, when the hot lifeguard asks you to stay after closing, you stay after closing."

"Ningning..." you bemoan first, only to look up at Jeno who is far too busy feigning a lack of listening in to the situation playing out right in front of him.

"Stay," she insists again, slinging a t-shirt up and over her shoulder before slowly sauntering away as if having won the war that she, herself, started. "We'll see you later—"

And just before disappearing entirely with the other women, she turns back once more with just another thing to add.

"—If you come home tonight, that is."

Jeno's work in the the back where some of the machinery is kept is quick and for that you are thankful on account of it being mind-numbingly boring watching him do anything at all that he is meant to do there. The flex of the muscles in his arms and back growing bland far sooner than you might have anticipated, you're happy to hear only twenty or so minutes in that he's finished and the two of you can carry on with your tour of the premises now that there is no one else there but the both of you.

As you walk, he tells you fun stories of silly happenings since his three years of working there has begun: tales of lost belongings on slides and peoples swim bottoms being stolen by the waves of the pools that artificially craft them, the two of you laugh into the calm, night air as you circle back around to the large river that spans nearly the entire lot of the waterpark — calm and meant mostly for simply lounging about in the sun, Jeno sits at one of the small tables offered just at the side and motions for you to sit just beside him, as well.

Still in nothing more than your swimsuit and a towel, it feels oddly comfortable. In fact, despite your checking, you haven't caught the man eyeing you down at all — not that that leads you into a false sense of believing that he simply hasn't, because frankly, you know better than that.

But at least he's willing to reign it in in the event that you could see him in the act.

And on top of that, you've been stealing glances yourself, anyway.

"Things good?" He asks, and it feels so abrupt given the timing. You know what he's referring to with eyes honed in on any possible change of your expression, but you attempt to maintain composure whilst under the proverbial microscope of his view.

"Yeah," you sigh, leaning back into your chair casually. "Everything is good. Sort of not looking forward to leaving next week."

Jeno smiles at the words. "Yeah, this town is fun, but only on vacation. I think you'd find if you lived here all year around you'd miss it back where you're from."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Just gonna have to make sure you get the best this place has to offer then," he says with a groan as he brings himself back up and to his feet. Hand extended out towards you with an offering to help you stand, you stare at him blankly for a few moments before slowly taking it and allowing yourself to be hoisted upwards. "Shall we take a swim, then?"

"Are we allowed—"

The thought suddenly cut off by the sight of Jeno reaching down and pulling off his loose, white tank top shirt. And sure, it's loose enough that you've more or less caught a glimpse of everything under there already, but not like this, not on full display.

"No, absolutely not," he laughs as he chucks it into the chair he was only just sat in. "But no one checks the cameras anyway and they already know I'm here after hours as it is so it's not going to ring any alarm bells that there's movement on site. Is that a yes?"

You pause. You need the moment to think this through, not that you even really want to. Deep down, you sort of know what this means, at least to the most basic extent, and sure — you can decline anything at any time and you're pretty certain he'll take it in stride — but still, saying yes to this is effectively saying yes to something.

"Yeah, let's take a swim."

The water feels colder now without the sun beating down on it but you come to find that the trade off is the way that the overhead lights as well as the submerged ones illuminate the water in such a beautiful way that everything glitters all around you. Following Jeno's lead as you both wade through and into one of the man-made rock sculpture caves that under typical servicing hours, lend much needed reprieve from the sunlight — now instead you feel a bit something like a character in a fantasy film: a mermaid coming back to her home as the wetness of the ocean glistens off of the barely lit walls of the faux-rock now surrounding you in hideaway.

Realistically, the scene is nothing special, but right now and with present company, your feeling of being locked away and hidden from any potential prying eyes feels especially heavy knowing precisely the thoughts that have weighed on both of your minds ever since they very first meeting here.

As silence falls between the two of you and you comfortably place yourself with your back against the smooth offering of rocks, you use it as a moment to take in the sight of him while he's not paying attention: shirtless and with flesh on full display, Jeno brings a hand up and out of the water to push his hair back and out of his face before catching hint of the fact that he has an audience, after all.

Then, he slowly closes the distance between the two of you, and with the tiniest grin of understanding perking at the corners of his lips, you suppose that there's a part of you that sort of always resigned yourself to this.

And really, what's summer vacation if not for having a summer fling?

One hand planted against the firm offering of rock on either side of you, caged in but feeling neither scared nor small on account of it, Jeno brings himself close enough to you that you have little more option that to struggle with your footing at the bottom of the pool and allow him the gentle insistence of settling between your legs.

Slowly, he dips his head down and towards you, but you pause the moment to speak in a whisper.

"You brought me here to do this, didn't you?"

To that, he only smiles again before continuing with the movement. "You came knowing that."

A gentle first kiss, perhaps much more so than you would have anticipated; rather than coming in hot and heavy from the start, the true feeling of being with and near him instead comes from the way his chest presses you tightly into place as his mouth slots firmly against your own. It's a little breathtaking, and somewhat overwhelming having been caged in like this by him, but with every forward movement of his lips and tongue against your own you can't help but feel as though the breath being pulled straight from your lungs, and with intent, at that.

The first, testing grind of his hips against you has you gasping into his mouth, and the sinister curl of his lips tells you that he couldn't be more pleased by the reaction.

One, strong hand dropping down from the rocks behind you and instead holding firm at your thigh from the underside, Jeno holds your leg up and out just enough to maintain the open space so that he has precisely the access that he desires like this, and with another slow, deliberate grind of what you know to be the solid length of himself beneath much too thin swim trunks, you can't help the way that your head lolls backwards and just about slaps into the solid structure behind you.

Pulling from your mouth as if to allow you the ability to breath, warm lips trail down your jaw line and back around to your ear, but rather than speaking anything in particular, the man simply allows you to listen to the quiet moans and exhales that drop from his lips as a result of the friction forming between the both of your bodies.

With every simulated drive of himself into you comes a breathy, needy sound fallen from his mouth. On top of that, with just the right angle, paired with just the right amount of speed and force behind his hips...

Surely you won't cum like this?

But with how heavenly he sounds against your ear and the tensing in your thighs and abdomen, you pull your bottom lip up between your teeth hard with eyes clenched shut as if not wanting to make it so evident just the effect he's having on you like this. Squirming within his grasp, and your orgasm feeling just on the cusp but ever so slightly out of your hands, you huff out with frustration and throw all caution to the wind in a desperate whirlwind of pleading events.

"Please, God, I want you," you whine against his ear. "Want to feel you."

It's a terrible idea and you know that, for a plethora of reasons. However, you're horny and on the edge of cumming and cannot possibly be concerned with any of them. You've been good enough up until now pretending to have little to no interest in his cock at all, but enough is enough, especially as it glides against you rock hard and barely clothed between your bodies.

Jeno, for better or for worse, has other plans.

"Want that too," he whispers against your ear, the hot puffs of his breath washing over the otherwise warm, wet smooth of your skin. Unfortunately, instead of freeing himself from the very same confines that plague you, he merely picks up the pace of his hips against yours.

As well as aiding with a slight shift of the angle at which he grinds against you.

Turns out, that'll do the trick.

Orgasm fast approaching now as he repeatedly presses his hips against the apex of your thighs, he continues with the original train of thought. "You ever been fucked in a body of water like this? Doesn't make for great lubrication, unfortunately—"

You can't be bothered to pay all that much attention to the science lesson, and with your hands gripping into his back and biceps as he continues hard and fast against you, you feel the distinct feeling of his teeth dragging down ever so slightly against the column of your neck in such a way that it has your head spinning and toes curling with how close to the edge you are like this.

Not for long, though, as he finishes the thought entirely. "—Want that glide to be so fucking smooth."

Frankly, you're not used to hearing him curse all that much, so when he does it's especially meaningful, so when he shoots down your begging for him to fuck you instead because he has far more delightful plans for you in the future and under more optimal circumstances, you couldn't bite back the shriek if you had tried as your orgasm tears through you with so much force that you swear you may crack a tooth with how tightly your teeth are clenched through it.

And like a good boy, Jeno 'fucks' you through it as every shockwave of release jolts through your body and your clit begs to be untouched. Releasing the grip on you, he pulls his face back around to look you in the eyes with an all-too-proud grin plastered across his lips — though, you don't get much of a chance to fight him on it as those very same ones quickly meet yours just as adoringly as the first time.

When he pulls back, he's still smiling — odd behavior for the un-orgasmed half of the equation, you think, but before speaking, the man brings a hand up to your forehead to delicately wipe away a handful of stray hairs that found their way there in all of the debauchery.

Eyes meeting, you can tell he has something to say, and that you're probably not going to like it.

"You wanted me to fuck you, and raw at that."

"Oh come on!" You groan in playful embarrassment, pushing him away from you with desperate splashes of water left in your wake as you escape. Jeno only laughs as he trails behind lazily.

"You did," he reaffirms with a teasing chuckle. "You so did."

The following days come to pass far quicker than you had anticipated, you're soon to find.

With every day, every moment now seemingly enmeshed between the groups of friends, time with Jeno is more common than time away — no one hears about the goings on at the waterpark, at least, not on your end (and you have reason to believe that he hasn't said anything either on account of the fact that Jaemin would never shut up about it if he had) — but there's evidence enough in the distinct change of something between the two of you as the brief, casual brushing of hands slowly transforms into open and public slotting together of fingers during movie nights and not-so-concealed presses of kisses to the temple of your head at any time that Jeno seems to be able to close the distance between your bodies.

It's nice, and you can admit as much to yourself without fear or worry. The problem lies in the fact that therein resides so much more than it simply being nice now, and in fact, you're somehow managed to stumble yourself precisely in the line of fire of what it is you had sort of been hoping to avoid this entire time.

Granted, it's not necessarily worth a conversation on account of logistics and the more or less of what this is, but still, even with it only having been two weeks since you've met this guy, he reads a bit like an open book, and if there's one thing you're fairly certain you have down about him and the way his mind works, it's that he wants to have that talk, regardless of the realistic outcome.

Really, it's the least you can do on account of the whirlwind, summer romance you've happily found yourself wound up in, in spite of everything.

On the last night before you and yours leave to go back into the city, the blowout house party is at home; Ningning's summer house. An excellent decision on account of the fact that the five of you can pack up early the day before and simply wake up to leave the next day with little more to worry about than some final touches and your hangovers as a result.

Though, leaving the next day is far from what you currently wish to be attending much thought to.

With folding chairs strewn about around some of the tables in the back yard, as well as the barbecue that's fired up and attended to by Renjun, Mark and Giselle; with a red, plastic cup in hand as you sit facing out towards the crashing waves of the beach, you can't help but allow your gaze to fall to the side and onto the object of your desire that was never really supposed to end up as much more than simply the hot guy that worked at the waterpark.

Instead, you watch him as he engages in a conversation with Winter — a playful argument about which dog breeds are cutest — and it's times like this that you make a conscious effort to take mental snapshots of this moment, right here, right now. Making sure that you never forget this feeling, never forget what it was like to live in this time with the guy who sports such quintessential summer hair and reminds you of what it feels like to feel young once more, and forever.

Eyes curved into perfect, crescent shapes and a matching perfect smile as he laughs along to whatever it is that your friend is saying, suppose he must feel the heavy weight of eyes upon him as he shifts to grant you his attention once more.

There's a few seconds of silence, but you watch the way his face melts from one of joyous laughter to something that's more akin to fond adoration.

"Want to go talk?"

Jeno doesn't look all that surprised when you say the words, and instead offers you the gentlest of smiles, as if already anticipating as much, anyway.

"Sure, let's talk."

It's colder the closer the two of you get to the waves of the water, the sound of them crashing lightly against the muddy sands that lie beneath — with the sun just about set already and hues of orange with purple only barely peeking out from above the costal line — with legs dangled over the side of the small, wooden pier, Jeno slings an arm up and over your shoulders to tug you closer against himself, partially for the warmth and combatting the breeze, but really, just because he wants to have you there.

"Have fun?" He finally asks, you nod against him.

"I've kind of fallen for you a bit, ya know that?"

To this admission, Jeno reels so hard that it has you looking up at him — he looks far more shocked than you would have anticipated going into this because...obviously? And as a result, you snort out a laugh. "What? Isn't it obvious?"

"I mean—I'm just...surprised, I guess?" He admits awkwardly before settling back into place. "We're having fun and I was trying so damn hard, but I didn't think it actually worked."

"You're kinda oblivious, yeah?"

Jeno laughs. "I've heard that before, yeah."

With the words now out in the open, you allow there to be some silence between the two of you — something of a ruminating of what this is and what that means between the two of you right now, with no real need to add anything more to it in immediate time.

Instead, the two of you look out towards the water — still painted with pinks and purples as the sun sets over it for its final few minutes before nightfall.

You inhale to speak, though you're not thrilled about it despite its necessity.

"We can't...keep this going, you know," you say first, choosing words carefully as you carry out the thought. "It was fun but you know...back to real life, back to home."

Glancing up to gauge his response, Jeno only smiles as the words for a few, passing seconds before looking down at you and responding.

"Yeah, I know."

Through more silence, you think that you can feel it in his chest the way his heart beats in such a way that the sadness of the circumstances is evident. An unfortunate reality of such things: sometimes it really is wrong place, wrong time, wrong location, wrong...everything but you.

Standing again and heading back inside with fingers interlocked, you can't help but think of how the thing they never tell you about short term relationships is that they can be just as meaningful, just as impactful as long term ones. There's nothing inherently lesser, or worse, or meaningless about them — a snapshot in time where everything between you and someone else was perfect and incapable of being tarnished, at that — really, it's an ideal circumstance, especially as someone with a desire to rekindle hope in the concept of loving and being loved.

Just because a relationship ends, doesn't mean it lacks value.

And when you go back home, you'll take Jeno with you: perfect hair, perfect smile, and adorably unaware disposition all packaged up as a reminder of how good it can be to simply be.

Getting back inside, after enjoying the inviting sights and sounds of the quiet outdoors, the unrelenting boom of loud music and yelling friends pierces your ears in such a way that you can't help but attempt to curl in on yourself and escape from it. Jeno takes notice with a squeeze of your hand upon arriving to the kitchen, quickly pouring drinks for each of you and then dipping down next to your ear.

"Want to go upstairs where it's quieter?"

Yeah, of course you do. Still one last thing on the agenda for this trip, after all.

Discarding nearly full cups and making your way up the stairs; through the hallway that's all too familiar to you by now, you can't help but call back to the last time you'd done this very same walk, with this very same man: a few key differences now compared to then that are worth taking note of, however. For one, Jeno's grip on your hand as he leads you up despite not even being entirely sure which room it is that you'd once called yours is, and two, you now find yourself far more open to any potential scenarios that may arise.

In fact, you're hoping that they do.

Swapping places and taking the lead, Jeno follows just behind you as you open the door to your bedroom — stepping inside where all of your packed bags and other such belongings not yet able to be stuffed away until the very last moment lie about on countertops or draped over chair backs — when the two of you step inside, you realize that there's a part of you that has sort of already come to this conclusion a long time ago. It's difficult to pinpoint the exact moment, and likely well enough before the late evening spent alone with him at his place of employment, rather, your memory lands at that time in the parking lot, when your ex called, and Jeno was right there to pick up the proverbial pieces of you.

It wasn't much, just that he was there. Sometimes that's enough.

Turning back to face him, it's a quick movement and so much so that the surprise of it is evident on his face with wide eyes and a late response to the feeling of your lips on his, but more than that, the sound of the door shutting behind his back and locking into place by no ones insistence but your own.

He's quick enough on the uptake, however; hands coming up to slot gently on either side of your face to pull you just that much more into the kiss — and with the length of your body pressed just as hard against him as he stands pinned between you and hard wood, the close proximity is just so giving in how you're able to catch every hitch of his breath in his throat and forced back groan in his chest.

You pull back, and with a wickedly playful grin across your face. "You've been waiting?"

To that, Jeno scoffs before bringing hands down to your shoulders and gently pushing you to step backwards towards the bed. "Only as long as you have."

The removal of clothing is quick but never quick enough despite the flurry of fabric strewn about the floor through the incessant need to kiss and be kissed by him. Rather, the two of you only part from one another if it's required to discard something that now, more than ever, is no longer desired.

The irony, of course, is in the fact that the both of you have already seen so much of what there is to be seen. Swimsuits only leaving so much to the imagination, as is the same for the pool boys usual choice of lazy attire — you come to find that when presented differently, the absence of clothing and the emergence of skin that you think you've already grown used to couldn't be further from the case. It looks different, feels different — the smooth palm of your hands sliding over arm muscles that you've already felt so many times before as his teeth catch at the bottom of your lip in a kiss that only becomes that much more heated with every passing second — the man that you've known all of the way up until now still might just have so much more still to show you.

At least, that was your impression from the waterpark festivities that evening.

Creating space between your bodies only long enough to plop yourself back and onto the mattress, Jeno wastes no time in following you as he slots himself between your legs and once again kisses you as if never able to have enough of it. One hand pressed into the mattress beside your head, the other trails down the length of your form to settle right between your legs — and now, with no barriers between you and him but his own undergarments — just one, casual dip of his middle finger shallowly between your folds is enough to have your breath hitching differently against his lips.

He grins at the reaction, but says nothing.

Instead, he dips his head down leaving a trail of kisses and nips of his teeth into the flesh of your neck, shifting his positioning back and just enough to be able to mouth over one of your nipples with a firm, swirl of his tongue. It's nice, but nothing special — at least, not before the same pad of his finger between your legs finds such light but evident purchase against your clit.

Slow, careful circles rubbed against you, back arching ever so slightly off the bed and up against his mouth as he continues teasing licks against your flesh, it's a certain kind of torment feeling so much and not enough all at once, and you can't help but consider one fact: he knows it.

You're not one to beg (well, other than that one time), and you're certainly not going to be undone so easily by a guy that for all intents and purposes you barely even know, and biting back a groan, you tightly knit your eyes shut in hopes that perhaps he's not torturing you on purpose — dragging this out because you both know it's the first and last time you'll ever get to have it — and surely he'll make quick work of you soon enough.

But the slow, down and inward press of the same finger towards your opening, only to replace the empty spot with his thumb has you thinking otherwise.

Jeno barely penetrates you with the single tip of his digit — if he does, it's so shallow that you can barely even feel it — a crime in and of itself, but amplified by the fact that you're racing towards the point of no return in what it is that you want, and if he insists on teasing you with the opportunity of being filled by him, then little does he know that he's stumbled upon the grandest of unravelings of you.

A heavy exhale, you decide you have to look down to take it all in, and especially if you're going to have a chance at saying words at any point in time. As you crack an eye open, Jeno switches breast to take your other nub between warm, wet lips — and it's then that he digs a finger into you just a bit deeper than before and all the while maintaining attention to the aching bundle of nerves held captive beneath his thumb.

Now you're frustrated, and you're not sure you can hold evidence of that back much longer.

With another heavy exhale, you attempt to bear down your hips against his hand to feel more of him, but to that, Jeno looks up to meet eyes with you wearing a look that almost tells of disapproval.

"In a hurry?"

You groan, not entirely sure if at the words or the implications behind them.

He wants to take his time.

"No, just—" you all but whimper, head thrown back against the pillow beneath it once again as if resigned to simply being along for the ride with this man. "—Kind of killing me, here."

"Why?" He questions with lips still feathering against the skin of your chest.

Then, the finger far too casually settled at your opening is slowly driven in to the last knuckle, and it feels fucking electric.

"This what you want?"

For someone who has always had a low tone of voice, you're not sure where the next few levels in drop have come from, same going for the erotic gravel that courses through his throat with every word he says against you. Either way, that in combination with the full length of his middle finger buried in your cunt already has you wondering just how it is that you're going to get through this particular night.

Guys like this are supposed to kiss you, get a blowie, maybe give you the sloppiest oral sex you've ever had (but hey, at least the effort is there), and then fuck you into the mattress for a full, mind blowing three minutes before rolling onto their backs and passing out.

So, what the fuck is this?

"Yes," you resign yourself to answering, because presumably you won't receive much else if not for your going along with it. Squirming against his hand again, you feel him pull from you ever so slightly before once again burying the hand deep against you.

Jeno hums before speaking again. "I don't think it is, but I think you're willing to settle for now."

Oh, he's so annoying when knuckle deep in pussy.

It's then that he pulls himself up and into a knelt position between your legs: not removing his hand from your pussy, but instead, bringing the other one — now freed — to the same position.

The new thumb coming down to collect the slick collecting around his finger, he brings it to your clit to focus one hand entirely on that motion, and now leaving the other to focus entirely on the place where he enters you. Now, however, with far more range of movement and ease of angle, Jeno settles into a smooth, rhythmic flick of his wrist to once again simulate fucking you the way that you really want him to.

Everything but what you actually want, and it's driving you fucking insane.

It's almost perfect, though, and that you find irritating in and of itself. Glancing up at him, Jeno's attention is spent mostly on watching you and your face, only occasionally allowing his eyes to drop down to take in the sight of the absolute mess he's making of you now.

He adds a second finger, and with it, a slightly faster rhythm.

Still trying not to sound entirely defeated and fucked out, in the absence of your moans, instead the room fills with the familiar, wet sounds of the work that he's doing on you — and upon the realization, you might have to just moan, it's less humiliating than this.

A certain curl of his fingers, however, and you don't have to weigh the pros and cons any longer as the sound is ripped from your throat whether you like it or not.

"Oh," he whispers in the event of it, as if pleased by his sudden findings. "You liked that one."

"Sh—Shut up," you barely manage out in reply before another groan falls from you, and while you're frustrated and horny, you muster up the desire you begin making requests. "Faster," you whine out, hips grinding down against his hand in hopes for more friction against your clit.

"Demanding," Jeno coos in response, though not heeding it whatsoever and much to your displeasure. Instead, you feel another shift in the mattress from his movement, and despite being somewhat terrified of the next thing that this guy could have up his sleeve for you, you look down towards him...

Only to find him settling face first with your pussy, and two fingers carefully finding their way back inside of you.

"You're lucky I'm kind of a pushover," he says with a small chuckle, and punctuating it with a long, firm lick through the slit of your pussy that has your entire body trembling with promise. "You want to cum, then I'll make you cum."

There's not much to say to that, and not that you'd be able to on account of his lips quickly attaching themselves around the very spot that craves the attention. Less than that is the amount of time that you have to think over the fact that you're not going to be able to hold out very long due to him toying with you up until this moment, either. You consider that there's always a bit of ego involves in situations such as this — not wanting to appear too eager, too interested, but you suppose it's long past that point now, anyway.

With fingers dug deep inside of you and the expertly pointed grind of his tongue against your clit — relentlessly quick and just like you'd asked of his hand only moments prior, he's definitely trying to make you cum, and he most certainly is going to get his reward, as well.

Bottom lip pulled tightly between your teeth as every muscle in your lower body tenses for the impending release; one hand gripped into the sheets just below and the other coming up to find purchase in the bleached blonde hair that you've grown so fond of after such a short time — you're not able to say much as it feels as though every breath is being sucked out of you by the man as he teeters you on the edge one last time before pushing you over it — instead, you're somewhat displeased by how easy it is to say his name in little more than an airy chant; over, and over, and over again as he finally topples you over into orgasmic release and with a rush hitting so hard and so fast that any sound that once would have escaped from you is instead replaced with a silent shriek of nothingness as a result of your dry, spent throat.

You need a moment before anything else happens — many moments, in fact — of heavy breaths and a heaving chest as you attempt to collect yourself in the aftermath of it all, and there's a split second where the thought crosses your mind that if this was all that would amount from your night together with him, that might actually be good enough.

Still plenty of time left in the evening, however.

Finally, you pull in a full breath of fresh air before looking back down towards Jeno: face cradled in one hand and gazing at you with nothing but proud adoration in his eyes, you're annoyed but not enough to ignore the disheveled mess of hair atop his head, as well as the wet glisten of you that's still happily sported along his chin.

"Good?"

He's so annoying.

You roll your eyes. "Yes, you like being praised or something?"

"Doesn't everyone?" He playfully responds, once again dragging a finger through the prominent wetness of your folds. "Look how wet you are, so good for me."

You know he's toying with you, not meaning anything in particular by it, but you're not proud of how evidently correct he is, either. Regardless, he changes the subject fairly quickly beyond it.

"Are you down and out for the night already?" Jeno chuckles, pulling himself up and into a kneeling position once again and if anticipating the fact that you'll tell him you're not.

It's only then that you finally get a real, good look at the lining of what lies hidden beneath the last remaining black garment on him.

Not done, not even close.

Sitting up only long enough to grab an arm and pull him back down with you, Jeno catches himself with both palms splayed out on the mattress as you pull him into a kiss once again. This time is different, however. Beyond the taste of yourself so evident on his mouth, he kisses you in a way that's far needier, less held back than all of the other times before. Always wanted you, and probably painfully so, but not enough to ever put that above anything else at hand.

But, suppose it's his turn now.

Hand dipping down between both of your bodies and wasting no time slipping into the black fabric to feel him, your fingers wrap around the smooth flesh of his cock in such a way that already has him sighing into your mouth — it's sort of addicting, the way he sounds and feels and looks like this, at the mercy of you and only ever really wanting you since the moment he laid eyes — in ways, it's a job well done, and now he shall receive his prize.

Though, you're not even really sure which one of you is winning, now.

It's difficult to get a feel for metrics just by touch — but thick and plenty long enough come to mind in a way that's far too dizzying to spend too much time thinking about. You give him a few lazy tugs before Jeno pulls up and away from you entirely to hang over the edge of the bed and fish out the most obvious thing from his pants pocket.

"Came prepared," you casually comment, and when he comes back up with the package in hand, he only sighs in relief.

"Not a chance I was going to fuck this up by not thinking ahead," Jeno responds firstly, finally shuffling the fabric at his hips down and revealing the full sight of himself to you. "Though, you'd let me hit without it anyway, I guess."

"Oh my God!" You whine in embarrassment, reaching up to playfully slap his arm as he rolls the condom along himself. "Moment of weakness, I would have come to my senses."

Settling back down lengthwise against your body, Jeno kisses you hard once more as you feel the distinct wrapping around your thigh of an arm that intends to have you fully splayed open for him. Once finished there, the same hand comes between you — dragging the wide, length of his cock through your wetness before even attempting to push inside.

It's similarly torturous to before, however, and your squirming beneath his body is evidence of it enough.

Forearm holding his body weight, Jeno shifts his hand upwards so that he can touch your face as he continues to bring you to madness — soft kisses peppering not only your lips but your jaw, cheeks, and even falling down onto your neck — you can't tell if he's doing it purposefully in hopes that you'll beg, or if he truly has no idea just what it is that he's doing.

You believe it to be the former, though.

Regardless, he's a man worn thin of patience himself, and your requests are not needed to feel the incredibly present stretch of him entering you.

Embarrassingly slick for him and well prepared, you're reminded of the comment he made back the last time you two shared a moment such as this — how he wanted it to be different, right, in some ways, and as the feeling of him pushing to fill you to the brim brings you to nearly dizzying new heights — with fingers gripped into the skin of his back and shoulders and teeth gritted, you can kind of see why.

You don't want to say his cock is perfect, but it's pretty fucking good.

Once fully seated inside of you, Jeno brings that hand back to your thigh to pull it wide and away. Rather than moving right away, he allows you some time to get used to him — no stranger to a big dick, but a wide one certainly tends to take a second each and every time. In the meantime; lips trailing down your neck, sucking and biting into the skin as you try to bite back the whimpers that threaten you already — unfortunately, you're soon to find this man to be no such help in you maintaining your composure.

Stray fingers curled into your hair — not to pull or cause pain, nothing more than simply holding you there — you become starkly aware of how consumed you are by him now, and with hot breath cascading across your ear and cheeks, you're once again faced with that same low, gravely tone of voice from earlier that had you coming nearly undone in the palm of his hand.

"How do you like it?"

Barely coherent enough to register the question, you feel the shiver the words send down your body as a result of it, all the same — as if somewhere in your subconscious well aware of the implications long before your present and aware mind capable.

Before you can answer, however, his voice drops lower and down into a whisper against the shell of your ear. "How do you want me to fuck you?"

Another chill, and with it paired with one shallow drive of himself against you.

"Been dying to feel you cum around my cock, so please," he says, and this time with desperate emphasis coloring the plea at the end.

"Tell me how you want to be fucked."

The shivers subsequently pooling right between your legs and at the very spot where Jeno enters you — you know well enough that he can feel the way your cunt clenches down hard around the thick of him with every pointed, filthy word that drops from his lips. More than that, however, is the way your fingernails dig that much harder into his flesh at the promise of finally receiving precisely what it is that you want from him.

To be fucked stupid, and borderline incoherent.

He doesn't wait for an answer from you before beginning a calm, steady rhythm against you, though. Smart enough to know that regardless of your answer, you both do require friction from this sort of engagement — rather, just like the time before it's the particular way his breath hitches and he softly groans into your ear with every tight, wet hug of your pussy against his thrusts that is quite possibly doing you in more than the actual action itself is.

No matter, though, because your mind is made up.

"Harder," you whimper out for him with hips pushing up to meet his actions. "Fuck me harder, deeper—"

His next drive into you has your entire body moving up the length of the bed, as well as any further words or thoughts lost somewhere in the mix between.

The next shift in positioning is quick, so much so that it has your head spinning ever so slightly as you feel him bring his torso off of your own to prop himself up and over you once more — it's better leverage for harder thrusts, and even more is the capturing of one of your stray wrists in hand just before settling himself in place. Effectively pinned beneath him, there's a brief moment where he stills — flashes you a look to check in and make sure you're not displeased with the new development, because there's always a bit of growing pains in an attempt to take the lead, be sexy, and more than that, not overstep any boundaries.

But really, you know he just wants to do whatever it takes to make you cum as hard as possible, and it's a commendable effort, that much is for sure.

Two, three hard drives into you with your wrist pinned just next to your head and you're all but crying out for him. Figure, that's probably motivation enough.

Jeno continues to fuck you hard, but not especially fast as every drive of his length into you is deliberate, pointed, and angled perfectly to find and continue to rub against that particular spot that has you tensing and shaking beneath him. Watching him from this angle above you; muscles firm and flexed with every calculated thrust, mouth only slightly hung ajar as eyes that now remain nearly glued to the place that the thickness of his cock disappears inside of you with slickened ease — it's hard to imagine that you ever considered not allowing yourself this moment in time, because God, he's going to get precisely what he set out for.

Glancing up from that place, Jeno's eyes meet your own before clenching shut tightly to take in the feeling of you. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good."

He was right, the praise thing is pretty fucking excellent. Might as well pay it back.

Bearing down to meet one of his thrusts, you whine out for him in response. "Feel so good," you start before another hard pound of his hips against your own interrupts the thought. "F—Feel so big."

With that, you feel his hips falter ever so slightly, paired with a light chuckle falling from his lips.

"Don't say that," he says in a laugh. "Talk about how big it is and I'll cum in two second flat."

This knowledge piques your interest, hand that remains unpinned coming up to lightly cradle his face. "That's what does it for you, huh? Like hearing about how big your cock is? How full I feel when—"

"I'm serious!" Jeno then gasps suddenly, stilling his motions between your legs altogether and laughing all the while. "I'm not joking, I will cum right now if you keep it up, no one wants that."

You laugh to match him. "Okay, okay! I didn't realize it was that bad..."

Dipping down again, Jeno kisses you hard and firm on the mouth before pulling back up and delivering a single, hard drive of himself into you. "It's bad, and if I cum before you do I'm going to put my fucking head in the blender, so may I?"

"By all means."

It's out of scene and not a particularly sexy conversation, but it is one that reminds you of all of the things that you seem to adore about the man. Someone who can be everything and at a moments notice: caring, funny, sexy, good in bed, bad in bed should the moment fit — it serves as all the more reason that you're thankful for your making of the decision to go through with this, after all. Not just for the sex, because sex can be found anywhere — but rather, because of this particular moment right here and now, shared with this particular man.

And that, you can't find just anywhere.

Jeno wastes no time settling back into things as he fucks into you hard once again, but also faster than previously. There's something about the new angle that he's settled himself in — a perfect lean of his torso over yours that has the shaft of his cock rubbing perfectly against your clit in such a way that has your body tensing and nerves firing with each and every thrust of himself into your cunt. This time, over the sounds of wet and skin meeting, instead it's you that's heard in particular over everything else — with no way or ability to bring yourself back down from the impending doom of the orgasm that's now threatening to rip through you at a moments notice.

Of course, Jeno notices, and probably feels as much with how tightly wrapped around his cock you are — and if he's close to cumming himself, you can't tell through his composure as his steady hips never once falter through the loud whines and whimpers that fall from you on account of him.

"Close?" He asks, well aware of the way you fall apart beneath him and with no other interest than you get you precisely there.

You nod quickly. "Harder, harder, fuck—"

And you don't have to ask twice as Jeno once again settles into a different position — unpinning your wrist and instead bringing both of his large, strong hands down to clasp onto the dip of your hips for leverage — instead now he holds the ability to not only fuck up into you, but also pull you down onto his cock, and in even quicker, harder succession.

You sort of wish you could have enjoyed the feeling of him like this just a bit more — the full, thick pull of his cock against your walls with every fluid drag of himself against you — but instead, Jeno is only granted a handful more drives of himself into you like this before you're crying out and cumming hard around him in electric pulses and waves of clenches down around his length.

Reduced to nearly whining, Jeno doesn't stop his relentless force into you in chase of his own release now that his job here is done, and rather, you're not quite satisfied with the impending end of this scenario just yet, either.

"Cum, baby," you whisper out to him, and you're certain that you can see the way the pet name all but deep fries his brain in real time with the clench of his facial features upon hearing it. "Want you to cum on me, wanna see it."

Another shockwave to an already far too aroused mans brain, he attempts to shake it off long enough to focus back on the task at hand but shortly thereafter realizes that there isn't much left to focus on. Four or five more hard thrusts into your cunt, Jeno quickly withdraws from you — peeling the condom from his glistening wet length and swiftly palming over himself in quick succession to bring himself the rest of the way there over your messy, exposed pussy and stomach.

But really, you just want to watch him stroke it.

A beautiful sight: a man desperate and on the verge of orgasm, fast at hand to bring himself over the edge, the muscles in Jeno's abdomen tense as he teeters on the edge of release for your viewing pleasure, and as his breaths begin to hitch in his throat only to be replaced by short, pained whimpers, you deliver the killing blow for him.

"So big, cum for me baby—"

Granted, you hadn't planned much of a script in your head past that point, but it would go unneeded anyway as you watch Jeno's fist stutter to a halt halfway down the shaft of his cock before emptying his load atop the already messy pool of wetness gathered at your spread open folds.

And perhaps nothing better than the loud, anguished groan of his release as he slowly finishes stroking himself over your cunt and to completion.

Kinda defeats the purpose of condoms but the two of you will have to take that up with the health clinic another day.

Slumping down and onto his back next to you, both with quickly rising and falling chests in an attempt to breath air that brings something other than the scent of sex, Jeno is the first to lean into you to press a kiss to your temple, just like so many times before.

"Good?" He asks.

You hum coyly before shrugging. "It'll do, I guess."

"Nice, that's what I am for. Have all the ladies in town like 'eh, it was this or reruns of Friends."

Smiling, you inhale deeply with thoughts of this. All of this, and just how nice it is. You wonder briefly if this is a life you could see yourself getting used to — being had and held by the man lying next to you — before the stark reminder of it not even so much as being an option settles in once more.

Short term relationships are valid, and giving — and you couldn't possibly end this one off on a better note.

Take it for what it is.

Waking together in the morning is as nice as the night before, albeit far less involved. Even through the entanglements of limbs and an incredibly pointed lack of clothing on either of you, you're the first to stir with Jeno still lying beside you, although quickly met by the man to have gentle pecks and other such trinkets of adoration bestowed upon you in what is now your final couple of hours left together.

In the shower, there's a moment that you think maybe it can be done after all, and as Jeno stands with toothbrush in hand and mouth full, when you dip your head out to make a mention of the prospect to him, once your eyes meet you can't help but cower back behind the stained glass from which you had come.

Don't ruin this, just let it be.

With bags lazily packed and messily stuffed into the car, the friend groups say their goodbyes at around noon, and with the way that some of them go, you think that you and Jeno far from the only two who consummate their relationship on the final night.

It's sort of sad, in a way, but you suppose you're glad you're not alone in feeling this way.

Turning to face Jeno one, final time — eye smile and freckle that you've grown so fond of — his hands come up to cradle the sides of your face before pulling you into a tender kiss for the final time, his eyes never leaving yours in the pull back even for a second.

Hands dropping to pinky fingers on each hand interlocked as you begin to make your way to the vehicle, you're thankful at least that Jeno have the ability to maintain a strong facade in the aftermath of all of this because frankly, you're not so sure how well you're going to fair once it's all said and done.

There's a pause with arms extended as you open the car door, the link between you and him now stretched nearly as far as it can be held by a mere two fingers — all the while, his gaze never falls from you.

And neither does his smile.

"Safe drive."

Two unreasonably gut-wrenching words.

"We will."

And just like that, you're off.

Arm propped up on the side of the door, the inside of the car is dead silent. You know why. Everyone knows why. No one really wants to talk about it.

Then, your phone buzzes.

Digging it from your bag, you're not entirely sure what to expect, though you're hoping not to find one thing in particular. Instead, you're pleasantly surprised by the name that flashes up on the screen.

Well, suppose that's a bit of an understatement.

Jeno ♡♡ [12:22]: so, what are your plans for winter vacation, anyway?

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2 (probably)

[neonovember]

dating carmen

a carmen berzatto headcanon for all of us feening for season 2

i must admit I was bored at the start of bear and than the next few minutes I was immediately hooked! carmen is such a unique character with so many layers I’d love to uncover as the seasons progress, but for now these are all coming from the depths of my mind :)

I’ve consumed about all the bear content tumblr has to offer so it’s only right I add to the shallow pool, even though this was pure self indulgence

carmy x reader inserts below!

we all know that Carmen has little to no experience with relationship, so the beginning of yours does not come without challenges. It’s hard for him, he barely registers his own emotions much anyone else’s, but in a way he has this subconscious itch in his mind to constantly know if your okay, to ask about your day, it becomes second nature with you.

Carmen refuses to call you by your actual name, often replacing it with honey, baby girl, sweetheart and with the way that accent glides over those words like honey you can’t bring yourself to protest

Carmen has never really thought of having kids, building a family or being tied to someone forever but sometimes, when he sees you fluttering around the apartment you both share, or giggling with richie's daughter he can’t help but imagine building something like that with you, some time. he doesn't doubt that if he did every have children, you would be the mother of his kids. he has visions of it, dreams where you have a gorgeous girl he would hold close or a mini mickey running around, he has to forget it though, he’s just not ready.

Carmen barely ever eats, despite being a chef, most of the things he consumes is easily accessible and in turn flavourless and unsatisfying. but after you come into his life, you practically force him to eat every time you see him, until carmen begins to eat whenever you're near. You can’t lie, it heals something in you

let’s also talk about the totally canon time where you were up late writing one night and carmen had just come back from the beef, tiptoeing through the corridor to not wake you up until he sees you sprawled out on the couch. there’s this tension that leaves his soldiers and he wastes no time taking his shoes off and sliding under the blankets, burying his tired body into yours, grease stained shirt and all but you don’t mind. you’d scratch and brush back his hair and he’d groan in bliss, closing his eyes before you would ask him that fateful question. carmen feels guilty every time he replies with the same 2 letter word, but every time you tell him that it’s part of being his. he couldn’t lie when he felt his jeans tighten at that sentence.

continuing onto that vision, despite your amateur cooking skills, you whip up something quick for Carmen that is actual sustenance and Carmen has to force his eyes open to watch you as you cook, completely and forever enraptured by you. and this man is crazy with his eye contact so imagine it with someone he loves. it’s inSANE

feeding carmen when he’s back from the beef and is too tired to lift a hand. he’s just murmuring ‘I love yous’ repeatedly between bites and you can’t help but giggle. he’s so delirious from lack of sleep all he can form are words that have been written into his tongue like muscle memory

as we see carmen, dealing with his anxiety and unresolved trauma is often terrorised by night terror and ptsd, and that kind of causes him to have this fear of you finding out somehow, whether that be by staying over or him falling asleep next to you, it all comes to a head one night when exactly that happens, and when carmen realise you haven’t stared at him in judgement or left with the door wide open it’s like everything changes. he’s finally found someone that accepts him fully, with all his jagged ends and sharp corners and he is gone at that moment. he is totally and completely head over heels in love with you.

after that revelation you are spending most nights over at his apartment, and whilst the nightmares are still there, as they might always be, there is a relief when he wakes up and feels the beat of your body rubbing circles gently across his back

the progression of your relationship with carmen happens a bit like falling asleep, slow at first and then all at once. it doesn’t take long for Carmen to confess his love to you, in that awkward yet charming way of his, and it takes even shorter after that for you to move in with him

speaking of, carmen probably fell in love with you the second he saw you, that glow that shone in a place that wasn’t the beefs kitchen, he just couldn’t quite actualise or express his feelings

he’s probably hear Tina or Ebra teasing you about a guy they had seen you with, which was no one but your cousin, and carmen would feel this burn across his chest that sinks his stomach, and then we would just know. you would be noticing the change in his demeanour at the mention of a guy connected to you, he’ll the whole kitchen did, especially when Tina would give you a look when he chastised everyone to ‘get back to work because this place isn’t gonna run itself’

I heard someone post about washing carmen’s hair and just- yes. he’s too exhausted to even eat so washing carmen’s hair would be a frequent thing. you’d always have to do it at night though because carmen would sneak a hand around your waist and hoist you up and then proceed to fuck you against the tile walls. You couldn’t be late, he couldn’t be late. For the 100th time.

carmen is touch starved, and that makes him so incredibly needy, you don’t mind however, because you're as touch starved as him. there are times where he comes home and just reaches for you, mumbling incoherent words before just grabbing your hips and making you straddle him on the living room coach. he’s so sensitive and blissed out then, even the slightest thrust of your closed core against his tight jeans leaves him whimpering

oh yeah carmen whimpers, I mean are you kidding? Look at that man

carmen, despite not having many relationships under his belt, is ridiculously, I mean concerningly good at eating your pussy. this man will spend hours, edging you, nibbling on your inner thighs, licking and sucking before thirsting a finger and tongue into you with no warning. he knows every single inch of your body, he’s got it memorised, he dreams about it in the office, on his smoke breaks, in the kitchen, hell especially in the kitchen. getting hard all over again when he remembers the sweet taste of you on his tongue, and how you fell apart with his name on yours.

you think carmen is needy during sex? he’s a whole other thing after, this man will keep his cock buried in you long after your highs, until it gets soft and uncomfortable, and even then he needs you close to him, holding you tight against his chest or having you rest your cheek on his collarbone

bear hugs. lots and lots of bear guys. there's something about carmen’s arms that just make you feel so soft and warm wrapped up in them

carmen really likes how you smell, its almost primal (ehm anthtony bridgerton) he loves washing his body with you scented body wash, even if cousin would tease the fuck out of him for smelling like strawberries, carmen just shakes his head and smiles at the reminder that he is completely and utterly yours.

carmen isn't that rambunctious with his displays of affection, it's subtle, like making you coffee before he leaves or getting down to tie your shoes for you, but it's genuine. it's unique to him, it’s carmen. he'd probably design a dish based on you without realising how goddamn romantic that is. i imagine him calling you to the kitchen and getting you to try something, little scribbled notes written on paper and a little notebook with written and rewritten recipes and you'd ask what it is and he'd reply with "you" and then idk he’d maybe ask you to marry him

carmy would be an absolutely emotional mess on your wedding day, it's partly because he didn't think he'd have a life that included one, and partly because couldn't wrap his head around you actually saying yes. He’s crying when you both wake up on that morning, hes crying when you both sneak away to see each other before the altar, he's crying when he sees you walking down, you've got a box of tissues attached to your dress for him

carmen is a perfectionist, he has this insatiable need to make things beyond perfect, his work is his passion and that need seeps into most of life. however, a lot of the times things in your relationship don’t go right, and it’s mostly why he has never really given his all to one, he’s scared he’ll fuck it up and once that happens you cant start again, you can’t redo the recipe with a new batch. But carmen, slowly, very slowly, learns that things don't have to be perfect, they just have to be real.

You're carmen's unofficial official taste tester. One snowed in night, you and carm just stayed up all night, designing and tweaking recipes and new dishes for the bear, with carm mostly doing the designing and you being his very scrutinising critic

carmy loved whatever you called him, i think he kind of froze the first time you called his name, but he especially loves it when you call him by his full name. everyone else kinda has the same nickname for him but he loves that you call him by something only you do, because he will always call for you

And oh my god if you call him ‘husband’ after you get married? It does something unholy to him

carmen is constantly searching for you, he gets anxious when you aren't around or when your late, you are his best friend beyond his lover and the only person he can truly feel at ease with, the crew are his family as they are yours but there is so much that he bottles that he can only express to you during those nights under light of the moon and sweat covered sheets.

you take everything carmen gives, and there is so much that he does, but it was not always that easy, loving carmen was hard, it was frustrating and overwhelming and carmen is forever trying to give you the love he could not those first few months where he closed himself off to you

sometimes, your heart aches so much with the love you have for carmen, and carmen sometimes feels like he's wading through a current when he thinks of you, he just wants to give into the rush of love and adoration that overwhelms him. its personified in every vessel of his life, he's got polaroids of you stuck to his car mirror, in his wallet, he's got your necklace around his neck and drinks from your mug, you ruined him for anyone else, and he can't imagine his life without you, your scent, your hair products and bring pink toothbrush all over it.

[nadvs]

　　💔　⊹　❀　︵　∘　 better off (alt ending) ⟢

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you and rafe take time apart to try to get better for each other. when you meet up, you realize your relationship is beyond repair.

content warning toxic relationship, mentions of parental abuse, all hurt/no comfort

this is an alternate sad ending to better off, inspired by this ask!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Rafe sits a foot away from you on the trail peak you used to always come to together. The sun is setting soon. The air is thick.

It’s been eighteen days since you decided to take time apart to work on yourselves. You haven’t said anything. It’s like you’re both afraid of breaking the silence.

You stare out at the horizon of where sky meets sea. Then, you meet his gaze and finally ask what’s been turning over in your head.

“Are we done?”

Rafe mournfully breathes your name, sounding defeated when he says, “You tell me.”

“What does that mean?” you say. You realize you sound just as exhausted as he does.

Frustration flares in him. He’s the one who’s always being strung along, loving you more, refusing to let you go. It’s always been like that. Now, you’re talking as if he has any power?

“I’m not the one who decides anything,” he says sharply. “You decided to break up. You decided to stop talking. You’re seriously fucking acting like anything here is up to me?”

His tone is so cutting. Mocking. You’ve been speaking for mere seconds and he’s already blaming you. He’s already angry.

But this is Rafe. He’s always angry. Maybe it’s something he’ll never change about himself. Either he can’t or he won’t.

“I’m asking because you blocked me,” you say, trying to keep your tone even, trying to have some sympathy for him.

“Not a good feeling, is it?” he snaps.

You shake your head to yourself and clasp your hands together tightly.

“So, you did it just to hurt me?” you ask.

Rafe’s jaw tenses. He doesn’t answer. It wasn’t the main reason, but he enjoyed knowing you could be trying to contact him and feeling rejected over and over again. Just like you used to do to him.

“Have you done any work on yourself? Like, at all?” you say.

The lack of belief you have in him stings. He angrily pulls out his phone to prove you wrong.

“This is what I was fucking doing, alright?” he mutters, opening his conversation with you.

A string of undelivered texts are on the screen. He blocked you just to send messages that couldn’t actually get to you.

Friday, 5:46 pm

It sucks not talking to you

Saturday, 3:01 am

You think youre so mmuch better than me and it oisses me the fuck k off

Sunday, 12:11 pm

I would take back a lot of the shit I did if I could

Sunday, 9:20 pm

I always fought to make this work and you never did. I always fucking cared more

Monday, 4:44 pm

I think about you every second. I’m going crazy

Tuesday 9:57 am

I miss your laugh

Tuesday, 3:01 pm

I wonder if you noticed

“If I noticed what?” you ask.

“That I wasn’t at that stupid party last weekend,” he admits.

“I noticed.”

He reaches for his phone.

“I’m not done,” you say, looking back down at the screen. His body tightens in irritation.

Tuesday, 11:30 pm

Obviously I love you and it’s so annoying every time you say I don’t say it enough

Yesterday, 1:20 pm

I would choose being sick together over being healthy alone. At least I’d have you

Today, 10:22 am

I just wish I was good enough

You realize your eyes have started to burn with tears. Your insides twist with a painful mix of hopelessness and a yearning to understand.

In the whirl of everything he wrote, you can’t get it out of your head that he said he’d choose being sick together. You’ve always had a fear he actually preferred dysfunction.

And while this is something you’d usually brush past, as you became an expert at ignoring his red flags, you need to be sure. Because now, you’re committed to being well.

“You’d rather be sick together?” you ask.

Rafe roughly takes his phone back. His heart feels like it’s getting wrung out.

You didn’t say you miss him too, that you love him too, that you agree that not talking sucked. You just found the flaw, the hole in him, like you always do.

He wrote all those messages and showed them to you just for you to judge him?

“Of all that,” he says with an angry exhale, “that’s what you nag me about.”

The pain of watching his anger grow right in front of you and you being desperate to stop it is too familiar.

“Sorry,” you say. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not trying to fight. I just want us both to want to be healthy, you know? I wrote - I wrote things for you, too.”

“What?” he snaps. “What did you write? How it’s never your fault?”

“No,” you reply, your voice getting louder. You take a deep breath, still so afraid of being vulnerable in front of someone who has a habit of arguing against your feelings. “The last thing I wrote was that I hope we find our way back. I miss you. And I love you, too.”

His muscles lose a bit of their tension.

“What else?” His voice is rough, almost strained.

You look out at the view again, thinking about all that you’ve wanted to tell him.

“I wrote that I used to feel good about myself around you, and then at some point, I really didn’t like who I became.”

It makes everything in him hurt.

“But I blamed you and I shouldn’t have,” you continue. “We both fought unfairly, but you didn’t bring anything out of me that wasn’t already there. I’m sorry that I made it your fault when I was mean.”

He blinks, staring at your profile as you continue to speak.

“And I didn’t like how controlling and jealous you could get,” you admit. “You didn’t trust me. I never actually did anything to make you question my loyalty, did I?”

Rafe chews on his lip. Tears prick at his eyes. He hates how you never understood this; how if you’re with him, if you love him, you shouldn’t give another man a second of your time.

“You still shouldn’t talk to other guys,” he says. “If you’re in a relationship, what are you doing smiling at some asshole who just wants to fuck you?”

You shake your head in disappointment, forehead creasing. You know you’re speaking differently than you used to, apologizing and explaining yourself carefully. But he’s the same. Rude. Domineering. Argumentative.

And he has yet to say sorry for anything. He’s still hung up on a twenty-second conversation you had with a guy at a party weeks ago, back when you weren’t even together.

He did this all the time. You’d talk to a male friend for a moment and he’d get angry. If you spoke with one of his friends, he’d visibly get tense. He’d even go through your following lists on social media and ask you why you followed every guy on the list, one by one.

You’re afraid he truly hasn’t improved one bit.

“Did you do any reading about jealousy or control?” you ask. “I can show you what I read if-”

“You act like it’s crazy to not want your girl talking to other guys,” he interrupts.

“Having a conversation with a guy doesn’t mean I’m flirting,” you retort, your own anger building now. “And it’s not even just guys! You’d even get pissed off when I went out with my friends. I’d spend the whole night texting you.”

“And blocking me,” he adds.

You let out a frustrated groan.

“Because I needed a break, Rafe. I was glued to my phone because of you,” you mutter. “It’s like you purposely started arguments so I couldn’t enjoy my night. And they all said-”

You stop yourself. You’re trying to be better and not spiteful. Not cruel.

“What?” he snaps, his voice dripping with contempt.

You can’t resist the urge. You want to hurt him.

“They all said you’re psychotic,” you say. “And that I could do so much better.”

Rafe tenses up again, looking away. His eyes are bloodshot now. You can do better. He knew that from the first date.

Guilt grips you. He was always painfully insecure. Maybe even more so than you realized. But he made you pay for it time and time again.

You don’t want to be this spiteful girl anymore. You want to be kind. Understanding. You never cared to be the bigger person before. You do now.

You think back to all the reading you’ve been doing about toxic relationships and how to dig yourself out of them.

“Jealousy is insecurity,” you begin, “and I think it’s important that you reflect and ask yourself why you’re insecure. Could it be from stuff at home? I know your dad didn’t always give you a lot of attention and that he hit you and-”

“Are you fucking serious?” Rafe mutters. Hearing you recount the traumatic stories he shared with you in confidence is too painful. He can’t hear it anymore. “You’re such a bitch for using that against me.”

You try to inhale again, but your breath is shallow and broken. Bitch. That insult is so simple, yet so vile. So dehumanizing.

This is how it always happened. The few and far between times you put your effort into having a calm, reasonable conversation, he’d explode, and then you’d explode, too.

“Don’t call me a bitch,” you snarl. “I wasn’t using it against you. I’m trying to understand you. Do you even understand yourself?”

Rafe scoffs in disbelief. You watch a tear quickly roll down his cheek. He wipes it away angrily. He doesn’t answer.

“Do you know why you act like this?” you say. “Have you thought about it at all these past few weeks?”

Rafe hates this feeling. He has lived it every day of his life. The harrowing pain of being neglected, the helplessness of being unable to control what he thinks and how he acts.

Nobody understands him. And that includes himself.

“I get it, alright?” he says, his voice cracking now. “There’s something wrong with me. You said it all the fucking time.”

Despite everything he’s hurled at you, you feel your heart break, looking at him almost curled up as he sits beside you, his cheeks streaked with tears.

You think of his texts. He said he wishes he was good enough.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” you say. “You’re good enough, okay? You’re more than good enough. I just want to understand why you treated me so bad.”

“You treated me bad, too,” he counters.

You grimace. Immediately defensive. No accountability. Just blame. He hasn’t changed at all. And you’re falling back into bad habits just by talking with him.

A few moments of silence pass between you, both of you sniffling but saying no words. You have no hope left.

“I was really hoping we could bring out the best in each other instead of the worst,” you finally say. “But if you don’t actually do the work to get better, it’s not going to happen.”

Rafe meets your eyes. He’s shattered. He’s never felt smaller. And it’s all your fault. Being with you just hurts at this point. And he doesn’t want to hurt anymore.

“Then it’s not going to happen,” he answers, tone low.

You blink away tears. You look down at your lap. You exhale. And you say the hardest possible thing.

“This is over,” you half-whisper. “Goodbye.”

You stand and he doesn’t stop you. Even though going down the trail in the dusk on foot is dangerous, he doesn’t stop you. You start to walk home and he doesn’t stop you.

Eventually, a motorcycle roars past you on the street. You know it’s him. You know he passed you and didn’t care enough to at least offer you a lift home.

But of course that’s the way your mess of a relationship ends. He claims he cares, then when it matters, he obviously doesn’t give a fuck.

As you walk home, wiping away your tears, your heart broken over the fact that he didn’t have the decency to drive you home or the love to actually try to improve himself for you, you tell yourself that eventually, you won’t give a fuck, either.

You won’t talk to him anymore. You won’t touch him anymore. You won’t ask about his day or run your fingers over his hair the way he likes or laugh together. Ever again.

One day, this won’t feel like a loss. Because whatever you had with Rafe wasn’t love. It was poison and you can’t willingly drink it anymore.

(continuation)

[youremyheaven]

Random Astrology Observations

Moon in the 1h is often talked about like 🥺🥺wears their heart on their sleeve🥹🥹uwu softie way but tbh Moon in 1h can make someone incredibly manipulative, they know just what to say and when to say it and know how to work their audience, this is perhaps why this placement is found in the charts of soooo many successful actors. ex: Leonardo DiCaprio, Audrey Hepburn, Henry Cavill, Charlie Chaplin, Priyanka Chopra, Antonio Banderas, Brendan Fraser, Benicio Del Toro, Jared Padelecki, Val Kilmer, Adrien Brody etc

I think this is a very manipulative placement, again manipulation is not in and of itself a bad thing, its what we use it for that matters. Some people completely lack the ability to manipulate at all (they don't have Moon influence)

2. Debilitated placements point to unconventional intelligence & wisdom in that area. I feel like they've cracked the code . They struggle a lot but when they triumph it's magic

3. I've mentioned this in other posts but many notorious sex offenders have Venus influence. Actions of this sort, as well as criticizing others' beauty, not taking care of yourself/surroundings, being shabby or disorderly in general are all things that harm your Venus. Abusing someone is the quickest way to ruin your Venus, you start corroding and that ugliness begins to manifest on the outside.

Ex: Harvey Weinstein looks like a cartoonish villain

4. As I explore the astrology content put out by others across different platforms, I've seen how the nature of the take themselves are so specific and unique to the person making them. Claire Nakti has a tendency imo to focus heavily on romance, sex and women's sexual behaviour and what sort of men they attract.

Going through her website, it's obvious that she's deeply immersed in occult & esoteric philosophy (all of which ties together with vedic astrology, philosophy, Buddhism etc because I truly believe that spiritual truths are universal and different schools of thought/religion/culture/mythology express these same truths in their own way with a LOT of recurring patterns) and Carl Jung as well.

It's studying Jung that helped me understand that what we see or draw from something is a reflection of who we are. As a beginner to vedic astrology, I initially believed Claire's one dimensional portrayal to be the all encompassing truth of a nakshatra until I started doing my own reading and research.

The things I talk about or the patterns I find are a reflection of me and I get a lot of asks about why I don't do xyz nak and honestly it's not as simple as doing research for an essay for uni, you kind of have to have a gnosis or innate knowing of its themes, something to base your search off of. And different naks call to me at different points. I come across content that describes certain naks in lights i could've never imagined which is to say that gnosis or inner knowing is an important aspect of studying anything esoteric, it kind of has to be revealed to you and what you see, what you can discern is a reflection of you.

5. you have to have a strong Rahu to discern patterns and similarities because Rahu is maya/illusion and a well-placed Rahu will allow you to see through those patterns/illusions. it will be very hard for someone without a strong Rahu to find similarities or common tropes, patterns, themes etc. Seeing through the veil or fog is Rahuvian.

6. Claire Nakti made a video about Venusian men where she said they were the ideal type of man and tbh that just confirmed my suspicion that she's Moon dominant because I think Moon dominant people are attracted to Venusians but in my humble opinion both Venusian men and Moon dominant men are some of the most batshit crazy people (manipulative and controlling at the least, psychopathic at worst) basically men who have a lot of Yin tend to be psychotic

7. I've noticed that Revati people tend to speak in a very verbose way. Nigella Lawson, Revati Moon is a really good example. Obviously other placements will also impact speech

8. Moon dominant people hate it when others share sob stories. They're the type to have the least amount of empathy for others and will either react in a neutral way or like they don't understand why you're saying this stuff at all. They're bored by other people's mundane problems and make it known as well. Not people you want to open up to.

My former friend was this way, I once cried in front of her and she showed zero emotion and didn't even try to comfort me lol

9. The way others treat us is the way we treat others. ik this is a basic take but karma is cause and effect. if you're dismissive of others feelings, other people will be dismissive of yours. what you do is what will be done unto you. Its so crazy to see how people who've been treated like shit by their friends will turn around and treat other people like shit. this is sooo basic but genuinely dont do anything to others that you dont want done to you.

[mouseymilkovich]

Speechless | Carmy x Reader | Final Chapter

previous chapter | masterlist | playlist | pinterest board

Chapter Summary: It's time for Sydney to look for a new job, and your fight with Carmy is still plaguing your mind. Then, miraculously, you both end up right back where you started— The Beef, face to face with the one and only, the chef your best friend long revered, Carmen fucking Berzatto. How will things resolve? Will they even resolve? | Carmy Berzatto x fem/afab reader (using they/them pronouns)

Content Tags: Nothing really! Mostly just angst. Enjoy the ending <3

Important Info: (texting) blue = Carmy

Chapter Seven: All I Ask

Word Count: 1.8k

It felt weird, helping Sydney find a new job, not going to The Beef, not hearing from Carmy. At least you had Sydney back and you could talk to Marcus... but, still, the lack of Carmy's presence left a hole in your life you didn't notice before he occupied that space.

"If you don't find anything soon, I'll help you with rent this month—"

"You don't need to do that." Sydney muttered, cutting you off.

"I know I don't need to, Syd. But I want to." You sighed, looking over at her as you kept down the sidewalk.

"You don't have to keep making things up to me. I still forgive you." She laughed softly, nudging you with her elbow.

"Oh my god! That's not why—" You groaned, then laughed a little. "Is it so wrong to want to keep my best friend on her feet?"

"I will be fine, okay?" Sydney reassured.

You responded by sticking your tongue out at her like a damn child— but, that was something you'd often done when the other wouldn't accept an offer of help.

"Real mature." She teased before sticking her tongue back at you.

You two stopped in a cafe for lunch, getting inside and away from the chill of the Chicago air. You both sat at a small table, across from each other.

"How are you doing, by the way?" She asked you softly.

You sighed softly, but forced a little smile. "Fine. I am totally fine."

"What did we say about secrets?" Syd reminded, giving you a slightly stern look.

You sighed again, and held your face in your hands for a moment while you gathered your thoughts. "Okay, I'm trying to be fine... but it's hard. I kinda fuckin' fell for the guy and it feels a bit like he stepped on my heart... it's stupid."

Sydney sighed softly, she reached over and grabbed your hand. "Your feelings are not stupid, you're allowed to just... feel. You know that."

You nodded, giving your best friend a small smile. "You're right. It's just... hard."

"I hope you know he's fuckin' stupid for saying that to you. If I knew before I left, I would've smacked the shit out of him." She reassured you, hoping to get a smile out of you.

You did smile a little wider. "Because you're the best."

That's when Sydney's phone buzzed. Carmy... that motherfucker.

"What'd he say?" You asked nervously. You hadn't felt your own phone buzz— he didn't text you.

no acid.

Your face scrunched up after Sydney showed you the text. What?

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" You asked.

"I'm assuming something to do with the short ribs... whatever." Sydney groaned, setting her phone down as someone came to take your order.

She left Carmy on read for a while during your lunch. Though, it plagued your mind why he'd text her and not you— then your question was immediately answered, when Carmy sent her another text that her final check was waiting for her at The Beef.

You'd told the waitstaff beforehand that you'd be taking care of the check, and while Sydney protested to you that you should be splitting it, your own phone finally buzzed. Honestly, at this rate you'd thought maybe it was Marcus, hell, even Richie, or anybody else. But, no.

i'm sorry.

And that was it.

"That's it. We're going so you can get your last check and so I can give him a fucking piece of my mind." You decided, after the bill for lunch was taken care of, getting up with a huff.

"Are you sure?" Sydney asked with a little frown, following your lead and getting up herself.

"Oh, yeah. Just I'm sorry and that's it?! Who the hell does he think he is?!" You huffed, marching towards the door.

"Fucking hell..." Sydney sighed as she followed you out to the sidewalk. "What are you even gonna say to him?"

"I don't know yet! But I'll figure it out when I see his stupid fucking face!" You practically shouted.

Sydney sighed again, but followed you as you made your way down to The Beef. Of course, you legitimately had no idea what you'd actually say to Carmy, every word buzzed around your brain like fucking flies. And somehow, when you actually got to The Beef, there was nothing you could think of.

"Maybe I shouldn't go in." You muttered to Sydney as the pair of you stood at the door.

"C'mon, you're not gonna make me face him alone, are you?" She asked, nudging you gently.

You sighed deeply, but looked over at her. "No... no, I'm not gonna make you face him alone."

Both of you stared at the door for a moment. Was it an exaggeration to say that this felt like climbing Mount Everest? Probably. But, that's what it felt like right now.

Finally, you bit the bullet and opened the door, letting Sydney go in first. You had half a mind to bail and run the other fucking way— but, you knew if you did that, you'd never hear the end of it. So, you took a deep breath and followed her inside.

The sight that greeted the both of you was... unexpected, to say the least. Every single staff member with can openers, opening those damn tomato cans that he'd complained about. You kept hearing about him wondering why Mikey had gotten the smaller ones when the larger ones worked out to be cheaper.

You and Syd both met Carmy's gaze. You weren't sure if you could really read it entirely, but you did see something apologetic there— and, of course, his stupid pretty blue eyes were one of your weaknesses.

Marcus stood up, looking over at you two and held up two extra can openers.

You and Syd exchanged a glance, then set your stuff aside and silently went to help.

"Why am I even doing this? Carmy probably does not give a single shit that I'm here." You thought to yourself.

As Carmy spoke to Sydney, you stayed over by Marcus. You decided that you were doing this for Sydney and Marcus, you didn't owe Carmy a damn thing for his stupid, bullshit apology over text. You barely registered what they were talking about, you just focused on the globs of tomato you dug through to pull out wads of cash. At this point, you didn't care enough to ask why there were wads of cash wrapped in plastic and encased in tomatoes.

Well, at least opening and crushing the cans was somewhat therapeutic. You barely caught when Carmy finally spoke to you.

"Can we talk?" He muttered.

You looked up at him and shrugged a little. "I guess."

"Alone, I mean..." He said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Oh great.

You cleaned yourself up, and went with Carmy to the office. You had half a mind to just start screaming at him, but before you could even get the chance to get a word out, he started to speak.

"I'm really sorry... about what I said. I was... in a bad mood and taking it out on everyone, including you." He confessed quietly, unable to look you in the eye. "I do like you—"

"I sense a 'but' coming." You commented.

Carmy nodded gently, finally meeting your eyes. "I do like you, but... I don't think I can be in a relationship, at least... not right now. I'm not... good at that shit."

You felt your heart break all over again. "I get it..." You muttered softly. "Um, thanks for being honest with me, though."

"That doesn't mean I don't wanna be friends, though." He told you, the tone of his voice held sincerity. "If... you forgive me, that is. Cus I wouldn't blame you if you don't."

"Did Syd forgive you?" You asked.

"Yeah, um... and we're talking about finally... opening our own place." He muttered. "And she said you could probably help."

You looked a little surprised— but, also somewhat relieved. Syd was gonna fulfill a dream of hers... wow.

"Okay... I forgive you." You said softly, looking at Carmy sincerely. "I just... all I ask, is... if anything gets too weird, being around each other... we can be honest and tell each other to fuck off, okay?"

Carmy nodded slightly in agreement, then held his hand out to you, giving you a slight smile. "Friends?"

You took a deep breath, then your hand met his for a shake. "Friends."

That fucking stung, but there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it now. If he didn't want a relationship, then he just didn't want one, simple as that— that didn't make it hurt any less, though.

You let out a soft sigh, giving Carmy one last parting kiss on the cheek... that was the one thing that seemed to render him speechless.

You both left the office, Sydney looked at you in anticipation to know about whatever had happened. But, the sadness in your eyes told her everything she needed to know.

After sharing a much needed hug with Sydney, you decided it was time to toughen up. Starting a restaurant was one of her dreams, and you knew she wanted you to be involved, you wanted to be involved. So, if that meant being just friends with Carmy, then so be it.

While the staff worked away on some spaghetti, you actually worked on a cake for everybody with Marcus, one of the things from the recipe book you'd made him.

It slowly settled over you that you would be okay, regardless of your feelings for Carmy. You could get over that... couldn't you?

"I can't believe The Beef is actually gonna close..." You muttered softly to Marcus as your cake baked. "Syd and I have... so many memories of this place from when we were younger. It's gonna be... just... weird."

"Yeah, it will be... but, I think it'll be a good thing too. Obviously the spirit of The Beef's always gonna live on here, but change can be good, yknow?" Marcus responded with a soft smile at you.

You smiled a little too. "Yeah... I guess you're right."

The cake finished baking, you and Marcus frosted and decorated it. Around the same time it was ready, everybody had the table set for family spaghetti. You were surrounded by so many people—

Sydney, your best friend. The Beef staff, including Richie and Marcus, the two men you'd grown oddly close to. Fak, who... was surprisingly allowed to join in for family. Sugar, who you liked, despite having barely gotten to know her. And Carmy... your friend.

As you all gathered to eat, you noticed Carmy hanging some cardboard in the window.

"The Beef is closed..."

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

tags ; @maggiesarchives @carmenberzattosgf @buendiabebeta @turtle-cant-communicate

wanna be tagged in any future speechless trilogy updates? leave 🫢 + an @ to tag in my askbox !

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 70)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (57) / Alexia Putellas x Character (27) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (13)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Join our WOSO Discord chat! Link in bio :)

((**2.5k**))

I recommend reading the last 5+ parts first!

((**Sorry for the lack of posting. Life and... procrastination getting in the way. I'll try to post more, starting with smaller chapters. Much love! Jae.**))

Jordan hadn’t realised that she’d instinctively sought the comfort of Leah by grabbing her hand until she felt a soft squeeze. Realising, she dropped Leah’s hand just as quickly as she’d grabbed it and tried to not look at her. It wasn’t too difficult though, as the room in front of them was much more interesting. It resembled the size and structure of a warehouse space, though it was set up for content. There were different areas for interviews, photos, videos, there were different sports brands moving throughout, clothes overflowing racks, and so much more. The pets were great to see –Blu whined from her arms and his head darted around, his eyes overwhelmed and excited not only by the amount of people, but by the pets too. He loved to play, though his stamina was awful. This is one thing she missed most about not having Leah around. Those two were always playing together.

“You’re alright, mate,” Leah calmed as she stroked his head while tucked up against Jordan’s chest with one of her arms. Jordan relished the feel of Leah’s arm brushing up against her chest lightly as she pet him.

“Madness, right?” Beth chuckled excitedly. Of course she was in her comfort zone.

She spotted Viv and joined her across the room.

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” Jen asked in her amused, wondering tone.

Jordan had no idea and so Leah jumped in.

“Where do we even start..?”

Jen pointed across them and to the area set up with tables of food and drink. Standing right in front of it was the person you’d always expect to find near the food. The pair chuckled when they saw her stuffing her mouth. “She’ll sort you out.”

Jordan shook her head and she couldn’t help the smile cross her face as she wandered over to the food table followed closely by Leah.

“Hey, mate.”

Lucy turned around mid-chew. Her eyes lit up as she saw them both. She gulped down her bite and gave them a little hug while she did so, with a pat for Blu. “Hey you two. You came! I really didn’t think you would but YFN knew you would.”

“Of course we would,” Leah laughed.

“What’s happening?” Jordan asked. “You’re usually eating but you look like you’re stress eating at the moment. Feeling guilty?”

Lucy gave a sheepish grin, having been caught. Jordan had known her for so long. “Just a bit-”

Jordan’s expression had her rolling her eyes as she looked over towards YFN. “-a lot. I didn’t expect it to become what it has. I just wanted to distract her so I could organise her birthday next week.”

Lucy’s expression was obvious regret as she watched her. Jordan followed her eyes to where YFN was. She was sitting at a table with piles of paperwork and her laptop in front of her. Sitting next to her was Alex Scott, though YFN was talking to some Lumos employees who nodded and left. She was obviously organising everything and Jordan always loved to watch her in boss mode. She seemed very tired, though, but that didn’t stop the smile lighting her face. She looked over at the trio and her face lit up from its weariness. She waved at the group as her attention was quickly taken up again by someone else.

“Are you hiding?” Leah asked.

Lucy shook her head and grabbed the plates of food she had on the table in front of her.

“Just stress eating,” Jordan laughed as the trio wandered over to join the table.

“I didn’t want… this,” Lucy grunted. “It just got so out of hand. Everybody jumped on board like the tavern dinner.”

“Have you even spoken to anyone about the birthday plans yet?” Leah murmured as they got closer.

“Only a few. I was hoping you two would distract her so I’d have a better chance to. I’ve been hovering because I feel like someone’s going to run into her. Now be quiet about it… oh and don’t mention Ridley.”

The pair didn’t have a chance to question that before they reached the table and instead shared a look. They each greeted the pair at the table and unsurprisingly, Leah fell straight into conversation with Alex from her seat next to Jordan. The pair were close, though never in a way beyond friendship. Truth be told, she enjoyed seeing Leah interacting with her friend.

“I missed you,” YFN groaned into her as they hugged and then acknowledged Blu. “Hi little man. I missed you too.”

“I missed you more,” Jordan admitted as she held her for longer than she expected. She really did miss her friend. YFN held her until Jordan released first with tears in her eyes that she tried to cover.

“Got a bit carried away, did we?” YFN asked as Lucy put the obscene amount of food down in front of her with a kiss to the temple.

“I know you like options… think of it as tapas, little one.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile that only Lucy brought out of her. “That too, but I was talking about you hoovering. I saw you eating your feelings, Luce. Or rather… inhaling them.”

Jordan chuckled as she placed Blu down on the chair next to her and watched as Lucy wrapped an arm around YFN, holding her softly. It seemed Lucy was still very much feeling guilty and protective of her injuries, and Jordan felt a pang of empathy in her chest. She was still so broken, and she could see her wince at each wrong movement, though she did try to hide it. For Lucy’s sake, she imagined.

“Do you need somewhere to stay tonight?”

Jordan felt Leah shift next to her, having heard the question, and somehow, she knew she was listening to her response. Jordan wasn’t sure what brought out the sudden pride in her as she responded.

“Blu and I are actually staying with Leah tonight.” She said, smiling at Leah who paused her sentence just to smile back and share a moment. Enough was enough. Jordan wanted her. She knew that. And although unexpected, tonight she wanted to show Leah just how much she still cared for her. She felt ready.

Jordan turned back to the couple in front of her. Lucy nodded, her eyes flickering between the two. Though YFN was smiling kindly and… knowingly. Like she already knew.

YFN POV

“Sounds perfect.” Silence hung for a second and as she usually did, YFN broke it to keep the conversation flowing. “Did anyone explain to you two what’s happening here?”

“Nope.”

“Okay so Lucy sort of took the opportunity to ask around to get some people interested in meeting up today and introducing them to our company but it seems things have gotten a little out of hand…” Lucy looked apologetic as YFN’s eyes flickered around the room, making sure everything was running smooth. “So everyone is getting involved as much or as little as they like. Before you do anything, there’s our legal team over there dealing with legality when it comes to us posting content et cetera. Then there’s the photography over there… interviews there… tik tok content there… Nike have set up there… Adidas there… there’s several clothing or sports brands set up to promote themselves and find new brand ambassadors but they’re under strict instructions to not approach anyone, I want only the interested footballers to approach them instead.” She looked over to the booths set up. “Though they have been pretty sneaky with their little signs…” she chuckled as she watched one of the sports drink brands holding up a board saying ‘JOIN THE DARK SIDE LJ’ as Lauren laughed from afar. “Food and drink over there… let the lads there know if you want anything and they’ll get it. Lots of hungry women here… and I’ll be doing the pet interviews over here starting again soon, just having a little break for now. Oh and the podcast.”

“So you are starting the podcast?” Leah asked.

“I think it’ll be a great weekly thing to do to keep up with current events and have guest speakers.”

“Thanks for throwin’ my name out there,” Alex grinned at Leah. “I think it’s great. We’ve been chattin’ about it a lot and I think YFN, Jill and I are going to each bring something different to it. We were going to start today if Jill can get here.”

“She’s coming from Manchester?”

“Have you looked around? People are comin’ from everywhere. It’s crazy.” They shared a laugh at that as they couldn’t help but look around the packed room again.

“How did you even manage all of this?” Leah asked.

“Well we spoke to a few of the girls who were over last night-”

“-you mean the whole Arsenal team?”

“Basically. And they messaged around and then it sort of became this. To be honest, I think it was just perfect timing being everyone’s day off and most of the girls didn’t arrive until just before you two. Everyone was sleeping in and word was spreading. I’ve just been trying to stop the bleeding all morning. More food. More table. Backdrops. Cameras. Film equipment. Luckily our staff is so properly vetted – they’ve all jumped in feet first. I was worried we’d be drowning for a second, but everything’s going well…”

“You’re doing an amazing job…” Lucy murmured to her. Her heart fluttered as she leant into her a little more. She knew she’d be sleeping well tonight.

“Thanks, Luce. Thank you for getting everyone together.”

She was saying that for Lucy to know that she did appreciate her effort, and to try and take some of that guilt away of course.

“I’ll give you more notice next time…” She joked half-heartedly.

“I’d very much appreciate that,” she laughed in response as her phone vibrated. She looked down, wondering if it was Joe again, excited with her updates. But it wasn’t. Her eyes widened as she answered.

“Hey… did you get my messages?”

“Sí,” Alexia responded almost normally. “I would like to come.”

YFN had been trying to get in contact with her all morning and had invited her to their little open day of course, thinking it might be a welcome distraction. She never thought she’d say yes, though.

“Okay… um…” She turned to Lucy who took her key from her pocket and gestured to the phone, knowing exactly what she was going to ask. Her Lucy. It was these little things that made her adore her so much. “Okay, Lucy is on her way to get you. She’ll be there soon!”

“Okay. Can I bring Chiquito?”

YFN hesitated. Ridley adored Chiquito more than anything. He was a mini Ridley. Her little man. She’d left him with Alexia which confirmed what YFN already knew. Ridley was completely and utterly in love with her. “Uh… yes of course you can bring Chiquito. Everyone has brought their pets actually. I’ll be doing pet and player interviews if you’d like to but we’ll discuss it when you get here.”

She shared a look with Lucy whose thinking lines appeared on her forehead at the mention of Chiquito.

“See you soon, Blau.”

“See you Ale.”

She hung up and Lucy tilted her head in question.

“She sounds… surprisingly okay,” YFN murmured.

Lucy frowned. So did she. They both knew that was bad. Alexia had shut down her emotions which meant one thing… she would break.

Lucy sighed and leant forwards, her lips finding YFN’s, her hand cradling her cheek. The softest of kisses.

“I’ll be back soon, little one,” she said as she kissed her forehead and stood. “You all look after her, please. She’s fragile and refuses to believe it sometimes.”

YFN managed to slap her hip as she walked away, and Lucy was unable to stop herself from looking over her shoulder at her as she was leaving. She smiled when she caught her eye. It should be illegal to look that good, YFN thought.

Her attention was drawn back to the table at the eyes that were avoiding her. She sighed. “Lucy said not to mention Ridley, right?”

Their faces answered the question.

“Of course she did. That woman… hm. Well, because Alexia is coming, I feel like you all need to know what’s happening so we can all help the situation because I can’t exactly move quickly and people are bound to harass Alexia because it’s… well… Alexia.”

“Did something happen with them finally?” Alex asked.

“You know Ridley?” Leah asked Alex.

“The hot bisexual? Impossible to not when everyone is talking about her. You know how the girls are when a hot new single women enters our world,” she laughed. “And I sort of put two and two together with those photos online of you all at lunch the other day. They looked very friendly.”

“At lunch?!” Jordan asked.

“I handled it…” YFN murmured. “They took them down but a few people know. Anyways… please keep it to yourselves, just take this information and try to make Alexia feel comfortable…”

“They finally did it then?” Leah asked.

“I’m… not sure. Ridley is gone. That’s all.”

“Gone?”

“Gone. There’s a good chance you won’t see her again. She… does this. She doesn’t get close to people. She stopped by last night and said goodbye about 3am. I’ve been awake ever since. Alexia is still in her apartment with Chiquito.”

They didn’t say anything.

“So be kind to Alexia please and don’t mention it… and try to steer conversations away from relationships. They nodded, understanding and already empathising. She saw Jordan look at Leah with longing and then hiding her expression.

They spoke for a little longer, and others came over to the table to chat and introduce their dogs. Eventually, her phone started buzzing again.

“Lucy’s calling…” she murmured, wonderingly. She answered the call.

“Love, Alexia has someone coming from Spain and they’ll be there soon-”

“-i’m sorry,” Alexia cut off, presumably from the passenger seat of the car. “I didn’t tell her to come. I didn’t know she would come-”

“-hey, that’s okay!” YFN responded with a laugh. She wanted Alexia to be comfortable and give her everything she needed right now. It was a positive sign that someone had come to be with Alexia when she needed it. It meant she’d been talking and opening up. “The more the merrier, and more won’t hurt looking around at this place already.”

“You don’t understand. Little one…” Lucy’s voice faded out as YFN realised why they were so nonchalant about the situation. Across the far side of the room, one of the Lumos workers entered, gesturing the new guest inside the content warehouse.

She’d be lying if she didn’t say that her heart skipped a beat at the little figure of Ona Batlle entering the room.

[toska-writes]

Clone commandos request if possible. 😁 Could you do delta squad. where on a mission they get captured along with the Padawan, and get protective when they try to separate them or interrogate them.

So i thought about writing a fic based on todays bad batch episode (but I need to get some of the requests done- if you wanna request some Wolffe *wink wink* that’s ok)

“Got your back”

Summary: a mission goes south with the delta squad but they have your back

Paring: The delta Squad/ republic commandos x padawan!reader (PLATONIC OFC)

Warning: slight mentions of injury and imprisonment nothing too bad… the most scary- not proofread

Word count: 1688

Notes: Delta Squad fics are not my “most popular” but ones I always do so much for and I don’t know why

Also I swear to god someone asked to join the Taglist but I can’t remember nor find it so let me know!

"Can you focus for one second Scorch? EVER?" Fixed screamed through the comms, you could see his tense movements from a mile away as the squad ducked once again behind a wall.

Boss could only nod this head, he quickly spun around from where you, Sev and him were hiding to shoot an incoming droid.

"Sorry Scorch I can't defend you this time it's not looking good." You spoke between gasp of your own breath, the adrenaline from the long hours fighting wearing on you and the whole group.

Sev leaned heavily on Fixer from where you could see him, though Scorch as of now was doing a good job covering them.

"Boss," You yelled over the hiss of a smoke bomb going off- the contents of which were going in your eyes and making you cough. "I'm all out of ideas here."

The comando spared you a glance for a second, you feared what his face would have looked like if his helmet was discarded.

Boss looked down at the padawan for a moment. A thin cut ran along their cheek way too close to their eye for Boss’s comfort. He watched their head whip around looking through the fog desperately before a huge bang went off.

After a moment of slight ringing Boss felt the bump of another person against his side. The padawan looked around frantically for the force of the bomb before looking up to the comando.

In a more solemn voice they asked. “Boss what are we gonna do?”

Boss thought about their options then. Backed into the corner of what should have been an abandoned outpost, on of their men injured and the rest ready to collapse from exhaustion. He as a leader thought he was better than this but Boss felt as if he walked his squad right into this trap.

“The missions easy enough for us.” Boss had said only hours before. A knot sat in his stomach but the team needed an easy mission, a break from their last fiasco with the bugs.

He’s never been more wrong in his life.

While he was lost in thought, Boss nearly missed Scorch sliding up next to their leader, his panicked voice tried to fill Boss’s ears.

For a moment the other comando didn’t realize the trooper in yellow was talking until Scorch made a shhh gesture with his hand.

That’s when you noticed it too, the complete lack of noise. No more clanker chatter or blaster bullets from each side. Just the low hiss of the fog that didn’t seem to die down.

You opened your mouth to say something before the unmistakable scraping of metals filled your ears.

“Rollies! get down!” Scorch shouted pulling you and Boss to the floor with him. About 5 Droidekas emerged from the smoke…. Lucky you guys.

“Scorch handle them.” Boss yelled using his hands to signal something at Fixer and Sev at the speed of light. His gruff tone scratched your ears but you all seemed pretty fed up at the situation.

Blaster bullets were blocked by your lightsaber left and right until the next words made your heart drop all together. “Out of hand grenades sir.” Scorch ripped his blaster out now but the shields were too strong on the droids.

“Down the hall!” Fixer yelled as both He and Sev passed the 3 of you, a way out hopefully planned.

You felt them before you saw them, you tried skidding to a stop before turning into the next hall as a hand shot out to grab Boss.

“Shit.” Was the only thing you could say, before they could question what you meant a group of comando droids emerged with guns drawn.

“You’ve got to be joking me.” Sev rasped out, his arm shook while he tried to lift his blaster up and fire. The tiredness leaked off of him though you were sure it did for everyone.

A ring of blue light hit the wall behind you. It didn’t make sense though, comando droids weren’t the type to show mercy.

Your lightsaber flashed along the darkened walls trying to keep the nimble droids away, why couldn’t the separatists just send the normal clankers.

Once again the hall was engulfed in a think smoke. You heard more blasters going off but you feared you were getting more and more disoriented. After a moment you heard a sickening thunk next to you and you assumed the worst.

In the blink of an eye you felt the blast hit its mark and half your body go limp. Unlike the bulking clones you were with it only took about 2 hits before you were out.

•✩•

Boss was the first one to awaken. His head bobbed around and his eyes fluttered open. Boss reached his hand up only to finally realize that his armor was gone.

He laid there for a moment, confusion laced his face. What had happened to him? To them….

In a split second Boss shot up to a sitting position , which his head greatly protested, and looked for the rest of his squad.

Relief was one of the best things in the galaxy in this moment. In the dim light of the ray shield keeping them in Boss could count the 3 other comandos and the form of their padawan knocked out next to Scorch.

Sev still looked bad as now Boss could get the full view of his gash along his side- the blacks on all of the men seemed to be tattered.

Boss observed their surroundings for a moment before giving a light tap to Fixer on the foot. When that didn’t work the first time a much hard kick was implemented.

Fixer gasped awake along with Scorch after a “friendly” tap from the clone comando.

I didn’t take Scorch long before he leaned back against the wall and groaned, clearly he knew the situation at hand.

Boss could only stare for another second at Sev, guilt rummaged through his insides as he helped his injured brother up ultimately waking him as well. This was his fault and Boss couldn’t shake that.

“Fixer start working on those bindings.” Boss ordered unable to keep his gaze on the unconscious padawan. Clearly to the eyes of their captors the Jedi was the bigger threat.

Sev hissed for a moment now finding a new brother to lean on.

You came to with the feeling of someone’s exposed hands brushing against your arms. The pounding in your head was present but the blanket of confusion was much scarier.

“Thanks for joinin’ us.” The unmistakable voice of scorch chimed in. Your eyes strained against the darkness but you could tell what the problem was.

The cool metal hurt your wrists as Fixer fiddled with them muttering a small apology every once in a while.

Boss’ low voice filled the cell, plans of just how they would get out to fight another day. Your eyes scanned the worrisome group.

Scorch sat fidgeting with his hands trying desperately to listen but you could see the worry in his eyes as clear as day.

Fixer sat in front of you cursing and apologizing but he just couldn’t seem to do anything useful without his tools and data pad.

Sev’s eyes closed everyone once in a while and you could see the fight to remain in the moment, though his scowl never seemed to be wiped off.

And finally Boss. His voice was level and low just like the countless other times you heard him give directions, however this time was different. He knew this wasn’t in their favor and he was worried beyond belief.

Someone had to stay strong for them all.

Your heartbeat beat out of your chest, a dull throb started in your temples the feeling seemed vaguely familiar.

“I think someone’s coming.” For the first time you were unsure in the force. Fixer faltered for a moment before meeting your eyes. “It’s probably these. Messing with you.” He shook the bindings.

Though to your surprise, and relief in a way, someone did make their way down the hall. Boss spoke out quickly as you averted your gaze, sweat started to form on your brow.

“We need a medic.” It was hard to call it pleading despite where Boss said it from his position on the floor, but it was definitely more of a demand.

2 masked figures approached though they seemed to ignore Boss all together.

“We need the Jedi.” The cool voice stated only once.

Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment unsure about which group would make the first move.

“Get up.” Was demanded at you and you glanced around meeting Boss’ eyes for only a moment before you gripped onto the sleeve of Fixer.

The ray shield was down now and the larger figure stepped in. “I’m not asking again”

“Like kriff they’re going with you.” Scorch stood in front of you now. His full height filled up their line of sight.

“Move clone.” For a second Scorch was pushed back that was until Boss stood as well and shoved their captor away from his brother.

Before the other could react with their blaster Scorch was all over them. Fixer taking the hint that their time was now scrambled to get their other brother still on the floor.

Your eyes were blown wide with the loud alarm that was set off. You felt someone grab your arm as you were still in a little daze.

“I hope you didn’t think we were really gonna let them take ya.” Scorch said as the group rushed down the halls.

You thought about that for a moment, had there truly been something to worry about while you were surrounded but the Delta Squad, your brothers?

A smile broke out of your face and Scorch seemed to get your reply.

“I hope you know.” Scorch called over his shoulder. “You’re never picking the missions by yourself again Boss.”

An angry yell was heard from somewhere behind you replacing the fear in your body with a laugh. “You were the one to pick the bug mission Scorch!”

______________________________

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