#when I can’t space them out month to month I end up catching up to where I last stopped

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You — Part 23

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: I’m so relieved to finally be getting to this fun part of the story!

word count: 5,699

-Part 22-

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Already there’s a horse and cart in the street, trunks and chests neatly stacked in the back, iron padlocks weighing heavy to keep possessions sealed. Blankets and rugs are tied in bundles, bedsheets and pillowcases that you can still smell, remember the feel of them; the warmth they retained. The heat of bare skin flush to your back. Sleepy golden eyes, sharp even when softened by early morning light. 

There’s a lump in your throat. 

Held between two chests is an open-topped crate, a myriad of personal belongings jumbled about inside: a box you know contains golden rings, his favourite being the one plain band that wraps two hands around his thumb, clinging snugly; a board game you’d tried to play after drinking, back before you’d become closer than friends; wooden goblets with geometric designs burned into their curve; a pair of glasses with circular, coloured lenses. A stack of something wrapped in cloth which must be crockery, ceramic plates with illustrations of crude figures pick-axing ice. A neatly folded quilt is tied down to one of the chests, the one that had been tucked over the back of his armchair, made up of pinks, oranges, magentas, and turquoise. Small tassels hanging off the ends that he’d made himself. 

The door to his house is propped open with a wedge crafted of iron, featuring a rabbit in a coat with carrots stuffed in his pockets. Bas’ figure emerges from the comparative darkness lofting a second, smaller crate in his arms. His eyes find yours but he makes no reaction save for the tightening of the skin at his knuckles. He exits through the waist-high wooden gate, walking to the back of the cart to heft the crate in front of the one your eyes had been previously resting on. “Hi,” you say, stepping closer but pausing a respectful distance away. Bas makes no sign of acknowledgement, muscles in his forearms flexing as he hefts the crate into place, pressing it flush to the back. You consider walking away—he clearly isn’t interested in speaking with you, but… “You’re leaving already?” 

Bas turns, his expression unchanging, still retaining the frown of concentration from transporting heavy objects to and fro but seemingly colder now you’ve appeared. His stature casts a shadow over you. “Something you want?” He asks, tone clipped but not quite sharp enough to be impatient. Softened at the end. You watch him for a moment—nothing seems sufficient enough or appropriate. ‘I’m sorry’, ‘I miss you’, ‘how are you’. Would any of those suffice? You can’t imagine them doing so. Instead you shift on your feet, casting a portion of your attention to the moving wagon standing stationary at the foot of his front garden. “It looks like you’ll be gone soon,” you observe, speaking quieter than normal for an open day. After a beat, Bas folds his arms over his chest. “Either tomorrow or the day after.” Golden eyes shift to the cart, glancing over the trunks, “Ma’s still got a few things to pack, but once those are loaded we’ll be off.” 

Off and gone to the Winter Court, almost entirely out of your reach. You only have six months left to live—do you have enough time to spend on giving him space? You can’t expect him to forgive you so suddenly, so swiftly. People aren’t made like that. But can you risk that time? If you die before seeing him again, or if this is the last time you see him you can’t risk being anything other than honest. But being honest in a situation like this…you need the time to pass to give it the deserved weight. Springing your timeline on him… You don’t want to tell him like this. So instead you look over your shoulder, glancing back into his house. “Got any more boxes that need carrying?” 

“Carrying boxes isn’t going to fix shit,” Bas mutters, the poisoned tone catching you off guard. Have you earned yourself that venom? Apparently so. 

“I just want to help,” you murmur, looking back at him. “I might not get to see you again.” 

“Your sister’s High Lady. I’m sure reaching Winter Court would hardly require a lift of her fingertips,” Bas snaps. His lips press themselves together, like he regrets the outburst. You look down, peering at the cobbles beneath your feet and give a small shake of your head. “I… If you don’t want me there, I won’t visit.” The words sting your throat like bile, hating how they sound on your tongue. “If you want your space I won’t intrude. But it… Obviously I’d like to be able to see you again.” 

A few beats pass without a reply, the quiet resting on your shoulders and you make an effort not to let it ruin the moment. You clear your throat, shaking off the mood and glancing up at him, “So. Any crates I can take?” Your heart quickens—if he denies you here it’s a full stop. You can’t imagine you’d be able to find him again if you lose him. The Winter Court is large, and their ties already strained with the Night Court—there’ll be no strings to pull. But it’s his decision now. It’s in his hands. 

Bas’ jaw works, his eyes narrowing on you in a way they haven’t done in a long time, but it seems he relents, nodding once toward his house, a loc falling across his temple with the sharp movement. “There are two small boxes in the front entrance, one contains shoes and fabrics, and the other contains herbs. Herbs go on top, yeah?” You nod your head, keeping the smile locked up tight. “Herbs go on top.” 

The box full of shoes is surprisingly weighty and you wonder if there are more than a few pairs of boots inside, studded with metal that might be weighing the crate down in your arms. Still you manage, sliding it into place on the last row of space available in the wagon before heading back to collect the box of herbs. You can pick out some of the scents: tarragon, mint, thyme. A hint of pepper and cardamon. The slight warmth of cinnamon and ginger. Rosemary. “I won’t forgive you if you try and make off with my herb box,” a voice calls from further inside. 

You start, gripping the small chest tight. 

Bas is watching from the living room doorway that leads to the hallway, stairs appearing behind him and the kitchen a little further beyond. It’s disturbing in a surreal way, to be standing inside the bones of his home. Gone are the dried herbs and flowers that had been strung along the walls and ceiling beams, rug removed from the floors and furniture sparse of cushions and quilts. Everything that made it a home, every personal detail seems to have been painstakingly stripped away, leaving only that scent of rosemary and freshly tilled earth that has familiarity stretching aching limbs in your chest. 

You summon a huff of laughter, glinting down at the plain chest. “It’s certainly tempting me…” You remember trying foods with him. Things you didn’t have access to in the woods. Dishes you wouldn’t have had access to even if you’d remained in high society. All the different herbs and spices they have here, in Prythian. The range of climates allowing for a variety of taste to grow. You remember the first time he’d soaked chicken in wine among other things, how the meat had tasted a little more bearable, flavoured and soft and tender. Feeling more like meat than leather, without the salty burn to help preserve the food.

“One more upstairs then it’s on Ma.” Bas’ statement cuts through the silent memories washing through, bringing a tremble to your fingertips but you nod. Once you load this chest into the wagon then it’s done on your end. Nothing to keep the conversation going. You manage a small smile but don’t meet his eyes as you turn with the chest in hand, walking it out to the cart and loading it in. From inside you pick out the footfalls of Bas descending the staircase and you stand back to give him room. He slides the box into place and lifts the panels of wood that will prevent any trunks from sliding out on an uphill, latching it in place. Safe and secure. 

For some reason you can’t look at him. As if looking at him will mean acknowledging it’s over, and he’s going away. 

For a moment you simply stand alongside the wagon, neither sure what to say, what to do now the shared task has been completed. Now it’s time for another decision to be made. 

Bas breaks the silence. “Thanks for the help.” You look at him, running your eyes over his expression, trying to gain hints to what’s okay to reply with. Trying to make the right choices. “Thanks for letting me help,” you reply, clearing your throat and glancing back to the wagon. Bas pats his hand once against the wood, shifting to lean his weight against the structure. “We’re going to be heading up northeast first,” he tells you and your ears prick with hope. “Ma’s got a sister who lives around there—near the coast. They haven’t spoken in a long time, but she figured if we’re moving it would be good to let her know.” 

You nod your head slowly. “Have you met your aunt before?” Bas shrugs his shoulders, his eyes skating across belongings piled up in the back, “don’t think so. Not one I can remember, at least.” You nod again, looking toward the cobbles. You should be going. Letting him get on with packing up and moving. “I hope-” Your voice catches and you have to clear your throat, swallowing a breath. Looking up a little to meet his eyes. “I hope things are better for you, wherever you go. For you and your mother.” Is that too far? Have you pushed too much? Bas seems to be asking himself the same questions, and you hope he comes to a different conclusion. 

“Pa mentioned a statue to me once,” he says softly. “One made entirely out of ice, with snakes carved, wrapping around the feet of the first High Lord of the Winter Court. Apparently it’s about the height of one of the Old Pine’s and every scale of the snake’s skin was carved by the same hand.” Bas shifts, his golden eyes locking with yours. “I hadn’t thought much of it, but we’ll be trying to find a spot around that statue since it’s where Pa grew up. Something he remembered from his childhood.” 

Your heart falls numb for a second before skipping into a swift pulse, bumping against your ribs and you take in a subtle breath. You nod your head. Ice statue with snakes. Relief strikes so hard your legs are weakened, having to shift your weight from one hip to the other so a knee doesn’t buckle. “I hope you get to see it,” you manage, sounding strained before you swallow, nodding your head. “I hope you find what you’re looking for there.” 

Bas’ mouth tightens into something that might have been a smile, then he’s nodding his head once in reply and patting the cart again. “I need to check on Ma now—see how she’s managing with packing.” He pushes off from the wagon, and you turn to watch him pass through the waist-high garden gate. He pauses. 

“Give me some time though, yeah? I need…time. Some space. Let me adjust and settle down for a bit.”

You nod your head, happy enough he seems to be allowing you to visit. You can work from there. Earn back his trust. You realise he has his back turned and can’t see you, so offer your reply, “I will.” You want to say more. I’ll miss you until then. I’m sorry. Thank you. 

But, time. 

You still have some of that left to give. 

————

You take your time walking back to the River House, following the Sidra for some way. Affording yourself the allowance to peer in shop windows, gaze at people going about their lives, wondering about what their own stories are. 

You’re happy Bas decided to tell you. Not just about where he would be moving to but about the route he’d be taking to bypass his aunt. You know he didn’t have to tell you. You weren’t entitled to that knowledge, but he decided to tell you anyway. A small piece of forgiveness—a small, tentative first step. After so much darkness in your life it seems like a tiny star twinkling in the sky, clouds parting just long enough to catch a glimpse. A promise that there is good in the world, and if you’re in a bad place now it would be foolish to stop. 

You need to keep going in order to escape it. 

————

The kitchen is surprisingly full when you enter the entry way, discarding your cloak and outer layers to the hooks on the walls, taking care to ease out the ties of your boots before also discarding them alongside other sets. 

Inside there’s no need for jumpers or cloaks, fleeces or scarves. A muffled pop of a log sounds from the living room, honestly sounding closer to someone stepping heavily on an upper floorboard but there’s something about the warmth that tells you the fire’s lit. That and you can make out the faded orange flicker on the wall parallel to the living room’s door where flame light is colouring the cream wallpaper. The smell of heated food catches your attention and your stomach shifts in response, squeezing itself together in complaint as if to remind you of how empty it is. Some warmed bread and butter would be lovely to start the day with. There might even be some chilled clotted cream available in the ice-enchanted larder. 

Rounding the corner, you’re sure you haven’t ever seen the kitchen so full. Glancing at the clock mounted on the wall beside the crockery cabinet however, you realise it’s approaching lunch time. You suppose it makes sense—if Madja’s at ten O’clock and you left after that to visit Bas, then taking your time to walk back will have brought you to lunch. That would explain the business. 

Already there’s crackling from cooking oil on the stove, the smell of heated bread and salt, the slight fattiness of meat mixing with the sweetness of sliced fruit coming from another side of the large kitchen. An egg cracks and you hear the sizzle of it as it hits the pan, the knock of steel as it slices into a chopping board, the smell of chives, onions, and tomatoes greeting you next. On the main table sits sliced bread, baked through with diced olives and rosemary, butter sitting ready for the taking on a platter with a flattened knife propped on the tray’s side. 

Feyre, Mor, and Amren are already seated at the table, each with a plate of what appears to be mashed potato surrounded by steamed beans and thickly cut ovals of tender meat. Amren's plate holds meat more that anything else. Feyre tips a deep boat of spiced sauce over her mash so it drizzles atop the vegetables before passing the boat to Mor, seeming not to care they’re eating in the kitchen rather than the connected dining room. Nesta barks something at Cassian over the loud fritz of the oil and he passes two plates to her side before returning to the chopping board, a few moments later stepping close to her side to slide the sliced chives into the pan with the eggs. A shadow whisks past you into the room, depositing salt and pepper to the side of the stove before hurriedly returning the way it had come. You turn your head quick enough to catch as it scampers back to the upper floors, disappearing through the ceiling. 

At a side along the window-lined wall is Elain, pressing her fork into some well-mashed banana before scraping it off onto some toasted bread, already softened with butter. You make your way over, taking the serrated bread knife from beside her plate to cut a slice yourself, liking the look of the thick crust and seed-scattered bread. Her eyes find you and a smile follows swiftly after, taking in your appearance, “Was it you I heard come in?” You nod, holding the bread firmly as you grind the knife forward to cut the crust, “I forgot to eat breakfast before heading out and lost track of time.”

Pulling a plate down from one of the stacks inside a cabinet with a window in you move the slice from the chopping board, “You’re having lunch?” Elain’s cheeks warm, her lips tightening as she looks guiltily out onto the front garden. “My sleep was troubled,” she admits, “I only awoke around ten thirty this morning.” 

Your brows furrow. “You’re sleeping poorly?” 

“It seems that way.” Elain exhales, pausing the sweep of her knife across the mashed banana. “It’s just the same thing over and over again. I wish the beginning would fade now it’s passed but apparently I must watch the whole sequence from start to finish.” 

She’s still getting the vision? 

You look away from her—down to the side table, “I’m sorry.” But Elain shakes her head, sighing once more before straightening her shoulders. “I’m okay. It’s just a bit of lost sleep.” Before you can ask her anymore however, the sound of footsteps catch your attention, Rhysand and Azriel apparently having finished up whatever had been keeping them from joining the lunch. Elain pushes a smile to her lips then gestures with her eyes to the table, suggesting taking a seat. You follow after her. 

“Finally given up work to grace us with your presence?” Feyre muses, resting her chin atop the smooth skin of her tough knuckles. Rhysand lifts a brow, his mouth curving with a fondness specifically meant for his mate, “I gave you plenty of attention this morning, Feyre.” But your youngest sister doesn’t blush like you would have had a lover repeated those same words for you. Instead her mouth matches his curve, blue-grey eyes alight with twinkling mischief as she inclines her head toward Azriel. “In fact I was speaking to your Shadowsinger. His presence is much more appreciated.” The male in question dips his head by a degree, taking his seat beside Amren as silently as possible while the High Lord and Lady continue their domestic teasing. 

“Is that so?” Rhysand remarks, seating himself in the chair to Feyre’s right, opposite Mor. “Will you tell me what’s so much more appreciated about my brother’s presence than my own?” Feyre arches a brow, her smile widening, “I wouldn’t want to hurt your ego, preening and engorged as it is.” Rhys’ expression shifts to something verging on smug but Mor stabs a thick oval of meat with her fork, lifting it from the plate, shifting it between Rhys and Feyre, “enough from both of you. I don’t want to hear this over lunch.” The compass point of her fork settles on her cousin, Mor’s nose wrinkling, “Az also isn’t a smug bastard, unlike someone else I can think of.”

Elain takes the open seat beside Rhysand and opposite Amren, setting her plate down and drawing her chair back, leaving you to stiffly take the one at her side, across from Azriel. What poor seating choices you’ve all made.

Behind Amren and Azriel, Nesta presses to Cassian’s side who’s holding the plates aloft, keeping them steady as Nesta transfers the four eggs in the pan between them, two soft yolks for the two slices of buttered bread atop each plate. 

“Azriel also remembered to bring me blood more frequently than yourself, Rhys,” Amren drawls from opposite Elain, a wicked croon on her crimson-cut mouth. “Even when he didn’t want information from me,” she adds pointedly. Rhys tilts his head, a plate appearing out of thin air before him on the table along with cutlery and a napkin, “and who’s to say those weren’t gifts sent along from myself?” But Amren doesn’t fall for it, reaching for a glass of red wine, “You won’t fool me, boy.” Rhysand shrugs his shoulders, unbothered by her relaxed attitude. “I suppose if you were still of the inclination to accept bottles of lamb’s blood you’d be receiving a box’s worth. I have a request to make of you.” 

Amren inclines her head, the black cut of her hair slicing along her sharp jaw, faint interest in her silver eyes, “Pray tell”.

Nesta casts salt and pepper over the plates of eggs and chives, then the two of them join the table. As Cassian departed before Nesta, he fills the seat to your right, while Nesta settles in the space opposite him, to Azriel’s left. The only way the current arrangement could be made worse is if Rhysand and Elain were to swap seats. You grimace internally and treasure her presence. 

The High Lord inclines his head to Azriel whose shadows settle a map of Prythian to the centre of the kitchen table. “Cassian and Nesta have already checked through Helion’s libraries. That means excluding the Night Court, there are five other Courts to examine.” As he speaks, thin shadow seeps across the parchment to darken the land of Night and Day, signalling they’ve each been studied.

“Between us,” Rhysand continues, “we can split between those remaining Courts, in turn accessing their libraries. Where I’ll need your help, dear Amren, is translating the books we encounter in the Old Language. I would rather not have to take them all on myself.” Rhysand pauses, lifting violet eyes from the map to the slight female diagonal from his seat, “What do you say?” 

Amren seems to consider his request and you have to fathom how respected she is to so idly take her time considering a request from a High Lord. A few beats pass as her grey eyes trace the island, then blood red lips are cutting into a grin, moon-white teeth flashing in her mouth, “I think I’m going to enjoy opening my Solstice presents this year.” 

Rhysand smiles and you wonder if he was confident Amren would accept or whether this was a gamble on his part. Feyre would probably be able to tell.

Across from the High Lord, Mor clinks her glass with Amren’s, the two females grinning from the other side of the table. There’s a smile on Feyre’s face but you imagine it’s one of those ones that rather than being of your own choice is truly the result of the infectious kind of happiness—seeing people you love enjoying themselves. 

From the other end of the table however, Nesta is studying the map, her silver eyes not even scanning the table before they’re finding Rhysand—suitably distanced from one another. “Five courts and seven of us. I would think you and Feyre would be remaining in the Night Court, leaving us with a court each,” Nesta points out, her tone verging on mild boredom. Steel glints in her hands as cutlery catches the light. “Do you intend for us each to cover the libraries of a court, or do you possess secret reinforcements on hand?” 

The beat of pause that follows her inquiry stretches a fraction of a second longer than it normally would, the tensing as if preparing for a collision to occur as it always feels when those two acknowledge one another. But Rhysand inclines his head to his right and the tension dissipates as swiftly as it had gathered. “I wouldn’t call your sisters secrets,” he muses, slowly. “But yes: reinforcements.” 

You blink. 

From the stiffness of Elain’s shoulders you imagine this is news to her, too, which brings you some level of comfort. More comfort when Elain is the one who meets Rhysand’s gaze, asking, “scouring the libraries for—what?” The relief settles deep. This setting is mildly frightening as it is without the pressure of handling easily observable interactions with others.

Rhysand’s attention settles onto Elain but you get the strange feeling it’s somehow also extending to yourself, “I believe Lucien mentioned the matter of the Prison.” Violet eyes flick over to you. “And that Feyre offered an explanation of the situation last night?” You avoid an answer by diverting your own attention to Elain who is still watching the High Lord. She nods. 

“Would you be willing to help?” Rhysand asks, without much preamble. 

Help? Help how? If it means coming into contact with a single creature that’s supposed to be inside that Prison your answer has to be a firm no. If it means attempting to wield even an ounce of your magic that seems to be sucking the marrow from your bones every passing day your answer has to be a firm no. If it means- 

Your thinking time comes to an end when Elain nods her head, and violet eyes once again flick past her onto yourself. Decision time.

You shift in your seat, unwilling to offer a definite answer, “If I can.” 

The High Lord nods and again you wonder if it was a gamble in relying on your help. As Nesta pointed out, one each to a Court seems an impossible task. But how are two extras going to aid that task? You’d have to pair up, but there would still not be enough of you. This seems to be Rhysand’s next subject matter as he again nods to Azriel, shadows pulling the map closer to the centre of the table so all can see it. Besides you, Cassian’s torso blocks out light as he leans forward, wings casting shadow upon the floor as you each examine the map with new eyes.

“So who’s tasked with which Court?” The General asks, “And who’s taking a solo trip?” 

Instinctively you’d imagine Azriel and Mor would be the two to travel solo—they seem to be the most suited to handling a task like this on their own, but what do you know?

“Well you certainly won’t be visiting Summer Court after obliterating that building,” Mor deadpans. 

“It shouldn’t have been built there,” Cassian replies with a look of mischief.

Leaning closer, Nesta nods her head to the map, “I don’t think Spring Court is a good idea for Cassian and I. I could manage Tamlin but I threatened him the last time I saw him.” Cassian’s smile widens. You guess it makes sense those two would be a pair. “If Summer Court is off the table then we’ll take either Dawn Court or Autumn Court.” 

Right.

Someone’s going to have to scour the Autumn Court. 

Besides you, Elain clears her throat. “I could go to the Spring Court.” She shifts in her seat, nodding to the lower portion of fae-inhabited lands. “I’m sure if I asked, Lucien would be willing to accompany me, and we have an alliance with them, too. I don’t imagine the High Lord of Spring being a great threat to myself but he certainly won’t be to Lu.” It’s a surprisingly sound argument. But if Elain pairs with Lucien than means you’ll be either with Mor or Amren—unless you could remain here and help search any other books in the Night Court with Feyre. 

Just as you’re about to offer the option however, Azriel speaks. “Are your ties with Viviane still sustaining, Mor?”

Mor nods her head though her smile fades almost imperceptibly.

The Shadowsinger nods. “If Mor handles the Winter Court, and Elain and Lucien take the Spring Court, that leaves Dawn, Summer, and Autumn between the rest of us.” Azriel’s shadows shift, further darkening the Courts now with assigned explorers. “Feyre and Rhysand will be staying here, taking care of ruling and the Illyrian texts?” 

The High Lord nods his head, “I’ll be covering the Hewn City, too, and splitting any ancient books between Amren and myself. Feyre will be helping with newcomers.”

“And if Cassian and Nesta are planning to move together that leaves the Summer Court,” Azriel states, hazel eyes find your own set across the table, “which you and I will cover.” 

You try to convince yourself the silence that passes over the table doesn’t stretch like you think it does. 

Hazel eyes hold yours for a second longer before returning back to the map, the Summer Court now tentatively cast in shadow. “That means Cassian and Nesta can take either Dawn or Autumn, but one pair will have to take two courts.” 

At your side, Elain fumbles. “She could come with me,” Elain pushes, “I’m sure she could help in Spring.” 

“Or with me and Cassian,” Nesta presses. 

“She could stay here,” Feyre adds, then turns to Rhysand. “Besides, the Summer Court libraries are part of the Old Temple they have which are deep in the jungle, aren’t they?” Her blue-grey eyes fall to the map, brows pinched, standing from her chair and Mor slides the map along so Feyre can jab her nail to the thick jungle of the Summer Court, an X marked in its middle. “Those jungles are dense, aren’t they,” Nesta adds, glancing to Cassian, a hard look on her face, “no flying overhead.” 

“Which is why we should be the ones to go,” Azriel says, keeping calm but firm. 

Nesta narrows her eyes, silver boring into the male at her side. “The creatures in that jungle are magical, like most of the beasts spread across Prythian. Not to mention poison and venom, and parasites in water streams unless you know which are fresh and safe to drink from. Even the beetles can be lethal, so unless you take a guide which may alert your presence in a foreign court, it will be too dangerous.” 

“Then it’s perfect that she can tell the difference between the poisonous creatures and the harmless ones.”

Azriel holds Nesta’s gaze for a beat before turning to you. “You’ve read about the jungle haven’t you. About the creatures inside?”

You mentioned the spiders the other day.

“I can go with her instead,” Nesta says, eyes sharpening. 

“You won’t be able to protect her as well as I can.” There’s no condescension in his statement, just fact. She’s learning from him and Cassian how to fight, after all. How to wield a blade. 

Nesta’s eyes remain sharp, not straying a second from their target. The temperature seems to rise, air thickening. You swallow, tongue flicking out over dry lips, “I could tell them apart.”

“No. You already have a limited life-span; you aren’t shortening it any further,” Nesta says calmly, her eyes still piercing into Azriel. And yet it’s Elain who shifts again in her seat, sitting straighter, “If she says she can tell the difference, she can tell the difference.” Elain looks over to you, a small smile on her lips. “She’s the best one to send to the Summer Court.”

A muscle flickers in Nesta’s jaw, a few, heavy moments of tension weighing through the room that have your pulse spiking for no discernible reason. Then it ends, and Nesta looks back to the map. “So Cassian and I will take the Dawn Court and the Autumn Court.” 

“You’ll only be taking the Dawn Court.” At the sound of Rhysand’s voice, Nesta’s eyes turn pure silver for a fraction of a second.

She arches a narrow brow, her expression sharper than an Illyrian blade. “So you’ll send Mor instead?” She asks, the hiss of slicing steel underlying her honed tone. “Or do you think you can get Lucien to squeeze his way back into his home-Court?” There’s a dangerous challenge in her silver eyes. 

“Neither,” the High Lord answers, slowly. “Feyre, Amren, and I will remain here. Myself searching the libraries the priestess’ cannot cover, Amren for backup on the ancient texts, and Feyre with helping as we begin a slow evacuation of the towns surrounding the Prison as a precaution and preventative. Mor will cover Winter, Elain and Lucien will cover Spring, and you and Cassian will cover Dawn.”

Even Feyre’s looking at him strangely.

“The Summer Court boarders the Autumn Court,” Rhysand states. “We can’t afford to waste time making extra journeys.” 

So you and Azriel will be taking both the Summer Court, and the Autumn Court. 

Rhysand breaks his gaze with Nesta only to find your eyes further along the table. They’re steadfast. Grounded. “Will you manage that?” 

Why put that decision on you? 

You look across the table to Azriel—why had he of all people volunteered to pair up with you? His logic checks out, but wouldn’t Mor have been able to ward off any magical creatures? Then again, your relationship with Mor isn’t the best… 

Azriel gives no clue to his emotions, other than a subtle incline of his head. 

Your throat rolls, but you force yourself to look back at Rhysand, and offer a nod of your head, “I can manage.” 

All seven Courts are ensconced in shadow. 

————

You sigh as you settle into bed, tucking yourself close between the duvet and mattress. Plumping the pillow beneath your cheek as you curl your knees to your chest. 

You’ll be leaving in three days, but bypassing a coastal town Northeast of Velaris. The condition of you entering the Summer Court jungle was you’d at least have some kind of protection other than Azriel. The sea-town is also the only town outside of Illyria that will sell Illyrian blades, and Illyrian leather from the wild oxen that inhabit the unforgiving terrain of the steppes, its hide significantly tougher to compete with the rocky climate and freezing nights.

You don’t like the idea of having to carry a blade of your own, but you suppose, knowing some of the creatures within, you’d rather be with it than without it. Although you’ve yet to decide whether you’ll be visiting Autumn first or Summer. 

But that’s a decision for tomorrow. 

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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[atlafan]

hope work is going well 😁 do you know when you’ll be posting the next part of no complaints?

[reidrum]

if you keep asking | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

a/n: this was requested with “if you keep asking me i’m not gonna be okay” or smth along the lines 😭 i am a glutton for hurt/comfort fics so if yall have any more requests send em in :)

summary: in which you’re trying to keep it together when you hear some detectives talking ill of you, and spencer isn’t gonna have it

cw: hurt/comfort, self deprecation, insecure!reader, bitch ass detectives, protective bau my heart, use of she/her pronouns

wc: 2.2k

_______

the bau team was filing into the bullpen after landing from their last case in seattle, everyone making a beeline for their desks to get a head start on their reports so they could go home faster. everyone, except you. it felt like you were on autopilot, remembering your last known movements and just repeating them for as long as you could.

the case in seattle was rough to say the least. the unsub’s mo seemed to change every minute, making any progress the team made obsolete. the only thing that seemed to be somewhat consistent was where the unsub was taking his victims, which meant the geographical profile was the most important part to solving the case, a task you and reid were assigned to.

it started off fine, you both had found the comfort zone of where the unsub would strike next to figure out how to catch him in the act. except the next time he struck it was completely out of the predicted range, and this time a kid had died. no one could have anticipated that happening. it didn’t make the loss hurt any less.

the team knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, humans are unpredictable, and that includes serial killers. spencer made sure to tell you specifically that it wasn’t your fault, he knew how you’d get if someone didn’t tell you.

his efforts went to utter waste when you walked by a room at the precinct with detectives whispering about how “you fucked up the whole profile, that’s why that kid died” and “it’s clear you make the team stupider, how did you even get into the fbi in the first place?”

it wasn’t the first time your abilities were in question. you were the newest member of the team, having only transferred six months ago from cold cases. you may be new to the field, but there was a reason hotch chose you personally for the bau.

you tried hard to prove yourself, despite pretty much everyone saying your skillset was enough proof. you’d stay late to finish reports, do extra research on cases to help garcia narrow her searches faster, and you spent countless hours at the training range.

you were a worthy agent, anyone who knew you or read your resume knew that. but right now, you felt like the smallest person on earth, an imposter. what the hell were you even doing here if you couldn’t save him.

you shouldn’t be allowed to feel relief that the team caught the unsub, not when there’s blood on your hands.

the bad thoughts swirling in your head causes you to stall your motions when you’re putting files away, gaining the attention of morgan, “you alright, sweet cheeks?”

“i’m good morgan, don’t worry.” you lie effortlessly. if he can tell you’re lying, he doesn’t mention it and turns back to his work.

taking a deep breath, you stand up to go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, when you run into jj finishing up making her own, “i was just thinking about you, i got this new creamer i think you’d rea-, hey, are you okay?” jj starts but ends concerned.

you try to focus on metronomic tick of the clock so you dont escalate, “i’m fine j,” you laugh unconvincingly, “what creamer did you get?”

she ignores your question, “because i know that was a tough case, and if you need to talk about it with someo-“

“jj, drop it, please.”

the blonde’s face drops a little at your sternness, but respects your space and offers you to try the creamer before returning to her desk. you feel bad for snapping at her, but the growing guilt within you is giving you apathy, and you can’t bring yourself to care at this moment.

you linger in the kitchen so as to avoid any more concerned faces, and you’re left to your own devices that are slowly overtaking you.

unbeknownst to you, spencer had been watching you since you all landed back in quantico. he kept his distance, mostly because he knew how overwhelmed you get at confrontation, especially about your emotions. he was the same way, a man of logic getting befuddled by emotion was enough cognitive dissonance to last a long time.

he knew it was different with you. you had a way of internalizing everything in your surrounding, a downfall to your endless empathy for others even if they never deserve it. he could explain the logic behind your beliefs, and hopefully use facts to help you relax, but that was the other thing he knew about you; you were stubborn. asking for help is something you hated doing, and if it wasn’t on your accord to be asking, it was even more detrimental to your mood.

so when he watched you duck out from the kitchen and push past the glass doors of the bullpen, he knew you were reaching the head of your doom spiral quickly.

spencer got up from his desk, “i’m gonna go check on her.”

jj nodded, “just be mindful spence, something feels different.”

they’d all been on cases that hit a little too close to home, how could they not when all they do is rid the world of the evilest of evildoers. but after a good cry, a rant to a teammate, or even an emergency therapy session, even the worst of the scum could be washed away.

something about the way you’ve been acting since they landed seemed like those fixits aren’t going to work this time.

he let out a sigh in response and walked out of the bullpen, realizing he didn’t actually know which direction you went in. assuming you’d want to be alone, he thinks the bathroom might’ve been a viable option for you and heads towards it.

the nice thing about the seventh floor is that it’s only for the bau, the bullpen was where the team spent most of their time but outside the doors there were so many empty rooms being used for storage.

so as spencer walked towards the bathroom in the hopes of finding you, his ears pick up on a tiny sniffle a little ways before it. he stops in his tracks, hoping he was just hearing things. but another pained sob rang through the door on his left, and he knew he’d found you.

he rapps the door a few times, softly calling your name, “hey, it’s spencer…can i come in please?”

you were on the other side sitting at one of the abandoned desks with your head down, but shot up at hearing spencer’s voice, “i- i’m fine i just needed a minute. i’ll be back in like two minutes, i promise.” you angrily wipe at the tears pooling on your face, grateful that you took your makeup off in the plane.

“honey, that’s not what i asked,” he starts, “is it okay if i come in?

your heart clenches at the term of endearment as you stare at the door knowing he was waiting for your okay to come in, and you start to internally weigh your options. you could let him in, and let him in to do whatever comforting you know logically would help. or you could lie, and feign ignorance to the end.

don’t they say ignorance is bliss?

you make sure to wipe the last of your tears and your runny nose before practicing a few fake smiles so it didn’t look like your face was frozen in sadness for the last thirty minutes. turning the knob you swing the door open, borderline creepy smile on your face as you greet the man, “hi dr. reid! was there something you were looking for?”

he furrows his brows at your complete (fake) shift in mood, but he comes in and shuts the door behind him, and moves to stand a few feet from you, “what’s going on?”

“nothing spence, i’m fine.” you insist.

spencer thinks if you could be more see through you’d be a windexed window. you’re avoiding eye contact with him, picking at the skin of your thumb, he can see your nose is red most likely from all the tissue blowing, and your eyes are still puffy and lined with some unshed tears still. you are so clearly breaking at the seams, like an old childhood teddy bear with stuffing falling out the sides yet hoping you can offer some semblance of stability despite your state.

“you don’t look fine, honey. why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

his words almost make you falter, and you think the walls you built so high are starting to chip down. “it’s not a big deal spence, i-,” a hiccuped breath gives you away, “i can deal with it on my own.”

spencer instinctively shortens the gap between you two, “you shouldn’t have to. i just wanna help you.”

“but i’m oka-“

“no you’re not.”

there is only one tiny thin thread left holding you together. “well,” you take a deep inhale and your voice gets impossibly small, “if you keep saying things like to me i’m not gonna be okay.”

“that’s why i’m here.” he says softly.

you look up at him with the biggest glassy doe eyed look he’s ever seen, and it’s like spencer can hear the snap of the thread in real time when he watches your face absolutely crumble. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace, allowing him to hold your head down in the middle of his chest while his other hand smooths up and down your back in comfort.

“i know, shh, hey it’s okay, i got you.” he comforts.

your hands wrap around his waist beneath his suit jacket and you keep your face buried in his chest, inhaling the musky vanilla scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh laundry detergent smell letting it ground you back to him.

“i’m sorry.” you cry.

“don’t say that,” he hushes, “is it about the case?” you nod in his embrace, “we talked about it remember? there was nothing we could have done. we did everything right, sometimes it just doesn’t work out, you know that.” he moves his hand to tangle in your hair and rub your head.

“i- i know,” you say through labored breaths. you take a big breath before admitting the true reason for your anguish, “when we were about to leave, i walked by a room with some detectives talking about how i ruined the case and that…i’m the reason the kid died.”

“what?” he pulls back to look you in the eyes hoping to find any indication that you didn’t believe those poisoned words, “we both worked on that geographical profile together, the whole team agreed it was accurate and acted accordingly. what happened was not your fault. at all.” he emphasizes the last two words.

“yeah but…i don’t know maybe i could ha-“

“stop. you can’t do that to yourself. we did what we could with what we had, the burden of that child’s passing does not fall on you. we were only able to find the unsub’s hiding spot when you figured out he’d been going to the same gas station since the murders started.” he reinforced to you.

“they said that they didn’t know how i even got into the academy in the first place, and that i make the team stupider.” you quietly added.

spencer felt the rage consume his body, already planning the ways he was going to obliterate seattle pd. he cradled your head to look at him in the eyes, “listen to me. you are an important asset to this team. you make this team better at what they do, you make me better at what i do. you mean so much to me and the team okay? please don’t forget that.”

he swipes at a fallen tear on your cheek as you tell him between sniffles, “thanks spence…” you hope he understands the sentiment and love you’re trying to exude to him, even thought you’re unable to vocalize it.

“you gotta tell me if something like that happens,” he softly scolds you, “i’ll make sure they lose their fucking jobs.”

you’re about to speak when he cuts you off, “and don’t tell me that we should be the bigger people, because once the rest of the team hears about this, they’re all gonna be fighting over who’s gonna kick the shit out of them.”

you let out a tearful giggle, “you sound really funny when you curse.”

he scoffs, “what the hell, i do not!”

“you sound like a baby duckling that just learned how to say fuck.”

he starts to guide you out of the room and towards hotch’s office so you can recount what happened, “ouch, i’m hurt. i’d like to think the pistol and fbi badge i carry makes me intimidating.”

you giggle again, and spencer puts aside his rage to revel in the fact that you’re feeling better.

when hotch learned of what happened he immediately called seattle pd to file a motion to get those detectives fired, and the rest of the team were secretly praying for a case in seattle again so they could, as spencer predicted, kick the shit out of them.

[earlysunshines]

you always had me (and you’re always shining)

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff, pining, slowburn

synopsis: danielle has been there for your ups and downs, knowing her for so long and debuting with her makes you fall deeper and deeper—whether you like it or not.

warnings: sixth member reader ; readers a few months younger than dani ; pining and yeah i… love pining ; sloooow burn ; TOOTHrotting fluff like all your teeth will fall out prob and also angst (if u squint hard) ; they’re in love i fear, like sooo in love ; minji literally watches the whole thing unfold and doesn't say anything ; reader's native language is english ; some other implied things that will make sense it's just story buidling/backstory LOL ; barely proofread

a/n: this is a loooong one i hope u all enjoy :-] i enjoyed writing every bit and I was smiling the whole way, I hope you all smile reading this too.

being an idol is anything but easy, and that’s very palpable as you lie on the ground, sweaty and exhausted, in the practice room.

minji had watched the whole thing; right after the last session of the ditto choreo, you had walked over to the corner of the room, sat down, and ended up flat on your back. seeing you like this made her laugh.

regardless, you loved your job. music was your passion, and dancing brought joy to your heart. the journey to becoming an idol prepared you for the intense performances and demanding physical routines, but it didn't prepare you for how your heart would race each time a certain member interacted with you—just like she’s doing now.

danielle waits until you take your forearm off your forehead, watching you blink twice when she’s in your field of vision.

she greets you warmly. “hi stranger.”

“dani.” just the sight of her makes you smile. “hey.”

“you okay? minji wanted me to check on you.”

“tired, that’s all.”

“you should drink water then, sweetheart.” 

you hated when she called you these stupid pet names—not because it made you uncomfortable or anything, but because it made your heart nearly jump out of your chest. 

“want me to get you some?” she asks, her voice gentle yet playful.

“i can do it myself, thanks.” you respond, getting up without looking back at her—danielle frowns.

she watches you walk over to get water for yourself, slightly hunched over with your hand propping you up at the counter. she sees you stare down at the table between sips, seemingly lost in your own world, and it’s a tad bit concerning. sure, you’re quiet, but never this quiet or distant. you even practiced during the breaks, not giving yourself one and pretty much defeating the whole purpose of a break. everyone had noticed, but danielle had been much more worried.

danielle goes over to minji, who’s stretching and humming as the younger one is in her peripheral. she sits down next to the oldest member and continues to look at you, now you’re leaning against the wall sipping on the cup, and then letting it hang loose in your hand as you stare into the distance.

“minji, is y/n alright? she’s been so out of it today and the last time we had practice.”

minji looks in your direction and shakes her head. “no idea, i noticed it too. i thought you would’ve known.”

“i don’t. i’m just worried.”

“you want me to talk to her?” minji suggests, “but you’re closer with her, aren’t you?”

the younger member continues to look your way, watching haerin tap your shoulder and making you jump a bit from being startled. haerin turns to face you, her lips moving with some quiet words danielle can’t quite catch. you wave her off with a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, then head to a corner to stretch, finding your own space.

“yeah, she’s just been distant these past few days. minji, i don’t know what to do.”

“pry her open, she’s got a tough exterior you know.”

“she’s always been like that.” danielle sighs, continuing to stretch.

it’s well known that you’re quite reserved, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t bold, outgoing, or unwilling to talk to your members. all of them see you as a pillar and light in the group, a source of strength and joy. even further, there’s compilations of you online making the members laugh and being an idiot, you’re a joy to your fans and the people close to you. but there are times when you close yourself off and become unusually quiet. it’s not like haerin’s nature, being quiet and all; instead, it’s a concerning silence that signals something is off. danielle, in particular, has a keen sense for these moments, always noticing when you retreat into yourself and sensing that something is bothering you.

she’s always been able to find a way to help you out and talk to her a bit, you’ve had a soft spot for her and it’s evident to everyone in your group. you rarely speak on your problems; the fact that danielle can get you to utter a sentence regarding what bothers you is astonishing itself.

you’ve known danielle for as long as you’ve been a trainee since she’s been there longer. she’s always been incredibly kind and patient with you, especially during those initial days when you were adjusting to being away from your grandparents who raised you. being in a place so completely different from what you were used to was challenging, but danielle’s presence was a comforting constant. 

the bond that you two had only grew with time and experience, and the fact that you two had so many similarities (one being the year you were born) only strengthened it. danielle, without a doubt, was the one person who could ground you. because of this, she’s going to make it her priority to find out what’s up with you.

when practice ends and everyone is free to go back to the dorms, danielle approaches you and grabs your hand, making you turn to face her with a raised brow.

“yes?”

“let’s grab lunch y/n, the rest of us are going to.”

“oh, i’m not really feeling it, sorry.” you apologize, feeling bad when the member holding your hand frowns. “i think i’ll just eat later, i’m not hungry. could you buy me something though?”

she lets out a small huff. “what’s going on?” 

you tilt your head like haerin always does and hum in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“something is bothering you.”

“no, i’m just tired. can’t you see the eyebags? seriously, i’m so sleepy…” you try to mask what you feel with a lighthearted chuckle, but danielle can hear the lie in your words. she wants to be angry at you for lying, but she knows you can’t help it. lying about what you feel is like breathing to you. “grab me a rice bowl?”

she lets go of your hand and it almost urges you to spill pent-up emotions, but you won’t give in that easily. sure, her pretty face and caring self make you fold most of the time, but not in this case.

“alright y/n.” danielle sighs. “can we talk tonight? if you’re feeling like you want to. i hate seeing you so out of it.”

you pause, looking at her with slumped shoulders before biting your lip. 

“thank you, light.”

–

danielle has many nicknames and things people like to call her. one of her favorites—if not her absolute favorite—has always been dani, at least until you let a special nickname slip off your lips not too long ago, one that made her cheeks warm and brought a shy smile to her face.

“light?” she asks, looking at you like you’re stupid – in an admirable, adorable way of course.

you shrug. “sunshine is used too much by bunnies and the other members, light is much more unique and special to me. you’re special to me so i wanted something special. you don’t like it?”

danielle loves it the moment she hears you say it.

it's late, and while the rest of the members are fast asleep, you and danielle find yourselves unable to drift off. instinctively, you both end up in your room, lying on the bed. danielle’s head rests comfortably on your stomach as you explain the spontaneous, out-of-nowhere nickname you came up with for her a few months after your debut. she can't tell if the room is too hot and you need to start using your fan (you really do, danielle doesn’t understand how you survive without turning on that fan in these hot dorms), or if it's just because you've just called her something that makes her feel truly special.

her heart flutters. “i like it a lot. how’d you think of it?”

you start humming to yourself as you think. “i mean, you’re like sunshine, the sun. you know, you’re very bright and lights are bright too so…”

“that’s cute.” you’re cute, danielle might explode right there and right now, ‘cute’ is not capturing how much she adores it. “you’re creative.”

“i’m not.”

“you look down on yourself too much.” danielle retorts as she gets up to lay down next to you. her face is turned to gaze at your features. “seriously.”

“or maybe you just look up to me too much.”

“well you need to shrink. anyway, i think my statement is factual and yours is false.”

“you really want to debate right now?”

“i don’t need to, i’m right.” danielle smirks at you and you roll your eyes.

you turn on your side and she mirrors you, the mood of the room shifts, the air seems warmer – maybe you should turn that fan on.

danielle lets out a small yawn, her blinking slowing down as her eyelids grow heavy. you giggle quietly, then pull the blanket over the two of you, taking a moment to admire her. she looks peaceful and beautiful, more so than anyone or anything you've ever seen.

you reach over to fix the blanket sitting on her figure. “i take it you’re staying here tonight?”

she nods sleepily.

“okay.”

–

danielle knocks on your door, and before you can answer she lets herself in. she’s always done this, it’s amusing.

(and really, she knows you’ll let her in anyway. you’ve never once declined.)

she spots you lying in bed, your face hidden under the plaid blanket your grandma had shipped from your home. danielle knows it’s one of your most prized possessions, she can tell that it’s especially important as you cling onto it.

“the rice bowl is in the fridge, you should eat.”

“i’ll eat later dani.”

she frowns at you, watching you lay there and face the window in your room.

your favorite playlist fills the silence in the room, the one hanni contributed half of when you two were feeling emotional in the middle of the night and sharing sappy songs that made your hearts melt. it’s a bit concerning that this playlist is also what you listen to when you’re sulking, given that it’s filled with half of daniel caesar’s discography and slow love songs (happy and sad, but you still manage to sulk when it’s something to swoon over). 

you and hanni have such similar tastes in music; it’s almost dangerous how in sync you are when it comes to the songs that tug at your heartstrings.

danielle shuts the door slowly before making her way over to you. she sits beside you, rubbing your shoulder through the material of your blanket.

“hey sleepy, you’ll feel terrible if you don’t eat.” she squeezes you lightly, making you groan quietly. “the others are worried too, i told them you took a nap.”

“tell them i’m sleeping in.” you mumble, covering yourself in the blanket more. “thanks dani.”

she sighs and moves over so her lips hover above your ear. “y/n, you can’t stay like this. we’ve talked about this before, it’s not good to keep things in; you’ll explode.”

“it’s nothing, please danielle.”

“sweetheart,” her voice makes you all tingly. “please?”

you finally give in after she slides her hand down to your back, rubbing it comfortingly. with a deep breath, you slowly sit up and lean against the wall behind you. danielle’s eyes are filled with a tender, eager sparkle, her bottom lip jutting out slightly as she watches you, ready to listen to every word. 

the room feels warmer, the closeness between you making the moment intimate and heartfelt.

“the comeback is a little stressful, but i’ve managed of course.” she nods as you explain, giving you her undivided attention. “and my grandma recently got surgery, i found out two days ago and i’ve just been worried sick. the thought of her without me there to help her out makes me sick. i know my grandpa is there to help her out but– i’ve just always been there for them. now i can’t, and i can’t disappoint them either.”

you've never been much of a crier; the members have seen you cry maybe two or three times. but when danielle’s features soften and she immediately reaches over to engulf you in a hug that you could drown in, tears start to well in your eyes. you manage to hold them back, but the overwhelming comfort and warmth she offers makes it difficult.

“and you know the whole thing with my family after i took the trainee route, my grandparents are the only ones who are really fond of me and i– i’m just really… thrown off right now.

“i’m sorry to hear that, really.” she mumbles near your neck, mostly into your hair.  her embrace feels like a safe haven, a place where you can let go of your worries, even if just for a moment. you start to think that everything will be fine. “you’re not letting down anyone, just you existing makes your grandparents proud. i know it. and, i know i’ve only met your grandma briefly, but she’s such a strong woman from what i’ve seen, seriously. i trust that she’ll be fine, but would she be fine if she knew you were stressing?”

you shake your head – danielle has a point.

“i- i guess not.”

“well, i think her recovery would go much better knowing the woman she loves most is doing her best and doing alright.”

danielle’s right, she’s so right it really does ground you. you wrap your arms around her and hug back tightly, letting your worries flow away.

“thank you.”

“mhm.” she hums softly, then pulls away to gaze at you, placing her hands on your shoulders. “you should eat, let’s eat together.”

“you haven’t eaten yet?”

“a little, but i couldn’t eat a lot knowing you hadn’t.”

maybe you should’ve eaten, you should’ve because danielle isn’t satisfied. her stomach is most likely nowhere near half full. you quickly get up and grab her hand, dragging her out your room after hearing the new information.

“i can’t have you hungry dani.”

-

minji is happy to see your spark back, seeing you so enthusiastic and performing so well during practices makes her happy. 

this time, your practice is being recorded. you're all jumpy and giddy as you play around with hyein, teasing her in between breaks, but you manage to stay focused and excel as you run through the choreography. the camera captures you tease hanni, you make fun of the three-inch height difference between you two while she pouts and chases you around. even haerin joins in, watching you run around while you grin at the shortest member. the practice room buzzes with laughter and energy, your lighthearted teasing making the grueling session more enjoyable for everyone.

danielle and minji watch from afar, well, it’s mostly danielle who’s watching – admiring.

minji sees something special in her gaze, a sort of longing. a smile makes its way to danielle's lips, and minji watches the way danielle softens. the camera captures the same sight minji is seeing, though in much lower quality. the tender moment is evident even through the grainy footage, highlighting something much more complex between danielle and the object of her affection: you.

minji judges the younger member. “seems like you got her back on her feet.”

“hm?” danielle says, flinching slightly after being startled. “oh, yeah. she’s definitely feeling better, i’m really glad.”

“you two have something special, hm?”

“what do you mean?” 

minji looks back at you. you’ve given up, and hanni is now dragging you to the ground, both of you laughing as hyein records the whole thing. minji then glances at danielle. the younger australian member finds herself giggling unknowingly as she watches the whole scene unfold, her eyes twinkling with amusement and something softer, something that betrays the ‘platonic’ aspect in the fondness she holds for you.

minji shakes her head. “nothing. let’s get back to work.”

-

“hi everyone, i’m with y/n!” minji greets the livestream, looking at herself in the screen and fixing her hair. “say hi.”

you sit down next to her and fix the cap on your head, waving at the phone and smiling. “hi everyone, it’s been a while since i’ve made an appearance, huh?”

minji looks at you and scoffs. “you were on danielle’s live last week, and on her little voice message for a moment.”

you giggle and shake your head, putting up your hands to make a little ‘x’ sign with your fingers. 

“sounds like someone’s a fan of miss marsh, stalking her phoning activity…”

“bro, you are literally apart of her content a third of the time.”

“are you jealous kim minji?”

“of what, danielle being all over you? count me out…”

you giggle and continue on with the live. the two of you talk about the upcoming ‘making jeans,’ reminiscing and laughing over the countless memories you shared during the process of filming the music video.

of course, you tend to mention danielle often, complimenting her looks in each outfit and scene you all shot, the memories of mainly the two of you during the whole filming process. minji listens carefully as you ramble, narrowing her eyes each time the name ‘danielle’ is brought up. she lets you ramble, of course; she'd be something not too short of awful if she were to cut you off from gushing about your fellow member. 

there’s a sparkle in your eyes like fireworks going off as minji watches you. your smile is wide and genuine, your hands animatedly emphasizing every detail of whatever topic you're discussing, and without fail, danielle is woven into the narrative. the slight tint of pink on your cheeks doesn’t escape minji’s notice; it hints at something deeper than simple admiration.

the conversation shifts away from danielle and onto your other members, particularly how you and minji managed to cook a five-course meal for the rest of the group. questions flow and are answered promptly, and as the live stream reaches its fifty-minute mark, minji decides it's time to wrap up. 

once she ends the stream, you turn to her and give a thumbs up. “that was fun, lets do more of these.”

“you talked about danielle for a fifth of the live, y/n.”

“sorry…” you mumble, “i just remembered a lot of things from the shoot.”

you remembered danielle from the shoot that’s for sure. 

minji waves her hand and says, “it’s not a bad thing that you did…”

“of course not, danielle is lovely.”

to you? more than just lovely i bet. minji thinks, rolling her eyes before she flicks the cap off your head. you make some strange noise and it makes the older member chuckle.

“let’s get some rest, thanks for joining me.”

“yeah, anytime.” you wink at her before getting up and waving, walking out the door with a grin on your lips.

minji finds herself leaning against her bedframe, reflecting on everything she’s observed over the past two weeks—and honestly, over the years. 

the whole livestream with you has her pondering now; even as trainees, you and minji had always been close and supportive of each other. however, minji had always noticed something distinct in the dynamics between you and danielle. while all four of you—minji, hanni, danielle, and yourself—spoke english, there was an undeniable uniqueness in the connection, the exchanged glances, the subtle cues, and the way you and danielle interacted.

she collapses onto her bed and grabs her phone, concentrating hard as she clicks on the 'youtube' icon and goes to the search bar. biting the inside of her lip, she types 'newjeans danielle and y/n,' feeling a little awkward, as if she’s doing something a fan would do. she shakes her head to dispel the feeling, focusing on the recommended searches that follow:

"newjeans danielle and y/n moments" "danielle and y/n cute interactions" "newjeans y/n looking at danielle" "danielle and y/n chemistry compilation"

minji clicks on the first result, curiosity piqued, then clicks on the first video that pops up. the video is a compilation of moments between you and danielle, set to a soft, romantic song. as the montage begins, she sees clip after clip of the two of you laughing together, eyes sparkling with unspoken understanding. secret glances are exchanged, your smiles growing wider with every shared look. inside jokes flow effortlessly, creating a tempo only the two of you seem to follow. 

minji watches as the moments play out, each one reinforcing the undeniable bond between you and danielle. most of these clips could be played out as touchy, close friend moments, but some cannot be brushed off as that at all.

there’s a clip that plays, and minji cringes a little when she sees herself pop up on screen, talking about how she feels before a stage. the focus then shifts, zooming in on the background where danielle is leaning against your shoulder, eyes closed. minji watches as you turn to look at danielle lovingly, a soft smile playing on your lips before you look back at the makeup artist fixing your blush. 

another clip that makes minji's brows furrow also sparks a memory in her head. in the clip, you jump at minji, placing both hands on her shoulders as you lift yourself up from the ground. when you land back down, you hug the older member and laugh with her, happy that you've managed to scare her. what minji never noticed before now plays in the video: danielle is in the distance, the footage edited to zoom in on her. she's watching the whole scene, and as soon as your arms wrap around minji, danielle's gaze turns slightly more serious. danielle bites half of her lip and clenches her jaw, clearly a little bothered by it.

that’s not like her at all.

minji skips the video and finds the most replayed moment, her eyes widening at how oblivious she had been to you two. have the other members noticed as well? the question rings throughout minji’s head, the others have to have had a small hunch. then again, danielle is affectionate, and you are too at times, so maybe it wouldn’t be unbelievable for them to be blind to whatever you and her have going on. 

you and danielle are shooting for the photobooks, taking your duo pictures. minji watches as danielle takes this opportunity to be touchy as ever, her hands never leaving you as you both pose. her hand ends up on your forearm, shoulders, and even the back of your neck. she's flirting with you the whole time too, mostly to earn genuine smiles and laughs for the camera, but also because she enjoys it and means it – minji assumes. even as you two pose with hanni added, danielle still keeps her hand on you at all times, not wanting to leave you be. and when the camera pans to her hand sliding to your waist and rubbing it just barely, minji freezes.

each moment feels charged with a depth she hadn't fully grasped before. even she hasn’t noticed half of what was clipped.

the comments are filled with fans gushing over your interactions:

"i swear they have the best chemistry!" "look at how danielle looks at y/n! my heart can't take it." "they are so cute together! #dany/n" “are they dating? i’m new to this group. ↪️”not officially, but from their interactions it seems like it could be true.” ↪️”there has to be something though, most likely they are.” ↪️”hey, let’s not assume things. we don’t know what goes on behind cameras and they’re probably just really close friends!”

minji sighs, a mix of amusement and concern flooding her. she knew you two were close, but this compilation and the fan reactions make it clear just how much your bond stands out. sure, danielle and haerin had some of their own moments (mainly because haerin, but this? this is something.

 she scrolls through a few more videos, each one reinforcing what she's just realized. 

"oh my fucking god," minji murmurs, the weight of understanding settling in as she processes everything: you think danielle shines brighter than the sun.

you talk about her like she is your sun, and danielle looks at you like you’re her moon.

and minji? she's caught in the midst of your oblivious pining, realizing she occupies the role of the stars, planets, and everything in between.

-

“hanni.”

the younger member jumps at the sound of minji barging into her room at 12 in the morning, looking at her like she’s crazy.

“the hell man? at least knock–”

“you and danielle, you’re both very similar, very close too, i know that.”

“of course i’m close with dani, what the hell are you–”

“you’re close with y/n too, yeah?”

“i’m close with everyone including you minji, what kind of interrogation is this?”

minji flops onto hanni’s bed and stares up into the ceiling like she’s just worked a 9-5 with no break in between. the younger member walks over to close the door of her room, then sits back down to assess whatever is happening. 

“seriously,” hanni begins, “what’s up?”

“are dani and y/n dating? like are they together? like girlfriends, like– romantic?”

hanni giggles, making minji turn her head to give hanni a good look of the confused expression she has on. “what? no…? they’re just really flirty minji, i thought we knew this.”

“okay well i just went live with y/n and she was rambling and gushing about dani for a solid fifteen minutes. hanni, that live was almost an hour.”

“oh.” hanni simply responds, going silent.

“have you noticed something between them? or am i going crazy…”

the room is silent for a while, and minji lets it stay that way, giving hanni time to process her thoughts. hanni starts to really think about her other two members. minji has a point: you and danielle are close, and your demeanor changes noticeably when danielle is involved. she also recalls the time when she and danielle had gone out together, only for danielle to talk about you a good chunk of the time. it doesn’t help that danielle’s lock screen consists of two rotating pictures: one being a group photo and the other being you holding a kitten.

danielle and hanni spend a lot of time together, and now that hanni fully analyzes all those moments, she realizes that a significant portion of their conversations revolves around you. it’s almost as if you were there with them. danielle also looks at you differently, more lovingly, compared to the way she looks at the other members. when she flirts, it’s also different – more genuine, more meaningful. hanni had always been too distracted by how flirty and stupid danielle was to notice the blush on both your faces during those flirtatious moments. now, everything starts to make sense.

“okay wait yeah,” hanni bites the side of her finger. “i guess? but danielles really loving and sweet.”

“but much more with y/n, right?” minji sounds like she’s trying to convince herself too. “oh my god this is so embarrassing but i went on youtube…”

“don’t tell me you–”

minji puts a hand in the air, closing her eyes embarrassingly. “it was for research.”

“research on your friends?”

“stop! you need to see the video too, i didn’t even notice this shit.” 

hanni sighs, letting minji scoot next to her and play a video titled ‘danielle and y/n moments that could make the cut in a romance drama.’ the younger member eyes minji after reading the title, minji just puts a finger to her lips and presses play.

“i can’t believe you’re making me watch this, am i a bunny or what?”

“just watch.”

minji is older and hanni does not have anything better to do at this hour of the night, so she keeps her eyes glued on the screen.

the younger woman goes through every single emotion that minji has with each second passing by. her brows crease, her hand hovers over her mouth in shock, and she almost squeals during some clips – minji nudges her teasingly. when the video ends hanni sits there staring at the phone dead silent. 

“well?”

“that was edited very well.”

the older member pushes the younger one and rolls her eyes. “shut up. are you picking up what i’m putting down?”

“yeah, no, oh my god it’s real.”

“but they’re not dating…” minji thinks to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. “wait, are they… do they even like girls?”

“oh yeah, danielle mentioned it like, twice, but she thinks it’s not a big deal. but yeah, she likes girls. i think y/n mentioned it once too, they’re both just not open about it i guess?”

minji clicks her tongue. “so they’re probably in love and pining, they’re oblivious.”

“what do we even do with this information?” hanni asks. 

they both ponder the possible outcomes, weighing the positive and negative consequences of you and danielle becoming a couple or continuing to pine for each other. if you two stayed in the limbo of unspoken looks, flirting, and loving gestures, the status quo would remain, but it might cause tension. on the other hand, if you two became a thing and eventually broke up, it could create a rocky dynamic within the group. 

however, minji knows you well. you’re mature and have been through a lot, so she believes you’d be able to handle it professionally. danielle, on the other hand, might struggle more with the fallout. but if the relationship lasted, it would bring happiness and joy, despite the challenges of dating as an idol and concealing so much. the two of you would be happy – you’re already happy as is to be part of the group and know each other – and so would the other members. 

the thought of this potential happiness brings a soft smile to minji’s face as she considers the best path forward for everyone involved.

minji leans into hanni’s pillow and closes her eyes – she looks like an overworked therapist. “we shouldn’t intervene.”

“let things flow naturally?”

“yeah, but with the knowledge that they’re in love i guess.”

“so it’s actually like an angsty, intense romance drama.”

“they’re our friends idiot… more like a romcom, it’s not that bad.”

the two laugh and decide to call it a night, promising to run to each other with information and thoughts on every single thing that happens to the two of you.

(they can still be fans of the two of you despite being part of the group itself, and that as a guilty pleasure isn’t the worst thing in the world.)

-

your birthday falls right before the break you have, just a few promotions to get through and you’re set.

unfortunately, you’re not able to see your grandparents during the first week of your vacation since they’ve had a few complications with flights and their work. however, they’ll be coming to visit you in the second week, staying a little longer despite you having to work. because of this, you'll have plenty of time to spend with them and show them around seoul. 

plus, they’ll get to meet your members, and you can already envision how much they’ll baby and spoil everyone. the thought of your grandparents showering your friends with affection, gifts, and really just their love and charm brings a smile to your face, and you can’t wait for them to experience the warmth and love you’ve always cherished. 

every birthday for each member includes a special livestream, and today, it’s your turn. 

despite it being your birthday, a heavy feeling of sadness lingers, overshadowing the excitement as you all set up. you should be happy, and you are with the members around you by your side on your day, but you’re still not completely you the absence of danielle gnaws at your heart. everyone except her surrounds you, and you try to mask how terrible you feel without her presence as you prepare for the broadcast. she apparently had something very important in her schedule that would last until the late evening, leaving you to celebrate without her.

[danielle] im so sorry i can’t be there for you ☹️ i wanted to be there but they’ve shoved this into my schedule since the break is soon im so sorry sweetheart i’ll make it up to you as best as i can, promise i love you, i’m sorry i’m so so so sorry

you remember seeing danielle's messages two hours after noon. the instant you read them, your shoulders dropped, your smile faded, and all the excitement drained from your body. those texts still haunt you, a constant reminder of her absence on a day you wanted her by your side the most.

[y/n] it’s okay, don’t worry about it.

you put on your best facade, greeting the viewers with a joyful, upbeat tone, but the rest of the members can see through it. the light in your eyes is dimmed, your smile not as genuine as usual. hyein notices and rubs your hand under the table, offering silent support, trying to lift your spirits on your special day. the others chime in with their own attempts to cheer you up, but the void left by danielle’s absence is hard to fill.

you force a smile. “i’m surrounded by most of my members! i’m very happy to be with them on my special day.”

hyein puts her arm around your shoulder and squeezes you close to hug you from the side, making you giggle. “she’s getting older and older and older… please wish her a long life everyone.”

“hey! i’m not that old…”

“if y/n is old then what am i?” minji questions, quirking a brow at the youngest.

“ancient.”

“hey!”

your members start to bicker playfully, and it washes away a good amount of your worries. the smile on your face stays, though it falters now and then. despite the sadness lurking in the background, you're grateful to be surrounded by those who have supported you. their presence and antics bring some light to your birthday, helping you feel a bit more at ease.

hanni suddenly grips your shoulders, making you jump. “okay~ time for the birthday girls’ gifts!”

she makes you giggle, then moves out of frame to grab a wrapped box. she hands it to you – not without accidentally hitting your head, making you and the members gasp and chuckle – then lets you examine the exterior.

“you’ll love it man.” you roll her eyes at her confident tone.

everyone watches you unwrap the gift, hyein snorts as she watches you struggle to open the box up, having to find a pen to stab it and rip the seal. there are a few things inside, but you grab the larger item out and gasp when you see it. 

“hanni you’re– oh my god.” you gaze at the signed daniel caesar vinyl in your hands, mouth wide open. “hanni.”

“yes?”

you stand up immediately to hug her tight, engulfing her in your arms as you sway in place. “thank you so much.”

she rubs your back and hugs you back with the same energy. “seems like my present will be hard to beat, that so?”

you pull away and scoff playfully, sitting back down to inspect whatever else is inside the box. “don’t make it a competition!”

the rest of the live continues, most of your sorrow completely lifted after opening each present. minji gives you a cap with your name on it, along with a necklace you had been eyeing for months, some stationary, and your favorite candies from back home. you marvel at how she managed to get a bag of your favorite sweets, but she just shrugs with a smirk plastered on her face, clearly enjoying the mystery.

haerin’s gift is thoughtful and cute. you ‘re given three different koala keychains (your representative and favorite animal), a cat shirt, a new ds game, and blue light glasses. haerin is attentive to everything, but it still surprised you that she remembered you were missing the ‘y’ version of your favorite pokemon game – and your glasses that you had bought a month ago. she also hands you a letter, it’s full of words that will probably make you tear up later, so you decide to tuck it away for the time being.

hyein gifts you something that makes you laugh until you're leaning against her, nearly crying. her bag contains new earrings that match your style perfectly and your favorite disney movie on dvd. the real kicker, though, is an oversized shirt featuring a popular baby picture of you photoshopped boldly on the front. in the picture, your six-year-old self is sleeping with your head turned uncomfortably and drool seeping from the corner of your lips. the sloppy masking of the image only adds to how hilarious it is, making hanni and minji hold onto each other as they cackle, while haerin has to move out of frame to hide her amusement. 

“how did you even get this made?” you ask the youngest member, still clinging onto her and laughing in between words. “oh my god, this is insane.”

“do you like it?”

“i love it hyeinie.” you press a short peck to the top of her head, then pat down her hair. “it’s wonderful.”

she’s smiling brightly, happy that you’re not as sad as before and that you love her gift. hyein has always been full of love and care.

you begin to organize the presents again, looking back at all of them and feeling like the luckiest, happiest girl in the world. after hugging all of your members again, nearly crushing them from how grateful you are.

haerin then brings your cake back in frame, tugging on your sleeve to grab your attention. 

 you clap your hands. “ah! yes, let’s blow the candle.”

it’s really simple, mundane, and everyone does it – blowing a cake and all, despite yours not being edible – but it makes your cheeks hurt from how much you smile. everyone enthusiastically sings ‘happy birthday’ and you sit there like a child all giddy. once they’re all done, you close your eyes and clasp your hands, making a silent wish in your head.

most of the wishes are simply you wishing for your grandparents to be well and healthy, and you wished the same for your members. you also wished for one more thing, something on a whim, but it would make you even happier than you are right now.

i wish danielle were here.

you silently go over each wish again, unaware of hanni opening the door behind you, someone walking in silently and quickly rushing over to stand behind you. 

opening your eyes, you grin and blow the candles out, then jump and shout in surprise when you feeling someone’s arms around you and their body pressed against you from behind.

danielles scent is recognizable, and so is her voice, heavy with accent. “happy birthday!”

you turn around in surprise, looking up at her with wide eyes and your jaw dropped. she moves her hand to the crook of your neck, the other resting on your shoulder as she looks at your expression.

“dani? you– you said you couldn’t–”

“i’m sorry, i had to pick up your present and surprise you. was it too harsh?”

you felt you heart break into pieces when you had received her texts, but still answer, “no, absolutely not.”

she hugs you again and you sink into her embrace. minji and hanni exchange knowing glances, hyein and haerin just smile at how sweet the moment it is. 

you end the live shortly after, with danielle explaining to the viewers that her present for you is something very special that she needs to show off-camera. the group continues chatting about you and your birthday, with haerin snickering at hyein’s remarks. danielle stays where she is, standing behind your chair with her arms around you, her fingers grazing your skin in a way that makes you swoon. minji and hanni silently communicate with each other through their eyes and brows, sharing a knowing look about the bond between you and danielle.

you couldn’t be any happier.

–

it turns out that you can be happier.

once the livestream ends, you all help clean up the studio. minji tries to suck in helium from the balloons, while hanni and hyein run around trying to stop her, adding to the lighthearted chaos. despite the playful antics, the six of you manage to clean up quickly. each member hugs you tightly, danielle hugging you last. as she pulls away, she gives a look to each of the members, silently sending them off with goodbyes and “see you back at home’s.” soon, it’s just you and danielle back in the empty studio after she had dragged you back inside.

“i’m sorry again, but i had to grab you some special things.”

“it’s okay, really.” you lie, knowing you probably would’ve went back home and sulked for a bit. you look at the bag in her hands, then giggle. “is that for me?”

“yes miss birthday girl!” 

you laugh and she hands you the bag, it’s smaller than everyone elses, but that doesn’t matter at all.

reaching in, you feel something fluffy. you pull out a small teddy bear about twice the size of your hands, feeling your lips turn up. it’s a bear with a flower in its hand and a small flower crown on top of its head. it’s adorable, but not as much as danielle.

“dani,” you pull her in for another hug. “this is so cute.”

“mhm.” she mumbles, pulling away. “press on its chest.”

“what?”

“just do it.”

you comply, you thumb adding pressure and feeling a small click. there’s a small sound that starts to play, and as soon as you hear the familiar voices, you almost break.

“hi y/n! we miss you and love you and are so so proud of you.” the sound of your grandpa’s voice in the recording makes you freeze.

your grandma speaks next, “we miss you and love you to death. keep it up! you are so amazing and the greatest gift ever, you’ve got this.” 

they both speak at the same time next, saying, “from your favorite bunnies: we love you y/n!”

danielle is a little scared as she watches you frozen in place, still clutching the bear she gave you. your lip trembles slightly, and she hears a slight shake in your breath. you stare at the bear in shock, then look up at danielle with tears brimming in your eyes. her heart aches, unsure if your reaction is good or bad, and she takes a hesitant step closer, her voice soft and concerned.

"hey, are you okay?" she asks, reaching out gently to touch your arm. 

you grab her wrist and pull her in, engulfing her in the warmest hug you’ve given. “danielle, this is the best gift i’ve ever received.” she can hear you starting to sniffle, not letting go of you and letting your tears stain her hair. “thank you so much, i– i really needed this. you’re seriously the most thoughtful person i know and i just, i can’t explain how much this means to me.”

danielle's heart swells with relief and affection. she hugs you tighter, resting her chin on your shoulder. "i'm so glad you like it," she whispers. "you mean a lot to me, and i wanted to give you something special, something that shows how much i care."

you pull back slightly to look at her, your eyes still glistening with tears. "it’s perfect," you say, your voice choked with emotion. "you’re perfect, oh my god, i love you so much.” 

danielle smiles, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. "i’m glad you like it, happy birthday.” she says softly.

-

“yes, i got it. i can’t believe danielle did all this for me.” you face your ipad, smiling at your grandparents. “i cried you know!”

your grandmas eyes smile with her and you can see the slight wrinkles in the corner of them. “aw, at least they were happy tears. your member, she reached out to us first you know? what a sweetheart…”

“danielle cares for you a lot, you know? she’s a great friend, you keep her close, okay?” your grandpa adds.

friend. the word rings in your ear, stinging a little. danielle is sweeter than honey, caring, loving, and she’s the reason your transition to moving away from home was easier. at the end of the day, no matter how touchy she is with you, how many flirtatious comments and affectionate gestures she gives; danielle is your friend. 

at least she’s in your life, you’re grateful for just that.

“yeah,” you chuckle, it’s bittersweet leaving you. “she’s a great friend.”

your grandma leans closer to the camera, smirking. “but if i had to take a guess, i don’t think you’re just a friend to her.”

an awkward laugh leaves your lips. “what are you on about?”

“friends don’t do things as significant as this. your grandpa was my ‘friend’ in college, but none of my friends did the things he did. did the rest of your members do something like this? she cares about you deeply, im sure the other members do too, but this is different y/n.”

“i mean, my members also gave me great gifts.”

“sweetie, danielle reached out to us via facebook and set up a whole thing in order to get this for you.”

“and i’ve seen your little videos with the members, she looks at you differently and clings onto you more than haerin. that says a lot.” your grandpa adds on, raising his brows. 

your cheeks start to burn, you roll your eyes and scoff. “i think you’re looking into it too far, seriously. she’s my coworker and friend.”

“y/n, follow your heart. you adore her and you’re trying to push away the feeling because you’re scared of rejection.” your grandma was very good at reading you. too good. “don’t suppress and run away because you’re scared, things will work out.”

“i don’t even know if she likes girls like that, i mean, danielle–”

without any warning, the door of your room is opened suddenly and you jump, dropping your ipad on the mattress and letting out a small yelp.

danielle stands int he doorway in her pajamas. “hey! oh sorry– did i interrupt? sorry i’ll come back later–” 

“no! i mean, no.” you clear your throat. “d-did you need something?”

your grandparents can only see the ceiling, but they still hear danielle, “ah, well, i’ll just tell you later when you’re done. are you calling your grandparents?”

“danielle? is that you?” your grandma calls out. “dear, let me see her.”

picking up the ipad and setting it upright again, danielle walks over to where you sit on the bed and leans over so her head is in frame. “mrs. and mr. l/n! hi, how are you?”

“oh danielle, it’s lovely to see you! we’re doing great.” your grandpa responds. 

you scoot over and pat down the space next to you, mumbling softly to danielle, “sit here.”

“you sure? i didn’t interrupt, i’ll just say hi and–”

danielle feels you grab her wrist, pulling her down so she’s next to you now. “it’s fine, i swear.” you assure, and danielle just nods.

“oh gosh, you get prettier each time i see you.” your grandpa says in awe (he gets it). “how did y/n react? tell us the full details.”

the member beside you laughs, it’s music to your ears. 

“she just stared at it while the audio played and… cried.” she turns to look at you with apologetic eyes. “it was very emotional, but i can assure she loved it. did you?”

“yeah.” you mutter, eyes on danielle as she speaks.

“aw, how adorable. well, we actually have to go. you had something to tell our granddaughter?”

your grandma and grandpa want you dead.

“aw, well i hope to talk to you two for longer next time! stay safe and healthy– oh! and speedy recovery to you mrs. l/n!”

“thanks dear, goodnight you two! happy birthday, we love you.” is the last thing your grandpa says before your grandma blows you a kiss and waves goodbye. the call ends a second later, leaving you and danielle alone.

she turns her head, your faces find themselves a hand apart.

“your grandparents are so lovely.”

you look at her like an idiot. “yeah.”

“i’m sorry to cut your call short, really–”

“no! no, it’s okay. what did you want to tell me?”

“well,” she starts, her gaze fixed on her hands. she looks nervous, and it makes you nervous as well. “i kind of was wondering…” you gulp, hearing the hesitation in her voice. she does that thing, the little nervous lip bite that’s both adorable and nerve-racking at the same time. “you know, the vacation we have is soon, and you’re here in seoul for the first week. i figured that might be boring, considering all of us will be out and with family, you know? and you, you’re still here.”

her words hang in the air, the weight of her uncertainty pressing down on both of you. you can feel the anticipation building, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to decipher her intentions. the idea of spending the first week of vacation alone had been a bit daunting, and the thought that danielle had been thinking about you, about your potential loneliness, makes your heart swell with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“and…?”

“well…” you focus on each curve of her side profile, eyes softening as she continues. “how does australia sound? with me, my hometown to be exact. oh! but only for a few days of course! i know your grandparents are visiting and yeah, that’s– that’s what i wanted to ask.”

you can’t help but chuckle at how she fiddles her fingers, how she avoids your gaze, and really just her all nervous like this. it’s cute, she’s cute. 

(everytime you’re with her, it seems that you fall more and more.

it seems impossible, but she finds a way to make it possible everytime.)

“danielle, i mean, this is so sudden but i would love to.” you reach out to put a hand on hers, danielle feels her heartbeat start to simmer back into its normal pace. “your family is fine with it?”

“they’re the ones who suggested it actually, and i know that one time when we were trainees you said you always wanted to visit where i grew up and i got giddy that time just thinking about it so of course i jumped at the idea and–” she cuts herself off after looking back up to see you. you’re grinning and your head is leaning against the headboard now. “sorry, i’m–”

“no, i like it. i’ll go.”

danielle sighs in relief. “okay good because i had bought the tickets a month ago when you mentioned staying in seoul for a week–”

“what?” 

all you can do is laugh again, making danielle laugh too. 

-

the first interaction you had with danielle had already piqued your curiosity. the memory replays in your head as you wait for the coffee you had ordered in the airport.

you were a new trainee, fumbling through the maze of hallways in search of the training room you had been reassigned to at the last minute. your korean was rudimentary at best—reading it was manageable, but grasping the full meaning took considerable effort and time. conversations were a challenge, your speech a mix of broken sentences and unintentional informalities that made interactions awkward.

every sign you passed seemed to blur together, each character a puzzle you struggled to piece together. the unfamiliar surroundings only heightened your anxiety, making every misstep feel monumental. your heart raced with a mix of frustration and determination as you looked down at the paper in your hand, clearly too focused on it as you collided with someone.

“shit–” you whisper, then rush out a botched, formal “sorry,”

you look at the girl in front of you, waving her hand and patting herself down. she looks at you worriedly, then says a little too quickly, “im so sorry! are you okay? i should’ve looked where i was going!”

“what?” you say in english. she’s speaking formally, it’s hard to decipher with your limited vocabulary and experience with others. you shake your head and mutter in accented korean, “sorry, w-what did you, um, what did you say?”

“ah,” the realization hits her, your confusion and accent told her enough. “do you speak english?”

her accent is strong, very recognizable which helps your body relax. she’s aussie, thank god. you think to yourself, then nod at the girl. 

“yes, fluently. my korean is not the best, sorry. it takes a bit to understand.”

“it’s no problem! i was just asking if you’re okay– i really should’ve watched where i was going.”

hurriedly, you wave your hands in the air. “no! no. i wasn’t looking, i was trying to read the paper and clashed into you.”

“it’s alright, at least we’re both fine!” you loved her radiant energy the moment you met her. the girl, you had bumped into already seemed to calm you down. even the first meeting, a simple collision, brought you some peace despite all of your stress as a trainee. “you’re having trouble with the paper? let me help.”

you hand her the paper. “thank you so much.”

“no worries, really.” she says before reading. “it says you’re moved to room 153– oh! i was just heading there!”

“really?”

“yeah! come with me!”

“thank you so much… um, your name?”

“danielle! yours?”

you take some time to examine her. danielle is really pretty, and if you hadn’t bumped into her at first you would’ve spent more time admiring her face. she had these beauty marks on her face that could rival any constellation, and the way her eyes lit up without even trying was enough to keep you captivated.

you gulped. “y/n.”

“pretty name.” she says, then grabs your hand and drags you in the other direction. “you know,” she giggles, “maybe it was a miracle that you ran into me.”

it was nothing short of a miracle, and honestly, it felt like something beyond that. had you not bumped into her that day, you might never have found your way to the training room. more importantly, you wouldn’t have met the person who would become your friend. danielle, with her effortless kindness and patience, helped you navigate and bear with the troubles of being a trainee in a place away from home. she assisted you in improving your korean, and provided the emotional support you desperately needed. she was your rock.

without danielle, you would have been lost, both literally and figuratively. her guidance made everything seem less overwhelming; she turned every challenge into a manageable task, and somehow, she managed to stay upbeat too. 

if it weren’t for her, you probably wouldn’t have debuted, you really wouldn’t have come this far.

and without her influence, you wouldn’t be in the airport trying to find her so you can give her that latte she wanted you to order. you catch her in the blue hoodie she had been wearing, walking towards her immediately and watching her eyes crinkle when she sees you. even with her mask on, she’s lovely.

–

seeing danielle reunite with her family almost brings tears to your eyes. she’s crying as she hugs her sister, mom, and dad, you smile at the sight. it’s clear she’s missed them; who wouldn’t miss the people they loved most while being a long flight away?

“oh! y/n, come here!” danielle pulls away from her parents to drag you over by the hand. 

her mom looks you up and down, smiling at your awkward self in your oversized graphic t-shirt and sweatpants. she puts her hands on either side of your shoulder, then pulls you in for a hug. “y/n, it’s great to see you again.”

“likewise.” you hug her back.

danielle’s dad joins in, wrapping his arms around you two as well. “don’t leave me out!” and it prompts danielle’s sister to hug you too.

“hey! i want hugs too!” danielle jumps over, and now you’re engulfed in a multihug, but who would complain?

–

“no really, it’s alright! i don’t want to trouble you any more. i can settle myself in, really.” you’re trying your best to fight off each attempt at helping you relax into the guest room next to danielle’s, dismissing every family member until it’s danielle.

she pouts. “you sure? are you posssiiittivveeee~”

“dani,” you hold her fingers. “i’m so positive that i’m negative.” you put a hand up to interrupt her before she even speaks. “and no that doesn’t mean i need your help, seriously. go see your family, i’ll meet you all soon.”

she’s frowning now. “fine, fine. meet in the living room?”

“yes, i’ll take ten minutes tops.”

“you sure?”

“more positive than a plus sign.”

danielle giggles, and so do you. she holds both of your hands and you two stare at each other for a good while. she’d love to spend a few minutes helping you unpack. the action is mundane, but that’s what she likes to do most with you. she could be watching paint dry and as long as it’s with you, she’d enjoy every second. 

you forget how to breathe for a moment until she releases her hands. she winks at you, then heads out the door, leaving you flushed.

you wonder how you’ll survive for the next few days.

–

you manage to survive the first day. it consists of you following danielle around (not that you’re against it) and your eyes widening with each new sight.

every car ride, your head is angled towards the window, captivated by the passing scenery. danielle’s gaze also falls on the window, but not for the view it offers. instead, she watches you, memorizing your features with a quiet intensity. she already knows every contour of your face by heart; a simple touch, even blindfolded, would be enough for her to recognize you. 

you, however, are too entranced by the world outside to notice her adoration. the vibrant trees, the shimmering water in the distance, and the people going about their lives with smiles on their faces all hold your attention. the landscape unfolds like a living painting, and you are lost in its beauty.

danielle finds her own kind of beauty in watching you, her heart swelling with each small expression of wonder that crosses your face.

from morning to sunset, the day is filled with shared giggles, smiles, and endless affection. danielle leads you to each of her favorite spots in the city, eagerly sharing the anecdotes that make each place special to her. the two of you are like peas in a pod—she talks and talks, and you listen intently, soaking up every word.

as you explore the city together, danielle's excitement is infectious. she points out the café where she first realized espresso based drinks weren’t all that bad. then she takes you to the park where she used to sit and clear her mind, mentioning that she dropped an ice cream cone at a bench near a tall tree as a child. and you learn that the little bookstore tucked away in a quiet alley is where she discovered her favorite novel. each place holds a piece of her heart, and she's sharing it all with you.

(another piece of her heart, you, mingling with the others like puzzle pieces clicking together.)

you let her take as many pictures as she wants, capturing every moment to savor later. whether it's a candid shot of you laughing at one of her stories, a moment where you’re caught of guard, or a scenic view of the sunset you both admire; you pose willingly, knowing how much these memories mean to her. because really, you'll do anything for danielle. her joy is your joy, and her stories are now part of your shared narrative, weaving a tapestry of cherished memories that belong to both of you now.

when the two of you make it back home to her home in the evening after a tiring, eventful day with her and her family, you realize that yeah, you’re in love with her.

you’re in love with her beyond anything, you could breathe danielle.

it’s never been a question, really, loving her and all. but you’ve seen her at each moment in time and your first day with her where she grew up ties the knot tighter. it should hurt your heart, the feeling that it might not be reciprocated, but you’re too distracted by how happy she is to plate everyone’s dinner to let it get to you.

besides, maybe your grandma was right. 

you trust her intuition, but you need some more reassurance.

–

on the second day in the afternoon, you’re helping out her grandparents with cooking pastries. you’re mixing the batter for banana bread and danielle’s chin is on her palm as she watches you attentively. 

a soft tune is playing and you're humming along, the melody bringing a relaxed smile to your face. the family dog, jinni, keeps brushing against your leg, wagging her tail eagerly. your laughter rings out, light and infectious, and danielle can't help but think that your laughter is much more pleasing to the ear than whatever plays in the background. 

danielle's gaze remains fixed on you, a tender smile forming on her lips as she watches you interact with jinni. there's something mesmerizing about the way you move, the way you laugh, and the effortless joy you radiate. 

her reverie is interrupted when her sister taps her shoulder, pulling her back to the present moment. danielle turns, humming softly in response, but her thoughts are still with you, the image of your laughter lingering in her mind.

“dani, you’re in love.”

“lower your voice!” danielle hushes her. “i– i’m not.”

“you look like the lead of a romance film.”

“well,” danielle sighs in defeat after glancing at you again. her grandma has found a small spoon and is scooping a bit of the batter to feed you. your eyes light up, and the way your teeth show could stop a storm, danielle thinks. "ugh, it's just, i adore her."

“that’s evident.”

danielle laughs and playfully nudges her sister, then rests her hadn on her palm again.

“she’s beautiful and sweet and– how could someone not love her?”

“you’ve been in love with her ever since you gushed about the ‘pretty girl not from here that can basically only speak english’ when you were a trainee, dani.”

she groans in response and leans against her sister as she watches you again. you pour the batter into the prepared tray, then look over at danielle. you motion for her to walk over and she gets up immediately, but not before catching the knowing look from her sister.

you hold the spatula up and order, “taste.” before she laughs and licks the batter off of it. you raise your brows. “good, right? it’s not too sweet and the perfect amount of banana.”

“it’s amazing.” she fights the urge to say that you are too.

–

danielle takes you to three beaches on the third day, you enjoy watching her splash her feet around in the water before dragging you in, almost soaking the upper half of your linen pants.

“hey! i don’t have a change of clothes!”

“then be quicker!” she says in between giggles, “don’t be a scaredy cat!”

“i’m not!”

her sister follows the two of you to the pier-like structure, a rocky outcrop covered in green organisms that squish underfoot, eliciting a mix of surprised noises from you and laughter from both danielle and her sister. the scene is serene, with the sound of waves lapping against the rocks in the background. 

danielle takes your hand, guiding you along despite the squishy algae underfoot. she shares another anecdote, this time about how she and her sister used to swim until they were the last ones in the water, far out where the bigger waves crashed. you listen intently, captivated by her storytelling, and without realizing it, your fingers intertwine. her hand may be smaller, but it fits perfectly in yours, as if they were meant to be connected all along.

as danielle reminisces, her eyes sparkle with fond memories, and a soft smile plays on her lips. the gentle breeze ruffles your hair as you both stand there, sharing a moment that feels suspended in time, it really feels like you’re stuck in time and place the longer you stare. her features are highlighted by the rays of sun shining and you can’t seem to take your eyes off of her.

“you guys look like a couple.”

at the same time, you and danielle turn your heads around, cheeks pooling with embarrassment. “hey!” danielle shouts, but her hand doesn’t leave yours, and neither does she step away from you.

the thought of looking like you’re together doesn’t bother you one bit, if anything, it seems right.

–

her, her family, and you all go to the last beach together with clothing suited for swimming. danielle ends up dragging you toward the water eagerly, she makes you trip and fall. the taste of saltwater overwhelms your tongue, and before you know it, you’re grabbing danielle and dragging her down with you.

laughter fills the air, her family joins in on the splashing, and her dad has managed to splash you so hard that you slip and fall again. the feeling is overwhelming, your heart might burst.

after you all spend time in the water, the rest of the time at the beach is spent on a towel where the sand is. you dig your feet into the sand, as you listen to her parents sharing stories that make you smile wide – you’ve already been smiling so much the whole trip, but they manage to make you smile more and more. it’s apparent that danielle is the way she is because of how wonderful her family is, and maybe you’re just as wonderful after being around her these past years.

“y/n, did you go to the beach often when you were younger?”

your head shoots up at the question her mom asked, you hum. 

“mhm.” your feet dig into the sand a little deeper. “we lived a one hour train ride from a really pretty beach, i learned how to swim there. my grandpa used to fish too, he’d catch one or two fish for us and make either a soup or grill it over rice. and sometimes he’d bring his ukulele so my grandma and i could sing as the sun started to set. i would always fall asleep and wake up on his shoulder as we boarded the train, and then on the way home i was always asleep on my grandma.”

it’s silent for a moment until danielle breaks it. “y/n, that’s so sweet.”

“yeah.” you fight back tears, biting your lip and managing a smile. “being at the beach with you all makes me as happy as i was then too.”

“well i’m really glad, your presence has given us much joy.” her dad says. you look up and giggle.

“yes, and i bet making me fall into the water did too.”

everyone laughs at the playful retort. all of you continue to reminisce and enjoy the scene until her mom decides it’s time to get going. danielle lingers near you, her arm linking with yours because she’s cold and you’re allegedly ‘almost as warm as the sun.’

danielle also lets you fall asleep against her, a light snore making her family turn their heads to see her taking a picture of you and smiling.

“you two are adorable, you know.” her mom says softly, not wanting to wake you up.

danielle nods. “she is.”

–

later that night danielle accompanies you on a late night walk. initially, you wanted to go alone to clear your mind – not that you were troubled, but because you needed designated alone time. however, danielle is a worrier, and for you, it’s tenfold.

her arm brushes yours every now and then, she doesn’t fill the silence knowing how you are. the feeling in the air is calming and every worry is gone.

you look ahead and practically breathe out, “dani.”

“yeah?”

“i’m really happy.”

“i’m glad.”

“like, so happy.”

she moves to hold your hand again, your fingers interwining purposefully. “i’m happy that you are.”

"i'm really overwhelmed," you sigh softly, finding respite on a small bench nestled in the park where you've wandered together. sitting beside her, you pause, a mix of happiness and longing evident in your eyes. "seeing you with your family... it just fills me with this warmth. you know, i've never had that closeness with my parents. they've never really understood or supported me. you know how it is." you confess, feeling her reassuring grip tighten around you.

you tilt your head back, gazing up at the sky painted in hues of twilight, a gentle smile gracing your lips. "i'm not jealous, not at all, like, seriously. it's just... i'm so happy. your family is so loving and wonderful, and you," you turn to meet her eyes, heart swelling with affection, "you're just... yeah, really great."

she laughs quietly, leaning against you so her head is on your shoulder.

“well, you’re really great too.”

“maybe.”

“definitely.”

-

danielle coaxes you into staying in her room for a bit. she’s laid next to you on her phone and you can hear the small breaths she takes. you’re hyperaware of everything, despite being on your phone. 

you notice the way she curls up closer to you, how she puts her phone down and turns to stare at you.

“what?”

“nothing, you can keep going on your phone.”

“well now i don’t want to.”

“aw, i guess you’ll have to pay attention to me then.”

your features soften upon meeting her.

danielle has always been a sight for sore eyes. you really just wanted to pursue your dreams, singing, dancing, and being on stage. you didn’t expect to be lying next to someone so ethereal, eyes bright even in the dimmed room, making your heart skip a few beats here and there. 

what are you thinking? you want to question, you want to know if she sees the same glow in you as you do with her. is this okay? what do we have?

“you’ve always been so pretty y/n.” she breaks the silence. her hand reaches over and her kunckles graze your skin. “i can never stop staring.”

uneasiness settles in, your heart starts to roll around in your chest. it’s terrifying, the thought that everything could be mutual. you’ve always been avoidant, and especially now with her staring at you like you’re the world and beyond, you’re trying to escape her hold. 

you turn your head away to face the ceiling. “you praise me too much.”

“everytime i look at you i think… you’re the person i want to wake up next to everyday, i want to cook us breakfast and make you more than just a bowl of yogurt and berries and–” you turn to face her again, and now she’s closer. “i want to be the one that sees the sun hit your face first thing in the morning.”

“danielle i–” it’s terrifying, you never thought you’d get this far. the drowsiness and the fact that it’s past twelve makes you hesitate, people just say things at this hour. “i should go to sleep.”

“stay,” she holds your wrist.

“i’m scared.”

her eyes soften. “of?”

your lips part, and suddenly, you can't recall why fear ever gripped you in the first place. allowing yourself to be embraced by the affection of the other members had been a daunting step, but growing under danielle's adoration felt as effortless as reciting your abcs. it came naturally, flowing with ease and simplicity. there was never a need to second-guess, never a hesitation.

she blinks, then her eyes land on your lips, and back to your eyes.

“i, i don’t know.”

“then stay.” she mumbles, her voice is soft and low before she takes your breath away.

she kisses you and everything around you fades into nothing because all you can focus on is her. the way her hand holds your face, so gently as if you might break if it were any rougher, makes you melt. you’ve never kissed anyone, but thankfully she’s the first. and the soft feeling of her top lip sliding in between your own lips makes you think that you really want her to be the last too.

she pulls away and you both pause for a moment, basking in the moment before meeting again. flowers bloom, waves crash, thunder claps; danielle is kissing you and nothing has every felt better.

the two of you pull away to stare at each other in awe, that is, until you lean in eagerly again it catches her by surprise. her arms are around your neck and she starts to giggle as you climb on top of her, peppering kisses along the curve of her jaw, down to her neck, and the dip of her collarbone. 

“i love you.” it sounds out like a prayer.

“i love you more.”

“no way.” you roll your eyes before attacking her with kisses again until she’s trying to push you off from how ticklish it all is.

the night draws to a close with your head nestled comfortably on danielle's shoulder, her fingers gently tracing soothing patterns on your scalp. a sense of calm settles over you both, sleep slowly claiming your consciousness. your heartbeats synchronize and your breathing steadies, the shared intimacy deepens, until you’re cocooned in a mutual understanding.

in the quiet of the night, danielle shifts, prompting you to instinctively roll closer, draping an arm over her from behind. your hands find each other naturally, fingers intertwining even while you’re both dead asleep.

-

[danielle PHONING update]

🐶: hi everyone! i’ve been on vacation 🐶: i’ve never been happier, really. 🐶: take care of yourselves and stay healthy! 🐶: i’m very happy, seriously attachment: six images

minji stares at the notification, still half asleep, but as she scrolls through each photo, a soft smile graces her lips. she admires the picturesque beach view, the shirt danielle had bought, and the adorable snapshot of her dog.

her eyes widen with surprise at the last three pictures, but a warmth spreads through her heart. in the first, she sees the side of your face against a backdrop of a stunning sunset. the next captures you and danielle leaning into each other, a moment of intimacy frozen in time. the final photo shows you gazing into the distance, danielle's hand playfully squishing your cheeks together, both of you making silly duck faces with laughter lighting up your eyes.

and then another notification pops up, making minji nearly choke on the water she had sipped on.

[danielle PHONING update]

🐶: almost forgot this one ;-) attachment: one image

the picture shows you being kissed on the cheek by danielle, your cheeks burning from the contact. 

a few seconds later she gets a call, the contact ‘bbang hanni’ popping up at the top of her screen. minji picks up immediately.

“did you see?”

“i saw.” minji says, still staring at the picture. “we are so interrogating them when they’re back.”

“good cop bad cop?”

“good cop bad cop.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

What Are We (1 of 4)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, possessive!Simon, touching (lots of it), kissing, romantic tension

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Simon wants an answer. And if you're going to reject him, you better look him in the eye when you say that you don't want him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // what are we masterlist

You’re not looking in front of you. You’re not even glancing at your feet.

Your gaze is attached to the precarious stack of files in your hands, too focused on keeping them balanced and together to notice anything or anyone else around you.

Which is why you don’t see Simon until it’s too late.

His hand on your upper arm is a vice, and there is no escape from him. With a quick jerk, you’re rudely pulled in the opposite direction, and promptly shoved into a coat closet of an office. Some of the papers in your arms go flying, and you desperately reach for them, irritation burning in the back of your throat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snap, after snagging the last wayward piece of paper.

Simon stands quiet in front of the closed door, arms crossed over his chest. Even now, when you’re annoyed with him, you can’t help but to rake your gaze over his muscled form, taking in every morsal. It’s a crime not to do so.

“What’s wrong with me?” mocks Simon slowly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your eyebrows immediately rise toward your hairline in surprise. Then, just as quickly, your mind catches up to the situation. You know exactly what Simon is up to. He’s done this before, cornered you in a such a way as this as a means to break you, to make you bend until you completely break for him.

“No,” you state, shaking your head. “We’re not doing this. I know what you’re up to, Simon.” You press the stack of papers against your chest, crossing your arms over them protectively, one finger pointed in his direction in accusation.

Simon takes one unhurried step away from the door, and that singular move is entirely too close for comfort. “You don’t have the right to pull me aside whenever you want,” you continue. “To be domineering and push—” Simon takes another step and you nearly drop the stack of papers.

“Back off,” you bite, not entirely believing your own strength in the delivery.

“I deserve an answer.” Simon’s voice is not exactly a growl, but his timbre roots you to the spot.

“About what?” you stammer, already confused and unsure of where Simon is taking this.

“About what we are.”

“What?” Your voice breaks on the end, going a bit high.

“We’ve been on each other the last few months. Or did you forget?”

No. You haven’t. How could you? Just yesterday, you were a submissive puddle beneath him, allowing him everything.

Simon arches a single eyebrow and you immediately comply without thought. “Why would you ask me that?”

Your question is a cop-out. You know this. Simon knows it.

When Simon closes in, you do not move or reprimand him for doing so. He takes another step, this time into your space, and you are blocked from leaving this cramped enclosure.

“Did you think I’d forget, love?” croons Simon, and the sweetness of it is enough to flame the slumbering heat within you into a small fire. “That I didn’t hear you.” Simon leans in. “That I missed what you murmured while I was buried deep inside you?”

You swallow, salvia sticking in your throat as you clearly recall the sighed words of pleasure that dripped almost inaudibly from your lips.

I love you.

It was a mistake. A slip up.

Your voice is strained. Defeated. You’re not escaping from this. There is nowhere for you to run. “What do you want?”

“I want you to admit it.”

You glance away from Simon, hugging the papers close to your chest. “You’re mistaken.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his chest heave and his shoulders straighten. You turn toward the nearby desk, wanting to unburden the load in your arms. The moment the papers hit the desk, Simon grabs the lower half of your face, forcing your gaze back to him.

“Simon!”

He pins you against the desk, hands braced on the edge, his balaclava covered face inches away from yours.

“If you’re going to lie to me. If you’re going to reject me. You better look me in the eye when you do it.” You stare him down. Unmoving. “Don’t deny yourself,” he murmurs, one hand lightly squeezing your upper thigh.

Simon’s mouth, though covered by the balaclava, is dangerously close to yours. You feel his warm breath against your face as it filters through the fabric. It’s light, almost imperceptible. But it is there, and it makes you wanton, to close the distance.

“Why do you care so much?” you reply softly. “I thought you didn’t want more.”

Simon closes the distance even more, resting his forehead against your own. “Do you want me to recount all the ways that isn’t true?”

“Don’t be cruel.”

Simon presses his hips against you, showing you just how cruel he can be. “Then don’t play games.” From your face, Simon relocates his hand to the back of your neck. “Give me an answer. What are we?”

What are we?

As if you know. As if you’ve given the idea any life. But you have, haven’t you? You’ve imagined more than just simple meetings. And it isn’t like you and Simon get what you need out of your system and move on. There is always after. There is always before. There is always the comfort and the gentleness between all the rough, sharp edges.

What are we?

You give him the answer he’s seeking because maybe—just maybe—it’s what he desires too.

“I’m yours,” you breathe, and Simon’s sigh of relief is like a blooming flower. “I’m yours.”

“You’re mine,” repeats Simon, his mouth coming down on yours through the balaclava.

You don’t even care. This closeness is a balm to your soul. The teether you’re seeking.

Simon’s hands drop to your hips, lift you from the ground, and place you firmly on the edge of the desk. He slides between your legs, and your arms drape around his neck in anticipation of what comes next.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @cinnabeanz @berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @josephquinnschesthair @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21

[ninyard]

I just saw a post wondering what Andrew and Neil’s first proper argument is, and naturally I have to offer this:

Andrew and Neil don’t fight. They’ll ignore each other if they’re pissed off - but never for more than a few hours, or maybe until one of them has slept it off and decide it’s not worth it (usually Andrew). They’ll have tiffs but never over anything serious.

Except for in the months coming up to Andrew’s graduation. That is when I believe Andrew and Neil have their first real argument.

Andrew gets officially signed to his pro team around abouts the February of that year. It’s in a state further away that Neil expected, and since they found out, Neil keeps catching Andrew looking at apartments or researching the state and the team. He’s happy for him, of course he is, but he can’t quite identify what this feeling in his stomach is every time Andrew brings it up. The little fights that last longer than their usually bickering start not long after; Neil getting more pissed off by the little things Andrew does, Andrew having off-days with Neil more and more often, each of them asking for their own space because they know if they stay around each other they’re going to start a fight. It’s gradual in a way that they don’t realise for a little while that it’s getting worse, until just after the championship finals, and the season is officially over, when three days have passed without them talking for not much of a reason at all. Neil used his finals as an excuse, but Andrew didn’t have any good reason. After those three days, they’re finally alone in their dorm for whatever reason, and maybe Andrew has started packing or he’s just got some sort of welcome package from the team: everything explodes. Andrew tries to kiss Neil, and something feels wrong, and when Neil asks what the fuck is going on, all hell breaks loose.

Andrew doesn’t yell, of course he doesn’t, but he’s venomous. He’s asking Neil why he’s acting as if the world is going to end just because he’s graduating, he’s angry at him for becoming so dependent on his presence, he’s angry at himself for feeling like he’s found a future in Neil when this was never the plan. He was supposed to be nothing. A casual fuck, with an end date and no feelings but fuck if he can’t live his life without him now. Neil yells, because he does, and he’s angry that Andrew still seems so unsure about what they are, how comfortable they were, but suddenly things are different, and it feels like he doesn’t care. He’s angry at himself for building his life around Andrew, but he’s the only reason why Neil Josten exists. Andrew reminds him of that, and it makes everything worse.

It goes on for far too long, quickly becoming meaningless and just an excuse for either of them to vent out the frustration they’ve been keeping inside for months.

“You know that I won’t overstep your boundaries,” Neil points a finger at him. “So in your head it’s okay to treat me like shit and ignore me because you know that I will give you that space.”

He doesn’t even really think that, but every little thing, every little excuse is multiplied by a thousand when he feels this red hot rage. He hates the things that come out of his mouth, but Andrew gives it back, and his insistent refusal to back down just further butts their heads together and infuriates them both.

“I won’t chase after you because you’ve decided to allow me distance,” Andrew says, calm and ice cold. “You can’t invent boundaries for me and then be upset that they exist.”

Lows blows after low blows, unfair quips and insults from both sides, slamming of drawers and doors and throwing of things; they have never, ever fought like this before. It’s over everything and nothing at the same time. Andrew knew it was only a matter of time before campus security was called, but when he tried to tell Neil to calm down and lower his voice, it only made things worse.

They’ve been unkind and awful with each other for about an hour when Neil finds himself starting to get so furiously angry thats he’s upset, that he can feel himself being needlessly nasty with Andrew. For the first time ever he feels the tilt. He feels their foundations getting rocked, a crack in the base of the pyramid of their relationship that gives him the feeling that this might not last forever. He leaves their dorm with a slam of the door, and goes for a run. He hasn’t done that in a while, a run from his feelings, running from his problems and responsibilities. He’s not sure how long it’s been before he finds himself too far away from campus, because he just ran in a straight line.

When he checks his phone he realises he’s over an hour walk away from their dorms. He almost calls Matt, and hesitates over Coach’s phone number, but instead he clicks Andrew’s name. It’s only ringing for two rings before the ringing ends and there’s a quiet hiss at the other end of the line. Neil double checks that he’s answered, because Andrew hasn’t said anything, and brings the phone back to his ear.

“Can you come pick me up?” His breathing is heavy, all of his anger drained out through his feet with every single step that he took to get further away from their dorm.

“Where are you?” Andrew is quick to respond, and Neil can hear him already picking up his keys.

Neil tells him the name of some bar that he can see, and Andrew hangs up almost instantly afterwards. Neil starts to put his phone away, used to the abrupt endings of phone calls, but wishing he would say something more. He puts his phone away and wonders why Andrew can’t just give him something. He’s not looking for a Love you! Bye! But maybe just an answer that let him know he was listening. but then it starts to ring again, and it’s Andrew, and Neil doesn’t say anything when he answers.

“I’m leaving now,” Andrew says. There’s something in his voice. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” Neil responds. “Thank you.”

Andrew hums in acknowledgment, but this time he doesn’t hang up immediately. He hesitates, but he’s somewhere outside now.

“I will always pick you up.” He says after a while, after he’s shut his car door and the engine has rumbled to life, and maybe it sounds like I love you, I care about you, I need you. Maybe it sounds like I need you to know that i can’t lose this.

“I know,” Neil says, and it sounds like I can’t do this without you. “Thank you.”

Andrew waits a second or two then before hanging up, and Neil waits for him by the curb. Andrew is there quicker than twenty minutes later. Neither of them say anything as Neil slips into the passenger seat, and neither of them say anything as they pull away. Neither of them say anything until Andrew has switched the engine off, and the car is sitting in its parking spot. They look at each other then, and maybe then they understand what’s happening.

“I’m not above telling you that I don’t want to leave here,” leave you. “But this was always a certainty. You’ve had plenty of time to prepare.”

“I thought that I had,” Neil tells him.

It’s the truth, in some way. He realises then that all of these little fights, and growing agitation, and this almost primal urge to push Andrew away was how he’d prepared. He’s been trying his hardest to soften the blow that it would have on him, and if he pushed him away first, then it wouldn’t hurt when he inevitably pushed him back or let him go. Only, that was never going to happen, and that’s what made it worse - nothing could happen to them now that would not bring them back to each other. So when Neil pushed and pushed and pushed and Andrew was constantly hitting a wall instead of a door, all they were doing was filling the room with resentment.

They sit in the car then and talk about the reality: Andrew was moving away in just a few weeks, moving further away than they’d ever been apart. The truth was that regardless of whether or not Neil decides to spend the summer with him, August would come, and Neil would go back to PSU, and Andrew would stay wherever it was that he was staying. They’d been fighting more in a subconscious test with each other, to see if one of them were going to give up, to see it this was the thing that would finally tear them apart. They talk about that, too, as difficult as it is for Andrew to be honest about that kind of thing. Neil asks him if he thinks it would be better for them to break up, to give each other space, to let Andrew flourish on his new team and meet new people and grow into himself as a professional exy player. It’s the first time either of them have acknowledged the possibility out loud with each other, and it destroys Neil to ask it, and it destroys Andrew to hear it.

Andrew thinks about how Exy was supposed to be the deal with Kevin: how he was supposed to come off his meds, and Kevin would give him purpose, and he would find something to live for in the sport that would not love him back. Instead he gave him Neil. That was his something to live for, and while he’d started to learn how to live for himself, and he would eventually survive without him, he didn’t want to. He couldn’t. He would sooner give it all up just to keep him, and Neil knew that was the truth.

Neil thinks about how Neil was supposed to be temporary. Now it was the future, it was Andrew, it was a long and successful life. Neil Josten did not have an expiry date anymore. He could have things that were his own, things to keep, things to live for.

They knew it wouldn’t be easy, but as the evening went on, and they stay in that car and talk about the future, they’d truly come to the understanding that neither of them can lose each other. They will always be half of one another, and no amount of distance can change that. It’s hard conversation after hard conversation, and it’s emotional in the way that Andrew and Neil get emotional. All the fighting ends up being a catalyst for possibly the most personal, deep, intimate discussion they’ve ever had. There’s lots of silences and voices that threaten to raise but stay low. There’s a lot of questions, and answers, and questions without answers, too. Buts it’s needed. Andrew could not leave PSU without them having this conversation. If he had, I think they would’ve struggled a whole lot more with the distance, and the conversations they would have afterwards would’ve been far more difficult.

Ultimately that’s where they end the conversation sometime past midnight - with a semi newfound understanding of where they stand with each other, what they are, what the future means for them. It’s a fight that needed to happen, and in their own ways they apologise for the things that they said. Maybe they don’t say sorry, they just say everything is going to be okay, and distance will not be the thing that ruins this.

I don’t know. I really do think it’s a fight that’s needs to happen. I think it’s a terrible, angry, nasty argument, and they both feel awful about the things they said and did, but it had to happen. Yeah, could it have been communicated with words? Sure. But Andrew had to understand how afraid Neil was of losing him, he had to understand what Neil was doing to protect himself from it. And Neil had to understand that Andrew was always, always willing to fight for him, but he couldn’t do that if Neil wasn’t willing to see that he would.

[pascalssbabyy]

Missing You

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit

Word Count: 9.3k

Summary: Joel’s been taking extra late night shifts patrolling and with you working in the mornings you barely see him. Joel comes back from patrol early one night and can’t miss the opportunity to show you how much he misses you.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, no use of Y/N, back story of how reader and Joel met, Ellie and Sarah are mentioned, age gap (not specified), soft!Joel (he’s so in love 🥲), also slight dom!Joel, soft!reader, somnophilia, wet hair Joel (don’t argue that’s a warning in itself), slight pain kink? (seriously blink and you’ll miss it), dirty talk, pet names, F!masturbation, M!maturbation, Joel’s hung (obvs), F!oral receiving, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), creampie.

Hi everyone! It’s been a few weeks since I’ve posted a story on here, unfortunately work life is taking up most of my time. But here we are! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Lots of love 🤍🫶

The past few weeks had been beyond exhausting, returning home from a long and draining days work had quickly become the worst part of your day. Having to spend hours finishing up all of your end of day tasks at the coffee shop to then walk back to your shared home with just the sound of your inner voice echoing through the empty halls and your heavy boots treading across the old wooden floor of your front room. The space that surrounded you the moment your tired body entered the house would constantly remind you that it was going to be another wasted evening spent on your own. You hated how isolated it made you feel when it was just yourself there, the familiar furniture and décor dispersed in front of you feeling somewhat unknown to you when the silence enveloped it, making that anxious knot to tighten inside your chest and a state of loneliness to cloud it’s way into your thoughts.

This should the time where you’d get back from a long and stressful shift at work with that well known feeling of security bubbling within yourself, knowing that Joel and Ellie would be at home patiently waiting for you. They were always there, ready to listen to everything that you needed to express, filling them both in with the gossip and nonsense that happened while you were on shift. They always knew just what to say and do to bring back that spark and rinse away those anxiety-ridden emotions that scattered your mind.

But instead, you were stuck in your own line of thoughts once again, neither of them to be seen as your gaze wonders over the structure of your front room, the silence that surrounds you becoming almost too much to bare, the space abruptly putting your life on a complete standstill.

Your home wasn’t much, but with all the effort you and Joel had put into it was all so worth it, you adored the way it had turned out; Ellie’s paintings that filled up the emptiness on the walls and Joel’s guitar sitting in the corner, you could still hear the sound of strumming as it lingered in the air, the vibrations being felt on your skin, causing your chest to tighten.

This repetitive routine had been the bane of your life for the past month; getting home from work feeling completely and utterly worn out and it getting even worse when you’d forget that you’d be on your own once you got there. You’d start doing a few chores around the house to make up time, again, still on your own, have a shower that you’d hope would wash away the constant stress off your skin, and ending the day by getting into bed, which was supposed to be shared with one other but at the moment, he was never there.

Ellie would show up from time to time, always coming by for a quick catch up to see how you and Joel were getting on. Ever since she’d met Dina you’d see less of her around the house. She was finally becoming more like her true herself again which was so incredible to see, adoring the way she had settled in. But that didn’t stop you from missing her dearly, her personality filling up so much of the space in the house.

You glance at the clock on your bedside table, sighing to yourself as you notice it’s just hit midnight, the days going by in the blink of an eye. You’d just had your shower, wrapping a soft towel around your chest, your bare calves hit the back of the wooden frame as you sit on the edge of the bed, finishing off with lightly moisturising your freshly cleaned skin.

You’d usually be asleep by now but you wanted to stay up in hopes of hearing those familiar footsteps walking up the stairs and into your bedroom, desperately needing to see that face that would instantly take that heavy weight off your shoulders. Hoping to see that particular smile that would always make you weak at the knees and that southern, deep drawl filling your ears. But right now, the sound of your never ending doubts were still lingering on but somehow even louder this time, awakening the memory that you were in fact, still alone.

Ever since Joel had made his way into your small world it had become the best thing that could’ve happened to you. This house may give you security and a roof over your head but it was Joel and Ellie who made it a home, them being apart of your life was completely unexpected but the greatest circumstance you’d ever come across. You were so grateful that Jackson had brought you together. Being the one on shift that day when Joel walked into the coffee shop for the first time was a blessing in disguise. The memory bringing a smile to your face.

3 months ago 🍃🍃🍃

When you arrived in Jackson you never expected it to be so hard for you to adjust to. Being there for almost a year and you’d still struggle to be around people, your anxiety always getting the best of you. You didn’t have many people in the town that you’d consider close friends and you knew that was your fault, knowing that you should be put yourself out there but still hadn’t developed the courage to. The memories of your life before Jackson was hard to go back too, the harsh thoughts of how you’d survived the outside world continuously haunting you, but yet you’d still battle with getting used to being around a community that supported one another as much as the people of Jackson did. The job at the coffee shop definitely gave you that extra boost of confidence that you needed, meeting so many new faces that walked through the doors and being able to talk and create friendships with all different types of people that you’d serve throughout the day. You started to feel like you were finally getting somewhere with life in Jackson, that heavy weight gradually lifting off your shoulders.

The moment Joel walked through the doors you’d never felt more sure of anything.

The sound of the entrance door opening turned your attention away from the task you were currently occupied with, ready to prepare yourself for your very first customer of the day. At first glance you couldn’t help the tightness coursing it’s way through your chest, your breath hitching in your throat from just his sheer presence in the room, his demeanour instantly making you flustered.

The initial thought that came to your mind was that you hadn’t seen him around before, at this point you knew almost everyone in Jackson so he could’ve possibly been a newcomer. You could tell by his stance that he felt uncomfortable in this sort of environment; his hands were shoved down his two front pockets and his attention was held on the ground below him, his hefty boots creaking across the floor. Your glance made its way to his frame first; he was extremely broad, his shoulders were wide and were enveloped in a thick brown coat, the attire definitely looked too tight for his vast frame. From what you could see his upper arms looked thick and muscular and he wore distressed blue jeans that hugged his thighs so deliciously. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wondering up his body and as the second you took in his facial features you couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped your lips.

He was attractive, probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen; he had a strong facial structure, his nose shaping the rest of his face so perfectly. His stubble and thick curly hair both held soft streaks of grey, showing you that he was definitely much older than yourself and someone you definitely shouldn’t be looking at in the way that you were. His features held a ruggedness to it, revealing that he’d unquestionably been through a rough life, dealing with the pain of the world he’d now been living in for the past few decades. He looked intimidating; his facial expressions showing nothing but disapproval, but yet he had the softest brown eyes, the contrast between the two was so striking to you. The moment his stare locked onto yours you couldn’t help but feel weak, him bringing an unknown feeling out of you. The reaction should make you nervous but instead it excited you massively.

“Mornin’, uh— just a black americano, no sugar please.”

He looked like a pure black americano type of guy, no milk added to it and no sugar to sweeten it, his order matching his look perfectly. You wished he ordered something more adventurous so you could see him for longer, stare at him for as long as he’d let you, with his broad frame and well structured face. He was captivating.

If it was just an americano he wanted, then you were going to make it the best fucking americano he’d ever have.

Even with his lack of vocabulary, the second his voice left his lips you were a goner, sounding so deep and husky with a slight southern twist to it. You tried to hide your disappointed when he didn’t share another word as he waited there awkwardly for you to make his coffee. His uneasy stance made you softly smirk, yeah you thought— he definitely wasn’t used be being around people. Your breath would get stuck in your throat when his touch would subtly graze yours, his warmth radiating back onto you as he retrieved the hot cup of coffee from your hands. You noticed his hands were much bigger than yours, with scars scattering the ridges of his knuckle, making the cup look so small and delicate in his grasp, causing your body to shiver. The anticipation of possibly seeing this mystery man walking into your work again was becoming the best part of you shift. Even if the interaction wasn’t long, you couldn’t help the butterflies to flutter deep down inside your stomach, his absence still lingering in the air.

You saw him everyday after that, victory coursing through your veins knowing that he liked your coffee that much that he needed it every morning from the second he took that very first sip. He’d waltz in at the same time each day, he’d order the same coffee and nothing more. But as each day went on you’d notice his shoulders weren’t as tight as they were the first time he walked in, that short vocabulary of his had now expanded and he’d now sit on one of the tables in the far corner instead of leaving straight away with his coffee in his hands. Seeing him sit there in his own little world and watching his face relax with each sip of his drink made pride fill your chest. Possibly knowing that you’d given him that little taste of a life full of content, a world where there wasn’t an apocalypse, no worries to cage his thoughts.

You were surprised that after a few weeks of serving him he finally found the confidence to tell you his name. “My names Joel, Joel Miller.” Fuck the name matched him so perfectly. It sounded strong when it flowed seamlessly off his lips, suiting his persona to a tee.

You imagined what he was like when he’d open himself up to the people he held closest to him, maybe under that harsh exterior held a man who deeply cared about the friends and family members in his life. What would he be like with you if he got to know you more? Would he let himself be vulnerable with you? Would he maybe be open in having some sort of relationship with someone in his new life? Was he even that type of guy?

Everyday you wished that he thought about you the way you constantly thought about him.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

“Just go there brother. She makes a great cup of coffee, the best in town I put my hand on my heart.” Tommy’s sat opposite Joel in the cafeteria, the both of them delving into their breakfast. “Come on, when was the last time y’had a decent cup of coffee?”

Joel groans at his younger brother. He hated to admit it but he fucking missed drinking a decent cup of coffee. Before the outbreak he’d never miss having one in the morning with his breakfast, the sharp taste instantly calming his grubby mood. Joel hated mornings, and even 20 years later it hadn’t changed, it always being the worst part of his day. Tommy knew deep down that Joel’s issue wasn’t giving the coffee a try but the fact that he’d have to interact with people other than Tommy and Ellie.

Joel definitely wasn’t a people person.

“Go there tomorrow morning, she’s usually quiet on wednesdays so you don’t have to worry about seein’ anyone. Need to get y’self out there Joel. She ain’t gonna bite y’head off.”

Tommy knew how to persuade his brother with almost anything. Joel was a stubborn guy, and was exactly the same when he was younger. Some things just simply never change. All he needed to do was pester him every second of the day until he couldn’t take it anymore, it pissed Joel off massively but knew it always worked.

Joel simply huffs, “fuck sake Tommy fine. I’ll go tomorrow but that’s it! One time only, probably ain’t as nice as y’say.”

Tommy smirks, “mmm we’ll see brother, we’ll see.”

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Of course Tommy was right, he was always fucking right. The second the coffee hit his tastebuds he knew he’d never go another day without it. The flavour was strong, sweet but had that earthy bitterness to it. Fuck it tasted so good, reminded him of being back home in Texas, waking up in the morning with Sarah sat by his side as she ate her pancakes. The memory should hurt but yet gave him a sense of warmth inside, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. But what Joel never expected was that the moment he walked into the coffee shop that morning is when he’d first get acquainted with you.

He couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you were; your skin looked so soft and radiant as the sun coming in from the windows rested on top of it. Your hair was tied up in a bun that framed your face to perfection. You had the most welcoming smile and you were so polite, even at the very beginning when he knew he could’ve been more kinder himself. Joel started to become nervous around you and at some points you even made him flustered, your overall attitude bringing something new out of him.

You were both complete opposites, initially that’s what Joel liked about it. Joel fed off your radiance, reminding him that this fucked up world was only fucked up if only he wanted it to be, maybe Jackson wasn’t as bad as he thought it was.

The more Joel stopped by at the coffee shop he soon realised that the coffee wasn’t the main reason he went, but in fact he wanted to see you.

He needed to see you.

Joel had to be blind to not notice the way you looked at him, the way your eyes would linger longer than they should and cringe when you’d get caught by his stare, your reaction making him smirk softly to himself. Joel had his fair share of women coming up to him every once in a while and heard all the comments about him; ‘Have ya seen Tommy’s brother? Shit he’s good looking,’ or ‘wouldn’t mind if he took me home.’ Don’t get him wrong he secretly didn’t mind the attention but Joel simply never had the time or in fact had any sort of interest for it, kindly rejecting there offers. It wasn’t until you came into his life that Joel started to question himself and his own beliefs. He knew his feelings were reciprocated but just didn’t think he was brave enough to do something about it.

A couple weeks later Joel eventually made a final decision and thought, fuck it.

Finally getting the balls to ask you out and doing it in Joel’s complete out of practice way, he’d offer you to do something outside of work, with him. It had been too long since Joel had ever been put in this type of situation, knowing he was a little rusty in the dating department. Your reaction to his words may have been a look of surprise but he knew deep down that you’ve wanted him to say that for a while. A few outings with each other would then turn into daily meets up, trying to accompany each others time tables so you could spend as much time as you could together without work getting in the way.

Joel had thought he’d lost that romantic side of himself decades ago, believing an apocalypse wasn’t really the place to find or do something like that, his only goal being survival and simply not getting killed. But somehow knowing that you’d felt that way about him sparked that unknown desire back into him, needing you in a way he never needed anyone before.

Present Day 🍃🍃🍃

The memories of the past few months with Joel should bring content and happiness to you, but right now the thoughts are only making it harder to swallow the feeling of lose from your throat. The coldness from the night air silently flows through the gap of your opened window, the coolness bringing you back to reality, goosebumps rising on the skin of your arms that are holding the towel up close to your chest.

You know Joel couldn’t help it and you’d never place any blame of him. There had been some suspicious tracks leading to Jackson, so Tommy needed a few extra people to assist with patrol duty but didn’t have the amount of hands or participants to cope, leaving Joel to take up more shifts and even longer days than he’d usually do. You and Joel both knew he needed to calm down, knowing he wasn’t the young man he once was but you knew he felt a need to prove to Tommy that he was still capable, wanting to help out the people of the community as much as he could.

To keep you and Ellie safe.

The routine wasn’t going to be going on for much longer, just until the tension outside Jackson had calmed down and that they knew that it was safe to go back to normal. Then Joel could go back to his normal schedule, a schedule where he was spending every evening and night with you, it being his favourite way to end his long days and you being the last thing he sees before sleep takes over his limp body.

This thought is what makes you go on. Knowing that you’d soon get him back all to yourself. Once you’ve finished moisturising you grab some fresh pants from the top drawer of your bedside table and pick out one of Joel’s flannels to wear from the wardrobe. No matter how many times you’d wash it you could still smell his musky scent on the material, bringing the collar up to your nose and inhaling deeply as the smell of Joel envelopes your nostrils. You lie on top of the covers and close your eyes, picturing Joel’s body lying next to yours whilst he cages you in his big arms, his stubble scratching the side of your jaw. The image of him behind your eyelids and his scent surrounds your body completely, feeling the sudden wetness pool in between your legs, aching for his touch.

You miss him so much it hurts. It had been been a while since you’d both been intimate with one another and as each day goes by the feeling deep in your core intensifies, yearning for release.

Your one hand travels down your stomach and dips under your panties which have quickly become soaked with your arousal. You start gliding two of your digits through your soaked folds, covering them in your sweet release. Your breath hitches in your throat as your fingers gently travel up and swirl around your sensitive bundle of nerves, lightly moving them in small figure eights. You picture Joel above you, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly as you imagine it’s his calloused fingers instead of yours. His digits were much thicker and longer, reaching up inside you like no other and pulling orgasm upon orgasm from your aching cunt. You imagine the words he’d whisper to you; his warm mouth against your ear as he tells you how good you are for him and how well you’re taking what he gives you. The moment you slip two of your fingers in your dripping heat you know you’ll be close to coming, already feeling that tight knot in your lower stomach. Your mouths agape as small, breathless whimpers escape your lips, the tip of your fingers hitting your g-spot. As your one hand fucks your deprived cunt your other moves under yours— Joel’s flannel to caress your breasts, your skin feeling hot from the touch of your fingers travelling up your body. Your palms and fingers start massaging the skin of my breast, tweaking your nipples to add to the intense pleasure you’re giving yourself. Joel loved your breasts, you’d imagine him giving them as much attention as he could, swirling his tongue around each nipple, sucking on the skin and making sure he leaves marks on each part his lips touch.

He knew the small purple blemishes across your skin showed you who you really belonged to, and he knew you secretly loved it, being claimed by him.

Your breathing becomes frantic, “yes Joel right there—,” the image of Joel behind your eyelids and your hand in between your legs is so intensifying and without any warning you’re coming all over your fingers, feeling the inside of your walls pulsing around the soaked digits. Joel’s name leaves your lips as a state of euphoria completely takes over your body, your legs twitching from the immense pleasure. You continue to fuck yourself through your high, needing to feel as much pleasure as you can. You can hear Joel’s praises ringing in your ear like he’s there with you in the room.

You’re such a good girl f’me aren’t you.

Fuck I feel your pussy clenching my fingers baby.

She’s so desperate f’me isn’t she.

Can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.

Even though your fingers would slowly fade that aching between your legs you knew it wouldn’t take long for it to creep it’s way back into your core, Joel being the only one to satisfy the craving completely.

Once you’ve come down from your high the quiet and darkness surrounds you once again. You wanted to wait up for Joel but you can’t stop the silence making it’s way back into your thoughts, needing the sleep to course your mind in hopes of getting a few hours peace from the weeks of stress you’ve unintentionally given yourself.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel should have been back home from patrol duty hours ago. For the past month, patrolling had been tough for everyone involved, and it had quickly become much more strict in its rules, making people more aware of the threats surrounding Jackson and the area outside the town. With the danger being so high risk, Joel knew what he had to do and what he needed to do to support the team. Jackson welcomed him and Ellie with open arms, so he knew he had to do as much as possible to give back to the community.

However, this came with its disadvantages; it felt like it had been forever and a day since he had been with you and spent a day with you. He knew this routine was excessive and too much to handle for a man his age, but his pride was too high, and Joel was a man who could never accept defeat. Being unable to be with you, let alone even see you, made his chest feel tight, restricting as the sensation would knock the air out of his lungs. He knew that being so distant from each other was breaking you even more than it was himself.

Joel quietly dropped his dirty boots at the entrance door of his and yours shared home, sighing in relief as he took in the familiarity of the four walls that have brought him so many fond memories over the past few months—all memories of you.

Slowly he tip toes his way through the front room and then up the stairs, the groans of the ancient wood under his feet echoing through the house with each step he took. It wasn’t hard for Joel to be noisy, his broad frame making it difficult to walk in the house when you lay sleeping upstairs, the sound of a pin drop ringing through the thin walls would easily be picked up let alone his large steps.

Before entering the bedroom Joel makes his way into the bathroom, his body caked in mud head to toe, suddenly craving the feel of hot water over his shoulders, untying those stiff knots in his muscles from the long day he’s endured. Knowing the heat from the water would instantly bring him relief and satisfaction.

Joel wants nothing more than to get into bed with you and wrap his arms around your small form as he falls into a deep slumber, feeling the dainty movements of your chest rising and falling against him, hearing you let out soft, content sighs while you lay sleeping.

But at the same time he wanted to be selfish, he wanted to wake you up, missing the sound of your voice, missing the way you’d look up at him with such love and affection whilst you’d caress his rough skin with the softness of your fingertips.

It had been too fucking long since he’d felt the warmth or your cunt perfectly wrapped around his cock, he missed the way you’d fall and crumble underneath his frame, the desperate pleads leaving your plump lips, begging him to make you come.

And by the way his cock instantly touches the middle of his abdomen with just the sheer thought of you imprinted on his mind, he knows exactly what he needs to do.

Joel’s woken up too many times with the other half of the bed completely empty, the dip in the mattress still visible from where your body rested just hours before. He’d immediately move his body over to your side, inhaling in your pillow as the smell of your shampoo would fill his senses, causing his cock to strain against the band of his tight boxers, his pre-come painting the material.

Joel never expected that you’d bring out that side of him that he believed was long gone, never requiring the release of another women’s touch to help his urges, his hand doing just what he needed for that ache in his cock to go away. However the more he saw of you and started spending most of his time with you he couldn’t help the attraction he felt for you, imagining your body underneath him as he filled you completely. He’d picture your pussy fluttering around his cock as you’d come around him, the desperate whimpers leaving your lips as he’d continue to thrust his hips into you, chasing his own release.

Soon Joel’s hand wasn’t enough, his own fist not itching that certain ache inside him that would once do the trick. He wanted more and simply couldn’t get you out of his mind, needing you to help take away that burning desire that he kept hidden from you.

Once Joel had his shower he’d finish freshening himself up; brushing his teeth, running his fingers through his wet hair, sleeking it back and putting on clean boxers, which have abruptly become tighter than usual from his erection that’s still very prominent. After that he’d make his way into your shared bedroom, gently pushing the door open and popping his head through. Your frame resting on the top of the sheets finally coming into his view, lying on the bed alone, the image making his chest ache.

He lightly moves his frame to his side of the bed and lies his body down beside you, the weight that’s suddenly been taken off his feet makes him sigh in content, the hours of standing in the same designated spot started to build up tension, the stinging in the bottom of his shins finally starting to ease away.

Joel looks over at your sleeping form, his sight adjusting to the darkness of the room as the light from outside creeps in through the gap of the curtains, a soft smile shaping across his features just from the look of you.

You were facing away from him; your top half covered in one of his flannels that just hanged above the very tops of you thighs, the smooth skin of your legs being on show making Joel’s cock harden even more under his boxers, his palm pushing down on his erection causing him to groan from the friction.

He tries his hardest not to wake you, bringing his fingers up to the ends of the flannel to gently move the material up so it lands in the middle of you spine, giving Joel a view of your back, your ass covered in the daintiest underwear.

Joel shifts his body so it rests above you, every move he takes becoming so delicate, hoping not to stir you as you still sleep underneath him, showing him no signs of being disrupted by his actions. Both of his hands dig into the mattress, caging your body so it’s in between him. He watches your expression intently, your features still holding that peaceful expression. Your breathing is still soft and in rhythm, giving Joel the heads up to carry on.

Joel’s eyes glance their way down to the middle of your back, ever so lightly brushing the back of his knuckles against the smooth skin, tracing over the dent of your spine and over the sides of your rib cage. His touch descends further down until his calloused fingers touch the top of your underwear, fiddling with the fabric as it sticks tightly to your skin.

This wasn’t going to be enough. If it was his decision Joel would’ve ripped the material off of you completely and stuffed you full of himself in the matter of seconds, his cock being too deprived of your touch for far too long. But somehow seeing you still deep in sleep, being completely oblivious to his actions made him want to take his time, knowing that any moment you were going to wake up to the surprise of him over you. He wanted you to see how much he deeply missed you, show you how much he cared.

Joel’s too far gone and know he can’t control his urges, softly gliding two of his digits across the curves of you cheeks until they meet there designated target. The material of your underwear is already damp against his fingers as he rubs the outside of you pussy, teasing your clit with the roughness of his fingertips.

He can’t help but softy express his inner thoughts to himself, “fuck y’so wet baby.” His one hand gently moves to your right leg, caressing the exposed skin and bending it up slightly so his eyes can see more of you, slowly moving his body down, peering his eyes at the place where he knows your body craves him the most.

The centre of your underwear is ruined, your arousal seeping through the thin material, turning them a much deeper colour. Joel holds in a deep breath from the sight, bringing his one hand down to the waistband of his boxers, freeing his now red, glistening head from its confines, the night air hitting his tip making him hiss from the sensitivity.

Before he carries on, Joel’s leaning his body over and turning on the beside lamp, the sudden light surrounding the room, showing more of you to him. He moves his face down towards you so his back is curved as he starts peppering your back with light kisses, bringing his lips across to every inch of you he can see, the softness of your skin against his stubble causes you to stir in your sleep, a silent moan leaving your throat as Joel continues to assault your back with his mouth.

Joel doesn’t give a shit that his touch has abruptly woken you up, his lips causing your body to jump from the intrusion. “J-Joel? S’that you? What are y’doing?”

Fuck he’s missed your voice, the faint sound just slightly above a whisper filling his ears as you try to adjust to what’s going on around you, Joel’s moans vibrate against your back from the words that have just glided off your tongue.

“Shh it’s just me baby, just lie real still- fuck I’ve missed you so much.”

Joel picks at more of his flannel so more of your skin is exposed to him. You lift up your chest to help him ease it off you so it rests just over your shoulder blades, already feeling that desire you felt just hours before rise back up within yourself, and knowing it’s Joel who’s going to ease it away causes more wetness to pool in your underwear.

His lips feel soft and warm on your back, gliding across your skin sure to leave marks wherever they touch as small but sharp gasps start leaving your mouth from the feel. Unintentionally you start bucking your hips up towards him, hoping to give him the heads up that even though you’ve just woken up, you already are so desperate to have any part of him inside you.

Even if the movements barely there, Joel never misses anything.

“She wants me to bad doesn’t she. Don’t worry baby I’ll give y’what y’need.”

He knows exactly what to say to have you withering under him, his husky southern drawl always bringing that immense pleasure out of you with just the simplest of words or touches, and right now he had you right where he wanted you.

“P-please Joel, missed you— need you.”

His lips curve up against your arched back, quivering as a deep chuckle rolls off his tongue. “I know darlin’ it’s been so long, wanna take my time with ya so be patient. Can y’do that? Be a good girl f’me.”

Even though you’re aching for his touch, you know you both want this to last as long as it can, wanting to show Joel how well behaved you’ll be for him and knowing that he loves this submissive side of you. He’ll never be able to process how easy it is for you to become a melting mess underneath him, boosting his confidence.

You slowly nod your head, “yes Joel I’ll be good f’you.”

He hums softly at your words, “I know y’will baby, always being so good f’me aren’t you.” Joel continues with his actions as he watches the side of your face that’s plushed against the soft material of your pillow. You look down at him with the upmost admiration, mouth agape while his name leaves your lips.

“Fuck Joel please— I.” The way he looks right now is a sight that you’ll never forget, it’s been so long since you’ve actually been able to take your time and admire him for all he’s worth; his wide shoulders hold a slight sheen to them, tanned and covered is small dispersed freckles, his hairs still wet from the shower which has been slicked back with his fingers giving you a full view of his strong facial features. His looks alone is enough to have you putting in his hands, needing to feel him on your skin, “please touch me.”

Joel was so fucking beautiful and he didn’t even have to do anything.

“I am touchin’ you baby, jus’ relax— lemme take my time, wanna look after you.” Slowly lifting up so he’s back on his knees Joel’s grabs the band of your underwear and pulls them down your legs, the material leaving goosebumps across you skin, the temptation of his touch quickly building up inside your core.

Once Joel removes your underwear off of you completely he wastes no time in touching your cunt finally without anything in the way, a deep guttural moan flying from his throat, “shit darlin’ fuckk— missed your pussy so much.” He’s panting above you, relishing in the warmth your skin gives off, the heat travelling all the way down to his cock as it pulses against his stomach. “Such a pretty pussy.”

Joel lightly moves his thick fingers across your lips and up to your clit, covering his digits with your release, preparing you, getting you ready for him.

Joel can feel himself crumbling, his body reacting so strongly to you, “fuck darlin” you’re so wet, I need a taste it’s been s’long.”

Joel doesn’t give you enough time to answer as he’s flipping you onto your side, one leg placed straight on the bed and the other he’s pushing up towards your chest, keeping it locked in place and manoeuvring his own body so he’s leaning on his shoulder while his heads placed straight under your pulsing core. His gaze is on your wet cunt, so close to his face as he looks at it with hunger in his eyes, ready to eat it up like it’s his last meal.

The moment his tongue flicks over your clit your whole body jerks up towards his mouth, your one hand reaching into his wet hair, pulling at the strands while he pleasures you with his mouth. He winces at the tight pull, his lips quivering against you which only spurs on the intensity of your upcoming orgasm.

“Shit baby—missed how fucking sweet you taste.”

Joel can feel his tip that’s still popping out of the material of his boxers leaking on the skin just under his belly button. Usually Joel is capable of holding his urges in while he gives you what you desperately need, pulling orgasms effortlessly from you with just his mouth and fingers and always being able to leave his throbbing cock alone as it aches for some sort of touch, easily suppressing the pain until he’s gifted with the wet feeling of your walls soaking him to the brim.

But it’s been too damn long, too long since he’s had you in his arms in such a close and intimate way, your sweetened release coating his tongue as he fucks you with the muscle. His other hand reaches down to pull his cock fully out of his boxers, wrapping his hand around his girth while he fucks his fist, his fingers wet from touching your greedy cunt just moments ago. He has to pause for a moment as he moves his mouth off of you, the touch of his hand stopping his rhythm for just a second, but quickly returning his attention straight back to you.

“Yes Joel fuck—right t-there don’t stop please don’t stop.” Your whimpers were like a harmony to Joel’s ears, high in pitch and so soft as you open yourself up completely to him. Joel’s groans and the wet sounds of yours and his arousal echos around the bedroom walls, beckoning him towards his own release, needing you to come all over his mouth first.

And you are going to— it’s right there, your orgasms right on the edge ready to consume you, you just need that feeling of fullness to fill your neglected walls. “Mmm fuck J-Joel, need your fingers please- need them so bad.”

Who would Joel be if he denied you of the action when you asked him so politely. He’d give you anything you wanted from him if he’d hear those perfect words asking him so nicely for permission.

“Always so polite f’me darlin.” His hand instantly pulls off his cock, abandoning his own pleasure and moving them up to your pulsating heat, filling you with two thick fingers so his knuckles touch the outside of your entrance, curling them inside you, hitting that spot that he knows will have you seeing euphoric stars in a matter of seconds.

Fuck you were so beautiful. Back arched and head thrown backwards as your hips continue to rub against Joel’s mouth, using him to chase that release that’s right there on the edge, his nose catching perfectly on your clit sending shockwaves all the way down towards your toes. His eyes gaze at every inch of skin that’s visible to him; your face, your waist and the way your chest rises and falls in quick pants, locking the image permanently into his memory.

While still using his fingers, Joel’s quickly takes his lips off of you, yourself whining from the loss of his tongue. “Take the flannel off baby, let me see those perfect tits n’ I’ll make you come.”

His mouths back on yours in an instant, watching you with sinful eyes as both of your shaky hands start to unbutton his flannel and begin rolling it off one shoulder, revealing the curve of your breasts to him and to the thick air, your nipples hardening from the cool temperature in the room.

Joel’s hand that holds a tight grasp on your bent leg moves to your chest, kneading your breast and pinching your nipples in between his fingers, feeling your walls clench around his hand from his touch. He knows if he carries on he’ll have you coming in no time.

He switches from licking up your juices to sucking forcefully on your swollen bundle of nerves, flicking the tip of his tongue over the hood as your thighs start to twitch uncontrollably, knowing exactly what motions he needs to do to have you coming all over his mouth.

You look down at him, droplets of sweat forming between the creases of your brow, “fuck Joel r-right there I’m gonna come, please-e.”

His eyes are glued on your face, “g’on baby that’s it you can come, come all over my fingers— lemme taste you.”

The orgasm that crashes over you has the air knocking out of your lungs, you whole body shaking vigorously as Joel’s holds you down into the mattress, relishing in the tightness of your cunt gushing more release onto his hand and catching as much of the honey nectar into his mouth, never missing a drop of it as he savours the taste that he’s been deprived of for too long.

Your legs squeeze around Joel’s head, caging him in, no where for him to escape as you use his mouth and fingers to prolong the pure ecstasy riding through your veins, your skin becoming hot to the touch. Your walls contract against his rough digits, Joel’s muffled moans being silenced by your thighs, looking up towards you as pleasure washes over your face.

“That’s it baby use my mouth, wanna taste all of it.” You can feel him everywhere; his stubble scratching the inside of your trembling thighs while he continues to lap and lick and slurp through your folds for as long as you’ll let him, until your prying him away from the sensitivity.

Joel’s rolls your limp frame so you’re back to lying on your stomach once again, bringing his body that was once under you back above you, quickly removing last remaining material off his legs leaving him completely naked, his cock hanging down so he’s touching the curve of your cheeks.

He gives his cock a few pumps with his first, his wetness covering him entirely. His heads quick to respond to his touch, droplets of come trickling down until it makes contact with the skin of you ass, the liquid reflecting in the light from the beside lamp. Joel moves his body so his chest makes contact with the curve of your back, his face so deep in your hair and his lips ghosting over your ear.

“God I’ve missed how you’ve tasted baby, been too damn long since I’ve had you. Y’gonna let me fuck you now? Fuck— I need to feel your pussy wrapped round me.”

You buck up your hips into him, Joel’s breathless moans singing in your ear, your action giving him the go ahead, wanting, needing to be filled by him, missing the way his thick cock would pulse inside you.

“Yes please Joel, w-want it so bad.”

Joel kisses your sweet spot, “want it so bad huh, been s’long since you’ve been stuffed full of my cock hasn’t it?” Joel’s weight is held up by his one arm, his palm digging into the mattress below whilst he rubs the head of his cock through your soaked folds and nudging the tip of your clit, the rubbing of his thickness resulting in breathless gasps to leave both of your lips. “Relax f’me baby, I’ll give it to ya.”

He loves to tease you. Knowing very well that you secretly love it too; the anticipation, the excitement, the unknown of what his next steps will be. Teasing meant he could take his sweet time with you, he could savour every part of you that he could get his hands on, your taste and touch lingering on his skin for days after.

He nudges his cock at your entrance ever so carefully. Just enjoying the feel of the outer part of your pussy while it soaks him everywhere, his thickness gilding so easily through your glistening folds.

“Can feel your pussy tryin’ to suck me in baby, wanna—fuck—need to take my time with ya’ sweetheart.”

He thrusts his hips forward so his groin comes into contact with the soft skin of your cheeks, continuing to stroke his cock in between your legs and tease your entrance, your thighs that are pushed so close together squeezing his cock even more.

The anticipation roaring through your whole body is too much to handle, longing to feel what you’ve been wanting the most from these agonising few weeks you’ve endured.

Lifting your hips at the perfect time with the pace that Joel has set with his teasing causes his entire cock to fill you to the hilt, surprised gasps leaving both of your mouths as you finally feel him deep inside you, your pussy trying to adjust to his length.

“F-fuck Joel—“ The amount of wetness between your legs makes it so easy for him to glide smoothly inside you, also helping with your walls that are trying to accompany his huge size.

Joel could’ve come right there in that moment from the sudden feeling of your walls tightly wrapped around him. “Oh my g— oh fuck baby. Christ you’re so tight, always so fuckin’ tight.”

Joel knew he was a lot bigger than the average man, and with you being much smaller than him he knew it would be difficult for you to adjust to his size. The moment his thick head would prod at your entrance he’d immediately crave the glimpse of slight discomfort in your appearance, mouth agape and your pussy struggling to take him all in, his cock stretching you out, he could come just from the look on your face.

He doesn’t move once he’s inside you, waiting a few moments to help you get used to him. His one hand moves to your side, caressing the skin on your arm, “no matter how many times I fuck this pretty pussy she always struggles to take me doesn’t she. Shit darlin’ you’re so perfect.”

He’s so deep inside you, the weight of him pushing you down into the bed as tears start to well in your eyes as he begins to set a slow but hard pace, your teeth biting down on the pillow to muffle your moans.

He moves the strands of hair that have obstructed his view of the emotions that scatter your face, needing to see ever look of pleasure that roles across your features while his thrusts pick up behind you.

“Don’t y’dare hide from me, wanna hear ya baby— tell me how good my cocks makin’ you feel.”

He grunts into your hair, inhaling in the scent of your skin, your fresh shampoo filling his senses while he sets a blistering pace behind you, his chest flushed again your back, fitting perfectly together as you spine curves into shape with his soft stomach.

“F-feels s’good Joel—fuck I’ve missed you inside me oh my god— you’re so big.”

A devilish chuckle escapes his lips, “I know baby but you can take it can’t ya, this pussy was fuckin’ made f’me.”

“Joel please—“ he feels fucking everywhere; his whole being filling all your senses, giving you everything as his tip continues to hit that spot deep inside you that only he knows how to reach, his thickness never failing to miss that point that has you gasping for air and your whole body curling from the depths of his thrust, he never misses:

Every. Single. Time.

“C’here baby.” Joel’s lifting himself onto his knees in an instant, bringing your flushed body with it, his cock never leaving your cunt as he maintains that secure motion. The ridges of your walls hug him so tightly as he brings you closer to your orgasm.

You arms fly into his hair as his wide arms cage you in, wrapping them around your upper body whilst he holds you up so closely to him, feeling the hot air leave his nostrils whilst he switches between sucking and kissing the crease of your neck, exposing more skin for him to continue his marking.

Once Joel’s finishes his assault on your neck he brings his lips up to yours, finally feeling the plumpness of your own against his, instantaneously moulding your tongues together. You can still taste yourself on his lips while he moans into your mouth, the act releasing more of your arousal around Joel’s cock. It’s messy and desperate, the both of you making up for lost time.

Your whole body is putty in his grasp, turning into jello as he holds you up against him, well aware that you’d fall face down if Joel didn’t hold you up like he is. The sound of skin slapping on skin consumes the thick air around your sweltering bodies, the heat leaving thick sheens of sweat against your skin, sticking your bodies together like glue.

“Go on darlin, need to feel ya come for me. Fucking show me how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

You bring one of Joel’s hands that’s encased around you up to your mouth, pushing two of his digits past your lips so you can coat them nicely in your saliva, swirling your tongue around them. Joel can’t take his eyes off you as he watches you take his fingers to the back of your throat and back out of your mouth with a ‘pop’.

“Rub my c-clit Joel— need it s’bad.” His hand begins it’s travel across your hot skin, gliding down until it lands in between your legs, rubbing your puffy clit with his fingers, enticing you closer to your release.

Your head lands against the top of his shoulder, “fuck Joel yes— I’m so close—fuck Joel I’m gonna come, please let me come.”

His eyes screw shut, your filthy words effecting him more than he wanted them too, bringing that tight knot in his stomach straight up to the surface, ready to be relieved in a matter of seconds.

Joel’s voice sounds so desperate, breathless pants brushing the sides of your face, “you can come baby, fuck— come f’me.”

Your second orgasm hits and the intensity is unmatched to anything you’ve ever felt in your entire life. Your legs start to shake and toes curl and you can feel your insides throb and gush around Joel’s thickness. Joel’s humming in your ear is hard to pick up on as your release fills your whole body, the ringing in your ears and white sparks behind your eyelids sending you into another dimension.

“Fuckin’ good girl that’s it you’re doing so well f’me— shit darlin’ y’gonna make me come.”

Pleasure soon subsides into overstimulation as you come down from your high, your body been given that unbelievable pleasure and satisfaction. Joel’s hips soon start to stutter behind you, losing that rhythm he held onto so strongly, ready to fill you up with his release.

“Please Joel come inside me, wanna feel you fill me up—missed being full of you.”

He grabs your jaw, easily fitting it into his palm as he brings your lips back onto his, watching you as you come back down to reality. He eyes don’t leave yours as his cock jumps inside of you, lips trembling as your pussy pulls him in. “Fuck,” he mumbles into your mouth, “fuck I’m coming,” you reattached your lips, his grunts being silenced by your mouth as he hits his peak and spurts of his hot come fill up into your velvety walls, milking him of everything he’s worth. He comes hard; the force of it knocking the air straight out of his lungs.

Joel’s hold on you tightens, his thrusts gradually fading down until he shields himself inside you, not ready to feel the loss of your pussy just yet, keeping you close and flushed up against him.

Once his lips leave yours Joel can take the moment to bring the air back into his chest, his gaze locking onto every feature that’s plastered across your face, reading your expressions as pure bliss continues to wash over you.

“You okay darlin’?” He hugs you even tighter, forever appreciating these tender moments with you. “Fuckin’ hell I’ve missed you.”

You nudge your nose against his, the biggest grin landing across your face. “I’m okay Joel— I’ve missed too— so much.”

Joel plants kisses all across your shoulder, pulling himself out of you slowly, wincing as the change in temperature hits him. He already misses the way your pussy wrapped it’s way around him, never feeling anything like it before. He makes his way over to the bedside drawer, pulling out a towel to clean you both up.

One you’ve both freshened up, Joel’s pulling you across the bed so you’re flushed against him, your body moulding into his so flawlessly as he lays on his side behind you.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long sweetheart I know it’s been hard f’you. It won’t be forever I promise y’that.”

Joel knows the right words to say to give you that sense of certainty, never being the one to break any promises he gives you, knowing that you’ll have him back all to yourself soon brings excitement to your chest.

“I know Joel I understand, just can’t wait to have you all to m’self again.”

His low chuckle vibrates against your cheek, he lays a quick kiss on your jaw. “Same here baby, I can’t wait either.”

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

The sunrise beaming through the gaps of the blinds awakens Joel out of his deep sleep, blinding him from his view. Your warm skin is still pushed up against his chest, the sound of soft, content signs leaving your lips as sleep still consumes you. Joel looks down at your body, forgetting what it was like to have you so close to him instead of constantly waking up in an empty bed.

Knowing he had you to wake up to made the mornings Joel’s favourite time of day. You finally brought him that feeling of solace and safety that he’s been searching for most of his life.

Joel knew if he had you by his side, he was home.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Tysm for reading! Please let me know what you think!🤍🫶

[darsynia]

Forgiven (CEO Steve/f!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: Since dropping out of school to care for your sister, your daydream has been that a rich, handsome man will save you from drowning in debt. Until then (read: never), you’ll work hard at your new receptionist job and try not to ogle the impossibly hot construction guy working in the foyer…

Words/Warnings: 2,855 | none

As 5/7 of my Ro Roll birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, forGIVEn is a fluffy meet cute between CEO Steve and f!Freader. Gif is by @ashilesun.

Excerpt:

“Something wrong, miss?”

You look up to see Foreman Eye Candy standing beside the desk looking gently concerned. One sandy blonde curl is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and you can see that his eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue.

From behind you, a hand lands on your shoulder with just enough pressure to guide you to your seat.

“Nothing of note, Sir, I’m sure!” your coworker says hurriedly.

“All right,” the man says, setting his left hand down on the counter. There’s no ring on his finger. ‘Sir’ Eye Candy (you’re going to hell for all of this) offers a kindly, “Have a good afternoon,” and right at that moment, both of the reception phones ring. There’s no time to process the oddness of what’s just happened, not until you’re back at home and making dinner for your sister.

“How was your hump day?” Jennie asks from the living room.

You nearly splash boiling hot water all over yourself.  

FORGIVEN

“Thank God for the internship last summer!” your sister says (again).

“I do, I do,” you promise, looking at yourself critically in the grubby bathroom mirror. She doesn’t have to know you pick a new deity to mentally ‘thank’ every time. Today it’s Thor, because you need to bring electricity to your first day on the job. 

You’re hoping to look professional but approachable for this customer-facing position, and it looks like the months of clothes thrifting before your internship last year are really paying off. Do you wish you could work in your field of choice? Sure, but working in the same company as a receptionist means you have both in-field and company knowledge. Once Jennie is back on her feet, you hope to be back on yours, too.

You step into the kitchen to check that everything is set up for your sister. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back at lunch?”

“No mother hen-ing, you promised! I’ll be fine, and you’ll need your own lunch!”

Your watch beeps that it’s time to start walking to work, so you slip into your sturdy dress shoes and give the room a final once-over. Jennie’s cooler of food is near the couch, she’s got all of the remotes, and her walker is within reach. You’ve even put a pair of crutches in the umbrella stand and lashed the damned thing to the couch so she can’t knock it over. Her charger is at hand, the blinds are down, and the end table has her morning coffee on a coaster.

“Get out or I’ll start throwing things at you and you’ll be late from having to clean them up!” your sister teases.

“I love when you nag,” you tell her, shutting the door before she can retort.

Star Industries is honestly your dream workplace, even after pausing your mechanical engineering degree to take care of Jennie. After Tony Stark and his company spun it off as a subsidiary, Star really came into its own. The company has an inspiring mission: to ensure safe, affordable prosthetics for the people who really need them. Many customers are war veterans, just like the two men in charge. The COO even has one himself.

You’d filled out your paperwork after hours, so when you walk into the building, it’s a nice surprise to see how the morning light floods the lobby. The atrium of the building is made up of a multi-storey open space lit by tall windows, with the company’s logo laid out in the tile floor right as you come in the doors. The A in the word ‘STAR’ is, of course, a star, but it’s the missing ‘K’ from its parent company that catches the eye. Instead of upright, the K is laid on its ‘back.’ One stick figure’s front leg and another stick figure’s back leg make up the angled lines from the K--and they’re both wearing prosthetics.

The name badge you’re given has a smaller version of the same logo, and you can’t help but hope this isn’t the only time you’ll be representing the company. You fix it to your lapel and sit nervously at the desk beside the woman who will train you. It’s an hour before you come up for air long enough to notice there’s some renovation work going on nearby. 

Honestly, ‘notice’ is embarrassingly underselling it.

The windows in the lobby are clearly designed to encourage shafts of sunlight that flood a particular area with a cheerful glow. You’ve managed to look over right when one such beam illuminates a man wearing rough work clothes, his head tipped back to drink out of a water bottle. He’s handsome as hell, with a face like Adonis and powerful muscles straining his sweat-damp t-shirt. The sunlight turns him into a golden statue, and you sure as hell would visit museums more often if the art looked like that!

Your phone rings and you answer promptly, tearing your eyes away from the construction worker just as he smiles at someone. The stammered greeting you offer to the caller could be chalked up to it being your first day, but that isn’t the reason at all.

Your first week on the job is equal parts satisfying and stressful. Satisfying because it turns out you’re a natural at taking zero shit with maximum politeness. Your stress comes from the renovations.

The work isn’t loud, and it’s not like you’re worried about safety or anything. Technically, your job isn’t affected at all… well, not because of your assigned work, that is. No, you’re the one affected, and it’s thanks to the man who seems to be in charge.

After that first day, the tarp that separated their construction from the rest of the lobby had been removed, meaning you could just look over and see him at any point throughout your day.

You’ve been rationing those glimpses for your own sanity.

Despite this, there are still details you’ve noted. One, he’s definitely the foreman. Everyone defers to the guy, but his leadership style seems to rely on trust and respect. Two, he has the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. Paired with his looks, it’s a disastrous combination, especially given Reason Number Three: he’s an utter beast. More than once you’ve seen him moving things with ease that would take multiple other men to lift.

Today is Monday and the men were all at work before you arrive. Their project is taking shape; it appears to be a café with low counters, maybe a wheelchair-friendly gathering space? It would be on brand for the company, and certainly explains why you’ve been brought on as a second receptionist. The usual population in the lobby will certainly go up once it’s completed.

Before you sit down, you take stock of the wide welcome desk. Would anyone notice if you nudged one of the large flower pots to the left to mostly block your view of the café area? You decide to risk it. Foreman Eye Candy is a Distraction with a capital D, and you already love this job.

The morning goes smoothly--but by lunch you’re fairly certain you’ve memorized the pattern on the side of that damned pot, for as often as you’ve looked over at it.

When you come back from your break, the pot is back where it was before.

Your hands shake a little bit as you log back into your computer. Did a cleaning crew come through and adjust it? You’re not brave enough to ask the senior receptionist for fear she’ll question why it was moved in the first place. It’s probably a fluke, you decide.

Without your makeshift barrier, you find yourself looking over at the Foreman way too many times before you’re done for the day, but he’s smiled at least twice in your direction, so that’s something.

On Tuesday morning, you choose discretion as the better part of valor and scoot the pot over to obscure your view again, even taking the time to nudge its closest neighbor a little, to even up the spacing.

After lunch on Tuesday, both pots are moved back, and Eye Candy is smiling. You doubt the two are related.

On Wednesday you bring in one of those Newton’s Cradle desk toys with permission from your coworker at the desk. It’s altruistic, distracting the children when their parents show up to ask questions. Because your area is recessed a bit, you risk setting the item on a little paper sorter to make it level with the visitors’ side. Completely incidentally, that placement blocks some of your view of the café under construction.

You come back from lunch to find the shelf moved to the other side of your computer monitor.

It’s so disconcerting that you stand there staring at it in shock for a long moment, long enough to attract attention.

“Something wrong, miss?”

You look up to see Foreman Eye Candy standing beside the desk looking gently concerned. One sandy blonde curl is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and you can see that his eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue.

From behind you, a hand lands on your shoulder with just enough pressure to guide you to your seat.

“Nothing of note, Sir, I’m sure!” your coworker says hurriedly.

“All right,” the man says, setting his left hand down on the counter. There’s no ring on his finger. ‘Sir’ Eye Candy (you’re going to hell for all of this) offers a kindly, “Have a good afternoon,” and right at that moment, both of the reception phones ring. There’s no time to process the oddness of what’s just happened, not until you’re back at home and making dinner for your sister.

“How was your hump day?” Jennie asks from the living room.

You nearly splash boiling hot water all over yourself.  

Chanting ‘it’s Wednesday, that’s called ‘hump day,’ there’s nothing that implies you’ve been thinking impure thoughts, pull it together!’ in your head, you answer something non-committal and continue with dinner.

That night you have a dream that Sir Eye Candy walks over and smiles at you, illuminated by one of those rays of light straight from heaven.

On Thursday you arrive at work to find the pots have all been moved farther back along the decorative part of the receptionist’s desk, much too far to move any of them without notice.

As if he’d been waiting for you to see the change, you make brief eye contact with Sir Eye Candy. He does a little nod of acknowledgment before turning to move the large sign for the café. By himself.

“Am I awake?” you whisper to yourself, unable to look away from how effortlessly he moves under heavy strain.

“Keep staring at the boss like that and the rest of his crew will never let you hear the end of it!” your front desk coworker Marcia jokes.

Your cognitive function flatlines as you try to process the word ‘boss’ while at the same time watching the man in question wipe sweat off of his brow. “It’s obvious he’s the foreman,” you mumble, dropping your phone so you have to look away to pick it up. If the screen cracks, you deserve it.

“Oh, honey, this is his side gig. Pet project. Maybe even a vacation, knowing Rogers,” Marcia chuckles.

The name ‘Rogers’ finally gets through to you, in context to ‘the boss.’ Steve Rogers.

Sir Eye Candy is CEO Eye Candy.

“Wait…”

“There it is!” Your coworker gives you the kind of look only busybody aunts and elder coworkers can pull off. ���Word is his gym is closed for a few weeks, so he pulled some strings to move this project up. Nice way to start a new job, yeah?”

You’ve been ogling the CEO. “Should I put in my two weeks’ notice?” you whisper. Dismay doesn’t even cover it. You’re practically mortifie--

“I’d advise your manager not to accept,” a nearby voice says. “If anything, I probably ought to call myself into an HR meeting. I’ve been quite distracted this past week.”

It’s CEO Eye Can-- Rogers. All you can do is mutely look up at him, watching the amused look on his face turn into a stern one.

“Have you been messing with my plant display?”

It’s not at all what you were expecting him to say, and you’re still befuddled by the idea he was distracted by you, so you stammer out an admission that yes, you did move his pots.

The phone rings, and after a subtle gesture from Rogers, Marcia takes the call.

“Sir,” you begin, noting the way his posture straightens on hearing the title. You lick your lips in nervousness, and god, his eyes go straight there. HR would be having kittens.

“Go on?” Rogers’ voice is resonant. Everything about this feels like a rom-com, and you are totally worried you’ll screw it up.

“Forgive me for staring?” you offer. You’d meant to say something less obvious, but it’s too late now.

“Yes, well. I’d like to go over your conduct at a lunch meeting, if, that is, you--” he breaks off, lifts his chin, and clears his throat. “In a half hour.”

“I-- Of course--” You’ve answered too late, he’s already walking away and calling out to the crew. Stunned, you look over at Marcia. She’s grinning, but doesn’t look up, and you decide to take your cues from her.

Fifteen minutes later, the work crew wraps up. You see them file out in your peripheral vision, but if Rogers is going to play the Principal’s Office card, you’re going to play at being an obedient student.

This sends your mind on a complete irresponsible rampage, and you’re still tamping down the mental images when a gentleman in a suit walks up to the front of the desk.

Your welcoming smile is already in place when you lift your head to greet him, but it widens into surprised happiness to see that it’s Rogers. At the very last minute you stop yourself from acting like he’s picking you up for a date, even though you very much hope that’s what this is, HR be damned. Every fairytale has a villain, after all, and villains are made to be thwarted.

“Can I help you, sir?”

The word choice is deliberate.

“You can. Marcia, do you usually cover for lunch?”

“I do.”

“Good. We’ll be prompt,” he says firmly, tapping the flat of his palm on the desk with finality. You take the cue, getting up and slinging your purse over your shoulder, but inwardly your stomach is a riot of sawdust. 

Are you reading this wrong? All of your teenage aspirations to be swept off of your feet by a rich, handsome man feel like lead weights at the bottom of your shoes. Steve Rogers’ reputation is sterling, and despite your less-than-angelic daydreams, you don’t want to come across like a gold-digger. Even if you are strapped for cash.

Rogers opens the door for you. The front door. The front door of his business. It’s heady and confusing, even more confusing when a slick silver car pulls up and a valet hands him the keys.

“You look like you either need sunglasses or smelling salts,” he says gently.

“A neck brace,” you quip. “For the whiplash.”

His smile is sheepish as he opens the car door for you. “That’s fair.”

The car is cinematically nice inside, and you suppress the desperate desire to pinch yourself until you wake up as he gets in and adjusts the seat for his height. He doesn’t look over at you, which your adrenaline-drunk mind can’t decide is good or bad.

Then he does, and all you can do is smile back at him.

“A confession: I cribbed some of those lines.” Rogers eases the car out into traffic and lets out a long breath. “From Bu-- a friend of mine. Advice on how to be in charge and ask out a subordinate at the same time.” He stops at a red light and shoots a look over at you. “How’d I do?”

You kind of want that neck brace, but despite the trappings, you’re really enjoying who this man is turning out to be. “That depends. Do you want me to be turned upside down and sideways?”

That earns you a look akin to the one he sent you when you’d called him ‘sir.’ You shiver, and he notices. “I don’t think you want to know what his advice might be on the answer to that question! How about ‘maybe?’”

“Maybe is good,” you manage.

“Glad to hear it. What would you like? Italian? Deli?” Rogers looks over and catches his breath like he’d forgotten his wallet. “An invite to lunch without your employment on the line? I’m sorry about that. I got--” He looks back at the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. “--carried away.”

His candid mix of charm and command are sweeping you completely off your feet, tarnished halo and all. “I don’t think I have time to phone a friend for a better answer, but is ‘maybe’ still good?”

Your sister would walk her ass to the car to smack you if she knew you’d just told the CEO of your new company you’re a ‘maybe’ for a one-on-one ‘maybe’ date with him. You suspect his friend would be facepalming, too.

“Your job isn’t on the line, I promise. I’d never misuse power like that--” He breaks off from his serious tone, looks down at his suit and the fancy car you’re both sitting in, and chuckles. “All evidence to the contrary.”

The whole situation is absurd, unrealistic, completely romantic, and everything you’ve always wanted.

You’re going to wake up any minute now.

Rogers looks over and raises his eyebrows. You realize with embarrassment that he wants you to either tell him where he can stuff his lunch invitation, or where the two of you can go eat.

“I got carried away too,” you rush to say. “Yes to lunch. No maybes in sight.”

“You’re forgiven,” he smiles.

to be continued...

[suguann]

He’s not sure when it happened—no warning with bright neon signs to prepare him.

All of it sort of creeps up on him before he ever really has a chance to reign it in. It’s to the point where he can no longer ignore the ache in the space behind his ribcage while tucking into dark corners in another country with thoughts of you to keep him company, hoping to make it another day just to see you again—and it fucking terrifies him. 

(In some ways, more than being on the receiving end of a bullet.)

He’s memorized far more than he ever expected about one person. The crinkle of your eyes with a laugh, the shape of your mouth around a lemon ice lolly. The way you bite your lip when you catch him staring.

He memorizes the things you tell him when it’s just you and him in the quiet of your flat. He knows you don’t want to be a bartender for the rest of your life. He knows you applied for university in the fall. He knows your hang-ups with relationships—he has his, too—but you’d like to settle down somewhere quiet with a family of your own someday.

(After a lot of soul-searching, he thinks he might want that, too.)

The list is endless. You like to talk, and Simon learns he doesn’t mind listening.

While you help him stuff his bags into the backseat of your tiny car, he makes the off-hand comment, “When are you going to let me get you something that won’t tip with a gust of wind?”

“If you were my boyfriend, maybe I’d let you.”

You look up at him in a way you haven’t before. Scared and hopeful. Like you’re getting ready to lay down all your cards for him to choose the best hand (probably all of them, whichever makes you his first). He’s never had anyone look at him like that.

A small part of him can’t shake the sense that it’s too soon, that your friendship is all he has during his time home, and he drunkenly sulks at the pub with Johnny one night.

Simon rolls his beer bottle—now lukewarm—between his hands. “There’s no way she likes me like that.”

“Just tell her how you feel.” Johnny slaps a hand on his shoulder. “What’s the worst that can happen? She tells you to fuck off but still wants to be friends?”

Simon wants to say, “Yes, mate, exactly that,” instead, he finds himself nervously running his hands through his hair outside your apartment door thirty minutes later. It’s only after he knocks that he realizes you might not be awake or how horrible this idea was because he’s not sure how to tell you that life before you came around, was grey utilitarian and a fridge full of take-out cartons—

“Simon?” You prop the door against your hip, sleepily blinking at him. “Is everything okay?”

His eyes trail over his old Nirvana shirt he let you borrow all those months ago and never got back, down to your cute pink painted toes curling into your entry rug, and back up to your soft doe eyes burning into him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No, I—No.”’ Not anymore. All of the pent-up anxiety from the time it took to walk from the bar to your place sobered him up, but another beer would be nice right now.

“Do you want me to call Johnny—”

Then he just comes out with it. “I’m in love with you.” 

It’s not his finest moment. 

He expects you to laugh it off and tell him ‘nice one’ like you usually do when he makes stupid jokes or awkwardly gives him the we’re-just-friends rundown right there in your entryway. Nothing prepares him for when you drag him into your apartment, telling him between needy, quick presses of your lips that you’ve loved him for a while now.

“I’m surprised you couldn’t tell.” You say it like he’s the last one to know, and maybe he is.

Christ, he has you pressed up your front door for all of your neighbors to see. And you love him.

You fucking love him?

It’s difficult to wrap his head around, especially when his other head steals all of the blood he needs to think straight by eagerly pressing against his zip, or maybe he’s still a little more drunk than he thought. 

Simon never thought he’d get to find out how you taste or how you look sprawled out underneath him with your soft thighs pressed against his chest and your eyes knocked back as he slowly splits you open, carving a piece of himself there—your wet, tight cunt making his jaw fall slack.

His cock jerks at the sight of your pussy lips spread wide and taught around him, your little hole contracting, struggling to make him fit. No one has ever taken him all the way the first time, yet here you are, trying to hump up against him to bring him deeper—as if there’s anywhere else inside you for him to go. 

“There is, there is, there is,” you gasp, trying to prove him wrong.

And when he glances up to see the cute face you make once the last inch of his cock nudges its way inside, his name dripping from the tip of your tongue like a little prayer for him to think about in great detail later, he wonders why he waited so long. 

“Christ—love, fuck—you’re so pretty,” he groans, falling on top of you and pinning you to the bed, fingers pressing into your cheeks to make you look at him, to make you understand. “This is mine now.”

(Not that you argue with him.)

It’s what comes after that’s his favorite part, your head on his chest, his fingers in your hair, leaving slow kisses against your temple while you whisper sweet nothings into his throat—I love you, too; I don’t think I said it, but I want you to hear it—maybe the right words won’t be so hard to find in the morning when he sees you laying there beside him.

I know I posted this a few days ago, but I took it down because I wanted to add to it:3

[kittenintheden]

Ethics Review

Dave Matthews voice: I DID IT

Tav (reader) and Astarion pay his old office at the Courts a visit in the middle of the night for funsies and things get spicy.

aka it's the switchy bitchy magistrate roleplay fic

Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Pairing: Astarion/reader (Tav) Content: 18+, light BDSM elements, sexual roleplay, bitches be switches, dirty talk, spanking, orgasm denial, light edgeplay, oral sex, PIV sex (AFAB reader, not gendered)

AO3 Link

It’s late, but then, it’s always late when you’re out with Astarion these days. By necessity, mostly, but also because it’s the best time for the pair of you to get up to your more unsavory plans without catching the watchful eye of the newly-reformed Fist.

“Where are you taking me?” you laugh as you follow him through a series of dark alleys. “This better not end with me having to send for Gale to get your hand out of another magicked jar.”

“Never going to let me live that down, are you?” He looks over his shoulder and gives you an affectionate smirk.

“Not ever.”

Astarion peers around the corner of a brown brick building, checking that the coast is clear. To you, he says, “You’re lucky I’m such a kind and forgiving soul.”

“Ah, yes,” you agree, wrapping your arms around him from behind and nuzzling his neck. “Two of your most obvious and accurate qualities.”

He chuckles. “We’re almost there. Come on.”

A labyrinthine dozen alleyways later, you’re deposited in an open square, quiet and still. The cobblestones are dark with recent rain, sending their petrichor scent into the air. As you follow Astarion out into the space, you realize where you are. It’s the Courthouse District of the Lower City, where people are tried and held for petty crimes that aren’t suitable for Wyrm’s Rock.

You huff a laugh through your nose and look over at your partner with a raised eyebrow. “Did you need to tell me something? Have a court date you forgot to mention?”

“Hush,” he playfully scolds you, holding a finger up to his lips. “Let me think a moment.”

He peers up at a particular building on the square and furrows his brow, closing his eyes and moving his hands through the air. You fold your arms and watch as he moves his fingers like he’s following a path only he can see, turning corners and raising level by level. At last, he opens his eyes, and points at window on the third floor, two in from the corner.

“That one,” he says.

“That one what?” you prompt.

He grins devilishly. “That…” he points again. “... is my old office. I thought we might pay it a visit.”

“To what end?” you laugh.

“What can I say, I’m feeling a touch nostalgic these days.” He keeps his eye on the window and beckons you to follow closer to the building. “Something about my old haunts is calling to me.”

Behind where he can’t see, you pay him an affectionate smile. In the last year or so since the fall of the Nether Brain, you’ve seen the city rebuilt and gone on your fair share of adventures and quests, always searching for some way to give Astarion back the sunlight you promised him. No luck yet, but there have been promising leads here and there. It’s not a lost cause. Not yet.

The last few months in particular have seen certain changes in your lover. The terror and fear he carried for so long clung to him like a shadow, and ever so slowly it’s beginning to lift. His laugh is more present than before, more real. The intimate moments you share are filled with trust and care, even as you get more comfortable pushing a few boundaries here and there.

Most of all, he’s been remembering. Not everything. There are parts of his past forever lost to him, written over by more years of torment than he ever had of life. But there’ve been flashes every now and again of who he used to be. Some of them he likes, some he loathes. He doesn’t always talk about it, but you know being able to pick up a piece once in a while has meant a great deal to him.

So you follow along with whatever little game he has planned.

He walks along the building, scanning the brick for footholds. Just as he puts his hand on a storm drain and tenses to leap, you halt him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he looks back at you, you flick your eyes up toward the window.

“Three up, two in from then end?” you ask.

He nods.

“Allow me, love.”

You hold up your hand and cobalt magic pools in your palm, forming into a sphere. You send it up above you, the arcane eye floating until it finds the correct window before it slips inside. You blink, your own eyes glowing blue as you use your magic to scan the room. It’s certainly an office of some sort.

Astarion takes your hand when you hold it out for him and instantly you’re transported inside the office thanks to a handy little dimensional door spell you picked up on one of your many adventures. You wave away the arcane eye and give Astarion a wink.

He smirks and shakes his head at you. “Take all of the fun out of the thing, why don’t you,” he says through his smile. “Suppose I’ll have to make do with checking that the place isn’t alarmed. Alas.”

The place is, indeed, alarmed. Astarion manages to disarm two common magic wires and one trickier sending stone scattered throughout the room. You reach out through the Weave for any other whispers of magic. Some artifacts and lightly magical office supplies. Nothing worrisome.

Once you’re both satisfied that you won’t end up immediately arrested, Astarion moves to the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back. You’re quiet as he scans the walls, turning in a slow circle as he takes everything in. His fangs flash as he gives a quiet laugh.

“The layout is different, and the color,” he says. “But yes, this is the place.” He furrows his brow slightly and holds out his hands, eyes on the floor. “I… worked here. Me. A magistrate.” His eyes find you and his smile widens. “It was a lie for so much longer than it was a reality. But it was a reality, once upon a time.”

“I’m surprised,” you say, folding your arms and nonchalantly stepping closer. “The way you spoke and dressed when we first met, I thought you must’ve been an Upper City fancy defending-the-powerful type.”

Astarion clicks his tongue at you. “Now, don’t be judgmental. That’s my job.” He waves a hand through the air. “I was quite young in my career, but I was working my way up. All the way to the third floor, thank you.”

You come in to wrap your arms around his waist and lean your head on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you. Genuinely.”

He spreads his fingers over your forearm, pressing his lips to your hair. “Thank you. That’s always nice to hear.” He clears his throat and removes your arms, backing away from you with a toss of his head. “But don’t be too proud. I wasn’t exactly a… what’s the term? Model citizen.”

Astarion begins to walk around the small table with four chairs set in the center of the room.

“Oh?” you say, walking around the other side to mirror him. “Were you terribly corrupt?”

He pauses and tilts his head, shrugging. “‘Terribly’ is such a strong word, isn’t it? Lets just say I may have been known to, ah… sway the odds in my favor.”

You stop and look across the table at him. “What do magistrates even do, exactly? What did you do, specifically?”

“An absolutely stupid amount of paperwork, as I recall,” he says. “At least, I certainly remember hating every scrap that came across the desk. Meting out appropriate punishment for any minor and petty crime you can think of, most of them horrifically boring. But…” He leans over the table and holds up a finger. “... sometimes I got to conduct interviews to determine if crime was worthy of Wyrm’s Rock, and I was very good at getting the verdict I wanted.”

You rather like seeing this side of Astarion. Honest pride, confidence, and authority. The tip of your tongue runs along your bottom lip as you take in your love leaning over that table, dappled in moonlight. Gods, he’s beautiful.

“And how did you do that?” You pop your hip and raise your thumb to your mouth, teasing your lip as you peer up at him through your eyelashes. “Exactly?”

Astarion notices the shift in your demeanor immediately, his own eyes going half-lidded as they track the path of your hand to your mouth. His grin goes predatory and he leans back so he can come around the table to you and pull out the chair.

“Please, darling,” he says, nodding for you to sit. “Let’s talk, you and I.”

You pay him a sultry smile and sink into the chair, which he pushes in under you. Then he walks back around to the other side with his spine straight, hands folded behind his back.

A new game begins.

Astarion rolls out his shoulders as if he’s shedding a coat. When he turns to look at you, he does so down the length of his nose, his hard gaze making it clear that he thinks you beneath him.

You shiver as a thrill runs down your back and attempt to hide it.

He shakes his head above you, tutting. You’ve disappointed him.

Instinctively, you shrink into your chair slightly as he leans forward and places the tips of his fingers against the table in front of him, continuing to lower his face until it’s a mere foot from yours.

“A pathetic display back there,” he says, voice dripping with condescension. “Your associates have hung you out to dry. You do know that…” He tilts his head. “... don’t you?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and drop your eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Silly little patsy,” he chides as he straightens to glare down at you again. “Such stars in your eyes for friends who would sooner see you burn than stick their necks out for you.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” you say, raising your eyes to him in defiance even as you let a waver of nerves shake your voice.

“What must it be like to be so tragically misguided?” he sneers. It’s like an echo of a man you once knew. One you met on a sunny beach amid burning wreckage.

You blink up at him, eyes going soft. “I can’t betray them.”

“Betray them,” he breathes, huffing a mirthless laugh as he leans one hand onto a nearby chair. “My dear, they are in the next room, and the room after that, giving you up as we speak. No loyalty among thieves, I fear.”

“No,” you gasp. “They wouldn’t.”

Astarion holds a finger up to his lips, shushing you. “I think you know better than that. But fine, have it your way. Don’t give them up to save your own hide. Let me sweeten the pot.”

He turns his body so he can side-sit on the table and put his first knuckle under your chin, lifting it so he can inspect you. The corner of his mouth ticks up. “Gold to line your pockets, perhaps?”

Though you try to stop it, your body betrays you as a bright blush blooms across your nose and cheeks. Astarion’s pupils dilate above you.

“Or something else entirely?” he whispers, tilting his mouth closer to yours. “I’d much sooner send those two cads to Wyrm’s Rock in your place. Help me, and maybe you and I could have a bit of…” His eyes trail down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and beyond before he looks back into your eyes. “... fun in celebration.”

“Why would you do that for me?” you whisper back.

He shrugs. “What can I say? I rather like you. Plus, I might get a little kickback in the form of a promotion for bringing in two thorns in the Fist’s side, but that’s neither here nor there.” He rolls his eyes and pays you a flirtatious smile on the last bit.

And that… is your opening.

Your expression grows serious and you note the moment that Astarion’s eyebrows give the briefest twitch of concern.

"You've overplayed your hand, Magistrate Ancunín," you say.

Astarion draws his hand back and gives you a perplexed look. “Have I?”

You smile, then. Calm and dangerous. "I've been sent by the Board of Ethics, you see."

Astarion is thrown by this turn, but he recovers quickly, offering a simpering smile. "Oh? Oh, dear. Seems I've been caught with my pants down."

You stand, holding his eye. "Indeed. Best go place your hands on the desk where I can see them."

With a flourish, he holds his hands up for you to see. No funny business, none at all. He goes to the desk and spreads his palms flat against the polished wood. He must feel the heat of your skin as you come close, only inches away. Inspecting. Considering.

You lean in close to his ear. "Say our word if you'd like me to stop, Ancunín," you whisper.

"Stop what?" he asks.

In answer, you grab his hips and pull them flush against your own with enough force that he gasps from it, genuinely surprised. In his ear again, you whisper, "Teaching you a lesson."

You release him and move to his side. He turns his head to look at you and you can see the openmouthed surprise in his face, but it’s more than that. Surprised, yes, but also open. Interested. Very turned on. You know this look.

This is Astarion’s “oh, we’re doing that thing I like?” look. It’s a good look on him.

You tap a finger on his nearest hand. “Keep these exactly where they are. I must warn you that you face serious repercussions for witness tampering. I have some questions. Answer them to my satisfaction, and I may consider…” Your gaze trails down to the front of his trousers, which are straining. When you meet his eye again, you add, “... reinstatement.”

Astarion tilts his chin down so he can give you a heated look. “Then by all means,” he says, lips parted. “Ask.”

“Hm,” you hum as you trail your fingers over the desk as you walk around to the other side. You mimic his stance with your hands on the table, though yours is one of authority while his is one of awaiting judgment. He tilts his head at you in question, gaze hot. You match it.

“Let’s start with an easy one.” You tilt your head toward the wall without breaking eye contact. “That placard hanging there. What is it?”

He looks and then huffs through his nose. “It’s an oath.”

You tilt your head the other way. “And what does it say?”

Astarion smirks. “‘As an officer of the Court, I will strive to conduct myself at all times with integrity, dignity, and honor.’”

“That’s right,” you say, nodding. “Now tell me, Ancunín… do you feel you’ve conducted yourself in accordance with that oath?”

“Of course,” he answers without hesitation, flashing you a winning smile. “I offered you the utmost dignity and honor, did I not?”

An idea occurs to you and you imagine he catches the twinkle in your eye as you raise one of your hands to click your fingers, a glowing web of pale blue stretching to cage you both inside. Astarion frowns up at it. The moment he realizes what you’ve done, he gives you a look that’s half-exasperated and half-devious.

“What’s this?” he says, playing along.

“A little insurance policy. To ensure your adherence to honesty.” You reach to the collar of your shirt and undo one button. Then another.

Then another.

Astarion struggles to keep his eyes on your face, but when you lean back down onto the table, he can’t help but sneak a peek.

You toy with another button. “Why don’t you tell me what you think about dignity now?”

Astarion bites the corner of his lip to keep his expression serious. He keeps his eyes trained on your chest and seems to carefully consider his words before he says, “I maintain that I respect the dignity of your tits.”

That’s not what he meant to say. He blinks. His eyes flick up to yours. “Your position,” he amends.

His eyes flick back down. “Your position and your tits.”

“Ah,” you say. “Yes, I thought that might be the case. That you might be… what do they say? Dipping your wick in the law office wax.”

You stand and come back around to his side, maintaining your spell as you do. Astarion tracks you all the way back around.

“I’d like you to be as honest with me as you can be,” you say softly. “Not that you’ve much choice. So, in that case, here’s some extra… motivation.”

You’re behind him now and you hear his sharp intake of breath when he feels your palms spread over either side of his hips before moving around to the ties at the front of his trousers. You loosen them just enough to give you space.

Astarion’s knuckles are going white where he presses his fingers against the desk.

Your fingers are soft and warm against his lower abdomen as they dip below his waistband, then inside his underthings. You find what you seek and grip it firmly, fisting the length of him. He bites back a groan and flexes his hands against the wood as you draw him out into the open air. 

“You do keep it cool in here,” you whisper into his ear. You keep your touch light as you tease his cock, just enough to make him want but not nearly enough to satiate the need. “Why is that?”

Astarion swallows and looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “A little discomfort loosens the tongue, I find.” He struggles to keep the breathiness out of his voice and very nearly succeeds. 

Nearly. 

Your smile is wicked. “I see. Well.”

You rest his hardened length against the varnished wood of the desk. It’s cool on his touch-warmed skin and he whines lightly as you leave him there to walk around to his other side, fingertips drawing a trail across his broad back and shoulders.

“In that case, we’ll be leaving that…” You glance down at his cock, then back at his face. “… out in the cold until you’ve answered my questions to my satisfaction. Understood?”

He takes a deep breath through his nose and meets your eye. “Completely.”

“Good.” You move one of his misplaced curls back into place. “If I’m satisfied, I just might let you warm it up again. We shall see.”

“Indeed we shall,” he says, voice dropping deeper, and you can sense the challenge there. You smile as you turn away from him.

“Let’s try again,” you say. “Do you make a habit of lying to your interviewees in hopes of manipulating a confession?”

“Is ‘lying’ the word we want to use?” he says with a lilt.

“Yes.” You turn back to look at him.

He clears his throat, chewing his tongue to hide another smile before he looks away. He thinks a moment, then says, “I occasionally massage my message to pave the way for a more fruitful discussion in my favor, yes. Only in the interest of this office and my personal satisfaction.” He smirks at you, clearly pleased with himself.

You shake your head. “My, my. And just when I thought we were getting somewhere. Perhaps you need a reminder that I hold your immediate future in my hands?”

When you move back in and loosen his trousers still further to shove down his hips and below his arse, he wriggles to help. He seems to think he’s won this phase of the game. Adorable.

Rather than give him any relief, you reach out to the desk and pick up a wooden ruler, thin and flexible. Astarion opens his mouth, presumably to ask what you’re doing, but doesn’t get the chance as you use the flat of the ruler to give him a quick smack on his bare arse. 

He cries out in surprise and looks around at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and give him the opportunity to call his out. Instead, you watch his eyes darken. He’s still in. Which is good, because gods above if you aren’t beginning to make a mess of your underwear already.

“Do you understand your situation?” you ask.

“Maybe you ought to remind me again,” he rumbles.

You do, leaving another slap on his pale skin. A shiver travels up his back from the base of his spine all the way up.

“I understand,” he says.

“Very good,” you say. “Do you manipulate the outcomes of your interviews?”

“Sometimes, yes,” he says quietly, peering up at you from under his brows.

“Thank you for your honesty. With bribery?”

He nods.

You bend forward so you’re eye-to-eye. “And do you frequently offer favors of a sexual nature?”

Astarion’s gaze drops to your mouth and he blinks heavily. “That’s only for when I see someone I like,” he says.

There’s another slap to his arse, quick as reflex, and he gives a small, broken “a-ah” as he drops his head. He spoke the truth, your spell ensures that, but you want him to be more specific. You look down to see he’s subtly grinding himself against the desk, his cock beginning to weep pre-fluid as you watch.

You place the ruler against his back to hold him in place. “None of that,” you say. “Not until you clarify. Why me?”

He groans in frustration. “Because I like you. Because I’m attracted to you. Because I want to be inside you and fuck and fuck and fuck until we’re both hoarse from crying our ecstasy.”

Well. The pair of underwear you’re wearing are officially done for, you fear.

“What a wicked tongue you have,” you breathe, not quite able to keep up your aura of authority. You swallow and add, “Perhaps I’ll consider letting you off with a warning if we can figure out a better use for it.”

Astarion goes to his knees so quickly it makes your head spin. You don’t hesitate to take care of the bindings on your own trousers and he’s eager to help, shoving your clothing to the floor. You’re trying to remove a boot when he presses his face into the crux of your legs and runs his tongue along the seam of you so hotly that you nearly fall over. You lean down and give him another half-hearted smack. All it does is elicit a groan against your most sensitive of places.

With some struggle, you manage to remove the boot, kick your trousers and underthings off of one leg, and hop up to sit on the desk, Astarion follows you along, refusing to let you leave him now that he’s on you. His mouth works against you on its own, tongue lapping firmly at the edges of your cunt, flushing you and making you swell. He hasn’t even touched your clit yet and you know you’re already slick with desire.

You’re so momentarily distracted that you almost miss where his hands have gone.

Chest heaving, you weakly wave to dismiss your Zone of Truth and call up your mage hand, sending it down where you can’t reach to grab the wrist of the hand Astarion’s using to pump his cock while he licks at you.

“I don’t think so,” you gasp. “Still on… probation.”

You’re losing the thread and you’re perfectly okay with it.

Astarion growls in response and comes up higher on his knees, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you tight against his face. His tongue finally finds your center and he rolls it against your entrance, plying the place just inside that makes you go flush with arousal, your clit swelling further. Then he finally pays it attention with a light draw followed by firm circles, teasing until you feel sparkles of arcane energy tingling at your fingertips and zaps of pleasure shoot through your core.

He holds you so tight to him that there’s no escape from the assault of pleasure he’s waging on your body. All too soon, you’re whimpering as you approach your peak.

And Astarion simply stops. He leaves you there, right before the edge, and you cry out in dismay and frustration. Before you realize what’s happening, he’s on his feet and pulling you onto yours, spinning you around until your hips are pressed to the edge of the dark wood. You can feel his rock hard length against the cleft of your arse, feel the wetness at the tip of him against your lower back.

“You’ve overplayed your hand this time, I think,” he pants into your ear. “Let your guard down. What member of the Board of Ethics accepts bribes?”

When you try to wriggle free, you feel his fingers at your wrists. He takes your hands and spreads them on the desk as you’d done to him, bending you over. His hips draw back and then return and you feel his hardness drag over your folds from behind, teasing but not quite putting pressure on your clit.

His breathing is heavy, but through it, he manages, “This time, you tell me the truth. Why did you meet with me?”

“To catch you out,” you gasp. “Your behavior has been… unethical.”

“Is it unethical to recognize when someone wants your cock?” he whispers, sending a tingle over your shoulders. “Is it against my oath to offer?”

“That’s not… I didn’t…”

The head of his cock nudges your clit and you both hiss through your teeth. He pulls back until he catches at your entrance, pushing in just barely. Just enough to begin to feel him, but nowhere near enough of him. Instinctively you arch your back harder, trying to take more, but he won’t let you.

“Beg me,” he growls in your ear. “Beg me for my cock. Tell me it’s why you came here.”

Your very last thread of remaining restraint is pulled to its absolute limit, but it doesn’t break quite yet. “I came here on orders to uncover a magistrate with loose morals,” you manage.

Astarion reaches a hand up to the hair at the back of your head, grabs a handful, and gently pulls to bend your head back. Directly into your ear, he whispers, “You’ve found him. Now beg for it.”

In the quiver of his voice, you can hear that he’s the one begging you.

So you give in.

“I came here for you,” you whisper back. “Please, let me. Let me take your cock.”

His breath shudders out of him. “Take it you shall.”

Astarion thrusts his hips forward, burying himself in you, and you hardly have time to so much as gasp before he sets a punishing rhythm, one arm around your waist to hold you in place and the other one still tangled up in your hair. You arch deeply, giving him as much access as you can, and he pounds into you relentlessly. On the outskirts of your awareness, you feel bruises beginning to form on your hipbones from where they repeatedly hit the desk.

You don’t care one whit.

He keeps you bent over the desk, your palms spread to keep you both upright as he fucks you hard, his moans trapped behind his clenched teeth. As you fly full speed back to your edge, he removes the hand from your head and absently places it over your mouth to muffle your own escalating cries.

The coil of your climax tightens and Astarion begins to mutter a steady mantra of “yes, yes, yes, gods, yes” beside your ear. He presses himself all the way to the hilt and rocks, the base of him stretching you just right and his balls pressed firm to your clit and there, oh there, it’s right-

You scream behind Astarion’s palm as you come, the delicious tension boiling and spilling over as contractions roll through you, pleasure washing over your body with every heartbeat. You nearly blank out for a second and when you blink back down, your lover continues to pump into you as he chases his own end.

With a shaking hand, you call up your mage hand from where it shimmers nearby and press it to his chest, pushing back with soft pressure.

“No,” Astarion whines, attempting one or two more thrusts before you back him up. “No, please, please, I didn’t finish, I-”

You turn, bottomless and eyes full of fuck and revenge, and add your own hands to the mix, all three pushing him back until he hits the deposition table, going flat on his back. You crawl up over him and straddle him, up on your knees just out of reach.

You look down upon him, beautiful and fucked out in the moonlight. “Do you regret any of it?” you say.

“I’m regretting a lot of my decisions at the moment,” he snarks. His lips part as he breathes.

With a smile, you roll your hips just enough to catch the head of his cock back at your opening. “Do you regret any of it?” you repeat.

He pants, looking up at you. Then he reaches up to grip the front of your shirt and pull you down over him in a searing kiss. When you break, he whispers, “No. Not a moment. It brought me to you.”

You roll back, sinking down onto him. He gasps and throws his arms around you, helping you get back into rhythm, and he’s so close that it’s barely any time at all before he arches his back clear up off the table and groans as he spills inside of you, the relief painted across every inch of his face. He comes for nearly a minute, twitching and humming beneath you until he finally relaxes into a boneless heap.

When he next opens his eyes, you lean down and catch him in another kiss.

The pair of you have barely redressed and cast a few prestidigitation cantrips as a courtesy before there’s a sound somewhere down the hall. Footsteps. Coming closer.

“Shit,” Astarion whispers, startled. He grabs your hand and spins you both into a dim corner of the room before you both cast Invisibility. Just in the nick of time, it appears, because there’s a jangle of keys and then a harried-looking halfling comes bustling into the room, dark bags under their eyes.

They grumble to themselves for a moment, going to a box to sort through files. They don’t find what they’re looking for and move on to the desk. Once there, they open a drawer, then wrinkle their nose.

“Bleeding hells, it smells like sex in here,” they grumble. “Gonna tell Jackobson that Cole has been using his office again. Teach that arsehole for making me come fetch the file he forgot.”

The halfling pulls a file from the drawer, slams it, and exits the room.

Neither of you move for the rest of the minute your invisibility lasts. As soon as the cloaking spell fades, you both collapse to the floor in quiet giggles. You kiss Astarion through your laughter, again and again.

It’s nice to see this side of him.

[cursingtoji]

I am back for more

31… BUT HEAR ME OUT 😩 I can’t pick between Suguru and Choso because they both fit it SOO well so you pick ☺️💕

𝕿𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝕬𝖗𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙!𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖔

⊱ fem reader x heavily tattooed choso, porn with a plot, dirty talk, semi-public sex, fingering, a tongue piercing; The Clichés ™;

note: winter i remember us talking about tattoo artist choso and i went feral with it, geto is mentioned but he does not participate (yet? 👀)

tattoo artist!Choso who is heavily tattooed mostly black and gray art. his fair skin contrasting with the dark ink on his arms and neck. black smudged eyeliner around his brown eyes make his look upon you feel a thousand times deeper

choso is a sight for sore eyes

he’s exactly the kind of guy you would expect to see working in a tattoo shop

when you go get a matching tattoo with your best friend is when you first see him, writing something down at the reception and not noticing you at first

his pretty face and deep eyes greet you both with a smile so pretty that makes you forget the name of your scheduled artist.

“matching tattoos…” he looks in a book as you hope him to be the artist, “ah here, Suguru!” he calls and a man with black hair tied in a bun comes to you and your friend.

“thank you” you smile getting a wink back from him.

suguru is very friendly, he asks your bestie questions about your friendship since she’s the first one to get inked while you look around the shop, more specifically at the art in frames hanging all around the walls.

one catches your eye: a traditional japanese dragon with some flowers and clouds around it.

you even get closer to take a better look at the intricate details

your friend has to tap your shoulder when shes done cause you completely spaced out thinking about that art on your body

suguru can’t help but notice how your eyes keeping swinging back to that piece on the art while he’s tattooing your forearm

“you know that was done by one of our guys” he says, “Choso. You met him in the reception” he points with his chin to the handsome man

“really? that’s so beautiful… was it done for a client or something like that?” you ask wanting to know if someone else already had that piece of art tattooed.

“no, not really. choso created that on his own” suguru smirks when sees you biting your lip “you know… that would look gorgeous on your back or thigh” you were already tempted without suguru pushing you

by the time your matching tattoo is done, suguru had already convinced you to come back and get the dragon on your thigh, since choso was nowhere to be seen, suguru himself scheduled your appointment with choso for next week.

“gotcha an appointment” suguru says finding choso on the break room

“oh yeah?”

“she’s gonna get the dragon with flowers that has been on the wall for months”

choso stops all he’s doing and looks at suguru with an empty expression

“i know i know, you’re afraid to tattoo it, client not liking and you ending up heart broken cause it’s your favourite drawing of yours…” choso delivered a light punch on his friend’s shoulder, “but come on, the girl was so cute and she really loved it”

it’s not like choso could just call you and say he wasn’t gonna do it so after another punch on suguru he returned to his station and followed his week until the day you returned to studio

saying you were anxious is an understatement

it would be a pretty large tattoo that you decided to get on your thigh, but the expectation to see choso again played a big part on your apprehensiveness

your artist is already at the reception talking to a younger guy you haven’t seen around the last time

you greet them both and say your there for your appointment, the younger one asks who your artist is

“she’s mine, come on sweetheart” he says so casually and leaves you trying to regulate your heartbeats

choso takes you upstairs to the corner of the room and tells you to get comfortable on the chair after you okayed the size of the stencil

“i need you to take it off or it’ll get stained with ink” he pointed to your shorts and closed the curtain, he stayed there but turned around pretending to organize the caps to give you some privacy

you wiggle out of the article and sat back on the chair with your black undies and nothing else under the waist, thankfully you chose a good one, when you’re comfortable choso approaches to rub some alcohol and place the stencil

as soon as you agree he begin to trace the patterns with you sitting on the partially reclined chair

“how we doing?” he looks up after half an hour, having finished part of the drawing

“i’m alright” you sigh

“strong girl, we can make a break in another hour, then i’ll have finished the flowers” he assures and go back to focusing on your thigh

having a gorgeous man so close to your crotch was having an effect on you that didn’t match the pain he was inflicting

of course it hurt but every time he gets too close to your skin and you feel his hot breathing fanning over the sore area you unconsciously press your thighs together

and choso is not stupid, of course he notices how aroused his cute client is, he has his hand on your inner thigh and whenever your reflexes kick and you try to close them he tights his grip on you to avoid you moving and screwing up his lines

“sure you’re okay?” he stops the machine to run vasiline on your skin very softly while looking in your eyes, you can’t find your voice to answer him “we can take a break now, maybe i can get you to relax a little” he doesn’t need to move his hand much to touch the covered lips of your pussy, when he does you whimper

“i can smell how wet you are, does pain turn you on that much?” he removes his hand to snap his glove out and touch the wet patch on your underwear with his bare fingers

you shake your head “no? what was it then? don’t tell me it’s me” he raises from his stool staring from above while you look back at him with doe eyes “aren’t you cute” he murmurs kissing your forehead and pushing your underwear aside to run his fingers on your wet folds a couple of times before pushing them in

“i need you to keep it down for me, can you do that?” he murmurs it so low you barely hear it due to the other voices on the other side of the curtain, you nod and starts to move his fingers skillfully

“naughty girl, booked a tattoo just to get your pussy played with tsk tsk” he adds a second finger keeping your clit under his thumb

“no! i really want it” you reply immediately not wanting him to think for a second you didn’t love his art

that seemed to be enough affirmation for choso, who leans taking your chin with his free hand, he stops right before your lips studying the little pout you have and how dilated your pupils are

he smirks and softly bites your bottom lip, which makes you yelp but he licks it apologetically

choso feels like eating you whole, the way you respond to him is mesmerizing

“c-choso i’m close” you grip his arm and he pushes his tongue in, swallong your moans cause the last thing he needs is one of his coworkers finding out about this

you didn’t notice at first due to his ministrations bellow your waist but he had a tongue piercing, the cold metal rolls between your tongues, a new exciting addition to an already great kiss

his thumb flicker your clit and you press your thighs around his hand climaxing hard and silently

“good girl” he pulls away taking a string of saliva, you rest your head on the chair recovering from your high, for a second your eyes close but soon open them again when you feel a tissue touch your sensitive core

“wait aren’t you— aren’t we—?” you look down to his bulge, he was clearly aroused too

“calm down lady, this is just the first session” he laughs and gently cleans you and the chair finishing up by placing your underwear back, “lemme finish this and if you don’t tap out or squirm i’ll reward you in the end” he winks before disappearing behind the curtains for a couple of minutes, you take the chance to look down at your skin

it was a bit swollen but you could see that the part he had inked already was perfect, the dragon was halfway done and you couldn’t wait to see it completed

when choso gets back he’s pleasurably surprised to find you looking at your leg with a smile in your face

“lemme see…” a few hours later you’re at the reception talking to the boy from before to schedule your return in order to color the rest of the tattoo, “choso is free next—“

“actually yuuji you can book her for this weekend” choso steps up, just walking down the stairs. moments before he told to check with yuuji while he cleaned his station

“you are not working this weekend” yuuji looks at him suspiciously

“i am now” choso emphasize by tapping his finger on the date at the planner

“hm okay” yuuji takes your information and you thank him before choso leads you out

“you’ll be working just for me?” you ask once you’re out

“yeah but you’ll buy us lunch after i’m done”

“done with the tattoo?”

“done with you” your eyes widen and you’re already excited for your date

“okay, I’ll pay, but…” you step closer to him but not too much so the people inside the shop don’t notice, “you’ll have to use your tongue”

“you liked that?” he rolls his tongue out displaying the shiny round metal, “fine i’ll show you what i can do with it next time”

See also: “who did this to you?” + Sukuna

[allmonstersxarehuman]

I Need Space

Bang Chan x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Only terrible writing and no editing. Angst with no comfort.

“How many times do I need to apologize, it’s not a big deal. I was just being nice, She wanted help with some lyrics she was writing and had mentioned how much she admired my work, she’s new to the company I wanted to be helpful.” Your boyfriend says following you like a lost puppy, you weren’t having it though. When you got into a relationship with Chan you knew he was a natural flirt but it happened time and time again, this time a mutual friend had spotted your boyfriend out with a new employee from the company. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if he hadn’t lied to you about where he was going and have his phone off the entire time. He had told you he was working with the guys on working on more of the songs they were preparing, when you called Changbin to ask if they wanted you to bring dinner he was confused saying that Chan wanted to take the day off. You had hung up with a simple thanks before passing back and forth through your living room. You had been so stuck in your own head that the ding of your phone scared you, it was a text from Minnie a mutual friend of yours and Chans. You had been texting her about what was going on and trying to get some advice, what she had sent you made your blood boil. There he was, your boyfriend with the “new employee” they were in a coffee shop as they talked and he took his hand and rubbed it up and down her bare arm almost in a comforting way she gave him a smile as she placed her hand on his before she grabbed his laptop and started to type on it. The laptop that no one ever got to touch including you and the other members, now that was something that made you upset. Sounds stupid but he was trusting a complete stranger with his laptop but not you or the boys? That didn’t sit right. After that the video ended and Minnie said she was going to go give him a piece of her mind, you protested through text but you knew Minnie if she has her mind set on something nothing is going to change her mind.

This is how you got into the situation you were in, you looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Really I didn’t know that kind of stuff included touching someone else and lying to your girlfriend and some of your group mates. What makes you trust her more than us?” The question through him off and arched an eyebrow to question what you were talking about. You were tired of him acting innocent until you showed him a snapshot of her using his laptop. “Oh. Technically I didn’t let her use it, she grabbed it from me and I took it from her very quick, that’s when Minnie came over and gave me an ear full and I came here because she said that I needed to explain myself to you.” You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair, maybe you are just being dramatic but this also wasn’t the first time he’s been overly friendly to new staff. Though you do know that Chris is a social butterfly there is something different about the way he acts with the new employees especially ones that run around in tiny skirts, he definitely tends to flatter the person he is talking to and ends up sending mixed signals. You know this from experience, that’s how things were before the two of you started dating. But about a month after dating he started up this habit. Now a year into the relationship and he still does it sometimes you’d catch him with one of them in his studio looking awfully close the women always smirked at you like they New something you didn’t, he had an explanation for anything and everything. But now you didn’t want to hear anymore of his excuses. “I think we should split up.” You whispered. “I’m not sure I heard you right, it sounded like you wanted to split up.” He laughed lightly thinking it was most likely a joke to scare him to get back at him. “Chris we need to split up. I can’t do this anymore, I’m exhausted wondering if you are lying to me or telling the truth. I cant trust you and maybe I need the space, I can’t continue to sit here wondering if you are cheating or just trying to get an reaction out of me but I can’t do it anymore. I’m to tired for this.” You said softly walking to your bedroom with Chris trailing behind, you ignored his pleas to just sit with him and talk but you ignored him and started packing the things he had left for when he stayed over. Once you were sure you had finished packing his belongings, you handed it to him but not before setting the necklace he gave you for your one year anniversary. You felt dirty keeping it especially knowing that he probably did this with everyone he found attractive, you unfortunately fell for his sweet talk and gentle touches.

“Here I think that is everything, don’t worry about giving me the key I’m having the locks and passwords changed. I’m sorry this didn’t work out but know that I really did truly loved you. I wish you the best.” You said opening the front to see him out. He looked at you his eyes looked sad and a single tear fell. “I’m sorry. But know I never cheated, and I definitely never meant to hurt you. Please don’t shut me out, we can get over this hill. I promise we can make this work.” He said dropping the box and taking your small hands in his larger ones, it was so hard not to give into him. “No Christopher, I need space; maybe we will have another chance to do this correctly but right now…” you couldn’t finish your sentence before swallowing the sob that threatened to escape. “Please Chan don’t make this harder than it already is.” You said looking down at the ground. He opened his mouth to say something but shut it knowing he wouldn’t be able to change your mind right now but he was determined to win you back. “I love you y/n.” He said softly before walking out your door. Once he was gone you collapsed on the floor letting a sob escape, you know that this was probably for the best but why does it’s feel so wrong.

[adventuringblind]

Misheard, Misjudged

Lando Norris x Leclerc Reader

Genre: Angst with a pinch of spice

Summary: Lando overhears a conversation and thinks it’s about him

Warnings: Lando’s self-esteem plummets

Notes: I’m aware I have things to do but I’m doing a friend a favor

Masterlist

Lando and the little Leclerc are everybody’s favorite couple. He clings to her every second of every day and she gets livid when her brother call her little. Younger then Arthur by a minute and she never hears the end of it.

Their families love them, the fans love them, but most importantly is that they love each other.

They met when Arthur started racing again. She was bored without her partner in crime, so Charles took her on as is social media manager. Needles to say they banter a lot. Charles’ fashion choices are horrendous at times but she loves him nonetheless.

Charles teases them all the time about how they are practically glued together. Which is probably true, considering they are like magnets in the paddock.

So in Lando’s head, it makes no sense why she would say such things about him. In their home. With her friends.

‘Sure he’s good looking, but like - is there really anything else? He’s so childish and whines like a bitch. Also, have you seen how clingy he is?”

He couldn’t listen anymore after that. Is he really that clingy? And for all intensive purposes, isn’t she also clingy? He never thought it was that bad. Sure, people tease, but who cares what they think? Or, maybe he’s just overthinking and he should just ask about it.

Scratch that - a terrible plan. Instead he shall withdrawal himself and see if it makes her happier.

The first week she looks confused and a little hurt by his actions, but she doesn’t say anything. No more initiated physical contact. No random hugs and kisses. He doesn’t cling to her during the race weekend like normal.

See! He isn’t cling! if anything, she’s definitely the more clingy one out of the two.

Week two hurt more then the first. He catches snippets of a few phone calls between her and Charles. She’s locked in the bathroom and her voice is cracking. “I don’t understand what I did, Charlie.”

Doesn’t understand what she did? You can’t just say things about a person and expect everything to be okay after. Why doesn’t she talk to him about it? If she wanted more space he would’ve just rather have talked about it then have overheard the love of his life shattering his heart into pieces.

He turns her back to her in bed starting week three. She looks tired over the next few days. Not just yawning, but the dark circles under red eyes screams that something is wrong.

she starts leaving sticky notes on his things, on the counters, the insides of cabinets, and even plastered all over thee mirror.

He ignores them. Yet his mind starts to wonder if maybe he should just ask her why. But it’s not like she talked to him, so why she he talk to her now?

He wonders again when he catches Max glaring at him.

And again when Oscar grows concerned.

And then when George gives a PowerPoint presentation with how to communicate properly.

Yeah, ok - so this wasn’t the right way to go about this. He really wishes George and his stupid PowerPoint had come earlier.

The icing on the cake is when he comes home one day and passes Charles as he’s leaving. He doesn’t look happy at all, and honestly, Lando can’t blame him.

He goes straight to bed, face buried in the pillow. Limbs tossed dramatically like a Disney princess in despair.

“Lando?” Her small voice shreds every ounce of strength he has left. She sits on the bed beside him. He doesn’t look up and she sighs heavily. “Please talk to me.”

When he does finally look at her. Truly, for the first time in months, he sees just how broken she looks.

“What’s there to talk about?” He curses himself and his tone because she flinches away at it.

“Why are you avoiding me? I don’t understand what I did…”

He scoffs. “Don’t know what you did? Last month at your little get together? Calling me a clingy whiny bitch behind my back?” He chokes on the last part.

She looks at him, head tilted in confusion. The same look she gives when he’s trying to read directions. Confused, loving, patient. Why is she smiling?

“You didn’t hear the beginning of that did you?”

“No.” He pouts.

“Lando, love, light of my life - that was about Charles.”

His entire body freezes. It’s true that her friends like Charles and she hates when the fawn over him. Oh, he’s been an idiot. An Absolute asshole.

“I’m so sorry.” He throws himself at her and every ounce of anxiety over the past month is washed away as soon as her fingertips touch his skin.

“Charles is terribly clingy to everybody and he’s my brother. Of course he’s a whiny bitch in my eyes.” He would respond but his brain is mush at her hands in his hair.

“I just got so in my head. I’m so sorry I didn’t talk to you - George gave me the whole lecture about proper communication.”

“I Know. He said you were hopeless.”

“How encouraging of him.”

Lando pulls her on top of him. Her warmth, her skin, her full body weight is everything he ever needs to survive.

“I can’t believe you’re smiling at me.”

“I’m mad at you, but maybe we can make up.” She raises her eyes suggestively.

“I think I can make that happen.”

[icarryitin]

Cross the Line

spencer reid/gn afab!reader

reader is still more or less a blank slate but i wrote this w my fellow thick girlies in mind, love you🧡 have fun defiling a sofa you whores🫡

(this is NOT a part of Can You…? but there is a new part coming next week so !!!)

masterlist

word count: 4.3k // warnings: 18+ pls this is straight up porn, afab reader bc work with what you’ve got, unprotected PIV and all the trimmings including fingering and a sneaky blowjob, too many feelings for something i meant to just be sexy

summary: Your friendship with Spencer reaches breaking point, and there’s no going back after this.

“This is a really bad idea.”

Oh, don’t you know it. But Spencer isn’t pulling back from you – still very much in your space for a man claiming that he shouldn’t be there in the first place.

Although he’s not touching you, not yet, the tension in the room is stretched so thin that you’re worried it’ll snap. There’s no going back after that. It’s all so fragile, this delicate thing between you, and you’re afraid that one wrong move will shatter it all beyond repair. The heavy rain of the summer thunderstorm pounding against your living room window does nothing to relieve the stifling pressure in the room. You want to tell him that you agree, it’s a very bad idea. You want to tell him goodnight, you’ll see him on Monday, you want to wave him towards the stairs of your apartment building and shut the door on him. Except no sound comes out when you open your mouth. Because you’re wound so tight, only by his proximity, by the warmth that leeches over you from having him so fucking close.

You close your mouth again, clear your throat, and frown at the tiniest twitch of his lips. Smug bastard isn’t a side of him you see often. It suits him, annoyingly.

It takes a gargantuan effort to peel your gaze from his mouth, to lock your eyes on his with an intensity he doesn’t expect. To his credit, he doesn’t falter all that noticeably, the catch of his breath only detectable by the barest shudder of his shoulders – but it’s nice to know you hold the same level of power over him as he does you. Maybe not nice, maybe a little bit dangerous, maybe a little bit like standing too close to the edge of a cliff. Adrenaline thundering through your veins, nerve endings on fire, daring one of you to take the leap. Spencer caves first, the slightest skim of his fingers against yours, and it’s game over.

You have no choice but to kiss that stupid little smile right off his face.

He’s taken by surprise when you surge forward to close the gap between your faces, stumbling a little with the force of it, but he catches you. Of course he does, just like always. This moment has been months in the making – eleven months, nine days, and six hours to be exact. Which he always is. From the second you waltzed into the bullpen with your smile and your eyes and your shiny new badge, and him? He has three PHDs to his name, thinking about a fourth, and yet even just the smell of your laundry detergent can render his mind completely blank of anything but you. He should hate it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pushes forward, pressing his lips to yours with fervour. All he can wonder is why it’s taken so long.

Kissing Spencer Reid is everything. You could do it forever. You probably won’t be that lucky, but you would if he let you. And, while his aversion to touch has never really seemed to apply to you, it’s as though he’s abandoned it completely – the thing about kissing Spencer Reid, you find, is that he’s all hands.

On your cheeks, your jaw, the back of your neck. Sliding down to grip at your upper arms, your elbows. He tugs you in even closer by them until there’s not a breath of air between your bodies. Until he can wind his arms around you completely. Your hands have trailed up to rest on his chest, fairly content to bask in the heat of him and the stuttering of his heartbeat under your fingertips. But it’s like he can’t decide where he wants to hold you. Just that he wants to leave no stone unturned, meticulously cataloguing every inch of your body by touch alone. He probably is, knowing him, committing you to memory. The thought makes you burn, as he grasps at your waist like his life depends on it. He’s not close enough – will never be close enough, you think. His lips part for a moment, just to catch his breath before he dives back in, and you seize the opportunity to lick along the reddened line of them. No, you can’t climb into his body and live there, but sticking your tongue in his mouth is a close second. You’ll just have to live with that.

Spencer’s gasp in response to the intrusion almost makes you draw back, almost. But you can’t go anywhere because he’s on you again, more enthusiastic than he ever was before, backing you up into your apartment. One hand abandons its post on your hip to turn the lock and slide the security chain into place on the front door – safety first, the action is hotter than you’d like to admit – and then it’s back with a vengeance until you’re sure he’s leaving bruises. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Feet shuffle, hands fumble, you almost take the both of you down when the floorboards are interrupted by the lip of the living room rug. But the stumble isn’t worth pulling your face off of Spencer’s, not even for a second. Not until you have to manoeuvre around the coffee table to find the couch anyway.

You mumble a quiet ouch against his lips when the wooden corner of it digs into the back of your knee, and the chuckle you get in response makes your heart grow so big you’re worried it’ll burst your ribcage at the seams. Noses knocking into one another, you turn your face to scowl at the offending item of furniture, but a gentle touch to your jaw coaxes your eyes back to his. And you get it.

This is what everyone means when they say that he looks at you.

Spencer’s eyes are a shade darker in the low light, focused solely on your face. Your lips, your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, he’s studying you like there’s nothing else in the world worth looking at so closely. As if he doesn’t spend most of his working day looking at your face. As if it’s not enough. Even if you weren’t a profiler, the reverence he seems to regard you in would give him away. It’s not the heady pressure of the rolling thunder that’s making you sweat - it’s that look. Because it’s the one you get all the time, reserved just for you. Okay, maybe you had noticed, but you’ve always put it down to wishful thinking. Always had an excuse. It feels more intimate than sticking your tongue in his mouth, looking at him like this. So open, so vulnerable.

He lets you back him up, this time, taking the careful step or two backwards without breaking the eye contact until he can feel the fabric of your couch against his legs. Soft, even through the fabric of his trousers. Spencer expects you’ll feel much the same. There’s no struggle for the upper hand in the quiet of the room. Just the two of you, tentatively taking a step out into the unknown side by side. He lowers himself to sit, couch cushions giving way to his body exactly as softly as he expected, lacing his fingers through yours to take you with him. He doesn’t pull, but you follow him all the same. You let him guide you, settling a thigh either side of his own, balanced carefully on his lap. He won’t let you fall.

“Hi.” His throat is dry - his voice lower, more gravelly than he’s expecting, and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to catch his eyebrows before they can jerk up in surprise.

Your laugh is mesmerising, music to his ears. It washes over him as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks, smoothing his eyebrows with your thumbs.

“Hi,” Your own shaky tone betrays you, just a little, “You okay?”

He’s nodding even as he leans in to kiss you, to inhale you, to drown in you again.

Long fingers dig into the meat of your thighs and the shuddering groan that escapes your lips is absolutely involuntary, but Spencer swallows it without a second thought. Your hands are tight in his hair as his grip wanders to your hips and squeezes – you can’t help but grind down into his lap, feel the hardness of him beneath you. And suddenly, making out like horny teenagers isn’t enough. You have to pull back, however reluctantly, though you don’t stray far.

“Spencer,” You’re breathless, eyes still closed, lips still brushing his with every syllable, “I need you.”

The streetlight shining through the raindrops on the window casts a glow behind your head, Spencer’s heavy lidded eyes fanning it out like a lens flare in a film – like a halo. He’s always thought you had one.

“You have me, you’ve always had me. Are you sure?” He wants to cringe at the question, sure that it’ll send you flying out of his lap, but he has to be certain. He has to know that this isn’t stress relief after the case, that it’s not because he’s right in front of you, that your insides churn every time you look at him the way his tie themselves into knots over you. Your responding smile is fond, one hand sliding down from his hair to swipe your index finger down the length of his nose and he can’t help the upturn of his own lips. In spite of it all, his anxiety dissolves completely, withering and dying under your sincere gaze.

“I’m sure.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

The absence of his hold on you is startling, goosebumps raising on your hips the moment his warm hands move to the buttons of your shirt. To be fair, you’re not much better yourself, already tugging at the knot of his tie until you can slip it over his head. Somewhere in the midst of scrambling fingers and wriggling stiff fabric out of waistbands, you end up buttoning your shirt to his, getting tangled in the both of them when you start wrestling the thing off of his shoulders.

It breaks the tension in the room; the stakes don’t seem quite as high when you’re both wrapped up in your shirts, giggling. Spencer’s dexterous fingers find the culprit, one of your buttons caught in the fastening of one of his, and release it. White and burgundy cotton falling away to reveal you to each other. Dishevelled, grinning, absolutely at ease with one another’s closeness. He looks like he wants to say something else but, whatever it is, he holds it back. You don’t know if things will go beyond tonight, but it’d be worth the mountain of HR paperwork to see him this free even just once more. With anyone else, you might be embarrassed - but this is Spencer.

Spencer, who knows you.

Spencer, who has seen you laugh and cry and scream. You’ve celebrated together, fretted together, grieved together. He’s seen you on your absolute best days, your absolute worst. There’s nothing you’d want to hide from him, so you don’t shy away when he leans forward to latch his lips onto your neck. When he skims his fingers across the skin of your collarbone and leaves a trail of heat and goosebumps behind all at the same time. In much the same way that he preens at your touch, he seems to lean into your hands as you swipe them along his shoulders and down the planes of his chest. Something both known and unknown slots into place. You know what it is, you’re fairly confident he knows what it is, but neither of you will voice it. You don’t think it needs to be. You both know, and that’s enough for now.

At least you don’t get tangled up in anything else, although your jeans fight to the last as they get tugged over your bent knees. You haven’t got the patience to shimmy your underwear off, mostly because he’s already got his hands on you, fingers trailing between your skin and the elastic at your hips. So he’s a tease, now that makes sense.

Lightning fractures the night outside of your darkened window at the same moment Spencer slips his hand down below the elastic of your underwear. His fingers are cold against you, squashed between your weight and his lap, but he manages to swipe them through your folds decisively enough for you to shudder. You’ve already soaked through the cotton, the anticipation had begun the moment he offered to walk you home with that look. Every step since then has only added to your arousal, and it takes no effort at all for him to begin circling your clit with his fingertip. Delicate, deliberate. He’s making you squirm on purpose, wallowing in every whine that escapes your lips and every one you hold back. Your forehead drops to his shoulder as he presses a little more firmly, beginning to alternate between slow circles and dipping his fingers down to tease at your entrance.

You’re so turned on, you think you might die. Genuinely. You’re half convinced that you’re winding closer and closer to a heart attack with every swipe of the good doctor’s fingers against you, that you’ll seize up and go into cardiac arrest at any moment. You need him to do something. You’re teetering on the brink of no return, you need him to push you.

“Spencer.” You breathe as he finally, finally, slides his fingers home inside of you. His thumb takes its place over your clit, digits working gently but relentlessly in tandem with one another.

“I know,” He replies softly, “Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

You can only push your face into his neck, whining in harmony with another crash of thunder from the heavens - you know how they feel. Only your crescendo is still being held at arm's length by the man underneath you. It’s rude, actually. Or hot, knowing he’s so focused on you and your pleasure that everything else has stopped existing to him. You’re not sure which option you’d lean towards. Tears start to sting at your lash line, of frustration, of overstimulation, of pleasure. You’re not sure. At least he notices when one solitary drop escapes to slide over his sternum, trailing down his naked chest. And then he doubles down, you’re not ready for it.

He plays you like a violin until you’re writhing, squirming, panting, until you can’t keep still for even a second. Just to show you that he could have done, this whole time. There’s no warning, no siren, no flashing lights or emergency broadcast - you’re cresting the wave before you even really know what’s happening. Nails digging into his shoulders, hips grinding down of their own accord, beads of sweat breaking out in your hairline. It’s downright cruel that it’s taken so long for you to gather the courage for making a move. Distantly, somewhere in your hazy mind, you hope you haven’t hurt him. At least you had the presence of mind to clamp your mouth shut rather than sinking your teeth into his neck. Another time, maybe.

Your faculties come back to you, slowly but surely, although you don’t find yourself any less insatiable than you were before your jeans found a home on the floor. Spencer catches your lips in a gentle kiss, all too innocent considering he’s pulling a very wet hand out of your underwear at the same time. You can’t pull your eyes away when he pulls back to hold it between your faces, just to watch the glisten of them in the dull light, and runs his tongue up the length of his middle finger. It’s hypnotising. You chase him, knocking his hand out of the way to pull his face to yours again. There’s no air between you, skin on skin, as you kiss him for all he’s worth in the darkness of your living room. The taste of you lingers in his mouth, you don’t mind it. Not if it means you can inhale his every breath. And then, there’s the other thing. It won’t be ignored any further, although you’re sure Spencer would be more than happy to forego his own pleasure, if the blissed out look in his eye is anything to go by.

Still, selfishly, you want to see.

One careful press of your hips into his has his eyes rolling back, head following to rest on the back of the couch. You don’t have the time to mourn his lips against yours, next mission already on track as you let your fingers wander beneath the elastic of his own under. He inhales sharply at the touch, head shooting back up, and locks eyes with you. There’s a challenge in there, somewhere under the apprehension of your next move. You pull your fingers away from him, elastic snapping against his hips, and rake his hair back from his face. Your relationship with Spencer has long since evolved past the need for words, so he knows what you mean when you look at him so carefully - it’s his choice. Another beat, another breath, and he smiles. He nods softly. His face scrunches when you lean forward to press a light kiss on the tip of his nose. It’s all far too innocent considering your hands are skimming back down to breach the band of his underwear, sliding underneath just enough to pull him out and - oh.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were into me.” The joke escapes you before you have a chance to stop it. He’s so hard it must be painful. The tip is flushed pink, giving way to smooth skin and ridged veins - you want him in your mouth. But there’s a nagging throb between your legs, less a want and more a need.

“I’d like to be.”

Your bark of laughter lights up the whole room, the city, the world. Maybe it’s a bit soon, but he wants to hear you laugh like that every day for the rest of his life. He wants to be the reason for it. God, he loves you. That’s what it is, ultimately. He wonders if you can see it in his face, the way he’s watching you, as your laughter dies but your easy smile remains. He isn’t nervous anymore. He doesn’t know why he ever was in the first place, he wants this - wants you, desperately. The decision is made when he grips at your hips again, pulling you up ever so gently onto your knees to hover above him. You pull the crotch of your underwear to the side, the chilled air that hits your slick makes you shudder involuntarily, as your other hand grips him gently to guide him. Spencer lowers you onto him slowly, eyes steady on your face.

It’s moments like this that he’s grateful for the willpower he’s cultivated over the years - because, the moment his cock hits your heat? When the head of him slips into you, when you hold yourself there for a moment, and when you steadily start to work yourself up and down? He’s done for, absolutely gone, already teetering on the edge of oblivion. You take a little more of him every time you sink down again, breathing quickening, until you can seat yourself flush in his lap. A sharp gasp escapes you, punching out of your lungs at the intrusion and he seizes the opportunity to surge forward. He kisses you deeply, a newfound fire burning in the pit of his stomach, and his grip on you turns bruising when you return the passion. Slowly, deeply, he starts to grind you down onto him, swallowing every moan and groan and whimper you let slip.

Though your movements stay steady, he’s hurtling towards his end far sooner than he wants to. Your fingers tangle in his hair, lips on his - not kissing anymore, just panting into each other’s mouths. A sheen of sweat is starting to develop along both of your bodies. Slick skin sliding together, and it feels so good. You feel so good. Hot and wet and tight around him, your scent in his nose, it’s all so overstimulating and nowhere near enough all at the same time. And he starts mumbling it all, tongue loosened by the pleasure, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Soft praises, whines, utter gibberish about how good you feel. He can’t stop, even when you giggle and press butterfly kisses to the words as they leave his lips. He wants to help you let go again, he wants to feel you squeeze around his cock the same way you did around his fingers, but he hasn’t got the presence of mind to do it. Not while he’s hanging over the edge the way he is.

A much more rational part of his mind, somewhere in the back, reminds him that he’s forgone the one cardinal rule of high school sex ed classes. In the spontaneous haste of it all, neither of you thought about a condom. He’s clean, obviously. He trusts you to be clean, obviously. But there’s still the question of where. Because he’s dangerously close and there’s going to come a point where it’s too late to ask. He doesn’t even realise he’s asked the question, in the middle of his mumbled monologue, until you’re answering him with your own question.

“Can I choose?” You interrupt his rambling with a wicked glint in your eye. In all honesty, you’re sure you could ask him anything in this moment, and his answer would be yes. Though, it turns out he’s only got the capacity to nod an affirmative.

“Oh my God…”

That’s all you get when you pull off of him suddenly, sinking to your knees on the carpet in front of him. Whatever it was that might have followed is cut off abruptly by your tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

He’s right on the edge, that much is obvious, it won’t take much - and there’s nothing more you want right now than to thoroughly unravel this man. Usually so put together, buttoned up, absolutely falling to pieces under your touch. While he’s a comfortable thickness, you’re not up to trying to swallow the length of him. Frankly, neither of you have the patience to torture him with the preparation it would take, not today at least. So you settle for wrapping your lips around the head, eyes locked on his furrowed brow as he watches you, and suck. Every swipe of your tongue over him drags another groan, gasp, whine of your name. It’s dangerous information, knowing how he sounds when he’s like this. You’re not sure you’ll be able to think of anything else for the rest of your life. Looking him in the eye over the next round table is going to be interesting, to say the least. It only takes one more swirl of your tongue over him to open the floodgates.

You swallow down every last drop he gives you, warm and tangy but not unpleasant, as his spine curves towards you. Another breathless chuckle, and he strokes a finger down the side of your face when you pull off of him with a satisfying pop. Your tongue pokes out automatically, just to prove to him that you did in fact take the lot - just to watch his eyes roll back in his head again.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Spencer’s talking to himself more than he is you, as he hauls you back up and into his lap. Dick softening slowly between you, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you again, to swipe his tongue through the remnants of himself on your lips.

“I’ve been around a while, thanks for noticing.” You’re joking, nipping at his jaw, shifting as the sticky mess between your legs begs you for a quick shower before bed. The amusement on your tongue dies when you open your eyes, to see him watching you again.

“Trust me,” He’s looking at you so earnestly, you’re worried you might cry, “I noticed you a long time ago.”

It’s early when you wake - when the world is bathed in that shade of blue that only seems to exist just before the sun rises. You’re warm. Tethered to the earth by the set of arms wrapped snugly around your middle, by the steady heartbeat beneath the chest where you rest your head. Spencer isn’t awake, not really, not yet. But he shifts as you snuffle in closer under the duvet and tighten your grip in the old Academy t-shirt he’d swiped from your closet. A soft press of lips against your forehead and you sigh contentedly, more than happy to let the morning waste away. Everything else can wait.

Or at least, you want to let it wait - the blaring ringtone of your work phone in the living room puts a relative damper on that particular plan.

“Let it ring.” Comes a tired voice from somewhere above your head. Craning your neck, you spot him blinking and bleary eyed in the morning light, and take a moment to savour it. Him. He turns his gaze to you, tired as it is, and smiles softer than you’ve ever seen. It’s unspoken, a silent agreement made just before sunrise in your bed. Whatever this is, you’re in it together. So you tug the neckline of the t-shirt down, just far enough to plant a kiss in the hollow of his throat before dragging yourself from his warmth to hunt down your screeching phone.

You’re twisting your key in the front door when he plucks up the courage to ask the looming question.

“Are we telling them, or not yet?” Watching fingers tighten around the strap of his messenger bag has your mind hurtling back to the night before, and exactly what those fingers were doing. You shrug, reaching over to untangle his anxious grip and loop his hands through yours. A smile, bright as the rising sun, breaks out on Spencer’s face. You can’t help but mirror it when you answer him.

“That depends on who you want to win the betting pool.”

“There’s a pool?”

fun fact the inspiration for this was i wanted to sit in spencer reid’s lap so now we all get to sit in spencer reid’s lap you’re welcome🧡

[bakugo-softski]

In which Izuku is left quirkless, so they find a new reason

Katsuki stayed crouched above Izuku, pinning one arm with his foot and clasping the other, pressed to the floor of the training mat. Almost in an exact replica of their fight at ground beta all those months ago, minus one arm and a slight change in hand placement. They both stay like that, breathing heavily, staring into eachothers eyes with the mutual feeling of impending doom sat heavily between them.

Because Izuku was getting weaker.

Katsuki had noticed, though he tried his best to ignore it. They both did, afraid to speak it into reality. Afraid for their dynamic to change. But as Katsuki had an easier and easier time pinning Izuku, as the embers slowly died out, they both found it hard to ignore that this…whatever it was they had, was coming to an end. Katsuki felt frantic, empty. Watching as something dear died before him, completely out of his reach.

Izuku had resolved to accept his fate, his eventuality. He didn’t mind being quirkless again. The loss held between them came from a different place, and they both knew it.

“…Kacchan?” Sad. So sad.

Katsuki released his hold and stood up, before offering Izuku his hand to help the boy up, too. They stood in silence, Izuku still breathing heavily and looking embarrassed about it, unable to find the words to express what they both clearly wanted to say to eachother.

“I’ll make katsudon tonight.” A common condolence when Izuku suffered yet another decline in power. It seemed now that one for all was gone for good, the embers inside izuku were dying at an increased rate than what All Might had gone through. The embers seemed to die at a steady rate regardless if Izuku used OFA or not. When they’d realized, they’d fought eachother deep into the night, openly crying at eachother and throwing punches. A silent agreement they’d do this as often as they could, until they couldn’t anymore.

This.. felt like a goodbye. Katsuki stared into Izuku’s eyes and felt like he was at a funeral.

“…okay. Thank you, Kacchan.”

With one last look into Izuku’s eyes, Katsuki turned and walked out, Izuku staying behind to put distance between them. To give eachother space. Katsuki managed to stifle the sob caught in his throat till he made it onto the elevator.

.

.

.

Katsuki poked the pork frying in the pan on autopilot. In his head, he thumbed through the same stack of thoughts sitting heavily in his mind like clockwork. He felt lost, weak, trapped. Condemned to a fate he had no control over. They wouldn’t be able to keep sparring. Izuku had stopped being able to keep up with catch-a-kacchan months ago, and they had been staying ground-level for a while but they both knew even that was too much for him now. The embers were barely even there anymore.

Katsuki hadn’t seen Izuku since he’d left him at the gym. They hadn’t texted eachother, either. What would they even say? There weren’t words. Katsuki didn’t have the words.

At this, Izuku makes his first appearance in hours, to slink into the kitchen and stand beside Katsuki. He’s silent for a moment.

“…Can i help?”

Katsuki is relieved those were the words that came out of Izuku’s mouth, instead of..well.

He lets out a little breath of relief.

“Sure. Grab the egg, mirin and soy sauce for me.” Mix those together-equal parts, four eggs, and chop some of those green onions while you’re at it.”

“Got it.” Izuku flits around the kitchen grabbing ingredients and settling again beside Katsuki, beginning his task.

They don’t know how to bring it up, but the silence is somehow comfortable, each settling in to their tasks, accomplishing the same goal of katsudon together. Katsuki can’t say it, but he’s thankful to have a reason to be near Izuku like this. Even if it is just making a meal together. They don’t say much else, afraid to break whatever fragile comfort they’d created.

They ate in silence. And then stared into space together, in silence. And then Katsuki said he’d wash their dishes, and then Izuku left, in silence; and Katsuki wished he’d asked for help instead.

.

.

.

10:24pm.

Katsuki stared into the dark, in silence. Thought about texting Izuku. Couldn’t find the words.

.

.

.

It’s Saturday. Katsuki came down to make breakfast. Hoped to see Izuku, but he didn’t show. Thought about taking the food to him, put it in the fridge instead.

.

.

.

4:24pm. He’d stayed in the common room the whole day, but Izuku never showed, and Katsuki couldn’t find the words to give him a reason to seek the boy out. What could he even say? “You haven’t eaten all day.” ? As if. How stupid for Katsuki to care about that when…when he couldn’t even..

Fuck it. A reasons a reason, he supposes.

Katsuki sped through the curry prep, in a hurry to get it to Izuku’s door and tell him he hasn’t eaten all day. With two steaming bowls held on a dish platter, because he didn’t want his to get cold while he ate alone, he marched his way up to Izuku’s room and knocked firm, once, twice, and waited.

Izuku opened the door quickly, and Katsuki saw he was in a similar shape to himself, dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t slept either.

“You haven’t eaten.” An observation, a request, a plea.

Izuku looked at the bowls, took one. Stood in the doorway, awkward.

At the same time Katsuki makes to turn away, Izuku speaks up. “Do you want to come in? You just, you have two bowls. You don’t have to…but. Um. I’d like you to.”

His response was immediate. “Yeah.” A breath, a small relief. A break from the pain.

They both settle down on Izuku’s bed to eat, backs against the wall. Close, even if neither one of them acknowledged it. They didn’t speak. Until,

“Um. So, theres a show I started a couple days ago. Do..you wanna watch it with me?” Izuku digs around for the remote. Kacchan grunts for him to go ahead, so he turns it on from the beginning and they settle back in to eating, watching together.

.

.

.

8:52pm.

They’re on episode five now, bowl’s of curry empty and forgotten on the floor beside the bed. They’ve pulled Izuku’s blanket up over their legs and are zoned into the show, a merciful relief. A reason. Katsuki hides his yawns as subtly as he can, and Izuku pretends not to notice.

They both pretend not to notice when Katsuki subtly shifts further into the bed, afraid to break the spell. They’re both tired enough to not think about it.

.

.

.

6:46am.

Katsuki blinks his eyes open and finds the clock on the wall that doesn’t belong to him, and then feels legs that also don’t belong to him entangled with his own. He can’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed about it. Izuku is sleeping peacefully, soft snores and breaths coming out in little puffs, one hand resting peacefully on his chest and the other holding Katsuki’s forearm, which was sat snuggly against the curve of Izukus side, being held in place in the air. Katsuki didn’t dare move. The TV sat dark and paused on the wall, long forgotten. He’d have to check to see when they both fell asleep so they knew how far back to go, he thought idly. A problem for later, though.

He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

.

.

.

When he woke back up Izuku was silencing his phone, his ringtone for Uraraka being cut short and detangling his legs from Katsuki’s in order to stand up from the bed.

“We uh...we fell asleep last night.”

“…Yeah.” A yawn.

“The show’s good. Whats the last part you remember? We’re probably gonna have to find where we left off.”

“Oh uh, i think..the new guy, the blonde one had just fought with that guy in the boat restaurant. I think he was gonna leave.”

“Huh? The last thing I remember is whats her name and whats his face playing some drinking game.”

A chuckle. “I’ll go back and find our spot tonig-when we-um. Anyway. I’m..I’m glad you liked it, Kacchan.”

“I’ll come back tonight. And we can watch more.” Small reliefs. Small reliefs, small reliefs.

A smile, small, shared. “I’d like that.”

Silence.

“So. Um. It’s..it’s Sunday.”

Sundays they typically spent the whole day in the gym, sparring, being in each others company. Katsuki didn’t get much physically from their sparring sessions these days, they both knew it. They seemed to be at an understanding though, of what they got from their Sundays together.

Suddenly, Katsuki had a thought. The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of them, eager to run from the conversation he so badly feared having.

“Lets go play some fucking baseball, Zuku.”

Izuku’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks funny like that, Katsuki thinks. It makes his stomach do a weird little flip that he usually only felt in the heat of the moment during their fights and sparring sessions, back when Izuku was at full strength. The feeling puts a surprised little crease between his own brows.

“…hah..what?” Izuku’s smiling, confused.

Katsuki keeps going, fueled by the quick return of the feeling he hasn’t felt in months, replacing the impending doom.

“C’mon, nerd, let’s go to the batting cages back home and play some fucking baseball. Maybe we can stop at your moms and say hi or something while we’re out.”

Silence. But..different this time. Better. Expectant.

Izuku huffs out a little laugh, relief of some sort.

“Yeah, Kacchan, that sounds good.”

It does sound good, Katsuki thinks.

.

.

.

“Hold your fucking arms higher, nerd!”

“Shuddup! I know how to hit a ball, Kacchan!”

“Getting cocky? Since when do you talk back to me you little shit?” Katsuki hasn’t felt this much like himself in months.

“You make it easy being such a know-it-all, Kacchan.”

“I’m a know-it-all, because i know it all, you little asshole. Don’t you patronize me.”

They’re both laughing, and Izuku is trying his best to hit the baseballs flying towards him in between snorts of laughter and playful banter. It’s so easy like this. Katsuki had imagined the day Izuku’s ember’s went out a million times, he imagined it like death, but this didn’t feel like death at all. This felt like..the birth of something new.

Then, suddenly,

“Lemme show you how it’s done, nerd.”

Izuku backs up and turns to hand Katsuki the bat but Izuku misinterpreted what he meant, because Katsuki turns him back around and comes up behind him with his hands on his shoulders.

“Pick your arm up dummy, higher, angle it like this, you want to meet the ball at the same angle its coming at you.” Katsuki takes Izukus arm and imitates hitting the ball the way he wants him to, and then pushes Izuku forward again. Izuku is weirdly quiet, now.

“Try it like that. And don’t be pissed when it’s better than your way.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Kacchan.”

*CRACK*

“…Fine. Don’t be rude about it, though. You’re still a know-it-all.”

Katsuki can’t contain his shit eating grin, and that feeling in his gut is back with a vengeance.

“There’s a reason for that, Zuku.”

.

.

.

Inko was delighted at the unexpected visit, flitting around to whip something up for the two and offering apologies for not having more ready for them both. In the end, they’d eaten curry for the second day in a row, but neither of them commented on it, happy to be in Inko’s company, happy to see Izuku happy. Eventually they’d thanked Inko and ushered themselves off into Izuku’s bedroom for a while before they went back to UA.

Izuku was pulling All Might merch and knick knacks out of every corner of the room, handing them to Katsuki along with stories and “do you remembers” and Katsuki felt overwhelmed. The feeling in his stomach only grew the longer the day went on and he found it harder and harder to keep the stupid, easy grin off his face. He felt so happy it almost felt wrong.

“Ah! kacchan! Do you remember when we drew these!”

They were two sheets of paper, one, in big letters, labeled “KACCHAN”, punctuated by tiny explosions in between each letter, and the other, “IZUKU” written neatly, simply across the top of the page. Underneath each name was a drawing to match, the both of them drawn in crayon as heroes, in gear that hadn’t quite matched up with what they’d grown accustomed to.

Katsuki took the papers from Izuku and stared, and stared, and stared, and only snapped out of it when a single tear drop hit the page.

And then it happened again. He spoke without meaning to.

“I don’t want to go back to the way we were before, Izuku. I-i don’t even care that we can’t spar anymore. I don’t care about that. I just-i wanna keep hanging out with you. I don’t care what what we do. I just-“ he was shaking, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He’d feared this conversation, so.. why did this feel like relief too?

Katsuki just let himself cry, tiny sobs crawling the way into their atmosphere.

He looked up through wet lashes just in time to see Izuku launch himself into his arms, throwing him back into the bed and burying his face into Katsuki’s neck, sobbing with all the intensity Katsuki felt in his soul.

“I wanna be with you too, Kachhan, always, always. I-i..just want-to be around you...”

Katsuki wraps his arms around Izuku and lets the relief wash over him. Katsuki doesn’t know what compelled him to say it.

“I love you.”

Silence.

Izuku pulls back just enough to look into Katsuki’s eyes. His heart is hammering in his chest, stunned speechless, and as Izuku searches Katsuki’s face he feels the boys breathing become panicked, coming out in short puffs verging on hyperventilation. Katsuki barely opens his mouth to take it back, to unscare Izuku when he seemingly realizes this and smashes their lips together in an effort to stop him.

It’s sudden, scared, mutual. Blissful.

It takes Katsuki all of two seconds to come back online and fit his hand into Izuku’s hair in an effort to keep him there, and returns the kiss in full. Izuku grunts out a little sound that seems pained but somehow matches that feeling in his own gut, swirling and verging on the side of too much too much too much

They break the kiss at the same time, leaping away from eachother and doubling over themselves, anxiously giggling against their will and breathing heavily. Izuku leaps to his feet and starts pacing, muttering all the while, energy buzzing within him with the same intensity as one-for-all and Katsuki feels it seep into everything, feels his limbs buzz, heart racing, mind running a mile a minute and somehow not at all.

“Ahhaah, AHHH, Kacch-i love you, FUCK I love you, holy-sh-shit, holy shit, oh my god. kachhhANNNN OH MY GOD.”

Izuku’s yelling and Katsuki finally yanks himself out of his shock to speak up just in time for Izuku to run out of the room screaming.

“Hey-what the FUCK, IZ-get back here!” And then he’s off the bed too and running out the door behind him, leaving a stunned and confused Inko sat on the couch.

.

.

.

Katsuki catches up to him already at the bus station, pacing circles around the bench, laughing and crying hysterically. He catches a glimpse of Katsuki right as he stalks up to him and grabs Izuku’s arm.

“Caught you.” He grins triumphantly, and so, so happy, and doesn’t even give Izuku the chance to respond before he captures the boys lips again.

Relief.

[cameronspecial]

omg I see the fleshlight one ... maybe perv stepbro rafe comparing the toy with her stepsis? 🙂

Helping Hand (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.1K

A/N: Sorry, but I don't write step-sibling stuff so I just wrote a part two of Helping Hand. The part about comparing is at the end.

Masterlist

Rafe hates to admit Y/N is right while she grins at him as he packs the fleshlight into his suitcase. She saunters over to him, resting her chin on his shoulder to place a kiss on his cheek. The bottom of her lips brushes his ear, “For a man who protested so much about this, you sure made it a priority to pack it.” Her eyes cast to the open suitcase, which is filled with his favourite framed picture of them and the toy just placed into it. He laughs through his nose and reaches up to place his hand on her fingers on his other shoulder. “You are never going to let this down. Are you?” he confirms. She giggles, turning him around so that they face each other and she rests her chin on his chest to stare up at him. “Nope. I feel like I won the best girlfriend award.” 

“Hmm, you did. But not because of this. You won that award way when you said yes to going on a date with me,” he says, placing his kiss on her forehead. She smiles at him, “Ugh, I got so lucky with you. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself while you are away.” His hand runs through her and the other traces mindless patterns on his skin. “We are going to call every morning and every night. You can text me all your little random thoughts and facts throughout the day. I’ll try to get to them during my breaks,” he leans down to whisper the next part into her ear. “And when the space between your legs grows wet, you are going to grab one of those toys you love so much, I’m going to grab mine, and we are going to watch each other use it through video call.” Heat spreads across her cheeks. He spins her around and taps her bottom to push her toward the door. “Now, off you go, Sweetie. I won’t be able to pack if all I’m thinking about is how I would rather stay home with my head buried between your legs.”

———

She has been teasing him all day, sending pictures of her in his favourite lingerie, with a glittery silicone dildo in her mouth, with the toy between her breast and then finally one with the fake appendage resting against her wet, clothed pussy. Once his last meeting ends, Rafe practically runs to his hotel room to take care of the hardening of his penis. He locks the door and rushes to strip bare. He dials his girlfriend on FaceTime, propping himself against the headboard while he waits for her to answer. 

“Hello,” she answers in a sweet tone. Her phone camera catches the batting of her eyelashes and only that. She keeps it angeled toward her face, denying him the sight of what he wants to see. He groans, “Come on, Sweetie. You’ve been teasing me all day.” She laughs and raises the camera upward so he can look down at the top of her breasts and her belly button. It helps, except it doesn’t show all of what he wants to see. “Sweetie, you know I wanna see more than that,” he complains. She pouts at him, “I’m sorry, Baby. I can’t hold my phone far enough so you can see all of me.” Shit. He knew he should’ve gotten her a laptop with a camera, yet she objected out of fear of it being hacked. He’ll have to fix this problem as soon as he gets home. “It’s okay. Let’s just listen to each other. Lie down on the bed, Sweetie. Legs wide open and your phone by your head,” he orders. She follows his instructions, falling onto her back and reaching for the dildo in her bedside drawer. “I’m doing it,” she relays to him. He acknowledges her statement, “Yeah, Sweetie, and what toy are you using today?” 

“The glittery dildo that I got myself for my eighteenth birthday.” 

“Hmm, I like that one. It gets super shiny when it’s covered in your juices.” 

A whine passes her lips while she pictures that night a few months ago. “Aww, Sweetie. Did you start without me? That’s very rude,” he teases. She can hear the opening of a bottle on his end of the line and she imagines him squirting the liquid onto his length before using the toy on himself. She copies him and smears the lubricant onto her toy because she can never seem to get herself as wet as she gets with Rafe. “I didn’t start yet. I’m a good girl. Please, tell me what to do,” she pleads. He chuckles, “Okay, okay. I believe you. Now, Sweetie, I want you to drag the tip of that cock down from your mouth to your pussy. But you aren’t allowed to push it in until I tell you to. I want us to work together.” She obeys his commands, dragging the wet silicone down her body to her entrance. She begins to circulate the mushroom-shaped head around her clit. “What now?” she breaths out.

She can hear his grin through the phone. “I have the little gift you gave me in my hand and I’m positioning it over my tip. You should see how hard I am for you, Sweetie. God, I wish you were here,” he narrates, inserting the top of his dick inside the fleshlight. He struggles to not shove it down completely on him. The bumps within tickle his skin. “On the count of three,” he announces. “One. Two. Three.” 

At the same time, she shoves the length completely within her and he lets silicone engulf him. Groans cry out throughout both their rooms. “This feels so good,” she whimpers, her toes curling as she brings her knees to a bend as an anchor. Rafe growls, “You better not be saying that feels better than me, Sweetie. I may like how this feels, but nothing can measure up to my tight pussy.” He can hear the rustling of the sheets while she shakes her head. “No, Baby, I promise. You are so much better,” she confirms. She works the toy inside of her with the image of her boyfriend in her mind. Rafe presses the button, causing the adult toy to vibrate around him. “This could never beat you. It isn’t as tight as you. It isn’t wet like you are. It doesn’t grip me like you do,” he relays to her. The pair go back and forward in singing each other’s praise until they are shoved off the edge in a panting mess. 

Her eyelids struggle to stay open and the final thing she hears before she is pulled into slumber is his voice. “A helping hand isn’t so bad, but it will never beat the real thing.”

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld