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alinathinkstoomuch · 3 months ago

Text

Filthier Flat-Pack Thoughts

18+ MDNI pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: your boss rejects you the first time but what happens when he's the one in charge? (part 2 of Filthy Flat-Pack Thoughts, but can be read as a standalone) warnings: baso porn w/o plot, hotch has a filthy mouth, reader and hotch both have a thing for mirrors... p in v sex, fingering, idk man i got carried away, enjoy xx (not proof read, dont come for me) word count: 5.6k ✧ masterlist

You had taken the coward’s way out when Monday came. But really, what else were you supposed to do after throwing yourself at your boss and getting let down?

So, instead of facing the consequences of your actions – or worse, facing him – you sent Hotch a text claiming you weren’t feeling well and asked if you could use your PTO for the day.

He didn’t respond. Not directly, at least. But just before the usual morning briefing, Garcia had texted you.

Feel better soon, sunshine!!!

Accompanied by enough emojis to make your head spin. Which meant he must have told them. Which meant that it was fine. And yet, the thought of him seeing your message, reading it, and choosing not to reply left a pit in your stomach that you weren’t ready to unpack.

You just needed one more day.

One more day to shake off the mortification, to stop replaying every humiliating second of Friday night in your head, to convince yourself that come Tuesday, you would walk into work and pretend none of it ever happened.

You didn’t want the day to go to waste so you tried to be productive, throwing yourself into the thing that would keep your hands and mind occupied - finally unpacking.

And you had mostly succeeded.

Most of your boxes were empty, your things finally finding a place in your new home, and after an embarrassing amount of time, you had even managed to put together your bedside table. But despite the distraction, despite the minor victory of assembling furniture without Hotch’s help, the second you sat down, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, it was still there.

That awful, gnawing awareness that sooner or later you were going to have to face him.

You decided that a hot shower might help wash away the lingering shame clinging to your skin. You turned the water up almost too hot, as you stood under the shower head, hands pressed against the cool tiles.

It was fine.

You just needed to stop overthinking it. Hotch wasn’t cruel. He had let you down gently. He had done the right thing. So why did your stomach still twist at the memory of it?

By the time you stepped out, your body felt warm, relaxed - your mind, less so. You pulled on one of your softer, more delicate chemises – a small indulgence in comfort you desperate needed. Then, with a sigh, you settled onto the couch, grabbing your phone and tapping through your contacts.

Garcia picked up on the second ring.

“Ah, my fallen soldier! How are we holding up?”

You groaned, shifting on the couch, tucking your legs beneath you. “I’m fine, Pen. Just taking a day to recover.”

“As you should, my dear. Self-care is critical after a weekend of… whatever happened that has you hiding away.”

You rolled your eyes, stretching out against the cushions. “Moving, Penelope. Moving has be hiding away. It is truly an exhausting process.”

Garcia hummed, evidently not convinced by your little white lie. “Well, boss man seems exhausted too. Or just very tense and broody. I can’t tell anymore, his scowls are all starting to blend together. Did he maybe pull a muscle helping you with your furniture or something?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Penelope -” you started, only to be cut off by a knock at your door.

You froze.

“Okay, who have you sent to my door this time?” you muttered, pushing yourself up from the sofa.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m not the mastermind behind all surprise visitors.”

You didn’t believe her for a second.

Still, you pulled on your robe, tugging it over your chemise as you made your way to the door. The fabric felt softer than usual, almost fragile, like it wasn’t quite enough of a barrier between you and what was waiting on the other side.

Balancing your phone between your ear and shoulder, you tied a loose knot at your waist, fingers fidgeting with the belt as Garcia sighed dramatically on the other end.

“Well? Who is it? Spill.”

Your hand hesitated over the lock, a second of hesitation turning into two, three, before you finally turned the knob and pulled the door open.

Your stomach plummeted.

Because there he was.

Aaron Hotchner.

Standing on your doorstep – again. Looking every bit like the man you had spent the last two days trying to avoid, trying to forget, trying not to replay in your head on a never-ending loop.

“Let me call you back, Garcia,” you murmured absentmindedly, already pulling the phone away from your ear, hanging up before she could even think to respond.

Because right now, the last thing you needed was an audience.

You barely registered the sound of the line disconnecting, too focused on the man standing in front of you. Hotch didn’t speak right away, didn’t explain why he was here, didn’t offer you anything to ease the knot forming in your stomach.

He just watched you, which was almost worse.

You had been bracing yourself for tomorrow, telling yourself that by then, the weight of everything would have settled just enough for you to fake your way through the awkwardness, to act like Friday night had never happened.

But here he was. Now. And the fragile plan you’d built to protect yourself had just gone up in flames.

“Can we sit?”

His voice was softer than you expected. Softer than you were ready for.

You pressed your lips together, shifting on your feet, your fingers tightening around the knot of your robe, grounding yourself in the feel of the fabric, something real to hold onto.

A moment passed before you finally stepped aside, nodding slightly.

"Yeah."

Your lips pressed together as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, your fingers tightening around the knot of your robe.

He moved toward the couch, and you should have followed.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you lingered near the doorway, arms crossing over your chest, putting space between you. An invisible barrier, as if it could protect you from whatever was about to come next Hotch noticed, of course he did. His gaze flicked over you, reading every tiny shift in your posture, every hesitation, every instinct to put distance between you.

And still, he didn’t push. Not until he settled on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Sit, angel."

It was the way he said it – so soft, so steady – that you almost weren’t sure you’d heard him right. You sighed, resigned to the fact that there was no avoiding this conversation and lowered yourself onto the couch, leaving enough space between you.

A brief pause stretched between you. He was studying you, assessing you, trying to read you. And you suddenly felt so exposed despite the layers of fabric now separating you from him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone feeling dangerously close to concern.

You let out a small, dry laugh, shaking your head. “You came all this way to ask me that?”

“Did you take today off because of what happened Friday?” he countered your question with another, leaning forward.

You expected the question, but hearing it out loud – acknowledging it – made you ache all over again. You dropped your gaze, fingers toying with the edge of your robe, avoiding his eyes like that somehow could make this easier. “I just… needed a day.”

Hotch nodded like he understood, like he had already known the answer before you even said it. His expression softened, and when he spoke again, it was even gentler than before.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly, too quickly.

Hotch didn’t look convinced, your name falling from his lips.

“I mean it,” you continued, making yourself sound certain. Trying to convince yourself as much as him. “You were kind, Hotch. You let me down in the nicest way possible. I appreciate that.”

“But –”

“I just needed today to clear my head,” you cut him off. “To remind myself that you were right.”

His brows furrowed. “Right?”

You let out a quiet, humourless laugh, dropping your eyes to your lap again. "That Friday night wasn't... real," you murmured, more to yourself than him. "It was stress and exhaustion and maybe a little too much wine. I let it get the best of me. It was a mistake."

The silence that followed was too long. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your robe, waiting for him to agree, to tell you that yes, it was a mistake, that it shouldn’t have happened, that you were right.

“Is that what you think?”

You looked up, brows pinching in confusion. “I mean…” You faltered, searching his face but it gave nothing away. “It was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

Hotch let out a breath, his fingers pressing into his thigh. “It wouldn’t have been right,” he said finally.

Maybe that should have been enough of an answer, maybe you should have left it alone. But you didn’t. Because something about the way he said it, the way his voice dipped slightly, made your stomach tighten, made the words slip out before you could stop them.

“That’s not the same as saying you didn’t want it.”

The moment they left your lips, you wished you could take them back.

His jaw clenched, his muscle ticking once.

And just as you started to convince yourself you had imagined this whole exchange, just as you prepared to backpedal, to fill the silence with some half-hearted attempt at smoothing things over, the most beautifully damning words falling from this mouth -

“I did want it.”

The air left your lungs in a sharp, breathless rush and you felt the room tilt.

“Then…why –”

“Because you deserved better than that.”

His words were firm, absolute, wrapped in the same conviction he carried into every case, every impossible decision.

“Hotch –”

“You’d been drinking,” he continued. “You’d had a long week and I know how quickly having too many things lined up at once overwhelms you.”

That sentence alone was enough to unravel you because he really did know you. He knew how your mind worked, knew how pressure built inside you until it spilled over.

“And I would have spent the entire next day wondering if I’d just taken advantage of you.”

Your throat tightened at the quiet honesty in his words, at the careful way he measured them, as if he had thought about this. As if it had sat with him just as much as it had with you.

And fuck, you didn't know what to do with that.

“You wouldn’t have. I didn’t need to be drunk to know that I want –” you hesitated, “–wanted you.”

He looked up at you, like he was weighing every single word you’d just spoken, turning them over in his mind like pebbles, making sure he heard you right.

“And what do you want now?” he asked lowly.

He was giving you the choice. No leading words. No hidden meaning. Just a simple, open-ended question.

Your stomach twisted, nerves and something warmer curling in your chest, in your belly, in the space between your ribs.

"You," you admitted, barely above a breath. "I still want you."

He nodded slowly. “Then take me to your bedroom.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d even heard him right, but the look on his face told you that you had. A sharp pulse of awareness ran through you, so strong it made your fingers clench into the fabric of your robe. You weren't sure you'd even be stable on your feet after hearing those words from his mouth, but you were sure as hell going to try.

Before you could move, he stood first. Your eyes followed the movement, unable to look away as he shrugged off his jacket, the rustle of fabric filling the space between you. Then came the cufflinks – carefully removed, set aside-before he rolled up his sleeves, revealing the strong lines of his forearms, the flex of muscle, the way his veins shifted beneath his skin.

And then, he reached for you. His hand open, waiting. Your gaze flickered up to his, searching, but all you found was patience and certainty.

“Only if you’re sure.”

Your fingers tightened around his.

You were sure. So damn sure.

You rose to your feet, and the moment you did, his other hand moved to undo the knot of your robe. His fingers worked it loose, the tie slipping free with ease, his breath coming just a fraction heavier as the fabric parted, revealing the delicate, pale pink lace beneath.

His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as his eyes dragged over you, taking you in inch by inch, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to memorize every detail.

And then he nodded toward the hallway. “After you.”

You turned, leading him down the hall, toward the first door on the right.

The soft glow from your bedside lamp spilled into the room, casting warm shadows against the walls. You silently thanked your past self for leaving it on –it was just enough light to see him, to see this, without feeling too exposed.

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside, moving toward the end of the bed. You didn't speak, didn't need to. You just waited, for his next instructions, for his next move.

Hotch's eyes swept over the room, taking everything in. It was still bare, not yet lived in, not yet filled with you –a work in progress, much like the two of you.

But then his gaze snagged on something. The full length mirror that rested against the wall, directly opposite your bed. You saw the moment he noticed it—the slight shift in his stance, the way his lips twitched, like he was already picturing something.

And then he moved.

Came to stand behind you, his hands finding your shoulders, warm and sure, guiding you just slightly until you were perfectly centered in front of it.

“That’s a very pretty mirror.”

Your eyes tracked every movement through the reflection, mouth parting, but for once you had no words. Then his lips brushed against your hair, barely there, but the heat of it lingered, seeping into your skin, into your bones, branding itself in a way you knew you wouldn’t be able to shake.

“Did you put it there so you could watch while you touched yourself?”

A slow, molten heat curled through you, pooling deep in your belly, spreading down between your thighs. Your legs tensed on instinct, pressing together as his fingers traced over the bare skin of your arms, feather-light, teasing, making you ache.

“Hm, sweet angel?”

You nodded meekly, biting down on your lip to supress the moan threatening to escape – one he had earned with nothing more than words.

“Did you do it after I left?”

Your sharp inhale gave you away, your body betraying you before you could even think of forming a response. Your back arched into him, fingers twitching as he intertwined them with his own, lips grazing the slope of your shoulder.

The mirror didn’t lie. You looked ruined already and he had barely touched you.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Use that pretty mouth before I find something else to do with it.”

That didn’t sound like the worst idea in the world.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed. “Aaron, please.”

A slow, satisfied hum rumbled against your back as his hands finally moved higher, fingers ghosting over your nipples.

“Did you start from here?”

You felt dizzy. So dizzy that if you weren’t leaning into him, if he wasn’t holding you up, you were sure you would’ve collapsed. His right hand drifted lower, tracing the outside of your thigh while his left gripped you tighter, his palm kneading into your flesh.

“Or did you start with your thighs?”

You could feel his smirk against you skin, could see it in his reflection – the way his dark eyes met yours in the mirror, the way his lips curled at the edges as his fingers edged higher, inching toward the heat between your legs.

The fabric of your slip bunched up in his fist, silk riding up your thighs, baring you to him, exposing your lace panties.

Hotch exhaled slowly, watching the way the delicate material clung to your body.

“Show me, pretty girl.” His fingers flexed against your thigh, his grip firmer now. “I want to see what I missed out on.”

You looked at him through the mirror, eyes wide, lips parted in a soft pout because he couldn’t possibly be asking you to do this. Could he?

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Your thighs instinctively pressed together again, only to be met with his hand keeping them apart. A breathless sound escaped you, your body betraying you yet again, and his smirk deepened.

You knew what he wanted. And so, with shaky fingers, you moved your hand. His grip loosened slightly, giving you just enough space for your fingers to brush over the lace at the apex of your thighs.

“Atta girl.” His lips skimmed the curve of your jaw. “Show me. Show me how you thought of me.”

Your lashes fluttered, breath catching as your fingers dipped beneath the lace. Maybe it was a good thing it was your own touch and not his, because if he felt how wet you were, if he had proof of just how much you wanted him, it would only feed into his smugness.

And you weren’t sure you could survive that.

Hotch hummed in satisfaction, his right hand trailing up, covering yours, guiding it, controlling it as you started rubbing slow circles over your clit. His touch wasn’t hurried. Wasn’t forceful. It was intentional, like he wanted you to feel every second of this – feel what it was like to have his hand over yours, dictating the rhythm, deciding exactly how much pleasure you were allowed to take.

“Did you say my name?” he asked, voice rough. “Did you pretend it was me?”

Your lips parted, a desperate, needy noise slipping past them, your body trembling as he watched.

“Look at yourself.”

You forced your heavy eyes open, meeting your own reflection and you barely recognised yourself. Your body was trembling against his, your slip bunched at your waist, panties pushed aside, thighs twitching as you fought for air.

“What do you see, angel?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers faltering as his words wrapped around you, sinking deep into your stomach.

“I see a pretty girl who falls apart the second I tell her to.”

Your entire body shook. A fresh whimper broke free, your knees threatening to give out as his left hand tightened at your waist, keeping you upright, keeping you his.

“Please, Aaron –” Your voice was wrecked, desperate. “I don’t think I can keep going.”

His exhale was slow, like he was savouring the sound of you breaking. “Oh, sweetheart. Do you want me to take over?”

You nodded feverishly, too fast, your entire body screaming for relief. “P-please. I need you to.”

His grip on your wrist loosened enough for you to pull your hand away as he replaced it with his own. And then – God help you – his fingers moved.

A slow, deliberate drag through your slick folds, teasing, testing, until he found exactly what he was looking for. His touch was immediate and so much better than your own. A broken moan slipped past your lips, your head falling back onto his shoulder as your thighs quivered, struggling to hold yourself up.

“That’s it,” he whispered, voice rich with satisfaction, like he had known this would happen. “So much better when I do it for you, isn’t it?”

Your only response was a chocked sob, your hands grasping at his forearm, nails digging in, pleading.

You felt him smile against your skin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

His pace quickened, precise and devastating, and you pressed into him – your body instinctively seeking more, needing all of him. And that’s when you felt it. The undeniable proof of what the sight of you like this had done to him. The thick, hard press of his arousal against the curve of your ass, straining against his slacks.

A fresh wave of heat rolled through you, a cry slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Hotch groaned – actually groaned – his hips pressing forward, just enough to let you feel him.

“You feel that? That’s what you do to me, angel.”

Your breath hiccupped, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, your thighs clamping around his wrist, body trembling on the edge of something catastrophic.

“Aaron –”

“Be a good girl for me, hm? Come for me.”

And you did.

Your body tensed, your back arched, and then you shattered, a strangled sob escaping your lips as he worked you through it, whispering low, filthy praises into your ear, his grip never faltering.

Your body slumped against his, boneless, spent, your breathing uneven as you struggled to come back down. And when your hazy eyes flickered up to meet his in the mirror, the sight made your stomach flip all over again.

“How was that, angel?”

He knew you would never be able to touch yourself again without thinking of this. Knew he had achieved exactly what he wanted.

“Really good,” you breathed, head lolling back against his shoulder, your body still trembling from the aftershocks.

His lips curled into a knowing smile before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good, honey. But I’m going to need you to take everything off and get on all fours.”

Your stomach tensed.

Fuck.

He was trying to kill you.

His hands finally released you, giving you space to move, but not before he watched.

Waited.

Your fingers were unsteady as they found the hem of your slip, lifting it slowly, peeling away the last barrier between you. The silk slipped over your head, landing somewhere on the floor, followed by your underwear.

The air hit your bare skin, goosebumps trailing in its wake but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was him and the way he looked at you. You turned toward the bed, moving to crawl onto the mattress when his voice stopped you.

“Not the bed.”

You bit your lip as you turned back to face him, your pulse skittering in your throat. He was still fully dressed, still so composed when you were the exact opposite. His gaze dragged down your body at an achingly slow pace, taking his time, allowing himself to drink you in – every inch of you, every part he hadn’t gotten to see a few nights ago.

“The floor, angel. Right in front of the mirror.”

Your body burned as you complied, knees wobbling as you lowered yourself onto the floor. You positioned yourself exactly where he wanted, your palms pressing into the cool surface, your back arching slightly – offering yourself to him.

And the second you settled, the second you caught his gaze in the mirror you saw it. The way his eyes devoured you. The way his gaze landed between your thighs, locking onto your bare, glistening pussy, and the way his lips curled.

That bastard smirked.

Smirked at the mess between your legs, at what he had done to you.

You watched as he lowered himself behind you, his broad frame closing in, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a second skin. A sharp inhale tore through you as you felt the press of his thumb collecting the wetness from your folds, spreading it, claiming it.

And just as you started to adjust to the feeling, just as your body tried to catch up – his thumb was gone, replaced with his middle and ring finger, teasing at your entrance, then slowly, slowly pushing inside.

A sound left you, something between a gasp and a whimper, something utterly helpless, so desperate it made your skin burn.

He chuckled.

“You can use my fingers, honey. But you’re going to have to do the work.”

Your eyes snapped open, meeting his through the mirror.

He wasn’t kidding. His fingers stayed inside you, buried deep but he wasn’t moving them. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, desperate for friction, for more but he stayed still.

“Go on,” he said, his other hand pressing down on the small of your back, encouraging you. “Make yourself feel good.”

Your palms flattened against the hard surface beneath you, bracing yourself as you moved – tentative at first, a slow, testing roll of your hips as you slid down onto his fingers. The stretch had you sucking in a sharp breath, your lips parting around a whispered curse.

And he watched. His eyes never left you, locked onto your reflection in the mirror, tracking the way you rocked against his hands, the way your thighs trembled as you found your rhythm, the way you used him exactly the way he wanted you to.

But still it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed all of him, buried deep inside you, stretching you open in ways his fingers never could. But he wasn’t offering that, so you took what you could get. You bucked your hips harder, forcing more friction, forcing the stretch, chasing what you knew only he could give you.

A sharp cry slipped from your lips. “Fuck, Aar –”

“I know, baby.” His fingers twitched inside you, pressing just enough to make you gasp, just enough to remind you he was still in control “I know.”

And then, just as quickly, they were gone.

A desperate whimper spilled from your lips at the sudden loss, your body clenching around nothing, the emptiness leaving a sharp pang of need that made your head spin. And yet, before panic could settle in, before you could beg for him, you heard it.

The click of his belt buckle.

Your head moved up to meet his eyes in the mirror just in time to see him work the leather through the loops before letting it drop to the floor with a thud. He never broke contact as he reached for the button of his slacks, undoing it before the soft sound of his zipper filled the room.

He took his time.

Watched you squirm, watched the way your thighs could do nothing but press together.

His slacks slipped down, bunching at his feet, and then, finally, his boxers. Your pulse pounded against your ribs as he exposed himself, the tip of his cock already slick with precum, showing you just how much he wanted this – wanted you.

Once his shirt was discarded, he lowered himself back down, hands finding your waist, fingers pressing into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to remind you who you belonged to. Your back arched, your body responding before your mind could catch up, offering yourself to him in every way you knew he wanted.

You felt the hard, warm press of his cock against the back of your thigh, the slickness of it smearing against your skin, though you weren’t sure if it was from him or from you.

It didn’t matter because the next thing he was doing was dragging himself against your aching, soaked pussy. A sharp gasp tore from your lips as the thick length of him slid through your folds just enough to have you clenching around nothing.

He did it again, slow and deliberate, letting you feel him, letting the weight of his cock glide through your wetness, coating himself in it, using your own arousal to make you squirm.

"Jesus," he exhaled, his grip on your hips tightening, fingertips pressing into your skin like he was barely holding on. "So fucking wet for me, angel. You need it that bad, huh?”

The desperation in your body was humiliating, but you didn’t care. Not when he was teasing you like this, not when the heat between your legs pulsed and throbbed with every slow glide of his cock, not when he was so close to giving you what you wanted but still holding back.

“So bad, please,” you begged, pushing back against him, arching your spine, doing anything to get him where you needed. Every inch of you was trembling, every muscle coiled tight, your body nothing but pure, raw need.

He hummed, rolling his hips just enough for his tip to nudge against your entrance.

“Okay, sweet girl, okay.” His voice was gentle as he gave in. “But I need you to watch.”

His hand trailed up your spine before threading into your hair, gripping just firmly enough to tilt your head up, forcing your eyes to meet his in the mirror.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

And just as you sucked in that breath, he thrust inside you, the sudden, overwhelming stretch stealing the air from your lungs. Your fingers dug into the floor, nails scraping against the hard surface as your body jolted forward from the sheer force of it. The sensation was too much, not enough, everything all at once. Your head spun, struggling to process the way he filled you, how impossibly deep he was, how your body clenched around him, trying to adjust, trying to take him.

A ragged curse tore from his lips, his grip on your waist tightening, fingers pressing so hard into your skin that you knew you’d feel it long after this moment had passed.

His pace was slow – tortuous if you had to use one word to describe it. You watched him in in the mirror, the way his head tipped back, brows furrowed in restraint, chest rising and falling as he bottomed out inside you, taking a second to breathe before pulling back, leaving just the tip inside—before slamming back in.

A wet, filthy sound filled the room, followed by a broken sob from your lips as your body struggled to keep up with the intensity of it. The way he moved, the way he owned every inch of you, the way he was ruining you.

You didn’t know what you were begging for when his name slipped past your lips, raw and desperate. You just knew you needed it. More of him. Deeper. Harder. Just more.

"You're gonna come for me," he growled, his breath hot against your skin. "Gonna make a mess all over my cock while I fuck you through it, yeah?"

You nodded mindlessly, over and over again. “Y-yeah. Y-Yes.”

His hand slipped between your thighs, finding you clit once more, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure, unravelling you inch by inch. Your body was already trembling, barely holding on, every muscle tensed.

And he knew it. Of course, he knew it.

He could feel it, the way you clenched around him, the way your breath caught, the way you pushed back against him like you were chasing something you were already seconds away from losing yourself to.

“Fuck, baby, your gripping me so tight.”

Your body reacted to the words, your head dropping forward, your hands curling into fists against the floor as another wave of pleasure crashed through you.

"That's it, angel," he coaxed, his fingers moving faster, his thrusts hitting deeper. "Let me have it."

You came again, your body shuddering, incoherent mumbles falling from you lips as the orgasm swallowed you whole. But it still wasn’t enough for him. If anything, feeling you fall apart only spurred him on, made him rougher, hungrier, his grip bruising as he held you there, as he used your body to chase his own release.

His movements turned sloppy, his breath uneven, each thrust deep and desperate, dragging out his pleasure just a little longer. And then – his body tensed, his hands tightening on your hips as a sharp groan ripped from his throat, your name spilling from his lips as he buried himself inside you, coming hard, filling you completely.

His hips rocked into you a few more times, slower now, savouring every last second, his breath warm against your skin, ragged and uneven as he rode out the final waves of his release.

Then, his forehead dropped to your shoulder, his lips grazing your skin. “You okay?” he whispered.

You let out a breathless, satisfied hum. “More than okay.”

His hands slid to your hips and with careful movements, he rolled you onto your back, pulling out slowly before settling you against the floor. The loss of him sent a shiver through you, but you barely had time to dwell on it before his body hovered over yours.

You stretched beneath him, your fingers trailing up his arm, tracing the muscles still tensed from holding himself back. A lazy smirk tugged at your lips as you teased, "Who knew Aaron Hotchner had such a filthy mouth?"

“Consider it payback for not wearing a bra.”

You let out a laugh. “Well if that’s payback, I might just have to start wearing short skits with no underwear at the office.”

“Is that so?”

You grinned, stretching your arms above your head in an indulgent, satisfied way. “Mm-hm. I mean, if this is how you handle insubordination, I’d say I have a pretty strong case for pushing the dress code.”

His laugh was quiet, but it vibrated through you, something warm and rare and entirely for you. His weight shifted slightly as he reached for you, one hand trailing along your side, stopping just below your breast.

“Angel,” he murmured, dipping his head closer, brushing against your jaw before dragging down your neck. “You do that and it’ll be your last day in the office.”

“You’d fire me?”

He shook his head, his teeth grazing the delicate skin of your neck before soothing the spot with his tongue. “Never, honey. You just wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.”

divider creds. cafekitsune

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner one shot #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #mine🌟

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0mg-bird · 6 months ago

Note

bombshell of the bau was soo good, I need more of those two pls!!!

Aghhhhhh thanks! Okay, upon popular demand, here’s a part two.

Bombshell Of The BAU~ Part II

Spencer Reid x Fem!Agent Reader

Summary: With all the attention you get, it’s hard to hide something as scandalous as what you and Spencer have going on. Often times, it comes down to stolen moments and too close calls.

But you don’t expect the team to find out the way they do.

Warnings: Tehehehehe. Okay, 18+ content, suggestive material, smut, MDNI, um they’re so cute! Morgan being a c!ck block on like too many occasions, slight voyeurism kinda?? Exhibitionism kinda? Two second mention of Reid’s addiction. Reader gets hurt by UbSub but she’s fine. Idk, enjoy.

“You sure you don’t want a drink?” Emily asks as she walks with you down the hallway.

You pull the clip from your hair so it softly falls down around your face. A sigh leaves your pouty lips that are long gone of lipstick.

“After the day I had? I’d much rather take a very long shower, order room service on Hotch’s dime and watch Sex and The City.”

Emily laughs. “That sounds pretty perfect to me. Hey, did Morgan really make you crawl up in that attic?”

A shiver runs through you. “I don’t want to relive that trauma.” You claim.

She rubs your arm affectionately. “Well, you try your best to recover.”

“I’m a fighter, I’ll be okay.” You say dramatically, flicking your hair out of your face.

Emily drops you off at your door. “Call me if you need anything.” She says.

“Aw, sugar, I can always count on you.” You place a kiss on her cheek, the way you always do as a goodbye to your female agent friends.

You dig the room key from your pocket and press it into the slot. Though, you don’t push the door open, you instead look to the elevator where Emily disappears in, headed down to the lobby where most of the team resides.

When the coast is clear, you briskly turn further down the hall, passing multiple doors until you come to stand at the right one. Sparing another glance over your shoulder, you raise your knuckle to the wood.

The door opens after two knocks, and that arm raised in the air is grabbed and tugged, making you fall swiftly into the room.

You let out a soft giggle, though it’s cut off by an equally smiley kiss.

The door clicks shut behind you as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Spence.” You sigh dreamily against him. “Long time, no see, handsome.”

He pulls back to look down at you, that lopsided smile you love so much, playing on his lips.

“I saw you this morning at the station.” He reminds, letting his hands roam up your sides to hold your face.

He’s learned how to be comfortable in his actions, knowing now that you aren’t going to push him away when he reaches out. For three months, the two of you have been hiding this well kept secret, and maybe it was wrong to keep something like this from the team but…

Both you and Spencer agree that it’s nice, having something to yourselves.

So that’s why the two of you steal away any moments you can, like being on the same hotel floor after solving a case.

You give a pout. “But I’ve been stuck with Morgan all day. He was so cruel to me.”

Spencer matches your rutted lower lip. “Oh, he was cruel, huh? How was he cruel, angel?”

You love it when he calls you that.

Your hand slips into the hair on the back of his head, it’s definitely gotten a little longer.

“Made me follow him all around town, boosted me up into an icky crawl space to search for evidence.” You explain, trying to kick your heels off.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Spencer jokes, his thumb rubbing your cheek.

“It was a miserable, miserable day.” You sigh, dropping a few inches in height once your shoes are off. “But I’m here now and let me tell you, I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Spencer gets that slight blush he always does. “Have you?”

“Mhm.” You nod, pulling him down for another searing kiss.

Instantly, lips are parting and he’s tasting that unique-to-you taste of your tongue. Maybe it’s a placebo effect, but after awhile, he’s addicted to that sweet flavor that lingers on your lips.

You sigh and melt into him, ready to forget about all the work the two of you went through today. Taking your hand, you grasp one of his and bring it down to your belt. He gets the hint, then quickly tries to get you out of the clothes you can’t bear to be in any longer than you need to be.

While you pull his tie loose, he pulls the concealed carry holster from where it was tucked inside your waist band. He sets it on the nearby table, then pulls your shoulder holster off. You chuckle against him as you pull his own fire arm off and join it with the other two.

“So many guns.” You comment.

Without a risk in the way, he untucks your blouse. “Occupational hazard.” He adds.

Slowly, articles of clothing are making a home on the floor, and once you’re down to your underwear, you’re falling onto the bed with a laugh.

“You’re on my hair.” You wince.

“Sorry.” He adjusts, gripping your waist as he flips the two of you over.

Knees on either side of his hips, you’re free to do the thing you’ve been thinking about all day. Your favorite thing is the little gasp Spencer gives you when you first create a dizzying friction against him. You absorb it with your mouth on his, hands on his cheeks, manicured nails slightly pressing into his skin. You still haven’t figured out what flips inside of you, or what it is exactly that he does that makes your brain think ‘I want to eat him’.

“What time are we flying out tomorrow?” You ask, placing his hands on your hips.

His fingers flex into your skin, and drags you against his lap.

“7:00.” He answers, knowing how much you hate early mornings, and long flights home.

“I have a bone to pick with that Hotchner guy, I think he’s out to get me.” You huff. “He ships us out when the sun comes up, he puts me with Morgan all day, and he never lets me hang around when you’re doing paperwork in the briefing room.”

Spencer, much more brave now, trails his lips down your jaw and neck.

“That’s because you’re distracting.” He states.

You gasp. “I am helpful!”

“Helpful when you have your hand between my legs under the table?”

You giggle. “I’m helpful in more ways than one, baby, and you are no better than me.”

With a slight disbelief of his eye, he pulls away from tracing your pulse with the tip of his tongue, and shakes his head at you.

“How am I no better?”

You slightly tug at the ends of his hair. “Spence, you almost got us caught when you shoved me into the conference room on your lunch break and Emily was looking all over for me.”

He smirks, feeling all too proud of himself for that bold move. “It was my lunch break…I was having lunch.”

Ever since Spencer learned how much he enjoys his face between your thighs, it’s like he’s a junky all over again and can only go so long without making you fall apart for him. You remember thinking that there was no possible way the two of you could get away with it as he pushed your skirt up and sat you on the edge of the table, kneeling before you. You also remember thinking this was one of the hottest things he has ever done.

In the beginning, you were worried that he thought you only wanted sex. The sex, it’s great, it’s …well, it’s wow. But being with Spencer means laughing more than you ever have, spending days off together, holding his hand in public and going to as many bookstores as he likes. It’s all so much more than you ever had before.

At work, it’s the same as it’s always been, you shamelessly flirt and Spencer, being the victim of your sultry ploys, keeps stumbling his words and hardly ever raises red flags.

Sure, the team noticed that he’s a little more out of his shell, has more confidence about him, but they just think he started believing all those compliments you tell him. In all actuality, he just feels proud that he has someone like you in his life, whose socks end up in his laundry and who leaves lipstick stains on the collars of his shirts.

Fingers trace up your spine, raising goosebumps on your skin as they aim for the clasp of your bra. He’s getting pretty good at undoing the hooks.

But just before he can try to beat his time, a knock comes from the door.

The two of you pause, your lips pull back, your fingers leave his hair.

“What do we do?” You whisper.

Panting slightly from the lack of oxygen he receives when your tongue is slotted to his, he just shrugs. “Maybe they’ll go away.”

Just like that, your hips continue their motion and he’s going to free your chest.

Another knock.

“Reid, it’s Morgan.” The voice comes.

Spencer lets out a rather irritated huff, his eyes shut as he swallows hard, willing the man to just go away.

“Reid! Open the door.”

Nope, he’s not leaving.

“Son of a bitch.” He grunts.

“Oh, watch that dirty mouth, Doctor.” You tease as he pulls you off his lap.

He stands, running through mathematical formulas to try and calm down in his boxers. He scoops up a sweatshirt that lays on the back of the desk chair and pulls it on. In a panic, you roll off the bed and hide behind it on the floor, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Reid-”

Spencer pulls the door open. “What?” He snaps.

Derek is surprised by his bluntness, but he takes in his disheveled appearance and is more confused.

“What were you doing?” He asks.

“R-reading.”

Derek looks at his bare legs. “Without pants on?”

Go away, go away, go away.

Spencer breathes out. “I was about to take a shower. Now, what’s up?”

Morgan folds his arms over his chest. “Everybody is downstairs, don’t be a loner up here.”

Spencer shakes his head. “I’m pretty tired so uh, I’m gonna turn in.”

Morgan looks at him for a moment too long. “You sure you’re okay? You seem…flushed.”

“I’m fine, Morgan, really.” He reassures.

Laying face down on the carpet for a few minutes while the two men hash out whatever it is Morgan needed to, you come to the realization that you’re actually exhausted. By the time Spencer finally gets Derek to leave, you’re sitting yourself back up on the bed with a frown.

“What is it?” His brows furrow as he sees your expression.

Never have you ever had a partner so attentive, so loving in every touch they gave you. But Spencer runs his fingers through your hair as you tell him how you long for sleep, and he reassures you that it was okay you weren’t in the mood anymore.

He brought your bag from your room to his, though you truly just fell asleep in a t shirt and panties.

In the morning, you pretend you were in your room the entire night, and you meet the team in the lobby, fresh faced and ready to fly home.

“What’s your plans for this weekend?” Morgan asks after discussing with Emily what she’ll be doing.

You, who is currently taking up too much space on the couch, look over at the pair and shrug.

“I’ll have you know I have a very hot date with my bathtub when I get home and a very big plan to clean my apartment.”

That was all a lie.

You’d be over at Spencer’s this weekend, you’d be spending all your time with him, acting like a normal couple in public, having dinner and he’d get flustered when you’d kiss him in public.

But the team can’t know that.

Spencer comes back from the back of the jet, only to see his spot on the couch has been taken by your legs. He stares at you for a moment.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to sit here?” You innocently question.

“Yeah, I’d prefer to.” He nods, watching you smirk.

“All you have to do is ask nicely.”

“Please?”

You sit upright, planting your feet on the ground. “Always so eager to beg.”

Emily laughs, Spencer goes red in the face.

To them, it’s exactly how it always has been between the two of you.

He sits beside you, not too close, but your fingers twitch to reach over and touch him. Your nails go to your mouth instead to keep them busy.

Without truly paying attention, Spencer reaches over and tugs your hand away from your mouth and instead hands you a sucker he pulled from his bag.

It’s such a domestic act that though there’s nothing too suggestive about it, Emily notices. She clocks the behavior as something a little odd. Sure, you and Reid have always been close but since when has he carried around things for you?

Truly, you should’ve known that Emily would be the first to suspect something, but you continued on blissfully, believing that the team was so caught up in everything else that they wouldn’t catch what was happening right under their noses.

“The station was able to get us last minute rooms but there’s only four available, some of us are going to have to double up.” Hotch says nearly a month later on a case in a small Texas town you were only supposed to be in for the day.

But when the case turned into something far more complicated than anticipated, the team opted to stay for a bit longer.

The team shares a few looks as Hotch holds the motel room keys in his hand, all knowing that he wasn’t about to bunk in with Rossi anytime soon.

“I’m not sleeping with Reid.” Morgan declares as he begins to feel like it’s going to be assumed. “Make the girls share a room.”

All three of you begin to protest, knowing you’re fine with sharing but not fine with Morgan making that decision for you.

He holds his hands up in surrender.

JJ, always such a leader, looks to you. “If you and Prentiss want to share, I’ll bunk with Reid.” She sighs.

Spencer starts feeling like he’s a child again, watching his parents talk about custody, knowing one parent truly doesn’t want him.

The suggestion, though innocent, has your nails pressing into your palms. It’s a terrible idea in your mind, because here is a chance to stay with your golden boy for the night and it’s getting taken away.

“I’ll stay with Spencer, I don’t mind. Is that okay with you, Spence?” You turn to look up at him, innocent smile, sultry eyes.

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure. Fine- it’s fine with me…I’ll take the floor.” He stutters awkwardly, sealing the deal with a cricked smile that’s very Spencer Reid.

Hotch narrows his eye as he hands you a room key. “Keep the flirting to a minimum.”

“How can I when he just makes it so easy?” You joke, taking the key.

As you grab your bag, Morgan begins to uncontrollably laugh.

“Go easy on him.” He jokes. “He’s a romantic.”

“Morgan.” Reid sighs, following behind you.

“You have a fun sleepover! Hey, you still got that whistle? Yell fire if she gets to be too much!”

I glanced back at Morgan, shaking your head before looking to Spencer. “Come on, lover boy, I don’t bite.”

“Yes you do.” He mutters.

“Only sometimes.”

Hotch prays he’s not going to get an email from HR. He’s already hearing it from Strauss, a meeting needs to be set up for inappropriate conduct between coworkers, and everyone knows Garcia and Morgan aren’t the only ones to blame, not when you’re addressing Spencer as ‘handsome genius’ in work emails.

The door clicks shut and you turn the lock, letting out a sigh and taking in the modest room, everything decorated in a dated western fashion.

“Were you serious about taking the floor?” You ask, causing him to look back over to you.

“If you want me to, yes.”

Bless him and his gentleman qualities, it has you wanting to jump him in the most passionate way.

“Now, why would I want you to be down there when I’ll be up in the mattress all alone? Here I thought you had a high IQ.” You tease, opening your go bag. “You mind if I shower? You could join me if you want.”

The offer is tempting.

“I better stay here in case someone comes knocking, might be a little suspicious if we’re both dripping wet at the same time.” He says, feeling proud that he still can think logically, though it’s far too hard when you’re around.

A smirk pulls at your soft lips. “I thought I was the only one who knew anything about being dripping wet.”

Spencer becomes flush, his cheeks burning as he says your name, prompting you to stop your explicit behavior.

“Sorry, baby, it’s just so easy.” You come to kiss his jaw before finding your way to the bathroom.

The shower is warm and the low light in the bathroom is soothing, you rinse clean and shampoo your hair, making the steam smell like your scent. Spencer browses the minimal television selection, then fights his urge to unmake the bed because he knows you’ll want to adjust the blanket and sheets a certain way.

“The water pressure is surprisingly good.” You say after about fifteen minutes, coming out, releasing that waft of steam.

Toweling your hair, you come back to your bag to find your various travel lotions, though you don’t get very far because Spencer is looking at you like you just hung the moon.

“What?” You ask, slightly adjusting your robe with an unsure smile.

He smiles softly. “I just…it’s unfair how beautiful you are in every form.”

Your heart swoons like it always does when he’s around.

“You have no room to talk, mister.” You remind, abandoning the skin care and come to stand between his knees that he parts for you.

Your finger traces the line of his jaw as his hands gently place on the backs of your thighs.

“You’re so sexy with your hair pushed back like this. Did you start wearing it like this because you knew it would drive me crazy?” You ask coyly, half teasing, running your fingers through it.

“It’s getting long.” He says.

“Nonsense, I love it.”

“You love everything.”

“I love you.”

The two of you pause. Those are three words you haven’t exactly expressed often. It’s been said, in a ramble from Spencer where it just came out and you had beamed up at him like you’ve won a prize.

Now, you say it with certainty, and he wants to hear it again.

“I love you.” You say with more intensity, leaning down to where you have his face in your hands, holding him there as you kiss him.

“I love you too.” He mumbles against your lips.

You don’t pull away when he slowly reaches for the tie of the silky robe, you’d never reject him.

He’s already lost his shoes and socks, his tie and the top buttons of his shirt, but he loses more as you help him. Further up on the bed, you let the open robe fall off your shoulders, not feeling bashful as he studies you with his eyes.

Spencer could never look at you in anything other way than adoration.

“Hotch is dumb.” You decide in his lap, placing his hands on your hips.

“We’re taking advantage of the situation.” Spencer declares, face falling to your shoulder as you sink further down onto him.

“I feel no remorse.” You breathe.

This isn’t the first time you’ve had sex, the first time was a long time coming and it was perfect. So gentle and warm and everything the two of you craved. You laid in his sheets and traced the freckles on his skin and it’s a moment you think of often because you often don’t get them.

Now, you have a moment and are seizing it.

“You okay?” You ask with the drag of your hips.

“You’re heavenly.” Spencer proclaims, tasting the clean skin of your neck.

“Spence.” You gasp, getting the hang of a rhythm. “Fuck.” The word leaves your lips as soon as he thrusts up into you.

You and Spencer have always worked well together so this is no different.

It’s addictive, the feeling stirring in you, the shear pleasure washing over him. He knows a thing or two about addiction and he can confidently say that you make him feel far better than any needle in the vein did.

At some point, with your hands in his hair, mouth hot against his, and his grip moving you how he wants…

Your phone rings.

At first, you do your best to ignore it, but it continues in an annoying fashion.

“No.” You plead, trying to chase that oncoming feeling.

“Who is it?” Spencer breathes heavy as you reach for the device.

“Emily.”

His head falls in defeat, movements slowing, prompting you to answer.

You do your best to not sound aggravated as Emily asks if she can bring dinner by, but the idea of a burger does sound nice.

“Yeah, we could eat.” You state, free hand over Spencer’s mouth to keep him quiet as your slow movements continue.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” Emily states in a kind yet suspicious tone.

“Will do, thanks Em.”

You throw the phone away, overwhelmed and determined to reach the high that was slowly slipping away.

“I hate our team sometimes.” You determine, frustrated that you lost momentum.

Not so gently, Spencer adjusts you to be on the mattress, taking over when you threaten to call off the entire idea because there was a stumble in the step.

“They should just know not to call on the off chance two coworkers are breaking HR rules.” He jokes, entering you without hesitation, making you gasp out.

The roll of his hips is slowly bringing you back to the precipice at a dangerously fast rate, leaving your legs to shake a touch.

“Emily is going to be here soon.” You stress, digging your skull into the pillow.

“We’ll be done before then.” He assures, reaching his hand down to rub his thumb against your clit in a hot friction.

“Emily could stand here and watch for all I care.” You state, pleading for a release. “I just- I need it, baby, please.”

“I know, I know, angel, you’re going to get it.”

How could a man be so soft when he’s doing such dirty things to you? It’s a mystery you’ll never quite understand, but Spencer has always been a wonder, so this is to be expected. He’s coaxing you to the finish, letting you suck on his shoulder to keep your noises down.

And when it happens after the build up of waiting for weeks, it hits like a tidal wave, leaving you speechless, open mouth gasping silently for air. Spencer is shuddering and pressing his face into that space between your jaw and collar bone.

You half expect a phone call, some kind of urgent message that will ruin this moment but nothing comes. It’s just you and Spencer.

At some point after getting cleaned up, you lay side by side, limbs tangled. Your eyes threaten to shut at the way he traces the shape of your face.

“Sometimes I’m just waiting to wake from this dream.” He whispers, tucking hair behind your ear.

You hum. “It’s not a dream, that’s what makes this so great.”

He shifts slightly, tilting his head down to brush his nose to yours. “Sometimes I think it is, because in what reality am I really the person you choose?”

You don’t like that, it obvious on your face. “I’d choose you in every universe, even if you don’t choose me.” You say sternly, a hand pushing his hair back.

He likes when you’re genuine. Well, you’re always genuine, but you also always have a face on, one of coyness and humor. When you’re like this, emotionally bare, he likes you the most.

“I’d never not choose you.” He states before turning to kiss your wrist.

You want to comment about how romantic he is without trying, but Emily knocks like you knew she would.

The two of you spring up, thankful you’re already dressed. You take a calming breath as you head to the door, and Spencer quickly tries to straighten the wrinkled sheets.

Emily isn’t dumb, she knows something is different, but she truly doesn’t suspect anything yet, which is questionable because she has a perfect view of signs that indicate adult activities when she comes in to deliver the burgers.

She goes and tells JJ that the two of you act different, a little more guilty, but Emily doesn’t know for sure until a completely different scenario comes about.

Two weeks later, when you’re sent into a living nightmare. Hotch makes the call to send you into the Unsub’s house alone first, you do it without hesitation because that is just how you do your job when it comes to the life or death of three missing children.

“House is clear, I’m going down to the basement.” You say into the com on your vest, confirming your safety to the team.

But you speak too soon, the Unsub does something the profile was wrong about. Hotch sent you in there because he suspected the man to be submissive to confident women of higher standard.

Though you were cautious, you weren’t expecting the Unsub to attack you at first chance.

You do your best to fight back and get the kids free, but you’re completely blindsided. Who knows what would have happened if SWAT and the team didn’t storm in when they did.

When you sit in the back of the ambulance, in shock, a paramedic cleaning up the gash on your forehead, Spencer is there with concern and comfort.

“The kids?” You ask.

“They’re safe, they’re going to be okay.” He reassured, holding your hand between both of his.

“I didn’t…I should’ve-“

“Shh.” He frowns. “You did good, angel, everything’s alright. Do you feel okay?”

Your brows draw and you shake your head. “I don’t feel well. Do I look well?”

“You have a concussion, sweetheart.” He says, gently pushing your hair back behind your ear.

“Am I still gorgeous?” You ask in a dreamy voice.

“You’re always gorgeous.” He assures, cradling your cheek. “You’re just gorgeous with a head injury that you’re going to go to the hospital to get it looked at.”

Your eyes shut as you hum, the warmth of his palm runs through you. The two of you embrace gently, completely forgetting how casual you are supposed to be appearing.

The team sees it now, of course they do.

You’ll have to explain the secret you’ve been hiding from them later, but now you’re just listening to Spencer’s voice murmur to you, wrapped in his FBI jacket, fighting the urge to adjust his hair.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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thedemoninme141 · 4 months ago

Text

It doesn't matter. (anon asks)

Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader.

Theme: Angst. Warnings: Discussions of suicide, depression.

Wordcount: 3.5k.

Wednesday sat on the railing of her balcony, her legs hanging over the edge, boots scraping against the cold stone.

Enid was sleeping softly in her side of the dorm. Peaceful. Oblivious. Even Thing had curled up on his little makeshift bed, unmoving, trusting that she would do nothing drastic. They thought they understood her.

They thought she was above weakness, above fragility.

Fools.

She had studied death. Pored over it. Dissected its meanings, its finality, its inevitability. She had wielded it in her hands like a sharpened blade, used it as a threat, a weapon, a fascination. But now, she wondered: was a fall from this height truly lethal? Would her bones shatter on impact? Or would she suffer, twitching on the cold stone until the void finally claimed her?

The world below seemed so far away, yet so close. A single misstep, a slight shift in weight, and she would no longer be perched between life and death, she would simply fall.

She had read about people who had jumped. Some regretted it before they hit the ground. Some had died on impact, their bodies broken beyond recognition. Some had lived, haunted by the knowledge that they had failed at escaping.

Would she regret it?

A foolish question. She didn’t believe in regret. She believed in action.

It didn’t matter.

It really didn’t matter.

She sat in the quad, her fingers curled over the spine of a book she had long since stopped reading. Her dark eyes were fixed on a single point across the courtyard.

You. It had been a year since she talked to you, that day.

She was watching you again.

Why?

She didn’t know.

She wasn’t even aware of when it started.

You were reading. Or, at least, you had been.

Now, your book was gone, ripped from your hands by a sneering group of students who thought themselves superior. She had seen this before. Watched from a distance. The same group. The same scene, playing out like a wretched cycle. A hand shoved at your shoulder, another voice laughed in your face. Your lips pressed into a thin line, your fingers curling into fists, but you did not fight back.

You never did.

You had been like this for a while now, silent, withdrawn, smaller. You never stood close to her anymore, hadn't been for the past year since that day. You never hovered near her anymore.

It wasn’t the first time she had seen this.

She had been seeing you, as you closed yourself from.. everything.

Wednesday could end it.

It would be easy. A single glare, a few well-placed words, and they would scatter like cockroaches under a harsh light. She could terrify them, send them running, make them regret every second they had spent trying to break you down.

But how could she?

How could she, when she had done the same to you?

The wind was colder now, biting at her skin as she sat motionless on the railing. Wednesday didn’t move, didn’t blink, only stared at the ground below. She understood now. Why you had chosen her. It wasn’t because you were fascinated by her, nor because you admired her, no, you did admire her but not in the way the others did.

The Hyde investigation had reached a standstill.

Wednesday gritted her teeth, Yesterday’s rain had washed away what could have been critical evidence. It was infuriating. She hated inefficiency, hated wasting time, hated failure.

And then there was you.

Trailing behind her like a shadow, quiet but persistent.

“…Maybe it’s not someone from this school at all, but an outsider?” Your voice was soft, hesitant, barely loud enough to rise above the sound of her footsteps.

Wednesday didn’t reply. Her mind was a swirling storm of deductions, dead ends, and mounting irritation.

“I mean… you’re so smart, Wednesday. I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon.”

A compliment. Empty words, spoken with sincerity, but meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

Wednesday stopped walking.

“Stop talking.”

Her voice was flat, sharp, laced with barely contained irritation.

She didn’t have time for this.

You flinched, but you didn’t leave. Instead, you simply adjusted the grip on your notebook, as if grounding yourself, as if trying to take up less space. Your footsteps became softer, your presence dimming, but still there.

Still following.

Still clinging.

By the time they reached the main hallway, the low hum of students passing through only made the irritation coil tighter inside her chest. The voices, the movement, the constant press of bodies—it was suffocating.

And then—

“…I could help if you need someone to brainstorm with…”

She still doesn't understand what was wrong in that sentence that caused her to lash out.

Wednesday stopped abruptly.

You hadn’t been expecting it. You barely had time to react before you bumped into her shoulder, the force of it barely anything, but it sent a fresh wave of irritation through her already frayed nerves.

She spun around, her hand latching onto your arm before she shoved you against the nearest wall.

“You are insufferable.”

Your back hit the cold stone, you froze, your notebook still clutched to your chest.

“Do you not understand the concept of personal space?” Her voice was rising now, sharp enough to cut. “Or basic social cues? How many more insults will it take to penetrate that thick skull of yours and make you realize I am not interested in your pathetic attempts at friendship?”

She remembers she noticed it.

The way your eyes flickered around, the way you took in the students stopping, whispering, watching.

She didn’t care back then.

“I don’t care about your feelings. I don’t care about your problems. And I certainly don’t care about your pitiful attempts to get closer to me.” Her voice was ice, unwavering, merciless. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and stay the hell away from me?”

She didn’t wait for a reaction.

Didn’t wait to see the way your fingers trembled around the edges of your notebook.

She just turned and walked away.

And now, sitting on the railing of her balcony, she understood.

You had clung to her because she was a wall, an impenetrable fortress of indifference and cruelty, and as long as you stayed near her, no one else could touch you. No one else could hurt you.

You weren’t trying to befriend her. You were trying to survive.

She had been your shield.

You had felt safe around her.

Safe.

Wednesday stood outside your dorm, the same day she had watched as they surrounded you, as they tossed your book aside like it was worthless, as you stood there and did nothing, accepted it like it was as natural as breathing.

And now she was here, because… because what? Because she felt responsible? Because she had spent a year noticing the silence you left in your absence? Because something about the way you had looked, empty, resigned—had made something inside her twist unpleasantly?

Her hand hovered for only a second before she knocked twice.

“Wednesday?” you asked, your voice quiet, indifferent.

Wednesday opened her mouth, then closed it.

She had spent the past hour deliberating over this moment, she had thought of this moment in her head, had run through different variations of how this conversation might go, but now, standing in front of you, she realized she had no idea what to say.

She expected—no, she had prepared for—the possibility of anger, of bitterness. Perhaps even avoidance, a door slammed in her face, a sharp remark thrown back at her in retaliation for last year.

But this?

This quiet, unreadable calm?

It made her skin crawl.

How can she bring this up? How could she string together words that didn’t sound weak, didn’t make her feel foolish?

You tilted your head slightly, waiting. Then, after a beat, “Do you need something?”

Wednesday finally forced herself to speak.

“I saw some students bothering you today,” she said, her voice clipped. “Why didn't you even try to fight back?"

It was a simple question. A reasonable one. And yet, the moment she said it, something in your expression shifted.

You looked… surprised.

As if the very idea of someone asking had never even crossed your mind.

Then, slowly, you smiled. A sad, small thing that barely touched your eyes. "It doesn't matter. I'm used to it."

Wednesday studied you carefully, but there was no tension, no bitterness, no frustration—just quiet acceptance, like this was simply a fact of life, an inevitability you had long since resigned yourself to.

“I’ve learned not to fight battles that don’t matter,” you added.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. “That sounds like cowardice.”

She expected a flinch, a glare, some kind of reaction at the insult.

But you only looked at her, that same faint, almost knowing smile on your lips. "Maybe," you said. "Or maybe I’ve just realized there’s no point."

There was no weight behind the words, no emotion for her to latch onto. Nothing.

That should have pleased her. Wednesday had always hated dealing with overly emotional displays, found them exhausting, unnecessary. But this wasn’t peace. This wasn’t calm.

This was a void.

And it unsettled her more than anything else could have.

Wednesday held your gaze for a long moment. Then, before she could stop herself, before she could convince herself it wasn’t necessary, she forced the words out

“I haven’t spoken to you in a year,” Wednesday said, her voice uncharacteristically soft, though still blunt. “That day in the hallway…”

You tilted your head slightly, as if trying to recall something distant. “I don’t blame you, Wednesday. You don’t need to apologize.”

The statement caught Wednesday off guard. She hadn’t been planning to apologize, not exactly. But the fact that you brushed it off so easily, as if it didn’t matter at all, made her feel even more uneasy.

“I wasn’t going to apologize,” Wednesday said quickly, more to reassure herself than you. “I don’t apologize. I just..." she sighed, taking a deep breath.

"I just wanted to say I am not one to dwell on past mistakes, nor do I often feel the need to correct them. However…" A pause. Her fingers twitched at her sides. "I shouldn’t have said what I did. Last year."

Nothing.

No flicker of relief, no sign that this meant anything to you at all.

You simply nodded, voice as steady as ever. "It’s fine."

It wasn’t.

"It really doesn’t matter," you added.

Wednesday’s jaw tightened.

It didn’t matter.

That was what you had said.

The same way you had said it about the group who bullied you.

The same way you had said it about yourself.

It should matter.

But you spoke like someone who had already accepted things would never change. Like someone who had given up long ago.

She didn’t know why that bothered her so much. Wednesday exhaled slowly.

"If they bother you again, tell me."

Your polite, practiced smile returned.

"I’ll keep that in mind."

You wouldn't.

Wednesday was feeling tired now, she hadn't been able to sleep for the past few days. And there was the round glowing thing, up there in the sky, judging her.

So the next time Wednesday didn't hesitate. “Are you all incapable of finding something more productive to do than harass the same person every day?” she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The bullies froze, their smug expressions faltering as they turned to face her.

“Look, Addams, we’re just—” one of them began, but Wednesday raised a hand, silencing them.

“I don’t recall asking for an explanation, if you want to keep your body parts intact, I would suggest moving away now.” she said icily.

Before she could take another step toward them, you stood abruptly, placing a hand on Wednesday’s arm.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, your voice steady.

Wednesday frowned, her eyes narrowing. “It’s not okay.”

You shook your head, your gaze meeting Wednesday’s for a brief moment before dropping again. “Please. Just leave it. It doesn’t matter.”

Those three words, and here she thought she hates the other set of three words.

She was beyond frustrated. “Of course, it matters—”

But you cut her off with a faint, almost pleading smile. “Thank you, Wednesday. But I can handle it.”

Your calmness only made Wednesday angrier, but she allowed herself to be stopped. The bullies muttered something under their breath and walked away, clearly unwilling to push their luck further.

You let go of Wednesday’s arm and gathered your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” you said quietly, before walking away without another word.

Wednesday watched as you walked away, the ghost of that practiced smile still lingering on your lips.

It unsettled her.

She should have felt satisfied. The bullies had left. You were no longer being bothered. By all accounts, this was a resolution. Yet, as she stood there, the frustration in her veins had not lessened. It had thickened.

Because you weren’t relieved. You weren’t grateful or upset or anything at all. You were just… neutral. Indifferent. As if nothing that had just happened actually mattered.

And that was what disturbed her the most.

She hadn’t intended to seek you out again that day, but as evening settled over Nevermore, she found herself in your presence once more. It was not premeditated. At least, that was what she told herself.

You were at your usual spot in the library, tucked away in the corner where few people ventured. Your book was open, but Wednesday could tell you weren't reading, your thoughts were elsewhere.

Wednesday sat down across from you without invitation. You looked up, but instead of questioning her presence, you simply nodded in acknowledgment before returning to staring at the pages in front of you.

She waited for you to speak.

You didn’t.

“I assume you have no opinion on this novel?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

You blinked, finally lifting your eyes to hers. There was no confusion, no curiosity—just quiet patience, as if waiting for her to get to the point. “It’s fine,” you said simply.

Fine.

Wednesday studied you for a long moment.

A year ago, you would have said more.

A year ago, you would have tilted your head, started a conversation, told her what you thought, even if you knew she might not respond.

But now?

She felt a strange, unfamiliar irritation.

Wednesday exhaled sharply. "You used to be more talkative."

You blinked, tilting your head slightly, as if this was a strange observation. "Did I?"

Wednesday's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes."

You hummed, as if considering it, before turning the page of your book. "I guess I don’t have much to say anymore."

There was something deeply, profoundly wrong about that.

"You always had something to say before," Wednesday pointed out.

“I suppose I grew out of it.”

Wednesday didn’t believe that.

Not for a second.

But she didn’t know how to make you tell her the truth.

Wednesday had never been one to admire beauty—she found it frivolous, a distraction from the inevitable decay that awaited all things. And yet, she could not deny it.

The moon did look beautiful tonight.

And perhaps it's too late to notice this... has she always been too late to notice things?

It's alright, it doesn't matter.

Somewhere in the months that followed, she had begun to notice things.

Small things.

The way she was drawn to your presence more than she cared to admit. The way her mind wandered when you weren’t near. The way irritation clawed at her when she saw you retreat into yourself, as if part of you was slipping away, disappearing into the quiet that had settled around you for the past year.

She found herself seeking you out, not out of curiosity or obligation, but because she wanted to.

It was unnatural.

It was wrong.

But it was happening.

And she noticed that something else was happening, too.

You were changing.

At first, the silence had been suffocating. Wednesday had spent months trying to pry something—anything—out of you, trying to provoke a reaction, to hear your voice the way she used to. But it had been slow, painfully so, like pulling teeth.

Then, one day, she made a comment about Xavier's iq, and you—

You laughed.

It wasn’t much, just a quiet huff of amusement, barely even there. But it was real.

Perhaps that's what pushed her over the edge.

It started happening more often after that.

Little things.

A subtle smile when she made a dark observation about the world. A quiet response when she asked you a direct question.

You weren’t how you used to be. Not completely.

But you were less silent.

And Wednesday—who had spent her entire life preferring silence—found herself desperate to hear more.

One evening, as you sat across from her in the library, she caught herself staring.

You were focused on a book, your expression calm, lips slightly parted in thought. A stray strand of hair fell in front of your eyes, and without thinking, you reached up and tucked it behind your ear.

It was an utterly mundane action.

And yet, something inside Wednesday twisted.

She dropped her gaze immediately, pressing her nails into her palms.

This wasn’t right.

She knew what this was. She wasn’t stupid. She had read about these things, seen them infect others like a slow-spreading disease.

She was falling for you.

And it was unacceptable.

But the realization did nothing to stop it.

She still sought you out. She still lingered in your presence. She still noticed every detail about you—the way you fidgeted when deep in thought, the way your voice softened when you spoke to her, the way you had begun to meet her gaze a little more often.

She noticed how you were changing.

And she noticed that she was, too.

She had tried to fight it. Tried to ignore the way something inside her clenched whenever you smiled—really smiled, not the polite, practiced one you gave so often.

But it was pointless.

Because this had been building for months now, like a slow-burning fire that refused to be smothered.

And perhaps—

Perhaps she didn’t want to smother it anymore.

Wednesday wasn’t blind to the world. She knew what affection looked like, even if she had never experienced it herself. She had read of it, studied it, dissected it through history and literature and human observation.

And now, she was living it.

There was something deeply unsettling about the realization.

But there was something else, too. Something almost… comforting.

It wasn’t so bad, she supposed, to have someone she didn’t mind being around. To have someone who had seen the worst of her and still—still—remained.

Maybe she could allow this.

Maybe, for once, she could let herself have this.

The Raven was approaching.

Wednesday had never cared for such events—meaningless social gatherings. It was an evening of vanity, of shallow declarations and fleeting romances, none of which had ever interested her.

And yet, for the first time, she found herself anticipating it.

Because this year, it had a purpose.

This year, she would ask you.

The realization should have unsettled her, but it didn’t. Not anymore. She had spent months fighting this, dissecting it, rationalizing it, but there was no use in denying the inevitable. She had fallen for you. The thought of it no longer felt like a weakness.

Perhaps, in some ways, it was a strength.

She had spent so long trying to bring you back—trying to restore the version of you that had been buried beneath silence and indifference. And it was working, wasn’t it?

She could already picture the moment in her mind—she would find you alone, somewhere quiet, away from the noise of the others. She would state it plainly, without unnecessary theatrics or hesitations.

You would say yes.

And after the Raven—

She would tell you.

That she had fallen for you. That somewhere between your silence and your soft smiles, between the way you had once tried so hard to reach her and then stopped entirely, she had found herself tangled in something she could not escape.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to happen afterward. But she would deal with it when the time came.

For now, she just needed to ask you. She just needs to go to your dorm and ask you. She just needs to go to your room and find you.

Wednesday sat on the edge of the balcony railing, her legs dangling over the side.

In her hand, a letter trembled, one she had found beside you.

Her fingers curled tightly around the paper, the words smudged in places where she had gripped it too hard, as if by crumpling it, she could change what was written, change the reality of what had happened. But the ink did not bleed, and the words did not disappear.

They stared back at her.

"I'm sorry."

""I'm tired, Wednesday."

"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault."

"Don't blame yourself."

But Wednesday did.

How could she not, when she had seen the signs too late? When she had spent so long convincing herself that you were getting better, that the quiet was no longer something suffocating? When she was the reason you got away?

You were smiling more. Talking more. Responding when she reached out.

For all her investigation skills, she should have known better.

It was never real.

She had studied death all her life, dissected it, understood it in ways most people never could.

And yet, she found herself wondering—

Would a fall from this height be lethal?

It doesn't matter.

She was going to find out soon anyway.

[Author's note: This was a one-shot ask. So blame anon for the heartbreak. I can't believe I wrote all that in one sitting lmao.]

[Worklist.]

Taglist: @ognenniyvolk@mally-ka@protozoario@machyishere@freakshow2501@101rizzlrr (If you guys don't wanna be tagged in one-shot asks, inform me, I don't mind.)

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cherriecove · 9 months ago

Text

Fine Line Between Duty and Oaths (Part 1)

Gwayne Hightower x Targ!Reader

Summary: The second born daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Aemma is just as brave, beautiful and stubborn as her older sister but cannot deny her growing love for a certain red haired knight who just so happens to be a dear friend’s brother.

Cherrie’s note: Use of she/her pronouns. No use of y/n. Just made some edits to help get rid of writers block. Use of @targaryen-dynasty's divider i love them Masterlist | Next Part

Despite the usual tranquility of the Godswood, where you often sought solace, the history books mandated by the Septa seemed particularly elusive today. The words seemed to dance around your mind, slipping away no matter how many times you tried to focus. As you began the chapter for what felt like the umpteenth time, you were jolted out of your frustration by a familiar sound of laughter.

Rhaenyra and Alicent appeared, arms linked and animated in their conversation. They made their way over to the heart tree’s shade, where you had been trying to study. Alicent settled beside you, leaning comfortably against the tree, while Rhaenyra flopped down and nestled her head in your lap.

“What’s got you frowning, hāedar?” Rhaenyra teased, noticing the furrow in your brow. “If you keep that up, you might strain something.” She playfully tugged at the corners of your mouth, stretching them into an exaggerated grin. “Much better, don’t you think, Alicent?” Alicent giggled and shook her head at the sight.

You sighed and gently nudged Rhaenyra’s hands away, setting the book aside. “I can’t seem to focus on these same old stories. They’ve hammered them into us enough already; it feels pointless.”

Rhaenyra’s face lit up with a mischievous glint. “That’s exactly why I’ve put my studies on hold. There’s no point in dwelling on the past when we’ve got something as thrilling as a tourney coming up.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, clearly skeptical. “You always say you despise these tourneys. You claim that all the knights try too hard to impress you and your father.”

Rhaenyra’s smile wavered, and she playfully nudged Alicent, who laughed at the jest. The thought of marriage had always unsettled Rhaenyra; the prospect of being bartered off to the highest bidder, with only the promise of bearing children, was both repugnant and frightening to her. It was a grim reality that not even princesses could escape.

“I think it will be exciting,” you said, turning to Alicent. “Your brother will be joining us, won’t he? Isn’t he a knight now?”

Alicent’s face brightened at the mention of her brother. “Yes, he sent word a couple of moons ago that he’d be attending. I’m eager to see him; it’s been quite a while.”

Just as you were about to ask more, your Septa entered the Godswood and announced, “Princesses! The Queen requests your presence.”

Both you and Rhaenyra rose, exchanging farewells with Alicent and promising to catch up later before following the Septa to the Queen’s chambers.

Entering the Queen’s apartments, you found your parents engaged in conversation on the chaise in the center of the room. They turned to face their daughters as you entered.

“Muña, you wanted to see us?” Rhaenyra asked, planting kisses on both parents’ cheeks before taking a seat. You followed her example, sitting closer to your mother. Your father stood up, clearing his throat.

“As you both know, we’re hosting a tourney soon,” he began. Rhaenyra glanced at you, then back at your father, nodding.

“Do you know why?” You asked, concern evident in your voice. “You’re not… with child again, are you?”

Your mother shook her head with a reassuring smile. “No, nothing like that. The tourney’s purpose is to showcase you both as you approach the age of marriage. It’s an opportunity for you to observe potential suitors and decide for yourselves, though, as your father and king, I will have the final say.”

Rhaenyra’s frustration was palpable; her dragon’s blood ran hot and fast. Sensing her agitation, you reached out to take her hand. “We won’t be wed until we’re ready, will we?”

Viserys’s expression softened as he looked at his youngest daughter. “Of course not, my little dragon. We dread the day you both will leave us to start that chapter of your lives.”

You nodded silently as Rhaenyra abruptly stood up. “If that’s all, I’ll be off. I want to fly Syrax.” She kissed Aemma’s cheek and left swiftly, not looking back.

Viserys cleared his throat, attempting to ease the awkwardness left by Rhaenyra’s departure. Aemma took his hand and rose. “She’ll come around, my love. You may go now, my sweet. Hopefully, your sister will calm down soon.”

You bid your parents farewell and left the room, only to collide with Alicent, who was hurrying down the hall. Laughing at the unexpected encounter, you asked, “What’s the rush, Hightower?”

Alicent’s face lit up with a brilliant smile as she grabbed your hand, pulling you along. “He’s here! Gwayne is finally here! You have to meet him.”

#hotd x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #targaryen reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 9 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/gay-dorito-dust/758338609223991296/does-anybody-have-any-bill-cipher-or-stanford

Hi, I have a request!!

Bill’s current obsession has fallen into a love triangle (haha) between Stanford and Stanley pines? Hijinks, insanity and three different levels of possessiveness ensues!!

Where to begin with this one…

The only way you gained Bill’s attention was merely coincidental, at first you were just any other human who the dream demon was only going to use for his sole entertainment, not something that he would ever get attached to in a million lifetimes.

And yet he was more than willing to lock you up in his ‘love cage’ if it meant keeping you away from those fucking senior citizens, Stanford and Stanley Pines. Two gigantic thorns in his nonexistent ass when it came to you and your attention. Bill could give you anything and everything your dark little heart desires in comparison to Stan and Ford, what could they give you that bill couldn’t?

Love and understanding was what they’d both give you, seeing as how Bill often thought that love and fear were one in the same. so whenever you had evident fear in your eyes, panicked breathing and a body language that screamed out that you were terrified, bill though it was actually love and adoration and that you couldn’t bring yourself to part from him because you were that paralysed by the love you felt for him. (He’s delusional)

Bill wouldn’t let you leave his sight for a signal second and even if he ever did find you talking to another person, they’re more then dead in his one eye and you were back in the love cage ‘for your own good,’ as he would claim, believing that you shouldn’t have betrayed the limited amount of trust he had given you. He was clingy, obsessive, wanted to know where you where -even though he already knew the answer- and who you were with to the point where any ounce of freedom given by bill was just another bigger cage to keep you in…

Until you met them…

Stan and Ford did promise each other that they’d never fight over anyone ever again after one incident where they both liked the same girl back in high school, but both of them turned out to be hypocritical liars when they both found themselves fighting each other over you.

You most likely met these two after managing to escape bill for a bit, bumping into poor Ford as he was on his weekly monster chase and you had to say for a man pushing 70, Ford was handsome, a silver fox if you will but you assumed such terminology would fly over his head. (The fact that this man gets called a silver fox will never not be funny to me, the people of gravity Falls know what’s up and I respect them)

‘Are you okay?’ Ford would ask when he noticed the paranoid look in your eye as you kept looking behind you, almost as though you were feeling as though you were being watched, a feeling Ford himself was familiar with as his face becomes serious. ‘It’s him isn’t it?’ He would then say.

‘What? I’m sorry for bumping into you mister but I’ve got to get away from him.’ You stated frantically as you could almost feel the triangular demon’s eye on your back, almost burning into you with its sheer intensity.

‘Does he have a triangular form, top hat, one eye and a pension for causing chaos?’ Ford quizzed you and noted how you looked at him as though to ask how he knew, in which he was quick to reply with, ‘I’m…familiar with the thing haunting you my dear, please let me help you get away from him.’ Ford then proceeded to lend out his hand, you failed to notice was six fingered due to your panic, and you immediately latched onto without hesitation as anywhere was better than being stuck with Bill for any longer than you already have.

You thought that you were bound to go insane if you heard him sing his own rendition of ‘we’ll meet again’ for the hundredth time. He could play a piano but couldn’t sing in the slightest, but then again you guessed it came with the territory for Bill to have everything be a little off kilter and somewhat off balance.

Stanley would’ve been in the living room, watching his shows when Ford came in with you in tow, locking the door behind him.

‘Hey you’re finally done- who’s the cutie?’ Stan would ask as his eyes immediately land on you and Ford was needlessly unimpressed with his brother’s almost instant attraction to you; he didn’t feel like sharing your attention with him in the slightest.

‘Bill’s newest obsession.’ Ford replied straightforwardly as Stan winced.

‘Yeesh, I hate that triangular freak,’ Stan began as he then looked at you with reassurance, ‘but don’t you worry toots, the mystery shack is practically the only place that little twerp can’t get within radius of unless he wants a repeat of what happened last time.’ He then flashes you a smile and you couldn’t help but feel a little more relaxed then before, the feeling of being watched had all but disappeared when Ford then began to show you where you’d be staying the night after seeing how dark it had gotten, that and he didn’t feel like letting you leave when Bill was actively looking for you.

He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. ‘It’ll be okay, he can’t get you here like my brother Stanley said, you’re safe.’

You smile at him. ‘Thank you…I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Ford, just call me Ford.’ Ford replied as he smiled softly at you and for once you didn’t feel frightened or afraid, you felt more protected and safe than you did in a long while.

Yours and Ford’s relationship took a bit getting off the ground, seeing as how Ford was determined on getting Bill to leave you alone but soon enough after some time spent with each other; Ford found himself unable to part from your side for long periods of time without fearing the worst that his brother was flirting with you behind his back.

Stan was indeed flirting with you behind Ford’s back, he couldn’t help it! You were a catch and he could see in Ford’s eyes that he knew they too, but where Ford lacked in flirting, Stan excelled in it as he’d often found new ways to talk to you in hopes of making you smile and or laugh. And to his credit it does work and you do laugh and place your hand on his shoulder to keep yourself stable, but it would always happen whenever Ford was walking into the room and Stan sees his brothers face contort into one of annoyance and frustration.

‘Y/n dear, I have something that I would love your secondary opinion on something if you’re not busy.’ He would raise his brow at Stanley who was staring back at him with a look of annoyance at the fact that he was cockblocking him from making a move on you. The tension between them was palpable but you were just glad that you were far away from Bill as possible, who at this point was on the brink of making Weirdmagedon 2.0 at this point when he couldn’t find you at all.

‘Sure Ford.’ You’d chirp as you follow after Ford down to the lab while Stan is left fuming and planning on how he could get you away from Ford once again.

Ford is awkward when it comes to flirting but he makes up for that by being comforting and respectful of your inability to understand the stuff he deals with, and when he sees that your frustrated or upset, he’s quick to put his hand on your shoulder or your hand and squeezing it softly while muttering ‘it’s okay, you’re doing great.’ Now and then. All thoughts of warding off Bill had left his mind as he kept you practically tucked against his side with how close you both were to one another.

There would be times where you’d look over at Ford and he was mere inches away from your face, and it makes the air leave your lungs as you feel his breath wash over your face. Stuck looking into his kind, soft, intelligent eyes that could absolutely degrade and or belittle you if you gave the command but you knew that wasn’t in Ford’s nature, the man was soft touched by calloused hands and conceded eyes that could easily read your entire body with ease and give you what you needed.

Stanley may or may not have walked into these moments himself when he wanted to take you on a drive in his car to the waterfall, something that he was certain would make you swoon into his arms, only to see you and Ford within kissing distance and looking like two lovers admiring each other up close as though you couldn’t get enough of one another.

The twins never wanted to fight in front of you, and they never do as they spoke to one another in low tones towards each other as they came to realise just how deeply they both felt towards you. They both agreed that the moment you chose one of them to guard your heart, the other would be respectful and wouldn’t let anything sour the bond they spend long enough rebuilding after thirty years apart.

However they seem to keep forgetting their competitor for your heart: Bill Cipher who was more then willing to posses people just to look for you and he doesn’t plan on stopping until he had you back where you belonged, after all he saw you first and won’t let Stan or Ford take you away from him if it was the last thing he did.

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usedpidemo · 1 year ago

Text

Too many nights ((G)I-dle Yuqi)

The way you see it, even if the signs were right in front of you all along—written in bright, colorful signposts with the largest text imaginable—you’d still be hurling yourself off that cliff.

Yuqi knows this too—you think she does.

At the very least, she looks convincing enough that she feigns innocence on the matter, and she is. It's mainly a you problem. She doesn’t know you much other than being the sweet, quiet guy who was her roommate in college and nothing else.

And that’s probably the reason why she’s standing in front of your newly minted apartment on a random Monday.

—————

You’re waiting for her to pick her bags off the floor and leave. You told her to leave three times. Threaten to call security on her. She doesn’t budge. Instead, she stares. Stubborn, obstinate, unyielding.

“Please, give me one opportunity. Please let me explain myself.” Yuqi finally breaks her silence, eyes wide, glinting with tears, pleading.

“Shoot.”

She looks down, unable to see you eye to eye, her hands running through the pockets of her skirt. “You’re right. I’ve taken your kindness for granted, and I’m sorry. I really am.”

Pausing, you’ve never heard her sound this quiet, this personal. “I never truly appreciated you till I was home with my parents. I should have focused more on studying than going out and having fun. Now look. They’re pissed that I’m being a bum at home instead of working, so they kicked me out.”

She proves your theory to be true. She has no reason to be here unless you bail her out of trouble again.

“But I can’t find one job that I like. Working a 9-5 or any regular cashier job seems so boring, you know what I mean? Doesn’t feel like my type of thing to do,” she continues, lightly kicking the suitcases with her feet. “My friends are all busy, so I had no one to lean on. Then I remembered you! So here I am.”

At least it was nice seeing Yuqi act mature for at least three minutes before reverting to her usual spry, childlike personality.

“Okay? Well that’s on you for being lazy, and I can’t help with that. Sorry to hear you got kicked out, but I have nothing to offer you. It was great seeing you, though. Good luck with that job.”

You try closing the door, but she stops it with her foot. Peeking through the narrow space, you find Yuqi persistent, unrelenting. “Wait. Hear me out for a second, I said I didn’t wanna be your roommate.”

“No, Yuqi. Just go—”

“I really need you right now. I’ve already applied to like five different companies on public wifi, it’s so fucking slow and I doubt they even got my email. I just need a place to stay for like a month. Trust me, I’ll get a job and when I get paid, I’ll spend it on finding my own apartment! Just give me this one time.”

You swear you’ve never heard Yuqi this desperate, this loud. Your neighbors are probably ringing up security right now, maybe the owner too.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down for a minute, will you? Our neighbors are listening.” You open the door lightly and Yuqi’s eyes light up. You didn’t even say yes, but it might as well be a confirmation to her.

“You promise? You’re actually working on a job application?” you ask, doubtful about her claim.

“Of course.” Yuqi shows her phone, presents pdf files of multiple application letters to the very places she doesn’t want to work. Some fastfood chains, at convenience stores, and mall outlets. “None of them have replied back, so—I’m still trying to apply to more places, but I’m almost out of data on my plan and I don’t wanna spend another night inside my car. Just give me this one thing? Okay?”

Seeing the evidence firsthand, you can’t help but be impressed. If you had any spine, you’d contemplate the proposal more, give it some time to mellow out, maybe let her elaborate some terms of agreement. But in a moment of weakness, you yield right away. What’s one month of Yuqi gonna do to you?

“All right, fine. I’ll let you stay—”

“I owe you one, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Yuqi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when she brings her suitcases into your apartment at record speed. She gives you a peck on the cheek in appreciation twice, one for each pair of suitcases she shuffles in.

You can only sigh in response before closing the door.

—————

Before Yuqi gets comfortable in her new place, you sit her down on the living room couch to discuss house rules. This isn’t like college, where you share a dorm together, split the bill and have personal spaces. While you don’t own the apartment, you make one thing very clear: she’s bound to you and whatever rules you impose on her.

“Let’s make one thing and one thing clear: you break any of my rules, you’re outta here. I don’t care if you explain yourself, you’re gone. Understood?”

“Right.” Yuqi’s trembling with excitement and impatience, nodding erratically, kicking her legs up, goading you into rushing through everything so she can lay on an actual bed.

You take a moment to analyze her suitcases in the middle of the room. Facing her, you ask cautiously, “Tell me you didn’t bring your—”

“Yep!” She responds almost immediately, thrilled to answer your question, as if it were muscle memory. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

And there goes your supposed rule one. Of course she brought her entire dorm room decor along. Knowing her, they’re likely encompassing two of her suitcases.

“Yeah, no. My landlord is quite strict about decor, so you can’t put them up,” you tell her bluntly; there’s no getting around his rule, even if your roles were swapped.

She frowns, visibly devastated, probably more hurt than being kicked out by her family. It’s the end of the world, but she won’t give in. If there’s even a slight possibility she can have her way, she will force herself through. “Please? Even just my room—”

“Not a chance. It’s just a general rule here, sorry.” You make sure to shut her down immediately. “I didn’t make that rule, anyway. Blame the owner.”

Yuqi acquiesces. She groans with displeasure, crossing her arms, acting bratty. No act can convince you to change your mind.

“Right. Now actual ground rules. This isn’t a dorm so you can’t just freeload as much as you want. Now I understand you're still working on that job application, so all I’m asking is just for you not to be completely messy, got it? So don’t eat my leftovers without asking, don’t go out to clubs and ask me to drive you home when you’re drunk, none of that. If you’re drunk, sleep outside the room. I don’t want to clean up vomit on the carpets.”

Surprisingly, Yuqi agrees without complaint. You’re unsure whether she’s nodding so she can settle in, or if she actually understood every single word.

“I seriously hope you’re working on that job—”

“Don’t worry! Just give me the wifi password and I’ll be set.” Yuqi can’t help but interrupt you every single time, and to her credit, it’s effective. She does seem dead set on taking this opportunity to redeem herself, and it’s a convincing act. As insufferable as she can be at times, you want to see her succeed. You want to see her win.

You jot down the wifi password on an extremely thin sheet of paper and place it on the table before her. Before walking away, you ask her, “You need me to help with your belongings? I’ll get the guest room ready while you make yourself comfort—”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Yuqi’s typing on her phone, not even shooting you a look in your direction. “I’ll get it sorted out, don’t worry! Just pretend I’m not here.”

To her credit, she does get her belongings sorted out. By evening, she moves into a cleared out storage room that’s now her designated bedroom. Words are hardly exchanged other than simple pleasantries and greetings. You ask her if she had dinner, she says yes. She doesn’t take anything from the fridge other than some water. There’s a knock on the door; she answers and comes back with a package of chinese food. She offers to share some, but you modestly decline.

You never ate together when you shared a dorm in college. She would eat her inside her bedroom or after you already cleaned up. At times, she’d come back to the dorm late and you wouldn’t see her till the following day. You share the same space but you have vastly different lives. The feeling is familiar, but the setting is new: having dinner under the low light, uncertain about your futures.

This feels like your first day together all over again.

—————

The first night with Yuqi is a quiet affair. There’s hardly any commotion. An unusual scene. She finishes her food ahead of you then retreats into her bedroom without uttering a single word.

When you wake up the next morning, Yuqi is already at the dining table. Browsing her laptop, coffee in hand, seemingly focused on that next job application. She doesn’t even greet you or acknowledge your existence; she’s in her own world, but in a good way.

“Morning,” you quietly say, trying to grab her attention, but it falls on deaf ears.

“You off to work?” she asks, preceded by a mouse click while you pour onto your mug. Her attention remains glued to the screen, paying you no heed.

“Kind of?” You take a seat opposite Yuqi’s side on the table. “I work here. Or should I say: this is my workplace.”

“Wow. I wish I could work from home. Would be nice,” she replies between mouse clicks and keyboard taps.

You take a light sip of your coffee. “What course did you take again?”

“Umm—” Yuqi slumps back in her chair, “I think it was medicine? I wanted to become a guitarist and have my own band, but my parents wanted me to become a doctor. And I don’t wanna ruin my handwriting, so—”

“Don’t you have a band with your friends? The one with—”

“Yeah that dream died two years ago.” Yuqi’s eyes squint, brows furrowing, running through every word slightly faster than normal. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Not even a little—”

“No.” She faces you with a surprisingly cold glare, a sight you’ve never seen before. “They can just fuck off—those goddamn bitches.”

You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward after her abrupt turn. It’s probably for the best; you hardly paid any attention to Yuqi’s life to be entitled to a substantial explanation.

The rest of the hour goes by in deafening, awkward silence. Here’s Yuqi, this ball of energy whose life primarily revolves around partying and getting rowdy, calmly clicking on the touchpad and typing a few words every now and then in search of a way to fund her addiction. You can tell from her sullen expression just how deprived she is of that high—how incomplete she feels without the rush of adrenaline, ecstasy, and alcohol flowing through her veins. It’s impressive how it takes someone to hit rock bottom to turn their life around, how all this could have been avoided with a few decisions.

Still, it’s never too late for someone like her, and as long as she holds up her end of the deal, i.e. leave you for good after this, you’ll actively root for her success.

—————

“Fucking hell, dude,” sighs Yuqi, slamming the panel of her laptop hard, her fist narrowing missing the edge of the table. While you’ve made yourself comfortable at your usual workplace, a spacious office desk on the other side of the living room, you’re preoccupied scanning through numerous documents and emails your boss sent you. A look at the bottom right of the screen tells you it’s half past lunch. Then your stomach grumbles, as if the clock wasn’t enough of a reminder.

“Gonna make lunch,” you say to a vexed Yuqi, who’s stretching her legs against the table and her arms to the ceiling, body likely aching from her hunched position. “You good?”

“Yep.” Her tone perfectly toes the line between sincerity and sarcasm. “Got three rejections—no, four, actually. The last one was sent minutes ago.”

You’re not sure how to respond.

“Oof.”

You couldn’t relate to her even if you tried. Of the two applications you sent, your current job is the one that gave you the freedom and flexibility to work from home, even if it paid less than the other. That was six months ago; finding job opportunities has become way harder, or so you’ve heard from your other unemployed peers from college.

“Finding a job sucks,” says Yuqi, stating the obvious. She finally gets up from her chair, brings her laptop back into her bedroom to charge before reemerging with a hairpin wrapped around her knuckles, tying it around her loose red hair. “So, what’s for lunch?”

“Meatloaf and eggs,” you reply, firing up the stove as you grab pans from beneath the sink. “Not sure if you’ll like it, though.”

She lifts her eyebrows, intrigued, but mostly unbothered. She’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t fast food or from the convenience store, and she doesn’t have the gall to complain, anyway, as your roommate.

—————

“So, how’s the job hunting going?” you ask her right as the sun descends over your apartment windows. You have your schedule down to a science, finishing all intended projects and goals when neighboring buildings’ lights open. Weekdays can’t be anymore mundane and monotonous, but you get the job done, you’re paid handsomely, and you have time for your other hobbies.

Meanwhile, Yuqi looks like she doesn’t want to stare at a computer screen for a week, maybe a month. She looks worse off than she did in the morning. It’s evident in her clothes, her hair, her face: frazzled and messy. A perfect representation of her state.

“What do you think?” she replies, never sounding so heated, so frustrated. A look at her screen shows a new rejection letter, piled between several others, already read. Each one with different reasons, different ways to hurt, but with the same intent: we appreciate your interest, but we have chosen a different candidate from a very competitive pool—we don’t think you fulfill our qualifications—we’re looking for someone with more experience—we wish you the best in your future endeavors. You’ve noticed she tends to click back and forth between each letter, as if to torture herself further.

“I think you should put that laptop away. Try again tomorrow,” you tell her, closing the panel while she’s scrolling, stealing her attention. She readjusts her glasses, blinking rapidly, annoyed at your little intervention. “I’m going for a walk. You should join me.”

“And what if I don’t?” she asks, threatening to pull her laptop away from your fingers.

“Good luck going out when I have the room key then.”

“I don’t have my running shoes,” she replies, and she’s telling the truth; she only brought one pair of slippers with her, the rest being colorful sets of boots and expensive high heels.

“Then grab some from my closet and wash up. You’ll look stupid if you go out in those silly boots.”

—————

At first, you believe she had declined the offer; you had already left the building when Yuqi caught up to you moments later, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. Hey, maybe she could have been a great track and field athlete if she put her mind to it.

You can’t help but make a little comment. “Thought you weren’t going to go out.”

That was for all the times she’d make similar remarks to you back in college. They never really bothered you; you were never a man of high morals and upstanding, but at least you had your priorities sorted out, unlike Yuqi.

Yuqi playfully counters your rib, shooting you a disparaging stare. “Dude. I’m doing you a favor by doing this.”

“Elaborate.” You laugh.

“You never went out whenever I asked you. You always said no to parties.”

“And for good reason. Look at us now.”

If you wanted to, you’d be harsher. You have years of dirty laundry and grievances to air out, but this is as concise and as restrained as you can express them without getting accused of attempted murder. Besides, you can’t keep a straight face the longer you look at her. She clearly stands out in a rather dreary and dull crowd, and it isn’t the red hair as bright as the sun, it's her look—or lack thereof. Your oversized hoodie, your running shoes mixed with her pajamas, the lack of bra—it’s obvious she only did the bare minimum to look decent in a public setting, and yet she fits in all of them like a glove.

“Where are we going, anyway? Can it be a bar? I hope it’s a bar.”

The first thing she wants to look for once outside is a place to drink. Of course. It’s hardly a surprise to you or anyone at this point.

“Where’s your car anyway?” you question back.

“I dunno. Could be in the carpark, could have been impounded. I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. It smells like dogshit, anyway, cause I’ve been living in it for the past three weeks.”

Yuqi talks with a fine blend of fast and sardonic, evidently scarred from all her ordeals with that car. She’s never experienced living outside her glass castle until now, and it shows. She’s dragging her feet with every step following you close behind, trying to soak in the scenery around her. Street lights, joggers, buskers, friends, and partners of every sort, people that you actually know and recognize. It’s all foreign in her eyes. All she knows are strobe lights, loud music, drinks, and rowdy crowds.

“So, like, do you just go on a walk every single day or you only do this because I’m your roommate?” she wonders, her gaze lingering at a passing woman jogger that catches her eye. Jumping to conclusions, she adds, “Are you telling me to touch grass? As if I hadn’t been doing that for weeks?”

You turn around and notice her distant stare, still fixated on that woman, ruminating the prospect of leaving you for her instead. “I don’t think getting blacked out drunk and vomiting in your car counts as touching grass.”

“How do you even know that?” Yuqi faces you, provoked by your comment, pouting. “You hardly attend parties, even when I invited you. You always turned them down.”

“Word gets around fast. I thought you already knew that.”

If she could, she’d grab you by the throat and strangle you to death or rip you in half. It stings. She questions whether your blunt, matter-of-fact delivery makes the statement ten times more scathing. Then she wonders if she made a mistake, dressing up and going after you, when you’ll just be making her regret her life decisions like her parents did. You hardly cared back then, so why now?

“Can we just go to a bar? You’re being annoying.” Yuqi stares into the distance, intentionally averting her gaze away from you.

“If you have the money, then sure, let’s go for it.” You know she has no leverage or power; she can only afford fast food and a month’s worth of groceries and daily necessities. It pains her to make a willing decision to pass on alcohol and avoid bars and parties. She’s down horrendously, but she won’t directly confess her own fatal flaw.

It takes everything within her not to slap you square in the face.

And you can play this game all night long until she folds. You can stand there, argue, and debate with Yuqi till she runs out of excuses and complaints. Four years of pent up material to unload onto her, make a scene in public and turn her into an example about not wasting one’s life away. You can go further, you promise.

Instead, you both settle down in a cafe on the other side of the park as a compromise.

The place is more suited to Yuqi’s style: lively crowd, comfortable ambience, all the caffeine and sugar as a proxy to her raging alcohol addiction. Most importantly, she won’t pay for shit. You don’t even end up drinking your own order; she does it on your behalf. You settle for a tiny cup of tap water instead. In a way, she’s acting like a needy dog, desperate for attention without concern for anything else that doesn’t involve her.

“Fucking hell, I never knew I needed this,” she echoes, sipping up the last quarter of your coffee, glancing at the menu over the counter, itching for another. She’s keen on paying from her pocket this time; she recognizes you won’t give her another freebie. “This shit tastes so good.”

You can only shake your head, not even remotely trying to hide your frustration toward her. Her obliviousness is kind of cute in a way, making her look a bit sympathetic.

“Maybe I should just work here,” she says, her eyes moving in every direction, her attention taken by something shiny every five seconds. Plenty of action happens at night: groups entering and exiting, the pervasive scent of fresh coffee brewing in real time, and plenty of girls to ogle at. In particular, there’s a waitress with a cherry tattoo on her neck that’s captured her interest. She can’t help but point her out to you, grinning widely at her. “See that waitress? She’s kinda cute.”

“Uh-huh.” You’re not really paying attention; you’re there mainly for the free wifi and a snack, not to flirt. Luckily for you both, the waitress is preoccupied with meeting high customer demands to notice. “Good idea, maybe you should apply here.”

The longer you stay inside the cafe premises, the more Yuqi becomes less inclined to leave. You end up having dinner, a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches from the snack menu. On her end, four cups of coffee strewn on the table, all drank by her. If this was some ploy to make you pay for free drinks, it worked to a tee. Anything to avoid engaging you in a serious conversation.

The opportunity never presents itself. Soon, the cafe becomes dimmer and muted. Staff are closing off sections, clearing trays, and cleaning up empty tables. Since you entered the cafe, she has not made a move on the waitress at all, even when you’ve tried pushing her over the cliff numerous times. Her shift is close to done, ready to check out for the day. One more opening. Still, Yuqi watches her intently, but can’t find the strength to stand, let alone pull the trigger.

“Well? I thought you were gonna ask her out or something.” You take a look around and come to a grim realization: that you’re the only two customers left.

“I—I don’t think I wanna do it now.” Yuqi turns around, playfully grinning, but rushing through her words. “Maybe when I get the job here. Maybe.”

You can only react in quiet disbelief to how this was all just a huge waste of time—and money.

“Fucking—” you sputter before masking the rest of your response, groaning as you rise from your seat, leaving.

After two days, your main observation is that Yuqi hasn’t changed much. If at all.

—————

The rest of the week follows a similar structure. It’s comforting; it’s the kind of monotony you’ve acquainted yourself in ever since having your own apartment. Yuqi’s always up before you, an hour in advance, she’ll tell you. At her usual spot around the dining table, on her laptop, coffee in hand. You stop asking for updates after the third day; you’re certain she’ll figure things out. Your mindfulness and curiosity get the better of you, peeking through the screen on occasion, only to find the same thing. One rejection after another, mixed in with a new application letter in between. From the outside looking in, it’s as if some divine force doesn’t want her to get that job.

In the evenings, you go for your usual walks. Yuqi joins you out of the apartment building, but instead of following, she separates and heads the other way. She’s wearing her own earphones and your hoodie, something she’ll end up keeping. The few times you run across each other, she's holding some drink in her hand, usually the coffee from the cafe you spent time with her in, her hoodie pooling with sweat all over. No pleasantries, you mind your own business till you return home.

It isn’t until two weeks after she’s moved in that you extend an invitation: a visit to a newly opened lounge on the other side of town. You preface the invite saying you only knew about the place because it had opened a month ago, and had mostly forgotten about it until you remembered her. She’s doing well for herself, so you might as well reward her for her efforts, even if it hasn’t gone anywhere. And it isn’t Yuqi without asking for some kind of favor; in this case, taking a ride in your car because hers has been impounded by the police. You’re not even surprised that she’s too lazy to reclaim it herself.

Your friend says the lounge is newly opened, but once inside, you’re uncertain about her claim. Whether it's by design or her being a complete liar, grimy, poorly lit, in the vein of all those underground clubs you had seen in action movies where a shootout or police raid occurs. Simply put, there isn’t anywhere pretty to look at, and you feel icky just by being here.

To Yuqi, it’s a fantasyland: it’s where she’s meant to be all along. She’s so overjoyed to be there.

“It’s you!” calls a familiar voice; you turn and find a friendly face over the counter waving to you. You quietly leave Yuqi to herself and approach the bartender, who just so happens to be the owner. “I never thought you’d come and visit! It’s great to see you.”

“Only doing this for a friend, Minnie,” you silently tell her, pointing your finger at your invited guest, the sole reason you’d ever be here. She recognizes her immediately and understands.

“Yuqi, huh?” She looks intrigued, her gaze lingering at the girl. A subtle grin is forming on her face. “Never thought the two of you would be an item like that, considering she’s a party animal and you’re—”

“No—no—don’t get it twisted,” you interrupt, frantically trying to clear up any presumption. There’s no chance in hell you will ever find yourself attached to Yuqi romantically, not even a little. “It’s—a long story.”

“Do tell.” Minnie smirks, teasing, alluring. She looks the part of a bar owner, all right; dark eyelashes and shadowy lipstick matching her pitch black hair. Not to mention her slim dress perfectly hugging her tight frame, showing enough cleavage to draw attention. As a friendly gesture, she gives you a wine glass and pours a drink on it. “We’ve got all the time in the world and all the drinks you need. All in house since you’re a friend.”

So you oblige yourself to a tiny sip. The place is surprisingly quiet and empty, even though it’s the weekend, with lo-fi music playing through the speakers as the only form of background noise. Minnie doesn’t have much on her plate. She can lean on the desk and listen to you all night long.

“So, two weeks ago, Yuqi moved into my place trying to look for a job,” you tell Minnie before taking another sip. Both of you take quick glances at Yuqi, seemingly having the time of her life, scaring off the sole patron by the billiards table. “And I was wondering if you can get her a job here. She’s been rejected from every company she applied for. I know she doesn’t want to work a nine-to-five, and I suddenly remembered this place.”

Minnie raises a curious eyebrow, brushing small strands of hair covering her ear. “I see.” Looking past you, she notices Yuqi, now at the karaoke, amused by her voice and energy. You follow along and watch too, wincing at her talent, caught completely by surprise. You can feel the passion and emotion from her rather honeyed, deep singing voice, as well as her natural charisma while performing.

“Damn. She sounds really good. Borderline natural at it.” Minnie’s in awe of Yuqi’s abilities, the sort of reaction that pushes buttons, steals the show. “Wasn’t she in a band? I know she played guitar.”

“She said it doesn’t exist anymore, won’t tell me what happened.”

Even in the midst of conversation, Yuqi’s voice manages to snatch away your focus. She’s an extremely powerful singer—a natural, as Minnie said. Her voice is overpowering the background music with little difficulty. There’s little need to watch when her vocals can easily capture your attention all the same.

Facing you again, Minnie replies, clasping her hands together, “How about she perform by herself?” she suggests.

You meet her eye to eye at the drop of the notion, curious.

“What do you mean?” You take another sip.

“We have an open mic night next weekend, and we could use talent to liven up the place. She sounds perfect for that kind of gig. Who knows? Maybe she can be a resident singer if the cards are right.” Minnie smiles through every word, recognizing Yuqi’s talent and the untapped potential she has. All she needs is a platform to showcase her skill properly. And taking another glance at her, you see that too. She has the passion and the vocals to croon a live audience.

“I’ll tell her,” you say, turning to Minnie again. Yuqi has finished performing and is on her way over to the bar. Your conversation breaks off as the two women greet each other with an exchange of kisses on the cheek.

“Great place you got here girl,” Yuqi tells Minnie, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll be popping by often if you don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I could use some company on the weekdays, if I’m being honest.” Minnie hands Yuqi her own wine-filled glass, as well as a complimentary bottle. She makes sure not to “Take it, it’s on the house.”

“God, this is why I love you so fucking much.” Yuqi drinks up the whole glass in one swig, and immediately pours some from the complimentary bottle. Minnie can’t help but shake her head with a little smile, knowing this is still the same Yuqi she’s acquainted with since college. A rose-tinted view of days gone by.

The two women spend the rest of the time catching up. With how much they talk, it would be a safe assumption to think that these are two long lost friends who haven’t spoken in years. Then the conversation goes on and on, revealing more details than you should probably know: exchanged private messages as recent as last night, Yuqi’s intentions to visit the lounge sooner before present circumstances got in the way, and how she ended up in your apartment. As a listener and side character in her story, it’s a part you quite frankly never wanted, let alone be involved in under any capacity. You make sure to add your point of view in the narrative and clear every question. Whenever you chime in, they laugh heartily. It’s a mess, and they’re unapologetically quirky, never failing to make fun of you at times.

Despite everything, the topic is never brought up: the upcoming open mic night, her performance, her natural talent. You were planning to shoehorn the idea, but one too many drinks later, the conversation and opportunity eventually slips away. Again.

Yuqi can hardly stand on her own two feet when she finally decides it's time to leave. It’s two in the morning when you guide her back to your car, with her drunk out of her mind and slipping into unconsciousness. Minnie assists you, making it even more embarrassing. Even when she’s so inebriated that she can barely move a muscle, she says she wants another round, slipping back into her old ways.

You escort Yuqi back to your apartment, setting her down on her bed and promising yourself that you’ll tell her about Minnie’s offer when she’s sober in the morning.

Except it’s the one fucking day in the month where your job calls you into an actual office for a meeting. Despite that, Yuqi is not at her usual spot in the living room the next morning (unsurprisingly), so you leave food on the table for when she eventually wakes up.

—————

Returning late in the afternoon, you find a note from Yuqi on the outside door of your apartment, stamped by strawberry lipstick, simply reading:

> Not gonna be around till tomorrow. Have something urgent to attend to - XOXO, song yuqi

Sure enough, one brief tour of the apartment and Yuqi is nowhere to be seen. Her room remains untouched: the same, colorful space it’s always been, with most of her clothes and belongings still strewn everywhere on the floor. You don’t even mind the stickers and posters plastered all over the walls; she was gonna break that rule regardless. Typical, but expected. At least you know she hasn’t completely left yet.

Deep down, it’s the first time in a while that your apartment feels a lot smaller—and lonelier. It’s not that you have any sentimental attachment to Yuqi—not in the slightest—but her presence clearly livens up the place. The difference without her around is night and day. Even when your interactions are limited to a minimum, the brief moments you interact make living by yourself a bit more tolerable.

So you preoccupy your mind with your usual schedule: a walk in the park, then dinner by yourself. But these intrusive thoughts grow worse and worse. You’re not in your pajamas at the usual hour, her absence is keeping you up at night, and waiting for her to walk through that door is about as brutal as federal punishment.

You end up driving to Minnie’s bar, inquiring about Yuqi’s whereabouts. She says she hasn’t been around, and she hasn’t exchanged messages with her since last night. Then she asks about open mic night; you tell her about the inconvenience, about the note on your door, which is why you’re there. Good effort, but she ultimately gives you nothing.

“You should stay here a while, who knows? I can message Yuqi you’ve been looking for her,” says Minnie, her smile as welcoming as it’s ever been. “Why not have a drink in the meantime?”

“Hmm.” You entertain the thought, but she promised to return tomorrow, and perhaps you’re overthinking it; you just have to let it play out. “No thanks.” As a distraction you’re watching another girl at the karaoke machine. She has distinctively pink hair, has similar energy and passion for singing, except her voice is much higher, more nasally. All she does is remind you of Yuqi, but she’s nowhere close—in appearance and in ability. “She promised to be back tomorrow. Maybe I should take her word for it and go home.”

A pour of wine on the glass is followed by her siren-like whisper. With her hand caressing your shoulder, she mutters, “So—you like her. You like Song Yuqi.”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her statement. Facing Minnie, you reply, “What? No way. I don’t like Yuqi at all. I’m just concerned she might have disappeared, that’s all.”

“Cap.” Minnie smirks, murmurs to your other ear. “You like her. Actually, you love her. You just won’t admit it.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“The fact you look so distressed wondering where she is. I mean—just look at you.” Her voice is slow, delicate, each word delivered with profound emphasis. She flickers a lighter, then directs the cigarette in her mouth for a puff. “Would someone who doesn’t like her worry like this?”

“I mean—I’m just trying to help her get back on her feet,” you tell her, and Minnie can only chuckle in response. Puff more smoke. In her eyes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your words have no weight to them. It’s the same old same old most women like her hear dozens of times. I’m not into her, says the guy who’s showing an alarming level of concern towards said girl. Something she’s all too familiar with. “You know? Just looking out for a friend, that kinda thing.”

Minnie wishes she can hold up a mirror against you now to prove her point. In a place meant for everyone to relax and ease themselves, you look tumid, on the verge of a historical crash out. She smirks into her next smoke, shaking her head, scrolling through her phone. “Sure. I believe you,” she remarks, and there’s no effort made to hide the sarcasm in any capacity.

That piece of cigar looks quite appealing right now. She sells smoking like she sells the off shoulder dress draping her defined figure: exceptionally well, like she’s meant for it.

Later in the night—you’re unsure whether it’s still today or tomorrow—Minnie suddenly approaches you with a shift in enthusiasm, as seen through her grin: “You should probably head home. Unless you want to stay the night waiting for someone who won’t be here in the morning.”

“She’s back already?” You manage to decipher the hint right away.

She nods, can’t help herself from beaming continuously. No effort to lie or maintain the mystery further. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you’d be.”

Running up the stairs in a hurry, you respond to her little jab with a shout, “And you owe me one for that. Actually—no, I owe you one!”

Unknowingly, Yuqi’s little mannerisms are starting to reflect in you, too.

Sure enough, you’re home within a matter of minutes. Empty streets, dead nightlife on a weekday, the loudest thing heard for miles is the roar of your car’s engine and the elevator headed up to your apartment floor. Any other time you’d burst through that door like an officer with an arrest warrant, but it’s almost three in the morning, and the last thing you want to be is apprehended yourself after a noise complaint.

The place remains as unchanged as you had left it: completely dark, save for one light over the kitchen. It’s quiet, eerily silent—until you hear airy, soft noises in the distance. Room by room, you carefully inspect where the sound is coming from, only to find nothing at all.

There’s only one place left to check, and it happens to be the Yuqi’s bedroom. A room you remember being empty. As you approach the sole unopened door, you notice the faint sound growing in pitch. Hushed words from a familiar tone.

“Fuck—oh fuck—”

You press an ear against the door frame. She sounds clearer. Way more explicit. Vivid.

“So—so—good—fuck yes—”

There’s a subtle creaking sound that accompanies her singsong tone almost perfectly. Nothing is left open for interpretation; Yuqi is feeling herself. Feeling a satisfaction that only comes from something slick, something rough, something good.

As much as you want to respect her space, her moment in the dark, you can’t help yourself. She sounds so good, so gratifying to the ears, it’s making you a little hot and flustered, much to your own guilt and shame. You don’t care about the consequences; you’ll allow yourself one little look then pretend it never happened. At best, she’s too preoccupied with her own bliss to notice, and at worst, it’ll be one awkward conversation starter in the morning.

“Oh, oh God—you feel really good baby—just like that—”

It’s as if she’s reading your mind, understanding your intentions. The way she moans your name like an invitation—something you never thought you would hear or even consider—how it’s naturally delivered from her sweet, intoxicating voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice by listening through the door.

There’s no better opportunity than now.

With your heart racing against your chest, every nerve in your muscles tense up as it desperately opens the door, slowly and as quietly as humanly possible. Miraculously, you go completely unnoticed. Even as light from the living room slowly penetrates through Yuqi’s bedroom, it fails to cover what really matters: the bed and Yuqi herself.

Nevertheless, the sight that welcomes you is one to behold, one worth looking at with complete awe.

Yuqi’s body is splayed out on the bed. Her legs are spread wide, a couple of her fingers aggressively rubbing against her exposed clit, and there’s a glossy sheen coating the sheets before her soaking wet core. Her clothes are, unsurprisingly, scattered all over the floor, along with a pair of consumed alcohol bottles. She’s completely bare for your eyes to see. Nothing is left to your imagination. More importantly, she looks so fucking hot. Your heart is racing like never before, and the scene has your pants in a twist.

Her other hand runs up and down her lithe frame, then squeezes her own breast. She lets out this sharp mewl, grinding her hips against air. Her jaw slacks wide. Her eyes shut tight. Her back arches. Waves of self-induced pleasure send shockwaves through every fiber of her being, her moans growing more and more erratic.

“Fucking give it to me—I love this cock so fucking much—”

It’s about as pornographic and explicit as it gets. It riles you up in an uncomfortable way; you end up unzipping your pants to free your growing erection, but nothing happens beyond that. It feels wrong. It is wrong, but you can’t muster up the strength to look away, let alone walk away. You want to see how it ends. How she cums.

She wraps a hand around her own throat, while her knees are planted upright with her feet firmly gripped on the sheets. There's a noticeable tone change in her whines, as if simulating the act. Yet, the words flow from her lips seamlessly. “I’m so close—so, so close—”

The cackle she makes after is mortifying. Here’s this girl, who you had zero attraction prior to tonight, shamelessly declaring how she’s going to cum, how good your cock feels inside her—without either of the two even happening to begin with. The fact she likes you is the least shocking revelation in itself. A reminder: you only had three meaningful conversations with her since she moved in—two if you consider how blackout drunk she was the night before, and even if you go all the way back to your college days, you can count them with your fingers alone.

“Fucking—cumming—oh my God—”

Yuqi strains her knees and loosens her grip on the sheets as she lets the pleasure wash over. Clear liquid gushes past her throbbing, relentless fingers and spills onto the linen. A guttural, deep moan fills the bedroom as she slumps her body flat on the mattress, her energy completely depleted, her thoughts filled with nothing but orgasmic bliss. Her coated hands rest on her bare waist, her tummy, leaving viscous sheen on her creamy pale skin.

When she isn’t screaming your name or touching herself to the thought of you, Yuqi, at her barest, looks so gorgeous like this. Flaws and all.

Albeit brief, it’s quite the show to more than satisfy your thirst for her. You remember your uninvited presence in this room and where you stand in this relationship. That she’s only a tenant—an acquaintance at best—and nothing more. Any other person and situation would already send you damning to hell.

So you quietly leave, gather your bearings, hoping her haze doesn’t clear before she is made aware of your presence, but you hear a faint whisper right as you close the door, clearer than any whine of pleasure:

“Hey.”

Part of you wants to ignore her, pretend this is all a huge misunderstanding and feign ignorance. Then you hear her soft, alluring voice calling your name and it’s what ultimately folds you:

“W-what time is it?”

Again, you consider the choice of entertaining her question or leaving her dry. She’ll probably fall asleep shortly after and forget these few moments. You tell her it’s three in the morning, hoping she dozes off.

She doesn’t.

“Shit. Can you come inside? I mean—come in.”

She’s still thinking about you, and it’s admittedly cute. You love how unabashedly blunt—and lewd—she is when she’s drunk. You give her the benefit of the doubt and reenter the room.

Yuqi realizes the messy state she and her bedroom are in when you turn on the lights. Cheeks puffed and red from embarrassment, she tries to hop off the mattress, only to stumble to the floor on her fours.

“I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t think you’d—”

“Hey hey, it’s fine.” You grab her off the floor and sit her on the bed. “Don’t apologize. I’ll get some water; stay here and rest.”

Your eyes are meeting, hers twinkling. In those few, crucial moments, right when you’re about to leave, you feel an irresistible tug pulling you closer to each other.

Suddenly, Yuqi pulls you in by the shirt for a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips taste like actual whisky and vodka, indicating what she drank earlier that night. Yet they feel so lush, so sweet, filled with so much passion. You don’t bother trying; you fold to your lust, submit to her desire. You sink onto the bed together, never breaking apart, even for a second. Next thing you know, her hands are all over your body, roaming your chest, coiled around your neck, removing the shirt over your head to be tossed aside and completely forgotten.

Yet there’s still some resistance. Despite making the first move, she pulls back, and you do so in return. You’re hovering on top of her—an unexpected but welcome position to be in.

“I didn’t know what got me there. I’m sorry. I just felt this sudden need to kiss you and—”

You shut her up by diving in and kissing her again, pinning Yuqi down to the mattress—the very thing that got you into this position to begin with. With you all over her, she’s able to shed the rest of your clothes: first the slacks, followed by your boxers. She mewls at the sensation of your hard cock pressed against her slit, and it’s beyond what her imagination can describe. It’s electrifying. And God, you know you’re no better than her, but you just want to fuck her right then and there, give her everything she wants without a second thought.

Grabbing you by the scalp, she rips your lips off her chin as you’re making your way down her neck. “Not yet. Nuh uh.” She pulls you into yet another kiss, as if you’re oxygen—and in a way, it’s appropriate: you’re breathing new life into her. “Did I ever tell you that you were a good kisser?”

“Not at all,” you tell her, gently shaking your head. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

“Half bad?” Yuqi raises a sharp eyebrow, seemingly offended by your backhanded compliment. A dangerous smirk forms on her lips. “Says the one who was watching me the entire time—”

“You knew?” There’s a heightened sense of panic in your voice. “I thought you were—”

“Shhh.” She kisses you, pulls you into a warm cuddle atop her. Slender legs wrapped around your hips, she follows: “Less talk, more lovemaking.”

And more lovemaking you do. You grow more easily acquainted with her lips than with her personality, and you barely know them: it’s only been a few minutes. Even though it’s a Thursday, the weekend feels like a lifetime away. You should be up five hours from now; you have the alarm preset and everything. But Yuqi’s getting in your way again, as she always has, and this won’t certainly be the last. She’s so hypnotic, so alluring, you find yourself unable to slip away, no matter how hard you try.

You find that it’s easier to give in than to struggle aimlessly.

It’s effortless to get your fingers pressed inside her sopping core, brushing along sensitive, wet ridges of skin, where thoughts of you manifested into thin, delicate strokes. Her moans ring against your ears in varying pitches, each with a distinct, pulsing plea of satisfaction. Keep going, she tells you, and you follow without complaint. All this while you leave a soft path of bite marks down her neck and collarbones, until you reach her petite chest.

And fuck, you just go down on Yuqi. Sucking on her breasts like you’re in the middle of an oasis in the desert. She goes wild. Tossing, turning, trembling. You can feel her body close on you, wanting to take you in and suffocate you. The bed is creaking, growing strikingly more intense, turbulent. All this spurring you on, making you more reckless, more daring with her.

“Mmmmm—fuck!” She lets out a hum of desperation, her hot, shaky breath fogging on your skin. You become an intertwined labyrinth of limbs that fit together, where you have no idea where it begins and where it ends. Your fingers vanish between her legs, still working tirelessly, perfectly snug around her pussy even when crushed between the weight of her thighs.

Eventually, you find yourself staring aimlessly at Yuqi. She’s so beautiful, and you’re punching yourself mentally, wondering why it took so long to come to this conclusion. Even when she’s not rocking the trendy hair color of the week and her face is a canvas for every conceivable makeup and filter, she’s naturally pretty. Especially now, completely bare—and with nothing but an exasperated, satisfied look of inebriated, lust filled bliss.

You find the light peeking from the living room, casting a shadow between your tangled legs. She’s dripping at her core, showering your fingers with a fresh flow of sheen, messing up the sheets even further if that’s even possible. They’re beyond saving at this point, and so are you.

Rolling to her side, Yuqi wraps her arm around you, as if enticing you to stay. You shouldn’t have done this, but it’s too late: there’s no going back. You’re too lazy to close the door, and you have the girl you previously never gave a second look rubbing lazy circles on your stomach with her coated nails. Her hair draped all over your arm and shoulder, her eyes looking up at yours, acting all soft and innocent—

Until she starts talking again. “It wouldn’t be complete unless you cum inside me, wouldn’t it?”

The difference between her body language and her lips is night and day. Right then and there, you immediately recognize that there’s no other way this night will end. How your body moves at her will, how you immediately roll on top of her, as if it’s programmed to follow her every command. You have her legs pressed up and spread wide, her knees bent, lining your aching cock against the wet slit of her cunt. All while her features twist into a sickening, slimy grin in the slim shape of a lip bite. The fire, the desire—it’s still as bright as ever.

And to make sure you aren’t second guessing the idea, her arms are coiled around your neck, her hands grabbing at your hair, pressing on your nape. Yuqi wants you—needs you—to fuck her silly; it’s the only way she can be satiated.

You watch Yuqi’s expression contort from anxious to messy, and the feeling is mutual. You slip in, slow and delicate, going against her instruction, and you almost lose it at the first stroke. The deep, guttural moan you make echoes throughout the entire apartment, while her firm walls pulse against your cock. It’s hot, it’s tense, it’s suffocating.

“Shit, shit, shit—” you mutter, gently trying to pull back, but the fiery sensation burns, scratches away at your psyche, at your loins. “So—fucking—tight—Yuqi—fuck.”

“C’mon. Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She kisses your ear, her legs pounding against your hips, demanding you to move. There’s some serious intent behind her tone, a seamless blend of demand and impatience. “Use that big cock—mmm!”

You can only groan in response as you thrust back in deep, her grip on your body tighter than ever. And it’s more than just her cunt; she’s clinging onto you for dear life.

It hardly matters when you’re leaving sore, red marks on her skin or ripping through the blankets. It hardly matters when Yuqi can barely breathe. It hardly matters when you’re so loud that everyone can hear you. What’s important is you’re fucking her—and you’re fucking her hard. You both love the filthiness to it. There’s no rhythm, no pace, no flow; it’s one slow deep thrust, followed by a fast pump into her tight, inviting cunt. You become comfortable; you take her like she’s meant to be used.

And Yuqi takes your cock so fucking well. Bounces against every stroke with ease, as if the feeling is second nature to her. Knowing her, she’s probably been in this position more than you’d want to know or hear. You don’t really care about that for now. Even after what seems to be an endless cascade of orgasms, she’s still keening, still needy, still soaking wet that it’s alarming. Her back arches, melts deep into the cushion. She still wants more.

“So—fucking—good—more—need—fuck—”

The only noise you need is the mesh of your flesh slapping against hers, bouncing against her sharp cries of pain and pleasure. Reaching into the deepest, most sensitive parts of her pussy with your cock, this violent shudder rocks both you and Yuqi to your core. With each drag, more of her slick coats your shaft, and the easier you get access to her smothering heat. You can’t find the will to stop, not that you ever want to; she feels so warm, so inviting, so sloppy sounding to the ears that it’s driving you just as crazy as her.

It’s also driving you wild why it took you this long to fuck her—use her—like this. If you had known, you would have cared sooner. You’d have some leverage when it came to negotiations. A body like hers is too good not to have on speed dial.

Right now, it’s the least of your concerns. Not when you’re pounding a tight body like Yuqi’s so freely, hearing her demand to fuck her harder, like your life’s depending on it. Better late than never.

And it’s for the best that the moment happens later rather than sooner. She cums. Cums again. Eventually you’ve stopped counting, because there’s no point. The mere thought of you restarts the cycle, and your touch accelerates the process. The clutch of her cunt is too overwhelming to avoid at this point; it’s all but directly telling you to fill her, to unload all that pent up tension and need into her. The thought never bubbled up in your head even once; the idea of you and Yuqi with a child together. You never really questioned it. She goes out often, probably gets fucked multiple times in one night if she’s with willing company. She probably knew you’d walk in on her; hell, she’s probably got this whole thing planned out and Minnie is one of her accomplices. Maybe the entire time, she’s been yearning for you, because you’ve never heard her this passionate, this loud, this filthy in your life, even at her most inebriated.

“Inside me. Please cum inside me. I’m safe, don’t worry,” she whispers, as if she’s reading through your mind, reassuring you from your doubts. Her hand is palming your back, as if to line you straight so your cock directly hits her sweet spot. She sounds so pretty, it’s almost impossible to resist.

“Gonna cum,” you tell her, voice going hoarse, rasp, and she nods immediately in return, reinforcing the notion. She’s focused her effort on holding on, her legs tightly wrapped around your waist, her arms coiled around your neck, subtly pushing you against her hips.

“This—pussy—so—fucking—God,” you mindlessly utter, averting her doe eyed gaze, desperate to cling to the last of your resolve as it quickly dissolves with each thrust. You’re on borrowed time and it’s quickly slipping away. Yuqi is tilting your face down to her, to her airy breaths, to her fluttering eyelids, to her passionate expression as you fuck her, pushing you over the edge. “Holy fuck, Yuqi—”

Yuqi’s lips part like a flower in bloom, and it’s a pretty sight. Yet it’s not enough of a distraction to keep everything from falling into place.

And God, it fucking burns.

You swallow hard, but are unable to keep that groan suppressed. Your hips meet her halfway, your cock comfortably buried deep in her heat, and that’s where you come undone. Yuqi digs deep into your skin as it fills her—your cum—and she goes frozen at that moment. It’s a quiet, tense flash of silence. Afterward, she finally breaks. Cries out this deafening whine, her grip all over you loosening, time eventually catching up to her.

She lays beneath you, completely limp, but her body remains trembling, shaking, seizing. You don’t find the strength to drag your cock from her heat; the feeling lingers. Endless ropes of cum gushing into her womb, emptying yourself, just as she wanted. Then you pull out, agonizingly slow, and more viscous slick gushes from her core.

You feel guilty for that poor patch of soaked linen between her legs. It’s about as ruined as a collapsed power plant.

There’s little need for Yuqi to beg you to stay. The climax saps whatever energy you had left. You end up slumping flat on your belly beside her, both of you bathed in the afterglow of sex, exhausted from an already long day, too worn out to make another sound. And when you’re tired, any bed, no matter how messy it may be, is a comfortable bed.

—————

You already expected the scene at the breakfast table to be awkward.

And it was.

It isn’t until Yuqi calls you out standing at the doorway of her room that you realize you’ve been shooting a thousand yard stare the whole time. She waves at you, her cheeks red, flustered, chuckling. “Good morning to you, I guess. Put something on. I don’t wanna drink coffee while looking at someone’s dick. It’s gross.”

This time you’re the one unbecoming, completely in the nude while she got herself into some pajamas. Despite that, you hardly feel any guilt or shame, like this is a normal occurrence in the household. So you scramble to your room and get appropriately dressed. A look at the time and it’s already 15 past ten in the morning, an hour later than when you normally start work. Even more unusual is the absence of the laptop. It’s just Yuqi and her coffee.

Sitting opposite Yuqi, today seems a bit more tense than normal, and you can guess the reason why. She knows it, too. Neither of you are willing to break the ice, only shooting occasional glares at each other while sipping on coffee and scrolling through your phones.

“So, Yuqi.”

The words slip from your mouth, accidental, nearly silent. They follow the mild screech of the chair she sits on. When you meet eye to eye, she asks what’s up. What's on your mind? There’s a sudden barrier in your throat. You have a vague idea of what to say, but not the power to speak them.

“About last night—”

Her lack of response is unnerving. The visible curiosity, the probable apathy. You and her possibly sharing the same sentiment: a feeling of regret.

“I—I just wanted to say sorry. For last night. I should have just—”

“Sorry for what?”

You suddenly stop. This is not the expected reaction; it’s the complete opposite. A moment where you face the consequences of your actions.

Yuqi stands up and walks over to your side, beaming from ear to ear. “What we did last night was—fucking amazing. Don’t feel bad. If anything, I should feel bad because I didn’t tip you off sooner. We could have done so much more.”

You don’t pick up on the implication right away. It’s all strange, uncharted territory. Your previous flings were simple one-and-dones: a night of reckless, frivolous fun. Short, but fun nonetheless. They would disappear in the morning, never to be seen again.

“I didn’t think you’d walk through that door, especially since it was three in the morning,” says Yuqi, casual, running her fingers through your hair. “I got a bit too silly, as usual, but there’s a good reason for it.”

“And that is?”

“I got a job!” Yuqi’s gripping to your shoulder, the only thing keeping her from jumping for joy. “I got a job at the cafe with the pretty lady. I start on Monday.”

It’s certainly a cause for celebration. You can’t help but root and smile for her, caressing her hands. “Well, damn. Congratulations.”

“Yeah!” Yuqi’s wrapped you in a rather heartwarming embrace that you willingly fold into. “I had the interview yesterday, so I needed to lock in. Needed to be alone. Then I got accepted after, so I went and bought some drinks to celebrate.”

That doesn’t surprise you one bit. You’re just thrilled that she’s finally getting somewhere.

“So—does that mean I can kick you out once you get your first paycheck?” you ask her.

“I guess so. But—” Yuqi pauses, tilts your chin on an incline. She’s warm, radiant, pretty. She doesn’t care that you’ve worded yourself poorly and you’re taking it back; she’s still riding off the high from yesterday. You’re already counting the days before she leaves, and admittedly, you’ll miss that sight. “I’m gonna miss staying with you. Thanks for having my back when I needed it. I honestly don’t know how I will ever repay you.”

She tops it up with a quick peck on your lips. It’s all over your face, etched completely in red. The devilish grin.

“I think I know exactly how.”

And that’s all that needed to be said.

Before you know it, you’re right back at square one: clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, her body pressed on the mattress, flat on her belly, your cock stretching her pussy out as you fuck her mindlessly from behind. This time in the comfort of your own bedroom.

All the more reason for you two to stay together.

—————

(A/N: fucksorryforgoingonanotherhiatusfuckfuckfuck—)

(Okay, but I really do wanna apologize for going on yet another unannounced hiatus. Final weeks of the semester were hell, then I was on vacation the week I promised this fic would be released (I'm basically the LeBron James of K-smut when it comes to lying at this point), not to mention a health scare courtesy of my mother. Some very hard times have hit me lately, so my mind wasn't 100%. Nevertheless, I am still standing (shoutout Elton John). Lots of free time throughout June and July, so hopefully nothing bad happens ISTG lemme have some peace for once and let me fucking write goddammit—)

(In non-personal news, Yuqi's solo was very fun and she's getting on that Yena level of bias where she's the perfect blend of cute and hot. Then she went pink recently and that made me :pphurt: Sort of a feel out fic before I *finally* finish these commissions over the coming weeks, thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #gidle #yuqi #song yuqi

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j-k-writes · 5 months ago

Text

Sweet Boy

Summary - Six years can change people, in the case of Prince (Y/N) Targaryen they've changed him quite a lot.

Warnings - General HOTD warnings, targcest (uncle/nephew)

The crowd cheered as Aemond forced Ser Criston to yield, but Y/N simply rolled his eyes at Aemond’s preening under the eyes of the lesser lords of the keep. His brother shot a short glance in his direction before his gaze was captured by two boys in the crowd.

“Nephews,” Y/N straightened at his brother’s comment, turning his gaze to the two brunette boys standing at the front of the crowd. ”Have you come to train?”

Jace frowned at Aemond, and Y/N left his spot in the corner, walking past Criston and next to his brother. His nephews differed from the young boys Y/N remembers them being, although the same could be said for Y/N. It had been six years since the last time they were in the same place, and given the anger in his brother’s eye, perhaps that was for the best.

“Leave them be, they’re simply reacquainting themselves with their old home.” Y/N said, nodding his head to nephews. “Jace, Luke.”

“Y/N.” Jace nodded back, but Luke simply stared at the two young men in front of him. Aemond simply scoffed, turning back to Criston and raising his sword again.

Y/N did not react to his brother’s childish antics, instead giving Jace and Luke a curt goodbye and taking himself back inside the keep. He walked through the halls silently, giving short one-word answers to the courtiers that stopped him along his way. Not many bothered talking to the second youngest prince, but those new to the keep still tried their hand in their first few weeks before coming to the realization that they weren’t breaking through Y/N’s icy exterior.

His mother was already waiting for him in his chambers by the time he arrived. He paused in the doorway looking at his mother’s sitting figure. His mom looked up at the sound of the door opening, and she immediately frowned at the sight of her second youngest.

“I wish to speak with you.” She said, voice tight.

“Evidently.” Y/N said, stepping further into his chambers.

His mother scowled at his response, “Your sister has arrived at court to put forward a petition to up-hold Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark.”

“I’m aware,” Y/N said, and his mother looked taken aback at his response. Credit to Alicent, Y/N tended to ignore the comings and goings of the court around him. “I ran into Jace and Luke with Aemond.”

“The hearing of the petitions will happen on the morrow.” Alicent said, licking her lips nervously. “I do not ask much of you, Y/N.”

Y/N scoffed, and his mother frowned. “You may not see it that way, but I don’t. I let you neglect your duties-”

“My duties? I am the third prince.” Y/N laughed.

“You still have duties to the realm!” His mother raised her voice before pinching the bridge of her nose. She sighed, calming herself before speaking again. “Your father is not going to get better, and sooner or later, the people of the realm will look to this family for strength. We cannot give that to them if we are divided.”

“They’ll be looking to Rhaenyra, Mother.” Y/N said, narrowing his eyes at his mother. “She will be their Queen, and I will still be nothing but the third prince of the realm.”

His mother looked at him silently before sighing to herself. She stood, fixing her dress, and Y/N met her piercing gaze straight on. “I do not know how to make you understand the importance of your actions in these next few days.”

“Then leave me.”

Without another word to her son, Alicent did.

The hearing of the petitions and their family dinner afterward went exactly how Y/N expected it to go. That is to say laughably disastrous.

Daemon’s outburst in the great hall had been quickly swept under the rug by Y/N’s father despite the protests of his grandfather and mother. Y/N had never cared for the younger Velyaron, and Viserys had already called for his tongue before Daemon’s sword was raised, so the young prince brought nothing to the argument that his mother and grandsire wished to hear.

The conversation was forgotten almost completely after Aemond’s interruption at dinner. Sparking a fight between the families, no matter how true one’s words were, was not something easily forgiven by Alicent Hightower. Although Y/N took no part in the fight, watching quietly from his seat as the young men were dragged away from one another, he too was banished to his chambers for the rest of the night.

Y/N winced as the wall groaned against his weight. He said a silent prayer to The Seven that the guards positioned outside of his chambers could not hear him as he opened up the door in the wall and slipped inside, shutting it carefully behind him.

He managed to get halfway to his destination uninterrupted, but like many things in his life, the gods were not on his side tonight. He froze at the sounds of footsteps heading toward his direction, cursing quietly to himself as he looked for a different tunnel to walk down.

“Y/N?” A voice called, and he froze.

He turned on his heel, “Luke. What are you doing out of bed?”

“What are you doing out of bed, uncle?” Luke raised an eyebrow, and Y/N couldn’t help the slight chuckle that escaped him at the prince’s comment.

“Well,” Y/N said, leaning in closer to the boy. “If we’re both out of our chambers without permission perhaps we should stick together.”

Luke looked conflicted at the offer, avoiding Y/N’s gaze as he thought it over. Y/N couldn’t blame the boy for his hesitance, not two hours before Y/N’s older brother had sparked a fight between the two families. But Y/N always considered himself above such petty insults, his sister’s family situation was not his concern.

Slowly Luke met his eyes, biting his bottom lip nervously, “Where are you going?”

Y/N smiled, nodding in the direction that Luke had just come from, “Follow me.”

They walked together silently the rest of the way, the only noise of their soft footsteps and the scurry of a rat every few minutes. Luke followed behind him closely, nearly running right into him every time Y/N stopped to make sure they were going the right way. His face broke out into a smile when he came to the familiar exit into Fleabottom, turning around to smile at Luke. Luke looked between him and the exit with wide eyes, jaw dropped in shock.

“Is that-”

“A way into Fleabottom?” Y/N’s smile widened. “Yes.”

“I can’t go to Fleabottom!” Luke yelled, before remembering they were supposed to be quiet and lowering his voice. “What if we get caught?”

Y/N rolled his eyes, “I do this all the time, trust me we’re not going to get caught.”

Luke still looked wary, and Y/N sighed.

“Luke,” Y/N said, voice soft. “Have you ever even been to Fleabottom?”

“No.”

“Then let me show you around.” Y/N smiled, watching as the fight slowly drained out of Luke. “I won’t be taking you whoring, I promise. The worst you’ll see is a tavern brawl.”

Luke looked at the door and bit his lip, and at the sight of the nervous tic, Y/N realized he had won. He held his hand out for the boy to take, his smile widening when Luke slowly took it. Y/N put his torch down, stepping into the open air of the night.

“Come, let me show you your mother’s future kingdom.”

#kinda hate this #x male reader #x reader #x y/n #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x male reader #house of the dragon x y/n #lucerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x male reader #lucerys velaryon x y/n

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perfectlyvalid49 · 6 months ago

Note

Sorry for grossing you out but uh, I have a complex claim to a lot of religions and cultures because of how colonialism (arguably Israel is a settler colony state so uh… hmmm) has impacted me.

As you’ve ascertained (correctly) I’m a non-Jewish American, only by technicality, because I haven’t found a rabbi that will even support the fact that I’m gay and the “three asks” thing feels like a troll move which feels… homophobic???

I need you to seriously consider how my life has been negatively influenced (hence the circumcision poll) by a bastardized JEWISH practice, and what the fuck that means for my identity as it feels like fate to some degree and a bit offensive that you would yuck my ability to find yum in Yhwh or w/e because I’m… too much of a faggoy? Idk man… just asking questions. I’d love to clarify your response in a dm since its… a lot. Not meaning to offend just sick of being put in a box because my circumcision and mother aren’t “right” enough to be in the in club because Hekate or Satan or whatever swooped in and said “NOPE” 🙃

Cheers

Trying to understand Israel through the lens of settler colonialism is a failing proposition. Consider the following:

Jews are indigenous to Israel. We have a historical record that says they’re from there in both the Greek and Roman written record. Like there is as much if not more evidence of Jews in Israel in Roman writing as there is of Julius Caesar being a real person. We also have archaeological evidence. Israel is covered with digs that find evidence of Jewish life dating back 2,000-3,000 years. We also have genetic evidence. DNA studies have shown that even super white looking Ashkenazi Jews have significant portions of DNA that are most closely related to other groups from the southern Levant.

So to call Jews settlers either denies all that evidence, insists that indigenous people can be settlers on their own land, or posits that indigenous people can somehow lose their status as indigenous if you wait long enough. The first is anti-intellectual and antisemitic, the second is ridiculous and the third is a dangerous line of thinking for all indigenous people. How long before Native Americans no longer have a claim to their land? How long before Maori no longer have a claim? It’s not really a place we want to go.

As for colonial, the definition of a colony is “a country or area under the full or partial political control of another country, typically a distant one, and occupied by settlers from that country.” So which country controls Israel? I think we’ve seen over the last year that it’s not the US given the way Bibi has repeatedly blown off Biden, so who is it? Which country is sending settlers to control the area? Again, it��s not the US. While some American Jews make Aliyah every year, the vast majority of Jews in Israel are either from Europe or the Middle East. To be a colony, you have to be a colony of some other power. What is the other power here?

So we can see that Jews are neither settlers nor colonizers. But you know who did colonize the area? Arabs. Arabs are indigenous to the Arabian peninsula, not Israel. And in the 7th century, Arabs came from the Arabian peninsula into Israel (and other places), conquered the locals and did their best to eradicate their cultures, forced conversions to the conquering religion, and settled in the new lands while being under the political control of the far away Caliphate. Sounds like settler colonialism to me. So if we must understand someone in the area as colonial (and I still don’t think it’s the best way to look at things, but if you do) then it’s the people that Palestinians are descended from.

Having said all that, just because colonialism has impacted you, it doesn’t mean you have a complex claim to Judaism. Here are ways you can have a complex claim to Judaism: 1) your father is Jewish and your mother is not, 2) you have Jewish ancestors who were forced to convert and you are now trying to reconnect with the religion that was taken from them. I don’t know your history, so it’s possible that one of those is true. But if you have no Jewish ancestry, then your claim is not complex, it’s non-existent, and if you do have Jewish ancestry but your ancestors willingly left the tribe, then you don’t really have much of a claim either. That doesn’t mean you can’t convert, but given that you seem to think you have claims on other aspects of Judaism as a non-Jew, my gut reaction is to be very doubtful toward your claim on Judaism in general.

If you can’t find a rabbi to support your conversion because you’re gay, you’re looking in the wrong places. The senior rabbi at my synagogue is gay, and we have several queer families as part of the congregation. There are literal signs on the door to the main office that say Trans and Queer Jews welcome here. This doesn’t mean that all congregations are welcoming, but lots are.

The three asks thing is a metaphor that some rabbis take literally. Converting to Judaism is a big decision. The three asks are to make sure that you’ve really thought about it and are really sure – that you’re taking it seriously and thought through all the consequences. If that feels like trolling to you, then maybe Judaism isn’t a good fit. Honestly, from my interactions with you this week, I would bet that the rabbis you’ve met with haven’t said no because you’re gay, they’ve said no because you don’t seem super interested in taking on Jewishness, you just want to take from it instead.

I don’t know what happened with your circumcision. If it went wrong and it was done by a mohel then you can feel angry toward the Jewish people I guess, but I would want to know why your parents had a bris for you if they weren’t planning on raising you Jewish. If you were just circumcised as a medical procedure, as many American babies are, then you may have trauma related to it, but you don’t need to be taking it out on the Jewish people, which is exactly what that poll was doing.

Don’t write down those four letters. Don’t try to pronounce them either. We have asked, repeatedly that people not do that, and once again, the fact that you are is super disrespectful to Jewish people. Write G-d, or God if you must, or even Hashem (I don't think goyim should, but it's better than what you did), but not those four letters. It’s not yucking your yum. You are allowed to enjoy what you want. But what you are doing here is the equivalent of coming into my house and saying that because my dinner looks delicious you can just reach onto my plate with your bare hand, scoop up some of what I’m eating, take a bite and throw the rest back. It’s disrespectful and offensive. I am not objecting to your joy, I’m objecting to your lack of respect to my culture.

Being Jewish is about more than just being circumcised and having the “right” mother. There is a culture here that you need to understand. If you are raised in it, then you get to join the club that way. If you’re not, then you can put in the work to learn it and learn to be respectful of it and join the club that way. So far, you haven’t been able to find a rabbi that thinks you’re willing to do that work, and from what I’ve seen, I’m willing to agree.

#asks and answers #I do not like blocking people #but this person was on thin ice to begin with #and I'm not sure how much more tolerance I can extend #they said previously that they're just annoying not a threat #and it's not that they're annoying it's that they're disrespectful and unrepentantly so

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lovelykhaleesiii · 2 years ago

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Baby Fever!

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,046.

SUMMARY: Baby fever strikes King’s Landing once more, although this time, its next victim is Aegon ii Targaryen, himself... And he blames/thanks you entirely.

WARNINGS: breeding kink to the max, lactation kink, DILF!Aegon, swearing, NSFW, mentions of male masturbation, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of dark!Aegon, swearing, degradation kink.

A/N - it’s coming to 3am for me, and I literally just wrote this fic about Aegon with baby fever. nothing more or nothing less, but it’s everything <3 thanks to @bibli0thecary ‘s ask, I cannot get this DILF out of my mind, so consider this a request fulfilled!!!

let me give this man all their heirs in the world, please. ps I’m sorry, I just found the gif so relative here. please Sir, teach me SEX ED.

Aegon has breeding kink written all over him: when he meets his significant other, that’s enough to set it off.

He was never that warm to the idea of having his own offspring, and yet, the possibility stirred in the pit of his stomach and top of his twitching cock when seeing you.

If anything, he approaches it more as a feral need to claim you, to have some sort of possession over you, rather than actually fulfil the obligation/responsibility of having a family, nor wanting one of his own free will.

He was actually quite reluctant to the idea of fatherhood, considering his own experience with Viserys was one he had grown to detest, turning him off from the entire concept.

That was until he stumbled across you playing around with his toddler nephew, Joffery and a few other younger, highborn children of the royal court. Often the older women, busy in gossip and wine, would leave their children from the younger women to babysit: often reasoned with the logic that it ought to prepare the maidens of the court to motherhood.

Seeing how maternal you seemed, watching you intently from a distant, the children seemed to favour you, playfully engaging with you, the innocent sight warmed Aegon’s heart

A dull throb pulsating in his hard cock.

If it was heirs his Council wanted, heirs he would provide only if you would be the one to birth them.

Soon enough, he found himself mindlessly masturbating to the thought of you swollen with his babes, your tits tender and plump with the milk, naturally made in preparation in the months coming, dripping from your sensitive nipple, practically overflowing.

Seeing the milk unnaturally leak, as you beg for him to latch and suck, desperate to relieve the heaviness and tension in your breast. He was certain he would suck you dry, before the babe is even born.

And the idea of fucking you some more, even whilst evidently pregnant, knowing that despite being full of him already, he could still pump his seed inside, plugging you up completely, as his seed spills out, you just helplessly groaning and moaning for relief.

The scene replaying in his mind, he often overcame with excitement, furious at himself for wasting is potential seed, that he could’ve wilfully secreted in you instead.

Dark!Aegon would no doubt, force himself onto you, using his political/social position in the realm as an advantage, you either agree and “allow” him to fuck you until you grow and swell great with his child, or you refuse and he confines you to his chambers himself, or more so his bed, thrusting his girthy, throbbing cock inside, stretching you out until he sees his bulge deeply buried peaking atop, pumping his load inside, until he feels completely drained and you teeming.

Although (fanon) Aegon, would lure you, growing impatient by the second however, he often becomes abrupt, wishing to hasten you into the act of consummating. Now that the betrothal is settled and finalised, you feel no need to wait, you figure he is to be your husband soon enough regardless.

“I’m going to fuck you full, filled to the brim of my seed, until I feel my son or daughter kicking from within.”

“The idea of your belly swollen and heavy, back just aching from carrying my babes all day long, begging me to carry you, like a lazy whore.”

“And fuck these tits will grow abundantly with your sweet, motherly milk. Nourishing my babes, like the good Mumma that you are. Perhaps, I ought to treat myself to your treacly taste, I do deserve it. I am the one responsible for doing this to you, you will do well to remember that, wife.”

“I need you to fuck a babe into me, Aeg. Make me a Mumma, I’ll have as many bubs as you want, just like that.”

“Perhaps enough babes to repopulate Old Valyria, restore it with our bloodline.”

“You’ll be the prettiest, most stunning Mumma I ever did see, and it’s all my undoing... Look at you all needy for my cock, desperate for me to spill my cum inside of you, such a fucking whore for me.”

He’d be so touchy and feely with your changing body: a hand constantly on your bump, feeling the babe beneath move against their father’s familiar touch.

Even his voice would earn some haste movement or kicking, always earning a heartfelt smile from him.

He’d always be embracing your body, a hand snaked around your soft, wide waist/hips, even groping your ass.

He thrives having you sit on his lap throughout your pregnancy, squirming to get comfortable, grinding against him, you can feel a dense, aching bulge beneath your ass cheeks. Initially, you advise against it “Aeg, I’m heavy now, you won’t like it.” “Try me baby, just sit.”

Aegon would be against anyone trying to touch your belly, besides the maester and his mother: “everyone else can fuck off, there is no need for them to touch you at all.”

He is greatly entertained by the sight of seeing you waddle around the castle, knowing it was his undoing, a hand instinctively cradling your belly, almost as if you’re in a protective mother mode.

The idea that you’ve outgrown your maiden gowns, because of his babe growing healthily inside, it pleases him.

At first you feel self-conscious of your pregnant / post-partum body, yet Aegon is swift to squash your doubts: “if anything Y/N, you look the sexiest pregnant, fuck it makes me feral, baby.”

Nonetheless, Aegon’s dream much like his predecessor to conquer, became a reality.

Soon enough, you’d given birth to multiple, healthy children, all close in age, for Aegon struggled to contain himself. Having to remind himself upon each birth, you required some time for recovery. As soon as the maesters deemed fit, he would be on you.

Eventually, he grew familiar to the role of fatherhood, and became more and more comfortable with each new addition.

He loved his children equally, tougher on the boys although, he has a softer spot for his little daughters, spoiling them endlessly.

In return, the children love you both dearly, thankful for you to be their mother, and Aegon their beloved father.

general taglist - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @teamaemond @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires

Aegon taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @sylas-the-grim

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii x fem!reader #aegon ii x y/n #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines #daddy!Aegon ii #dad!aegon ii

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ellstronaut · 9 months ago

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I’M ONLY A FOOL FOR YOU

thinking about Ellie singing this while having a messy situationship with you

it’s a constant battle of hot and cold, a dangerous dance between love and lust. some days she can’t even stand the sight of you, pretty but messy all the while—yet other times she can’t get enough—

how is it that you’re both confident and insecure, cold yet warm? a walking paradox wrapped up in the sweetest deception — you drive her to the brink of insanity, pushing her emotions to the extreme, leaving her in turmoil, desperately grappling for balance amidst the whirlwind of your presence

she hates how she can’t get you out of her head —hates how you linger like a bittersweet aftertaste. tries to be strong, tells herself it’s just physical, just pleasure, but the truth is you’ve woven yourself into her thoughts

because every time she walks away, every goddamn time, she’s sucked helplessly into your gravitational pull. it’s infuriating and exhilarating as it is addicting. but she craves it, hates it, and hates herself even more for it

hooked on your touch, the way you take care of her even if it’s to a fault. every time you kiss her, she loses all sense of restraint. every time you press your body against hers, closer and closer, skin tingling where your fingers wander

lower and lower—it’s a reckless freefall, a storm of sensations

you’re so casual about it

“so fuckin’ pretty el”

“s-sorry”

“dont be”

so unapologetic, and she’s caught off guard how effortlessly the words slip out your tongue, a mixture of pride, desire—

“you’re such a dick,” she’d mumble, a hint of annoyance. contrasting greatly with the way her body responds to you. the slight crack in her voice, a shiver of vulnerability that belies her flustered state, heart pulsing at your praise—secretly wanting to hear you say it again, because honestly? beneath her tough exterior she craves validation only you can give.

“good girl”

it makes her weak—every. single. time; the deep, smooth drawl of your voice, so firm so authoritative, so drunk

or when you gently stroke her hair — every time your fingers thread between her messy auburn locks, the shiver that shoots down her spine. every stroke, every curl—slow and tender, she can feel it, and for a moment you’re taking care of something delicate—

precious

it drives her batshit crazy. the power you hold over her, that in a matter of seconds you can reduce her to a shuddering mess, half flustered, the other half just incredibly, foolishly turned on

“don’t,” she’d warn

a weak protest, you both know it, she’d see the way the corners of your mouth turn into an impish grin, smug bastard you are—ugh.

“don’t what, baby?” you’d ask, voice low, sultry, a tad bit dangerous

“stop,” she’d try again, voice lacking conviction. you can tell she’s torn between resisting and giving in, between her ego and this pathetic desire for you to continue

“why should i?” you’d say, a teasing tone. one hand settled just above the band of her shorts, the other reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face, your touch feather-light yet oh-so-intimate

breath catching. body arching, you’re so crazy observant, gingerly stroking the faint scar on her upper lip, kissing her there would be cruel, to suckle, leave a mark, this territorial need to brand her—

the thought crosses your mind,

to claim her, make her yours in that primal way. it’s an impulse, a possessiveness you can’t fully explain. she’s so beautiful, so perfect — and yet there’s something about knowing that someone else might’ve left a mark on her, some other fool who had the pleasure of kissing her, caressing her pretty pretty skin

stirs something within you

you don’t like it

ignites this animalistic feeling. a need to protect, to erase any evidence of anyone else’s hands on her body, replace it with your own touch, your own taste, your own name on her pretty pretty lips.

“look at me” you instruct, chin angled up to meet your gaze. a feral edge to your voice, a hunger that can’t be ignored. fingers wedged between her thighs, inching closer and closer towards that sweet spot. her body tensing, shaky little gasps, the tension between you almost palpable—

this idea of being the only one who gets to see her like this, vulnerable and needy and aching— it’s the only thing keeping you from losing your damn mind right—this insatiable desire to make her writhe and whimper, to make her feel things—consumes you to the brim,

it takes all of your restraint not to sink your teeth into her skin

she wants to tell you off, tell you to keep your hands to yourself for once, but the words get stuck in her throat.

so your hands move over her like you’re mapping every dip every curve. that you’ve memorised every inch, they’re gentle but firm, teasing yet tantalizing—a relentless assault on her senses

because making her cum

isn’t a chore, unravelling her in the most intimate way is your favourite game. every move on your part calculated, designed to drive her over the edge, to toy with her. no, you revel in it. it’s a challenge, an art you’ve mastered. you know exactly how to touch her, where to press and kiss, to slow down, when to speed up. it’s a slow, delicious game and she’s

so, so helpless

and so so reactive

the sound of her moans and gasps, the way your name quivers from her lips; a desperate plea.

but even then, the fights still leave her chest hollow, aching, and the silence that follows? the cold shoulder you give her? leave her reeling and desperate for comfort, any semblance of closure you know damn well you’re not willing to give her

hurts

a bone-deep ache that settles in her chest, just another reminder of how complicated things are between you—how complicated you are

it’s the way you shut her out, sweet one minute, like ice the next. she’s tired of it, tired of your flaky ass moods, the way you shut her out when you’re mad.

consistency, a normal relationship, is that too much to ask? but you just can’t seem to give her that can you?

no matter how badly she craves your attention—how good it feels being this close, there’s always repercussions. always stupid shit to argue over then apologise profusely weeks later. you blame it on your zodiac, or some stupid-self-diagnosed-shit-like-avoidant-attachment-style

she knows you’re deflecting, its easier to blame your actions on stupid shit like the stars than your own mistakes and shortcomings. and yet, she can’t help but want you. it would be oh-so easy to walk away, find someone who can offer her stability

normalcy

which only makes the pain all too real. it’s maddening, the way you make her feel. how can someone be so infuriatingly wonderful? cruel, loving, passionate

yet she can’t even bring herself to face the truth

cause fuck being vulnerable

that shit hurts

caring too much fuckin hurts

@bonnibelblanca

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #tlouellie #ellie x reader #ellie williams imagine #oh ellie #ellie x fem reader #reader is complicated #lesbian

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renflowerwords · 3 months ago

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Sorbet Kisses

Sam x (fem) Reader | Happy (early) Valentine's Day!

6.7k words (sorry)

In which Sam asks you on a date, brings you sorbet, and y’all get a little tooooo tipsy at the Saloon. This one gets a little smutty, so MDNI!!! ( I MEAN IT.). Sam is needy and tender and perfect (because, of course, he is). Y/N is older than Sam, but I don’t put actual time frames, so you can insert your age and deduct a few months or years (keep it legal).

⌁₊˚⊹ ⊹˚₊⌁

When you finally finish the farm work for the day, it is well into the evening. The warmth of the baby summer sun beams down on your sweaty skin, coaxing a tan and a heat stroke.

At least everything is done.

It was an impressive feat, truly. You managed to clear out all of your old spring crops and plant your summer crops all in a day’s work. You deserved a good shower, a good leg massage, maybe, and some beer at the tavern. You weren’t truly fond of beer, but it was the start of summer, and sometimes, you can deviate from the norm when you’ve worked hard. Surely, that was the only reason you’d end up at the Saloon tonight. Not because the halo-haired Sam had mailed you an invite the evening before, offering to walk you to the Saloon if you “wanted to relax and spend time with some of the townies.”

Sam was…sweet. Despite his pierced-up, bad-boy exterior, you could tell he was kind and good-mannered. It was your first summer in town, and it was evident that you liked to overwork yourself. Everyone knew you needed a break, besides yourself, that is.

But you knew that his invitation was entirely platonic. It had to be. Sam was a bit younger than you and had his whole life stretched out in front of him, there was no reason for him to be romancing a farmer who had already explored the world a bit and had a solid retirement plan…the farm.

He was always kind to you when you ran into each other in the square and even offered to help out on the farm despite his lack of farm knowledge. He claimed “he had quite a bit of free time,” which you knew was a lie because Jodie always made a point to mention how he was always out and about whenever you’d stop by.

Although you felt a little wrong about it, you had a crush on Sam. It was hard not to, honestly. The first time you met him, he was helping Vincent with homework in their living room. You were just making the rounds, trying to introduce yourself to everyone in town.

“No, Vincent,” he chuckled as he grabbed the eraser and erased an answer Vincent had been working on, his little hands in his hair as he sucked his teeth, making a pointed look at Sam. It was so endearing to see them engage. Jodie was in the kitchen when you peeked your head in, catching them.

“Oh, hi,” Sam said as he made his way up from the couch. “Can we help you?”

You introduced yourself and gave Jodie some parsnips, hoping and praying that she would like them (she did). You chatted with Jodie a bit in the kitchen, and as you left, she had Sam walk you out.

When you made it to the porch, he stretched his hand out to you. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“I know; your mom gave me the rundown. I’m y/n.” You offered him a small smile and shook his hand.

“Y/n.” he lets your name roll off his tongue, trying it out. “Nice. I like it.” His hand still in yours.

“Thanks. Um, your mom volunteered your help on the farm. Just thought I’d let you know.” His handshake slows, and he’s just holding your hand for a few seconds before he comes to and pulls it back, slipping it into his blonde hair right after.

“Oh. Well. I’d love to!” Despite his over-eagerness, you could sense the underlying anxiety.

“That’s okay, really. See you around!” With a quick wave, you were heading to the next house. Sam offered a quiet “see you around” to your walking figure.

Throughout the entire spring season, Sam would pop up randomly in an old t-shirt and worn jeans on your front doorstep, or you’d catch him wandering around the property. He always made his presence known and asked if you needed any help, but you usually waved him away. You wanted to start this farm off by yourself. A way of proving you could do it, but you pocketed his eagerness to help whenever you needed some assistance down the line.

His mom just raised him well. So polite to offer to walk and accompany you. You made a mental note to send her some fresh produce when the harvest was done to thank her. Maybe you’d throw something in there for him, too.

⌁₊˚⊹ ⊹˚₊⌁

The shower you take is long and very, very needed. The amount of dirt you scrubbed off from your body was shocking at the least and abhorrent at best, but it felt good to see it all wash down the drain. It was just another reminder of how much hard work you had put in on the farm today.

You were giddy with nervous butterflies as you slipped on your white eyelet dress and pulled on your farmer boots. This would be your first outing around the other villagers that was a…casual event. Sure, the Flower Festival was nice, but you didn’t really “know” anybody, so you were secluded in the corner most of the time, and the dance was fun but…awkward. You didn’t know the right steps and were positive you looked like an absolute fool. You were grateful to Maru for letting you dance with her since she seemed like the only viable dance partner (although seeing Harvey dejected on the side made you feel a little bad).

Sam approached you afterward and told you that you had done great, but you just hid into your farmer’s hat (one that you proudly won during the egg festival) and made your way back home, offering him a quiet “I have to go.”

The next few days were spent in the mines, far away from contact with anybody.

I just hope it’s not as awkward.

You fiddle with your farmer’s hat a few times. On or off? On or off? You decide to wear it, leaving it on the kitchen counter for easy access when you leave.

Better to bring it just in case I need another quick escape.

Peeking out the window, you realize you’ve gotten ready way too early; the sun hasn’t even set yet.

Now what?

You wander around your room for a bit, fiddle with your radio, and dance around a bit until you hear a gentle knock at the door.

Whatever butterflies you felt before have all multiplied and are now in panic mode.

You rush to turn off the radio and run to the door.

“Hi,” Sam says as you open the door. To your surprise, he’s holding… ice cream?

He is tall and bright in your doorway and has cleaned up quite nicely. He’s wearing a white T-shirt (something you never really see him in) and jeans that, surprisingly, don’t have any holes in them. He’s wearing his signature black Converse, nearly torn to bits those things. Small black and silver piercings adorn his lips, eyes, and ears, and he presses his tongue to the ring on his bottom lip as he waits for your response. Nervous habit, you guess.

“Hi,” You say, giving a small smile despite your quivering lips and thudding heartbeat. “What’s this?” you gesture to the melting pastel-colored liquid dripping down his hand to his forearm.

“Oh!” he takes his free hand and runs it through his blonde locks before taking a lick at the melted ice cream on his wrist. Your eyes make a quick glance at the action, and something in your belly stirs, but you write it off as the butterflies.

Get it together…

“It’s really hot out today, so I thought I’d bring you some sorbet, but…well, it’s really hot, and it’s quite the trip.” He gestures down to his skateboard, leaning on your porch. You can’t tell if it’s the beginning of a sunburn beaming up his neck or blush, but regardless, it’s endearing.

“Well… thanks!” You grab the dripping sorbet cone from his hand, carefully maneuvering it to keep it from spilling onto yourself, you only just got clean. “Wanna come in?” you lick at a sorbet-covered finger before reaching his eyes “and clean up?”

Sam stands on your porch quietly for a few seconds, staring straight into your face. You giggle a little and lick at your hand, now promptly covered in sorbet. “Um, before it melts some more?”

This seems to snap him out of whatever trance he’s in. He clears his throat. “Yeah! I mean, yeah, yeah, that’s probably smart.”

You take a few steps back, careful with the melting cone in your hand, and make room for him to enter your cabin.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess. Haven’t really had the time clean.” More licks at your palm.

This is pointless, it’s not even edible at this point.

“That’s okay. You look really pretty, by the way.” Sam is still planted in your entryway, seemingly unsure of where to go from there, his eyes darting everywhere in the room beside you.

His compliment sends a flush of heat throughout your whole body.

“Thank you, Sam. The boots aren’t too ‘farmy’? I mean, with the dress?” You gesture with your hands, moving too fast for the melting confection in your hand. The little dollop of half-frozen sorbet slides dramatically out of the cone.

Before you even realize it, Sam is in your bubble, catching the little ball of sorbet in his hands.

“Ah, I'm sorry!” You say, looking down at Sam’s hands, which are getting stickier by the minute. He just chuckles in response.

“It’s okay, really.” He takes the ball of sorbet ice cream and plops it into his mouth before looking back down at you.

“Ow, shot, diu yew wan sum?” He says with a mouth full of sorbet.

You giggle and shake your head, licking the remainder of the sorbet off your fingers and wrist. If you had looked up at any point in your self-grooming, you would have noticed Sam’s heated eyes on you.

“It is really yummy, though; I like sorbet.” You say before looking back up and catching his eyes. He’s pink all over.

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I like it too.” He offers after a beat and then gestures his sticky hands towards the sink. You nod your head and walk over with him.

“Sorry for finishing it off, that was rude.” He says while taking off his rings, now covered in sorbet.

He wore four of them, one on each of his middle fingers, one on his right pointer finger, and the last on his left thumb. He rinses them quickly before placing them on your counter.

“No, it’s okay, really. I enjoyed what I had.” You watch as he lathers his hands with your homemade kale soap before he places it into your open hands.

You both stand there in silence, washing hands and arms. Despite your best wishes, it’s awkward. An odd, homely awkwardness because it’s your kitchen and your sink and your soap, and yet Sam’s presence makes everything feel brand new. He’s standing so close, you can smell the sweat on his skin, and you hate yourself for being a little obsessed with it.

His arm brushes up against yours as he runs the soapy water over himself.

Despite how simple, the act seems entirely too intimate, and you quickly finish washing your hands and drying them with a dish towel. You needed to get far away from him to quell the butterflies in your gut.

Wow, I definitely like him more than I thought.

Not knowing what to do with yourself, you lean on the backside of your kitchen counter and fiddle with the frayed edges of your farmer hat.

Sam is the first to break the silence.

“I like the boots, actually. I’ve been thinking about getting myself a pair.” He reaches for a kitchen towel and begins drying his arms, turning around and leaning his back on the sink.

He looks so pretty you could faint from this vision of him in your kitchen. His lower abdomen is soaked, and his shirt has become temporarily see-through. You try so hard not to stare, but you can see a thin stretch of a happy train through his shirt, and you can feel your cheeks get hot.

Oh my God.

“I’m sure you’d look nice in them.” You say, your voice shaky.

Sam smirks. “Not better than you.”

You let out a dry laugh because it’s all you can manage and make an exaggerated nervous look at the clock.

7:00 pm.

“We should probably head over, yeah?”

Sam clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, are you ready?” He folds your kitchen towel and starts putting his rings back on as he walks to the front door.

You fiddle with your hat some more.

Better to be safe than sorry.

You go to put the hat on your head, and Sam chuckles from behind you.

“Isn’t it too late to be wearing a hat? The sun’s setting.” His tone is light and jokey, but it still stings a little.

“Oh, it was, ugh, I don’t know, haha.” You quickly make your way towards the door, leaving the hat on the counter.

“Wait, no, what?” Sam moves closer and places a hand on your arm, stopping you in your steps. You look up into his eyes, and his brows are pursed together in confusion and questioning.

“I was using it for ‘protection.” You throw up fake quotation marks and give a light chuckle, deeply embarrassed.

“I’ll protect you.” Sam blurts out, and before you can even respond, he’s quick to correct himself.

“I won’t let you be alone tonight. That’s what I meant. I’ll stay by your side…if you want.”

“Oh, um, okay.” You cringe internally at the entire situation and make your way outside, passing by Sam’s body in the doorway, making a conscious effort not to look at his face. You don’t think you could survive looking into his eyes with only a few inches between you.

I need to get myself together…quickly.

Sam walks out and walks down your steps as you lock up.

“I was thinking I could teach you how to ride?” Sam says as he pulls up his skateboard from the porch.

As you walk down the steps, you shake your head a little, “Not that’s okay, I'd probably just fall over.”

Sam chuckles, “You think I’d let you fall?”

It’s orange outside now, and there is a cool summer breeze that passes by just as you feel the heat crawl up your body again. It’s almost as if nature is helping you chill out.

“Um, no, I don’t.” You give a little laugh, and Sam reaches his hand out to you, one foot on the board.

“It’ll get us there faster anyways.”

⌁₊˚⊹ ⊹˚₊⌁

In the end, it doesn’t.

His best efforts to stabilize you made you a shaky mess, causing you to tumble off the board and into his arms way too many times to count.

Sam’s heavy hands on your waist as he walked alongside you on the board made you dizzy the whole time. The coldness of his rings bled through the thin fabric of your dress, making his touch ten times more intoxicating.

That and the fact that his grip was so tight, your dress kept riding up. At one point, he even made a point to pull it down himself before running alongside you to distract you from the action with speed (which only made your dress hike up again).

“You know, you're not so bad at this,” he says as you approach the cobblestone, slowing down before firmly plucking you off the skateboard.

You flush again because you are both very aware that you could have stepped off the skateboard without hurting yourself, but whatever.

“Well, I have a pretty good teacher.” You say before tugging your dress down...again.

“Why, thank you,” He laughs before he grabs his skateboard and fiddles with it for a bit before adding, “Maybe I could teach you properly, you know, another time?”

It’s a hazy purple-pink outside now, and yet Sam is still haloed by the gentle fading light of the sun. Somehow, the universe just decides to highlight and pedestal him whenever it can, turning every moment that should be normal into a cinematic scene.

“I’d like that.” You say before turning on your heel and making a slow approach to the Saloon.

It takes a few seconds before you hear the quick shuffle of Sam’s scuffed-up Converse catching up to you, and before you know it, he’s right beside you, arm brushing against yours ever so slightly in your walk.

⌁₊˚⊹ ⊹˚₊⌁

When you finally make it to the Saloon, it isn’t as busy as you’d thought it would be. Sam leaves you near the entrance a beat after you enter to say hi to Abigail and Sebastian. You don’t mind his absence, needing a moment to still your beating heart.

You look around the saloon as Sam walks away, turning back every two seconds to check up on you. You lock eyes with Penny, who’s already looking at you by the time you look at her, and she gives you a small wave.

You didn’t know Penny well, but you knew she and Sam were close. You remembered seeing them dance at the flower dance together and a few times after that just around town, but you didn’t really know the extent of their relationship. Surely, if Sam was here with you, that meant that nothing was going on between them, right?

You walk over to her table despite a familiar sick feeling rising in your gut.

“Hi, Penny.” There is a stool at her table, but you remain standing. Sam was gonna come back any minute anyway, and you weren’t too keen on sitting at a table with the both of them for the remainder of the night.

“Y/N! How nice to see you away from the farm, " she says, fiddling with a muffin wrapper on the table. Before you can respond, she adds, “You’re here with Sam?”

“Oh… yeah. He thought I needed some time out and about; I guess everyone thinks that.” You laugh a little and wish you had something to fiddle with as well.

Penny gives a short laugh, “We all just like seeing you around, that’s all.”

You don’t know if you believe her, but before you can respond, her eyes are trailing away from yours to something…no, someone behind you. They seem to soften at whoever she’s looking at, and a few beats later, Sam’s standing right next to you at the table.

“Good evening, Penny.” He says with a goofy smile on his face.

You hear a whistle behind you and turn around to see Sebastian and Abigail peeking around a corner of the Saloon. Abigail is wriggling her eyebrows in your direction, and Seb has a god-awful smirk on his face.

You turn around quickly, looking down at your boots, and can hear Sam clear his throat.

“Hi, Sam. So kind of you to bring our lovely farmer out.” Penny says, her hands on the table.

“About time, right?” He nudges you with his shoulder.

“Yeah, most definitely.” You say, giving them both the warmest smile you could conjure up.

“Now, Miss Penny, if you don’t mind,” he moves behind you and places both hands on your shoulders, gently turning you to the bar, “I’m gonna get our farmer a drink.”

Penny gives a light laugh, but Sam has let go of your arms before you can even say goodbye and is walking ahead of you to the bar.

You look over your shoulder in hopes of giving Penny a wave, but you only catch her orange skirt on the door frame as she leaves the saloon.

⌁₊˚⊹ ⊹˚₊⌁

The last time you were at a bar, it was in ZuZu City. What was supposed to be a fun night out with some coworkers ended up with you throwing up in an alleyway and then again in a taxi. One too many cosmopolitans. You miss the feeling a little. Being unknown in a bar, wearing tight shimmery dresses, desire in the air, and shitty expensive drinks with exotic names. You approach Sam at the bar, and despite the lack of patrons, you stand so close your arms touch for the millionth time that night.

At this moment, you can’t help but think about how drastically your life changed in just a year.

The gentle hum of the jukebox playing “Hold You in My Arms” by Ray LaMontagne, the softness of Sam’s skin on yours, the yellow lighting, and beer and wine being the only things on the drink menu. Something about this trumped the feeling of a sleazy dive bar. Sure, there was a desire in the air…but it wasn’t scary. It didn’t prompt you to take three “Green Tea Shots” back-to-back to quell the nerves. It was gentle and promising. You still couldn’t believe this was a part of your life now.

Sam clears his throat to get Gus’s attention and holds up a crinkly twenty-dollar bill. “What can this get us?” His voice comes out shaky.

You get the impression that this isn’t something Sam does often. Well, not the drinking bit, but ordering it at a bar.

Gus raises an eyebrow and takes the bill from Sam’s hands, holding it up to the light and faux inspecting it with a smirk on his face.

Sam sucks his tongue and shakes his head “C’mon Gus.”

“Hey, you can never know with your generation. Two beers?” He raises an eyebrow at the both of you, and you smile back. “Yes, please.”

“And how are you doing, farmer?” Gus goes to pour the beers as the question lingers in the air.

“Good!” you offer enthusiastically. “Summer crops are all planted...So that’s good.”

“That’s…Good?” Gus jokes and places the beers on the bar.

You give a light laugh and take the beer in your hands.

“Thank you, Gus!” Sam adds as he one-handedly grabs his beer, places his free hand on your lower back, and ushers you away from the bar to a table near the jukebox.

“He usually doesn’t give me a hard time.” He leans down and side-whispers into your ear, which causes your brain to short-circuit. All you can do is hum in response.

This might kill me.

He goes to pull out your chair, and when you sit, he pulls the diagonal seat closer to yours before sitting down and smiling at you.

Okay, this will definitely kill me.

“Gus’s beer is the best.” He says before taking a big gulp. You go for a small sip, and he’s right. It is a really good beer. You make a mental note to ask Gus about his technique.

“So…” you offer into the silence.

“So…” Sam says back, chuckling after. “I’m glad you decided to come out tonight.”

“Yeah, me too. My body definitely needed this.” You hold the beer up before taking another drink.

After a few more swallows, the conversation comes easily. Sam talks about work and his dad, but mostly his music.

“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff I'm working on now if you ever wanna stop by and listen.” Another sip.

“At this point, we’ve got like three dates lined up.” You blush as soon as the words leave your mouth, and you're torn between taking another sip or putting the beer down because, clearly, you’ve had enough. You take another sip despite that fact and pull your eyes up to Sam’s.

He’s blushing.

“I guess I just really want to see you.” And with that, he downs the rest of his beer.

This time, the butterflies in your gut don’t stir from anxiety but from something else. Something less tangible and indistinguishable but so, so good.

“Well, then, how can I say no?” You try and fail at finishing the rest of your beer, a piss-poor attempt at mimicking his confidence.

He chuckles, and the sound sends tingles all over your body.

“Okay, but first, I need to know if you like rock music.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Um…” You ponder on the question. You couldn’t say that you listened to rock music often, not recently at least.

“I used to listen to a lot… back in my youth.” You finish off your beer, feeling it in your head and your legs. The butterflies must be boozy, too, now because they have seemingly gone to sleep.

“You say that like you're old or something,” Sam says before getting up from his seat and offering you his hand.

“Technically, I am old, older than you.” You make a one-over look at his ring-clad hand before adding, “What's this?”

“I’m gonna play a song for you. On the jukebox. C’mon.” His fingers beckon for you to get up, so you do because if there’s one thing liquor makes you be, it is obedient.

His rings are cold against your hand as he leads you to the jukebox, and you internally whine at the absence of his touch when he lets you go to fiddle with the options.

“If you know this song, I owe you another beer, and if not…” He raises his eyebrow.

You laugh a little and then get immediately nervous.

Please let me know the song.

The intro to “Take Me Out” by Franz Ferdinand starts playing, and you have to giggle because who on earth doesn’t know this song? Sam looks down at you, and instead of giving him an answer, you start to sing along with the song.

“So if you’re lonely, you know I'm here waiting for you…”

Sam’s face lights up immediately, and he claps his hands.

“Wow, I guess I owe you another beer.”

“Oh, c’mon Sam, everyone knows this song.”

Sam throws his hands up in the air before making his way back to the bar, and this time, it looks like Gus doesn’t give him a hard time. Hell, you even think that you see Gus wink at him as he makes his way back over to you.

“One beer for the pretty farmer.” He says as he hands you a full pint.

“Thank you,” You say before taking a big gulp.

“Do you know any drinking games?” Sam says, now leaning on the jukebox, his face very close to yours. You don’t flush from the proximity, and maybe it’s because of the beer, or maybe it is because, under the yellow light and lenses of damn good beer, Sam is so pretty.

To be honest, Sam was always really pretty, very breathtaking, but now... something made him shine. There was a pull that made you want to lean in and fully dissect every element of his face. Of his being.

You hum lightly as your eyes trace over his face before saying, “It’s not technically a drinking game, but, Never Have I Ever?”

You watch as Sam rolls his eyes before he licks at his lip ring and answers, albeit sarcastically, “No, y/n, I have never played, never have I ever.” Despite his answer, he throws up a ring-clad hand and says, “Can I go first?”

You roll your eyes. “Sure, hit me.”

He juts out his bottom lip in feign thought before he raises his eyebrows as if he’s had a realization.

“What does the winner get?”

You blink at him a few times before shrugging. “What do you want? If you win, that is.”

There seems to be no point to fake think this time as Sam rounds the jukebox machine to get closer to you before leaning in and whispering in your ear, “A kiss.”

You feel warm all over and a little dizzy, but the nerves that usually pulse through your veins when Sam is near are nowhere to be found, just a warm wanting. You want to kiss him.

The idea of faking wrong answers passes through your mind, but you push it down because if you were going to kiss Sam, it would have to be won by him fair and square. And if you won... well, you’d just find another to kiss him.

“Okay. I’ll kiss you.” It comes out quick, and you feel a little embarrassed by the laugh it pulls from Sam.

“Woah, farmer, that’s only when I win.” He winks and puts his hand up again. “You first.” He says, his eyes lazily drawing over your face.

“Hmm, okay. Never have I ever been lost in the mines after curfew.”

Sam blinks at you a few times before slowly putting a finger down, and you fake a gasp.

“Okay, okay, just don’t tell my mom; she’ll freak.”

“Sam, Sam, Sam, I never would have thought.” You say before taking another sip of your beer, it’s almost empty now, and your bottom lip feels numb at the intoxication it brings

⌁₊˚⊹ ⊹˚₊⌁

The questions come and go, and by the time it’s almost midnight, you're left with one finger, and Sam is left with two. Most of his questions were farm-related, and you’d be annoyed at the fact that you were losing if you weren’t getting rewarded for your loss. But you are.

“Okay, farmer, you ready for this one?” he wiggles his two fingers, and you giggle, wiggling your one finger back.

“Never have I ever been a farmer in Stardew Valley.”

You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time tonight. Not out of actual annoyance, but because Sam is just that good. Knows all the right words, right things to do and say. Knows how to kill the final question in Never Have I Ever.

You put your one finger down, and before you can say anything to memorialize your loss, Sam’s palms are on your neck, and his lips are on yours, wet and needy.

The kiss is over before you even know it, and he’s pulling back, all big-eyed and tender-looking. With his face still within an inch of yours, he smirks and says, “I win.”

You nod dazedly, your eyes still on Sam’s lips.

“You want another?” Sam hiccups and rubs his thumb on your cheek. You nod, and Sam is leaning in, licking at his piercing before you connect again.

Sometime during all of the fuss, you put your glass down and allow your hands to roam over Sam’s arms and down to his biceps. He’s pretty solid, and as you reach to run your hands under his shirt, you hear a loud clearing of the throat at the bar.

In sync, you and Sam pull away from each other and turn to the sound, only to be pleasantly greeted with Gus’s frown.

“Closing up soon. You kids should head home.” He says before making a pointed look at Sam, “Make sure she makes it back home.”

You flush from embarrassment, but Sam grabs your hand, gives a head nod to Gus, and pulls you out of the Saloon before it can seep in.

⌁₊˚⊹ ⊹˚₊⌁

Before you can register what’s happening, the boozy feeling in your mind and legs making everything feel wobbly, Sam is pulling you to the side of the saloon, and his lips are on yours again.

He tastes like beer and sorbet and sweat and summer. It’s magical the way Sam kisses. It’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. To be fair, you’ve never been pressed up against the side of a saloon on a warm summer night kissing the guy of your dreams. Your hands make their way up into his hair, and it’s so soft, so you grip it because it’s angel hair, truly. Sam moans into your mouth and kisses his tongue inside.

He liked that?

You can feel everything, everywhere. The brick wall, Sam’s heavy front, and even heavier mouth. He keeps one hand on your neck, his thumb running up and down, trying to pull you closer than you already are. The other finds its way to your thigh and pulls one of your legs up and around him, slotting himself closer to you.

Oh my gosh, he’s huge.

The pressure of his body is intense and needy and all too much and not enough at the same time.

He pulls back, and even in the dim light that the tavern provides, you can see the need in his eyes and the kissed-out pink on his lips. He’s absolutely angelic. “Is this okay?” he nudges his nose into your neck, peppering it with kisses and sniffs as if he is trying to capture your scent and trap it in his memory.

His hand on your thigh travels higher, hiking your thin white dress up even higher, but he stops right before he hits your panty line, thumbs tracing hesitant circles into your skin.

You can sense he’s waiting for an answer, but the fireflies dancing just behind his head distract you for a second. What did you do in a past life to deserve this? What bug did you save that was an angel in disguise that pardoned you from a life without this kind of pleasure?

He leaves wet, sloppy kisses down your neck and grinds himself into you, and you can actually feel him. “Y/N?” He looks up, his brows taught with desire. His eyes dart back and forth between yours and your lips, and he looks so needy you can’t even bring yourself to say anything.

You nod your head quickly before grabbing his face and pulling him back into a kiss. Salty and boozy and so intoxicating. Sam is a good kisser. Like really good.

It’s like he studied the right amount of pressure to apply, when to purse his lips into yours, when to swirl his tongue around, and when to pull it back. He even gives your tongue a little suck before pulling back and peppering your lips and cheeks before diving back in again, giving you time to breathe.

Who taught him this?

To shun the thought of Sam kissing literally anybody but you out of your mind, you pull him closer to you (which seems impossible at this point).

Sam lets out probably the sexiest laugh you've ever heard in your life before pulling away from the kiss and biting your lip, using his thumb to soothe the sting that’s left.

The sting is long gone after a few seconds, evaporating into something stronger, but he keeps his thumb there, swiping back and forth at the wetness left from your kiss.

“You like me?” He says as he looks at your lips like he wants to see them say yes. Commit the action to his memory and replay it whenever he gets the chance. His free hand (free is subjective considering how it was just squeezing and caressing your thigh two seconds ago) travels closer to your panty line, and when he finally reaches it, he snaps it.

You jolt. Everything about this is just too much. You think back to only a few hours later when you couldn’t even fathom the touch of Sam’s arm against yours, and now…well, now things are very different.

Sam laughs into your neck from your reaction and draws his finger in between your skin and the fabric of your panties, which are now thoroughly soaked. It tickles, so you pull away a little, but Sam sucks his tongue and pushes himself closer to you.

You can’t even focus on the task at hand because the view of your bodies this close together is borderline pornographic, and honestly, if you could take a picture with your eyes, you would.

“Y/N,” he says carefully, almost shyly, using his hand to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. “Do you?”

At this moment, Sam is everything. Your heart and breath get heavy, and you need to calm yourself down before you combust into a thousand beams of light and never get to feel this again because you’ve become a part of the atmosphere.

Five things you can see?

Sam’s lust-ridden eyes, peering into your soul.

Sams’s pink cheeks, his even pinker lips.

Fireflies in the distance, glowing in and out. Haloing him.

The moon; full and beaming.

Four things you can touch?

You run your hand up Sam’s arm, which is taut and slightly muscular. It travels up and up to Sam's neck, and he leans into the touch before you fiddle with his earring and then reach into his hair before dragging your hand down to his lips, mimicking his action from before.

Three things you can hear?

The bugs outside are buzzing loudly, but they have nothing on the deep, heavy breaths Sam is taking as you play with his bottom lip. He hums gently before leaning in to kiss you again.

Two things you can smell?

Beer and the summer air at night.

One thing you can taste?

Sams’s lips finally touch yours again, and you can’t even compute the taste. It just tastes like him. It’s deep and wet and needy and tastes like heaven. You pull back and lick at the piercing on his bottom lip before diving back into his lips. You want to kiss him deeper, but he pulls away and presses his forehead against yours.

“I don’t want-” Sam starts, but you cut him off this time.

“Yes, yes, Sam. I like you.” It comes out needier and breathier than you would have liked, but the look on Sam’s face eases any embarrassment your brain could even come up with to ruin the moment.

“God, you are so pretty,” Sam says before peppering kisses onto your lips. Every time his lips pull away, even though it’s for a millisecond, you long for them, feeling helplessly needy.

The feeling is heavy in your chest. Need. Want. Desire.

Sam’s hand is going back up to your dress and presses at your clothed heat, pulling the wet fabric to the side before tracing his middle finger through your sex.

“Oh shit you are so we-“

“AHEM.” You both jolt apart quick to see Gus standing in the now paling light of the Saloon.

“You’d both better get home.” Gus is walking away before either of you can respond. You can see him shaking his head slowly as he walks away.

“Oh, shit.” You say, turning to Sam, giggling.

He’s got a stupid smile plastered on his face as he gets down on one knee, his face at your abdomen, and he’s pulling down and smoothing out your hiked-up dress before leaving a kiss right above your navel and getting back up.

“It’s getting late.” He kicks up his skateboard from the bush he hid it in only hours before. “Feel safe riding home?”

Despite the beer coursing through your veins and the uneasiness that comes with each step, you nod your head. Anything to feel Sam’s heavy hands on your body again.

⌁₊˚⊹ ⊹˚₊⌁

The ride back home takes twice as long. Every time you fell off the skateboard, Sam met you with a heated kiss and said, “It’s okay, Y/N. You can try again.” His hands were warmer than ever, steady on your waist, and when your dress began to hike up this time, he didn’t even bother pulling it down, drunk eyes roaming all over your figure.

Eventually, you got the hang of it, riding on the board without his assistance, dress flowing in the wind, a screamed laugh of excitement leaving your lungs.

When the board came to a halt, you turned around expecting to see Sam close at your behind, but he was actually a few ways back, arms crossed, smiling.

⌁₊˚⊹ ⊹˚₊⌁

You watch Sam skate off into the moonlight, and when he turns around to wave, wobbling on his board, he has the biggest, dorkiest smile on his face. You don’t realize it, but you do, too.

When he finally rides out of sight, you go back inside but can’t get yourself to let go of the door handle. A part of you wanted to run back outside and call out his name and invite him inside. For what? You couldn’t even answer that question yourself.

#sdv fanfic #sdv #stardew valley #smut #sdv smut #sdv sam #stardew valley fanfic #stardew farmer #stardew fanfic #sam x reader #sdv sam x reader #sdv headcanons #stardew valley fanfiction

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heavens-crown · 2 months ago

Text

And They Were Neighbors Pt.7

Master List

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Tag List: @starkgaryan @gabsgabsvaz

cw: angst, mentions of lovers quarrel, talk of broken bone

The following weeks were a delightful type of boring. Delilah and Robby settled into a quiet routine, spending their nights in her apartment. Robby claimed it was because she had better water pressure and a nicer TV. He was back on day shift and while he was glad to be off of nights he missed being able to spend most of the day with her whether it was via naps together or him stretched out on the insanely oversized bean bag she had in her office. The only hiccup had been a minor spat between the two when he had come back edgy from a rough shift and unfairly took his anger from the day out on her. While she had taken it in stride it was clear she was still hurt.

The evidence of that hurt showing when she sent him a simple ‘have a good day’ text when he left for his first day shift. His mood was now rather foul and he would rather be anywhere other than the ER. When he arrived he set his stuff down so they could go over rounds. On their last patient for rounds Robby noticed Delilah walking into the pit. He noticed she was wearing what was frankly a criminal short dress that appeared to have shorts under it and cherries as the pattern. Frowning a bit he excused himself from the residents and began walking briskly toward her.

“Why are you here?” he asked. His tone was not great and he knew he messed up when he saw the way her eyes narrowed and her posture stiffened. “If you’re because of what I said last night now is not-” she cut him off before he could finish.

“First off, watch how you talk to me. Second, I’m not here for you. I got a call from one of my Uncles who is apparently here and he wanted me to bring him some food,” she held up the take out bag he had failed to notice. “I am not some dumb teenager who’s coming to your place of work to stir shit up. Trust me, I'd rather not have that conversation here with you in front of your coworkers and patients.” With that she brushed past him heading to her Uncle's room. Robby exhaled roughly and turned to see the entire nursing station was staring at him.

“Get back to work,” he ordered. With that they scattered finding things to do that kept them away from him. Sitting at his workstation to go through necessary paperwork he noticed Dana out of the corner of his eye approach him. She stood next to him silently for a moment tapping away at a tablet in her hand.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked, concern in her voice. Robby continued to work on the paperwork and things needed signing off. When he didn’t respond Dana continued. “She’s cute, give her some time and i’m sure whatever happened will be forgiven.” She squeezed his shoulder before walking off to help a new nurse with a charting question.

Delilah entered her uncle's room attempting to keep the tears stinging her eyes from falling. Shawn Montgomery was a stereotypical businessman. His brown hair was styled out of face and his usual style of clothing was usually three piece business suits. Today though he was dressed in a simple shirt and jeans and he seemed to be cradling his arm to his chest.

“Hey Uncle Shawn,” she said in greeting. Pressing a kiss to his cheek she placed the take out bag on his lap. “I got the food you asked for. I also brought you a long charger for your phone.” Delilah pulled the charger out and handed it to his wife Melissa to plug it into the wall. Shawn smiled gratefully up at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you monkey toes, I don’t know what I'd do without either of you.” He grinned up at her. Delilah rolled her eyes and settled down in the extra chair next to the bed.

“How’d you break your arm?” she asked, gesturing to the arm held in a splint. Suddenly looking anywhere but at her he attempted to dodge the question. It was her Aunt Melissa who answered, amusement clear in her tone.

“He stepped off a curb into a pothole and fell.” she said. Delilah simply stared at the two of them. Out of all of Grandma Rose’s children Shawn had the worst luck. The man had once been struck by lightning, and in the same night got bit by a bat while on his way to the hospital.

“We need to put your ass in a bubble,” Delilah shook her head. “Thank god Jamie didn’t get any of your wack ass luck.” Jamie was Shawns only child, who was currently studying abroad in Europe. Clearly desperate to change the subject Shawn pinned her with his ‘I heard something about you’ look.

“So I got an interesting text from mama a few weeks ago,” he began smirking as Delilah narrowed her eyes at him. “She said you came in here to check on her with an older man. Said man was apparently very attentive and a Attending here.” Delilah groaned and rested her head back staring up at the ceiling. She should’ve figured her Grandma would tell her Uncles.

“Like I told Grandma yesterday, Robby is just a friend. He’s my neighbor and is fun to hang out with.” She refused to tell her Aunt and Uncle she was actually getting her back blown out on the daily by said neighbor. Shawn gave her a look that said ‘bullshit’ but before he could speak a resident stepped into the room with none other than Robby behind them.

“Hey Mr.Montgomery this is my attending Dr.Robinavitch, we got your X-rays back and thankfully there’s no fractures that are going to need surgery to fix,” the intern explained while showing them the X-Ray. Delilah did her best to ignore Robby which was hard since he was staring a hole into the side of her head.

“That’s good to hear, am I still going to need a cast?” Shawn asked. It was clear by the look on his face that he recognized Robby’s name. Robby nodded, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“Yes sir. What we’re going to do is reset your arm and place you in a soft case. We’re also going to get you a referral to a physical therapist so they can help make sure you don’t lose any mobility in your wrist.” He said.

“Thank you doctor, I'm sorry, what was your name again?” Shawn asked, faux innocence ringing in his voice.

“It’s Dr. Robinavitch, but you can call me Dr.Robby.” He answered with a small smile. Delilah felt her stomach clench when he shot her one last look before leaving the room. Sighing as she saw both her Uncle and Aunt were staring at her she grabbed her purse and rose to leave.

“Well clearly I’m not needed here so I’m going to head out-” Melissa cut her off before she could make her escape.

“Is that the same Robby that your grandmother is convinced is shaking the sheets with you?” she asked coyly. Delilah felt her face burn as the residents' eyes shot to her as they were putting her uncle in the cast.

“I plead the fifth.” Delilah answered looking anywhere but at them. Shawn snorted and gave her a droll look.

“So that means yes you’re fucking the guy who looks like he could be your dad.” Shawn said dryly. Not liking his tone Delilah glared at him, feeling rather protective over the man even if he was an asshole.

“He’s 47 Uncle Shawn, Dad would’ve been 55.” With that she gave him one last kiss on the cheek and hugged her aunt before walking out of the room. She was almost to the exit when she heard Robby calling her name. Stopping her turned on her heel to see him speed walking toward her. Even when mad at him she couldn’t help the way her body responded to seeing him, which just irritated her more.

“Will you come talk with me? In Private?” He asked. She wanted to say no but when she saw the sadness in his brown eyes she felt her resolve melt. Sighing a bit she nodded and let him lead her toward what was apparently the staff lounge. She leaned against the counter watching him as he leaned against the door watching her. It was silent for a moment as the two of them simply watched each other. Robby rubbed the back of his neck, an anxious tick of his, before letting out a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for last night and for what I said when I saw you in here. It was incredibly hurtful and you didn’t deserve any of that.” Delilah watched as he seemed to struggle to get the words out and her heart broke just a bit. Pushing away from the counter she walked across the room to wrap her arms around Robby’s waist burying her face in his chest. He tensed for just a moment before hugging her back resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“Apology accepted,” She mumbled. She could feel the tension leave his body as he pressed a kiss to her head. Pulling her head back just a bit she gave him a mock glare.

“You ever talk to me the way you did in the last 12 hours and I promise I will put a chastity device on you and throw away the key,” She said, Robby stared down at her eyes wide like he didn’t know what to make of her at that moment. Giving him a soft kiss she stepped back and poked him in the chest. “You need to get back to work, mister. Would you like to come over after your shift?” She asked, suddenly feeling shy. Robby’s smile was bigger this time as he pressed his forehead to hers, tightening his grip around her waist.

“I would love nothing more."

#dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby #the pitt fanfiction

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r0rysreid · 2 months ago

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single dad!spencer reid x gn!reader

small note: thank you to my twt oomf (sai, love you girl) who helped me with my writers block <3

being a single parent has its ups and downs, but spencer had learned to adapt and do the best he could for his daughter—aurora—no matter what happened.

he didn’t focus on dating at all, putting all his time and effort into work and his little girl, but that all changed the day he had met you.

he was taking aurora out for the day, her small hand in his as they walked down the street, her pointing out things like birds, dogs, a plane that flew overhead, anything her curious little brain found fascinating.

he wasn’t paying much attention to her pointing, more to her surroundings, but it changed when she suddenly started pointing at people and commenting on them.

“hey- no, no, don’t point-” he frantically warned her, but it was too late. before he could push her hand down she made dead eye contact with you, yelling something about the color of your shirt.

spencer’s face heated up from embarrassment, awkwardly apologizing, not looking up for a few moments before he finally turned to see exactly who had caught aurora’s eye.

“oh.” he mumbled under his breath, his gaze catching yours as he stood up straight and cleared his throat.

you were beautiful—your smile from aurora’s actions still evident, your eyes soft and welcoming as you looked back at him.

“sorry- i’m spencer, and this is aurora. guess she really likes your shirt.” he stumbled over his words a little, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced down at his shoes.

“well it’s nice to meet you two.” you smiled, following it up with your name before sticking your hand out, watching as the cogs in spencer’s brain took a few moments to process it before he blurted out; “do you know it’s actually safer to kiss than shake someone’s hand?”

his comment caught you off guard for a second, before you dropped your hand and nodded, an amused look on your face. “is that so?”

it took spencer a second before he realized what he said, panicking as he tried to add onto his claim, aurora standing there bursting into a fit of giggles at her father’s poor attempt to redeem this first impression.

“god- i am so sorry for how that came out. i did not mean it like that, i swear.” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, glancing down at aurora for a second. “we should probably get going so i can get her something to eat.. unless uh- you wanna invite them with us?”

her eyes lit up at his suggestion, waiting for your reaction to this proposition. were you really just asked out like that? using his daughter as an excuse to take you out nonetheless?

―୨୧⋆ ˚

well, not only did it work, but you ended up exchanging numbers. calling occasionally, getting little updates on aurora, hanging out, even asked to watch her once or twice.

spencer knew he liked you, it was painfully obvious. but he didn’t wanna go too far yet, especially with not knowing how aurora felt about you.

so the day his beloved daughter confirmed she wanted you to be a second parent, he was over the moon and immediately brought you over. one dinner and a movie later he was struggling to ask you out, stumbling over his words and fidgeting with his hands.

that was until sweet little aurora came running out into the living room, a stuffed animal in hand and a wide grin on her face. she excitedly greeted you, rushing over and practically clinging onto you like a koala bear.

spencer watched with a look of admiration, before clearing his throat and turned his attention towards you again. “remember when we first met? i said it was safer to kiss.” he started, one of his hands grabbing yours.

“yeah, why?” you asked, squeezing his hand and adjusting the hold you had on aurora, watching as spencer let out a breath before leaning in and pressed his lips to yours.

it lasted only a few seconds, being cut off by her fake gagging and laughing, but when you pulled away spencer was still in a state of bliss. “stay the night?”

you nodded in response, moving closer to him and curled into his side, aurora moving to lay across both your laps. one of her hands held her stuffed animal, while the other held yours, squeezing your fingers every few seconds while spencer turned on one of her favorite movies.

as spencer sat there he thought back to a few months ago. when he didn’t focus on dating at all, simply wanting to focus on his family and work. well, he’s still focused on family. just with a new addition to it.

#my writing 𓂃۶ৎ #spencer ―୨୧⋆ ˚#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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lila-lou · 10 months ago

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✨His true fate - Part 11/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, some slightly spicy scenes

Word Count: 6296

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As you hung up the phone, the ache of missing him was still there, but it was overshadowed by the hope and reassurance his words had brought. You knew that the next two months would be a test, but one you were ready to face together.

After spending over three hours cleaning your apartment to distract yourself, you finally collapsed into bed, utterly exhausted. Sleep claimed you within seconds, and you missed the message Jensen sent just minutes after you drifted off.

Meanwhile, Jensen arrived at his house in Connecticut. Stepping out of the cab, he took a deep breath, feeling a flood of emotions. The surroundings brought anxiety as he mentally prepared for what awaited him inside.

Entering through the front door, he was greeted by the lively sounds of his children still awake. JJ spotted him first and ran towards him with a wide grin, exclaiming, “Daddy!”. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, her excitement palpable.

Jensen’s heart warmed as he bent down to scoop her up into a warm hug. “Hey, sweetheart”, he said softly, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I missed you”.

Arrow and Zeppelin hung back a bit, their expressions more reserved. They had always been closer to their mother, especially since they noticed the special bond between Jensen and JJ. Sensing their hesitation, Jensen extended his hand towards them with a welcoming smile.

“Come here, you two”, he encouraged gently. “I missed you guys too”.

After a moment’s hesitation, Arrow cautiously stepped forward, followed by Zeppelin. They approached him tentatively, and Jensen knelt down to their level, JJ still holding onto his side. He tousled Zeppelin’s hair affectionately and gave Arrow a reassuring pat on the back.

“How have my little ones been?”, he asked warmly, trying to bridge the gap between them.

“We’ve been good”, Zeppelin replied softly, looking up at his father with a small smile. “Mom made us pancakes for dinner”.

Jensen chuckled softly. “Pancakes for dinner? That sounds delicious”.

Just then, Danneel stepped into the room, her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face. Jensen’s jaw clenched slightly as he braced himself for her reaction. She had just hung up a call, and her frustration was evident.

“You should have called me”, Danneel said tersely, her voice tinged with irritation. “Letting me know you’re on your way from the airport”.

Jensen sighed inwardly, knowing this was a conversation they often circled back to. “I’m sorry”, he replied evenly, trying to keep his tone neutral. “It was a long flight, and I wanted to get home to see the kids”.

Danneel’s expression softened slightly, but her frustration lingered. “It’s not just about that, Jensen”, she said, her voice lowering to a more subdued tone. “Communication is important. We talked about this”.

Jensen felt the weight of Danneel’s words, knowing all too well the underlying tensions in their strained marriage. They had grown apart over the years, the love they once shared now replaced by a mutual understanding of their roles. Danneel, focused on maintaining their image and the financial stability Jensen provided, often ignored the emotional disconnect between them.

“Yeah, communication”, Jensen muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with frustration as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know”.

Danneel’s lips tightened into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Jensen’s jaw clenched again, his gaze hardening as he met her eyes. They had danced around this conversation too many times, neither willing to confront the reality of their failing marriage head-on. He knew Danneel’s priorities lay elsewhere, and their interactions had become strained, devoid of the warmth and affection they once shared.

“We have responsibilities”, she stated firmly, her voice steady despite the tension between them. “And I intend to uphold mine”.

Jensen sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I know”, he murmured.

Without another word, he pulled off his jacket and hung it up, then grabbed his bag, turning towards the stairs. Danneel watched him with narrowed eyes, her arms still crossed.

“Where are you going?”, she asked sharply.

“Unpacking”, Jensen grumbled, not bothering to look back at her as he started up the stairs.

But Danneel wasn’t having it. She followed him, her footsteps echoing in the quiet house. “We’re not done talking”, she insisted, her voice filled with frustration.

“There’s nothing more to say, Danneel”, he replied, trying to keep his tone even. “We’ve had this conversation too many times”.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Jensen turned towards his room. Even in the new house, he had insisted on having his own space, much like the setup they had in Austin. The strain in their marriage had grown too great for him to share a bed with her anymore.

Danneel followed him into his room, her frustration clear in her eyes. “You can’t just walk away every time things get tough”, she said, her voice trembling slightly with anger. “We need to deal with this”.

Jensen dropped his bag onto the floor and turned to face her, his own anger simmering beneath the surface. “Deal with what, Danneel? The fact that we’re living a lie? That we’re pretending everything’s fine for the sake of appearances?”.

Danneel’s face hardened, her eyes flashing with defiance. “We have responsibilities, Jensen. To our family, to our image. You can’t just run away from that”.

“I’m not running away”, Jensen shot back, his voice rising. “I’m facing reality. Our marriage is over, Danneel. It’s been over for a long time. We’re just going through the motions”.

Her silence was heavy, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of their words hanging in the air.

“You’re right”, she finally said, her voice low and bitter. “But that doesn’t mean we can just give up. We have to keep up appearances, for the kids, for everything we’ve built”.

Jensen ran a hand through his hair, feeling the exhaustion of their ongoing battle. “I’m tired, Danneel. Tired of pretending. Tired of living a lie”.

“And what do you propose?”, she asked, her tone icy. “Just throw it all away?”.

“I don’t know”, Jensen admitted, his voice softening. “But we can’t keep going on like this”.

Jensen began to sort his clothes out of his bag, throwing his phone onto the bed and starting to undress, not bothering that Danneel was still in the room. He was too exhausted to care about propriety at this point.

Danneel’s eyes flashed with anger as she watched him. “I told you before, Jensen”, she snapped, her voice sharp and cutting. “There’s no way you’re going to make me the poor, stupid ex-wife who was left”.

Jensen paused, his shirt halfway off, and looked at her, frustration evident in his eyes. “This isn’t about making you look bad, Danneel. It’s about being honest about what we’ve become”.

As he pulled off his shirt completely, Danneel’s gaze zeroed in on his back. The faint, red marks—cuts that had to heal—caught her attention.

“What the hell are those?”, she demanded, her voice trembling with fury.

Jensen turned to follow her gaze, his confusion quickly turning to realization as he remembered the intensity of his time with you. “It’s nothing”, he said defensively, quickly turning back to his bag.

“Nothing?”, Danneel scoffed, taking a step closer. “Those look like scratch marks, Jensen. Who did that?”.

Jensen’s jaw clenched, and he threw the shirt he was holding onto the bed. “It’s none of your business”, he said coldly.

Danneel’s face hardened, her anger boiling over. “It is my business when you come home with marks like that“.

Jensen took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check. “You seem to forget that you were the one who had an affair first”, he reminded her, his voice steady but laced with bitterness. “Years ago. And we agreed not to talk about who we’re seeing. We both know this marriage has been over for a long time”.

Danneel’s eyes flashed with indignation. “That was different, Jensen. You didn’t seem to care then, and you certainly never showed up with marks like that”.

“Different?”, Jensen scoffed. “We’ve both had our affairs, Danneel. You set the precedent, and I followed. But I never flaunted it because I respected our arrangement. Until now, I haven’t seen anyone for months”.

Danneel’s expression shifted from anger to something resembling hurt. “You didn’t have to make it so obvious”, she said quietly.

Jensen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to make anything obvious. It just happened”.

“Who is she?”, Danneel asked, her voice softer but still edged with tension.

Jensen shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we both know where we stand”.

Danneel’s expression hardened again, a sharp edge returning to her voice. “Your new bitch better keep her mouth shut for her own sake”, she snapped, her eyes flashing with anger.

Jensen felt his own temper flare. “Don’t you dare call her that”, he said through gritted teeth. “She’s got nothing to do with this mess we’ve made. This is between you and me”.

“Well, then she better stay out of it”, Danneel retorted. “I won’t have my life turned upside down because of your midlife crisis”.

Jensen took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “This isn’t a midlife crisis, Danneel. This is me finally admitting that I can’t live like this anymore. We can’t keep pretending”.

Danneel crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her posture defensive. “Don´t expect me to roll over and play nice just because you decided to grow a conscience”.

Jensen waved her off, looking more than annoyed. He turned his back to her and grabbed a fresh shirt from his bag, dressing in something more comfortable. His movements were tense, filled with frustration.

“I’m so done with all this shit”, he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible but dripping with anger. “I can’t even stand to see your fucking face anymore”.

Danneel’s eyes narrowed, her anger flaring again at his words. “Oh, believe me, the feeling is mutual”, she snapped back.

Jensen’s eyes were still burning with frustration as he pulled on his fresh shirt. He didn’t even bother to look at Danneel, who was standing there with her arms crossed, her own face flushed with anger. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Just then, the door creaked open, and JJ stepped inside, holding up a board game. Her bright eyes were filled with hope and excitement, completely unaware of the storm brewing between her parents. “Can we play this game?”, she asked, her voice innocent and eager.

Jensen and Danneel both turned to look at their daughter, their anger momentarily eclipsed by the sight of her. Jensen felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. He forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside. “Sure", he said, his voice gentler. “Which game did you pick?”.

JJ’s face lit up with a huge smile as she held up the game box. “Monopoly!”, she announced, her enthusiasm contagious.

Danneel took a deep breath, smoothing her expression into something resembling calm. “Of course, JJ”, she said, stepping closer and placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s go set it up in the living room”.

JJ beamed, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension between her parents. “Yay! It’s going to be so much fun!”.

As they followed JJ out of the room, Jensen and Danneel exchanged a brief, weary glance. The facade of normalcy had to be maintained, at least for their daughter’s sake. They knew they had to put their differences aside, if only for a little while, to give her the sense of family she deserved.

As JJ eagerly set up the board game with Arrow and Zeppelin, Jensen slipped into the kitchen. He reached for a bottle of whiskey, knowing it was the only way he’d get through the long game ahead. Pouring a generous amount into a mug, he took a deep breath and braced himself for the evening.

With his mug in hand, Jensen settled at the table, watching his kids as they prepared for the game. He pulled out his phone, the urge to connect with you too strong to resist. Quickly, he typed out a message: “I wish I was still lying with you in your bed. Missing you”.

Unbeknownst to him, you were already asleep, the exhaustion of the day having taken its toll. Sighing deeply, Jensen put his phone away and focused on the scene before him. JJ was distributing the Monopoly money with great enthusiasm, her excitement infectious despite the underlying tension.

Danneel, never one to miss a chance to uphold their facade, snapped a picture of the five of them around the game. “Everyone smile”, she instructed, her voice strained as she tried to maintain a cheerful tone.

Jensen forced a smile, his jaw clenched as he looked at the camera. “Fucking smile, Jensen!”, Danneel hissed under her breath, her eyes narrowing at him.

He plastered on a wider grin, feeling the bitterness rise within him. The camera clicked, capturing the image of a seemingly happy family for Danneel’s Instagram followers. The picture was a stark contrast to the reality of their strained relationship.

With the obligatory photo out of the way, JJ handed out the last of the Monopoly money and took her place at the table. “Okay, who’s going to be the banker?”, she asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I’ll do it”, Jensen volunteered, wanting to distract himself from his thoughts. “Nothing different from my real role here”, he muttered under his breath and Danneel shot him a sharp glance.

“Just play the game, Jensen”, she said tersely, her voice barely concealing her irritation.

Jensen forced another smile, taking the stack of Monopoly money and organizing it. “Alright, let’s get this started”, he said, trying to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice for the kids’ sake.

The game began, and for a while, the room was filled with the sounds of dice rolling, money changing hands, and playful banter between the children. JJ, Arrow, and Zeppelin were completely engrossed in the game, their laughter and excitement a temporary balm for the underlying tension between their parents.

Jensen took a sip from his whiskey mug, feeling the warmth spread through him. It helped to dull the edges of his frustration, allowing him to focus more on the game and less on the strained dynamics with Danneel.

As the game progressed, JJ landed on one of Jensen’s properties and groaned dramatically. “Dad, you’re making me go bankrupt!”, she exclaimed, her eyes wide with mock horror.

Jensen chuckled, enjoying the moment of levity. “That’s the game, sweetheart. You’ll get me back next time”.

Danneel, despite the tension, managed to keep up her role, interacting with the kids and playing her part in the game. For a brief moment, the room felt almost normal, like the family they used to be.

Hours passed, and the game finally drew to a close. Arrow and Zeppelin yawned, their energy waning as the evening wore on.

“Alright, time for bed”, Jensen said gently, gathering up the game pieces. “We’ll play again another time”.

The kids groaned in unison but complied, shuffling off to their rooms with tired smiles. Jensen and Danneel tidied up the living room in silence, the earlier tensions resurfacing as the facade of family game night faded away.

Once the kids were settled, Jensen returned to his room, the weight of the evening pressing down on him. He checked his phone again, seeing no response from you. With a heavy heart, he lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Jensen lay awake for about an hour, thoughts of you swirling incessantly through his mind. The weight of recent events and his complicated emotions had kept sleep at bay, leaving him restless and contemplative. As he stared at the ceiling in the dimly lit room, the soft creak of the door pulled him from his reverie.

JJ stood hesitantly in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the faint light filtering in from the hallway. It had been a while since she struggled to sleep, and tonight, her restlessness had brought her to her father’s door. She peered into the room, uncertainty etched on her face, before softly asking, “Daddy? Are you awake?”.

Startled from his thoughts, Jensen turned to see JJ standing there, her presence both comforting and unexpected. Despite his own inner turmoil, he managed a warm smile for her. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m awake”, he replied softly, his voice carrying reassurance.

JJ hesitated for a moment longer, then shuffled closer to the bed, her small figure moving with caution. Jensen could see the unease in her eyes, and he silently beckoned her to come closer. “Come here”, he said gently, patting the space beside him on the bed.

JJ tiptoed across the room and climbed onto the bed, curling up next to her father. She nestled into his side, seeking comfort in his familiar presence. Jensen wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close as they lay together in the quiet of the room.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”, Jensen asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

JJ sighed. “I don’t know, Daddy”, she murmured. “Sometimes I get scared at night, and I can’t sleep”.

Jensen tightened his embrace, offering her silent support. "It's okay to feel scared", he reassured her. "Everyone feels that way sometimes".

"I know", JJ whispered, her voice barely audible. "But it helps when you're here".

Jensen pressed a kiss to the top of her head, feeling a swell of love and protectiveness for his daughter. "I'll always be here for you, JJ", he promised quietly. "You can come to me anytime you need".

JJ nestled closer, drawing comfort from his steady presence. For a few moments, they lay in silence, the gentle rise and fall of their breathing creating a calming rhythm. The stillness of the room wrapped around them like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension that had gripped Jensen’s mind.

“What do you think about when you can’t sleep, Daddy?”, JJ asked after a while, her curiosity breaking the silence.

Jensen smiled softly, though it was tinged with a hint of sadness. “I think about a lot of things, sweetheart. About work, about making sure everyone is happy and safe”.

JJ looked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Do you think about happy things too?”.

Jensen nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I do. I think about the times we spend together, like playing games or going on trips. I think about the people who make me happy”.

JJ’s face brightened a little. “Like Mommy?”.

Jensen hesitated, his smile faltering briefly. “Yes, like Mommy”, he said, his voice steady. “And also my friends, and you, of course”.

JJ seemed satisfied with his answer and settled back down against him. “I think about you too, Daddy. When I get scared, I think about you and it makes me feel better”.

Jensen felt a lump form in his throat, touched by his daughter’s words. “I’m glad, JJ. That’s what dads are for, to help make the scary things less scary”.

They lay together in the quiet room, Jensen’s mind gradually calming as he focused on the simple, pure connection with his daughter.

As JJ’s breathing evened out, indicating she had finally drifted off to sleep, Jensen closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax.

The next morning, when Jensen woke up, he immediately noticed that JJ was already gone. The space beside him was empty and the room was filled with the early morning light filtering through the curtains. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his phone on the nightstand, feeling the familiar weight of sleep still clinging to him.

As he blinked at the screen, a message notification caught his eye. It was from you. His heart quickened as he read your words: “I definitely didn’t sleep as well as I did in your arms yesterday”.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, warmth spreading through him at the thought of you.

He quickly typed a response: ”Same here. Any plans for today?“.

Setting his phone aside, Jensen got out of bed and dressed for the day, feeling a bit more positive after reading your message. As he made his way downstairs, he was greeted by the sounds of his children laughing and playing.

In the kitchen, JJ, Arrow, and Zeppelin were already eating breakfast. Danneel was there too, her expression neutral but calm. She glanced up as Jensen entered, a brief nod serving as their morning greeting.

“Morning, Daddy!”, JJ called out, her face lighting up with a smile. “We’re having pancakes!”.

Jensen smiled back, the sight of his children bringing a sense of normalcy. “Morning, everyone. Pancakes sound great”.

As Jensen ate breakfast with his family, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He discreetly checked it under the table and saw your reply: “Just need to get groceries and probably hitting the gym”.

He bit his tongue, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he typed out his response: “How much time do you actually spend at the gym? Because your ass says a lot”.

Jensen hit send, chuckling quietly to himself. He looked up to see JJ watching him with a curious expression. “What’s so funny, Daddy?”, she asked, her eyes wide with interest.

“Just a silly joke”, Jensen replied, ruffling her hair.

JJ giggled, accepting his explanation as she turned back to her pancakes. Jensen felt another buzz from his phone and glanced down to see your response: “Glad you noticed! I spend what feels like half my life there, lol”.

“Trust me, it’s hard not to notice”, he typed back. After a brief hesitation, he added, “Can’t wait to see that ass in person again“.

As you read Jensen’s message, a playful smirk formed on your lips. His boldness was both thrilling and enticing, bringing back vivid memories of the passionate night you shared together.

“Careful now, Mr. Ackles”, you replied.

Jensen’s phone buzzed with your message, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He quickly typed back, “We both know you don’t want me to be careful“.

Your heart skipped a beat at his boldness, your cheeks flushing even more. “Is that so? What makes you so sure?”, you replied, playing along.

Jensen’s grin widened as he recalled the night you shared. “Oh, I seem to remember you begging me to go harder… several times”, he typed.

You bit your lip, remembering just how intense and incredible that night had been. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you could keep up”, you teased back.

Jensen’s phone buzzed again, and he couldn’t suppress the smirk forming on his lips. He quickly typed back, “Oh, I just know you’re still sore because of me. Am I right?”.

Your breath hitched as you read his message. He was right; you were still feeling the delicious ache from his attentions. But you couldn’t resist teasing him a bit more.

“Maybe just a little”, you replied coyly.

“Just a little? I must be losing my touch”, he typed, his fingers moving quickly over the screen.

You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Oh, you haven’t lost a thing. Trust me. My body is still recovering”, you responded.

Jensen felt a surge of satisfaction at your words. “Good to know. Next time, I’ll make sure you can’t walk straight for days”.

You blushed deeply, the anticipation building within you. “Promises, promises”, you replied. “You better be ready to back them up”.

“Oh, I am”, Jensen texted confidently. “And I can’t wait to remind you just how good I am at keeping my promises”.

Your heart fluttered at his words. “Then hurry up and clear your schedule, Mr. Ackles. I’m counting the days”.

Jensen smiled, feeling a renewed sense of excitement and determination. “I’m on it. See you soon”.

Jensen set his phone aside, still smiling from the playful exchange with you. As he turned his attention back to his surroundings, he noticed Danneel eying him from the side. Her expression was unreadable, but she didn’t say anything, choosing instead to focus on her own tasks.

The rest of the day, Jensen spent for himself, finding a quiet corner in the house to dive into his work. He picked up the script for “The Boys” Season 5, immersing himself in the world of his character. It was a welcome distraction, giving him something productive to focus on amid the emotional turbulence of his personal life.

Occasionally, his thoughts drifted back to you. He found himself reading the same line of the script more than once.

As evening came, the house grew quiet. The kids were asleep, and Danneel had gone out with friends. Jensen found himself with some rare, uninterrupted time. He decided to take advantage of it. Putting in his AirPods, he settled into a comfortable chair and opened his phone, navigating to your contact. He hesitated for a moment, hoping you’d still be awake, before initiating a video call.

The call connected, and after a few rings, your face appeared on the screen, framed by the soft light of your room. The sight of you brought an immediate smile to Jensen’s face.

“Hey”, you greeted warmly, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “I wasn’t expecting a call this late”.

“Hey”, Jensen replied, his voice filled with genuine affection. “I just needed to see you. It’s been a long day”.

You settled back, getting more comfortable as you adjusted your phone. “I’m glad you called. How are things on your end?”.

Jensen sighed, the weight of the day briefly evident in his expression. He hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words.

Before he could answer, you spoke softly, your concern evident. “Is it about your wife?”.

Jensen looked at you, appreciating your understanding and concern. “Yeah”, he admitted, running a hand through his hair.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the twinge of jealousy that bubbled up despite Jensen’s reassurances about his marriage. He had been clear that there was no love between him and his wife, and they maintained a facade for appearances. Yet, seeing him burdened by the complexities of his family life stirred conflicting emotions within you.

“I understand”, you replied softly, your voice tinged with empathy. “It must be really hard”.

Jensen nodded, his eyes reflecting gratitude for your understanding. “It is”, he admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of his responsibilities. “I wish it were different”.

You sighed softly, feeling a mix of emotions as you looked at Jensen. “I just want to cheer you up”, you said gently. “What can I do?”.

Jensen’s eyes softened at your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Just talking to you helps”, he admitted. “But honestly, hearing about your day, your life—it distracts me from all this”.

You nodded, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Well, let’s see”, you began, settling into a more comfortable position. “Today was pretty uneventful, but I did have a funny moment at the gym”.

Jensen leaned in, his interest piqued. “Oh? Do tell”.

You chuckled softly, recalling the moment. “So, I was in the shower after my workout, just minding my own business”, you began, “and I slipped on some soap. Now I’ve got this huge bruise down my rib”.

Jensen’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide with concern. “That’s not fucking funny”, he said, shaking his head. “Are you okay? That sounds really painful”.

You nodded, trying to downplay it. “Yeah, it was more embarrassing than anything. I mean, it hurts, but I’ll be fine. Just a reminder to be more careful”.

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Do you want to see it?”, you asked playfully, teasing a bit to shift his concern to something lighter.

Jensen’s eyes widened further, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re offering to show me your bruise? How could I say no?”, he replied, his tone a mix of amusement and curiosity.

You adjusted your camera and lifted your shirt slightly to reveal the dark bruise on your rib. “See? Not so bad”, you said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though the bruise looked quite painful.

Jensen winced in sympathy. “Ouch. That does look pretty bad”, he said softly. “I hope it heals quickly”.

“It will”, you assured him. “I’ve had worse". But the bruise really was huge, covering nearly your whole ribcage.

“How can someone fall this bad in a stupid shower and end up with such a huge bruise?”, he asked, shaking his head in amazement.

“That’s me for you”, you said with a light-hearted shrug. “I manage to turn the most mundane activities into a catastrophe”.

Jensen smiled, though the worry in his eyes hadn’t completely faded. “You’ve got to be more careful. I don’t want you getting hurt”.

You nodded, appreciating his concern. “I will“.

Jensen’s grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about you lift your shirt a bit more?”, he asked teasingly.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his cheeky request. “Oh, really? Is that how it’s going to be?”, you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Just a little bit”, he said, his tone light and mischievous. “I need to make sure you didn’t hurt anything else”.

You shook your head, but couldn’t help but smile at his playful demeanor. “Alright, but just a bit”, you said.

As you lifted your shirt a little higher, revealing the swell of your breasts, Jensen’s eyes darkened with desire. He noticed you weren’t wearing a bra, and the sight teased him even more. His breath hitched slightly, and he swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure.

“Maybe a bit more”, he mumbled huskily, his voice low and filled with longing.

You could see the effect you had on him, and it sent a thrill through you. You bit your lip, considering his request. “Just a little more?”, you teased, enjoying the way his gaze lingered on you.

“Please”, he whispered, his eyes locked on yours, filled with anticipation.

Slowly, you inched your shirt up a little higher, stopping just before your nipples could show. The tension between you was palpable, the air thick with anticipation.

“A little more”, he urged softly, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

You could feel your pulse quicken at his request, the playful teasing giving way to a more intimate desire. “Just a bit?”, you asked, your own voice barely above a whisper, wanting to prolong the moment.

“Just a bit”, he confirmed, his eyes dark with longing.

With a deep breath, you lifted your shirt just enough to reveal the peaks of your nipples, feeling the thrill of baring yourself to him, even through the screen.

Jensen’s reaction was immediate—his eyes widened, and he let out a low groan of appreciation as his gaze drank in the sight of you. He could feel his dick stiffen in his sweatpants just from the sight of your skin. The intensity of his desire for you was almost overwhelming.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me”, he murmured, his voice rough with need, his eyes never leaving your exposed skin.

You felt a thrill at his words, the power you had over him making you feel bold and desired. “Maybe I do”, you teased, your voice soft and sultry.

Jensen shifted slightly, his arousal evident as he adjusted himself to get more comfortable. “Fuck, you’re perfect”, he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

"I think you need to touch yourself for me”, he added, his tone husky.

Your breath hitched at his words. Slowly, you let your fingers glide up your torso, feeling the heat of your skin as you moved closer to your breasts. Your eyes remained locked on Jensen’s, his gaze dark and hungry.

Gently, you teased the peaks of your nipples, feeling the sensation ripple through you. “Like this?”, you asked softly, your voice trembling with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Jensen groaned, his eyes never leaving your movements. “Yes, just like that”, he murmured.

As he shifted slightly to adjust his erection, his eyes dark and filled with desire, you slowly pulled your shirt back down, a teasing grin spreading across your face.

“Fucking tease”, Jensen muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and amusement.

You chuckled softly, enjoying the power you had over him. “Maybe I am”, you replied, your voice playful. “But I think you like it”.

Jensen’s smile broadened, and he shook his head slightly. “You have no idea”, he said, his voice low and filled with longing. “But now you’ve left me wanting more”.

Jensen continued to stroke his dick, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, a mixture of power and desire coursing through you.

“You think it’s funny to leave me like this?”, Jensen asked, his voice rough with a mixture of amusement and frustration.

You grinned, enjoying the playful tension between you. “Maybe”, you teased, your voice soft and seductive. “But I think you can handle it”.

“Oh, I can handle it”, he said, his eyes dark with promise. “But you’re going to pay for this next time we’re together”.

You yawned tiredly, feeling the exhaustion from the day catching up with you. Despite the playful tension, you couldn’t suppress another yawn. “I’m sure counting on it”, you replied, your voice soft and teasing but laced with fatigue.

Jensen chuckled softly, the sound warm and affectionate. “You look like you need to get some sleep”, he said, his tone gentle. “We can continue this another time”.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his concern. “Yeah, I think I do”, you admitted. “But I’ll be dreaming about what you’re going to do to me”.

Jensen’s eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and desire. “Sweet dreams, then”, he murmured.

You ended the call, feeling a sense of contentment despite the longing. Taking a deep breath, you turned around in bed, your head sinking into the pillow that still carried Jensen’s faint scent.

Meanwhile, on Jensen’s end, he sat back in his chair, the air thick with desire and frustration. His erection throbbed beneath his sweatpants, a reminder of the arousal you had stoked in him. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily as he tried to calm his racing thoughts.

Sleep seemed out of the question now, his mind consumed with images of you, your voice still echoing in his ears. He contemplated calling you back, but he knew it was late and you needed rest. Instead, he leaned back, closing his eyes and letting his hand slip beneath his waistband once more, giving in to the overwhelming need to relieve the tension you had ignited in him.

He closed his eyes, letting his imagination take over. He pictured you lying in bed, your fingers teasing your nipples as you had done during the call, your soft moans filling his ears. The memory of your playful teasing and the sight of your body fueled his arousal, each stroke bringing him closer to the edge.

His hand moved with a deliberate rhythm, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through his body. He imagined the feel of your skin against his, the heat of your body as you pressed against him. His breaths came faster, each one a ragged gasp as he lost himself in the fantasy.

Jensen's mind conjured images of you beneath him, your body arching with need, your lips parting in a breathless moan as he touched you. He could almost feel the softness of your skin, the way you would respond to his every touch, the way your body would tremble as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy.

His strokes became more urgent, his body tensing with the building pleasure. He imagined the moment he would finally be inside you, the heat and tightness enveloping him as he thrust deeper, your moans growing louder with each movement. The thought of your pleasure, the look of ecstasy on your face, pushed him closer to his release.

With a final, shuddering breath, Jensen's body tensed, and he let out a low groan as he climaxed, the pleasure washing over him in waves. His hand moved slowly, milking every last drop of pleasure as he rode out his orgasm. The tension that had gripped him finally began to ease, leaving him breathless and spent.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 12

Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen x y/n #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles the boys #spn #supernatural #his true fate

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karinasbaby · 1 year ago

Text

sim jaeyun ❀ ── gold dust & honey.

☼ pairing. fairy!fem!reader x sandman!jake

ִ° ⋆ warnings. lots of supernatural stuff ! fluff !! like a lot of it !!!!!!, both reader & jake are very very tiny like very ᵗⁱⁿʸ, lots of petnames, one swear word (sorry), kissing, heeseung and the rest of 02z + pocketz make an appearance !, Jake & yn are very in love and it’s really cute <3

⊹.˚ word count. 5.6k <3

˖ ࣪ . synopsis. in a world filled with hidden supernatural creatures, fairies, dwarves, sandmen, goblins and several others, how does fate bring you and jaeyun together?

⟆ a,note. this is me making up for brighter days inc, this was written spontaneously and in a very short amount of time, enjoy ! <3 quick p.s !! I’m not that familiar with fairy or sandman concepts so this was my own idea of them or atleast this is how I think of them in this story, so i apologise if this doesn’t align with the regular / original belief of how sandmans & fairies are !! pls enjoy :D ♡

♡ — quick note ! this isn’t related to brighter days inc in any way i just wanted to post lighthearted fluff after the heavy angst in brighter days inc to make up for it <3

The echoing tick of the clock resonated in the walls that encapsulated the bedroom, you peeked your head through the lock to peer your eyes over the familiar carpet and the bed, seeking for the sight of your beloved human before returning inside of the closet after making sure none of your gold dust fell onto the floor.

You huffed when the only light given around the dark clothing items was the golden glow from your wings and body, irritation building up inside of your tiny being when the ticking gradually increased in volume with no signs of your human returning.

Surrendering after many hours by plopping down on the wooden floor of the wardrobe, paying no mind to the soft thud that rang through the room or the glitter landing besides you, you sat on the hardened surface, the slow vine of disappointment growing inside of you as you thought that your human was probably caught up in another extra class today.

And the second you closed your eyes, your fay ears caught on the familiar sound of a woman— “heeseung, why are you so late today?” Heeseung’s mom questioned him, the only response tumbling past heeseung’s mouth was an exhausted groan as his muffled voice claimed that miss Kim was questioning his questionable answers on his most recent quiz, you only assumed that he was rubbing his hands all over his face when he answered, a regular habit of his when he’s very tired.

The sound of the doorknob being twisted made your wings flutter before you could even sit up, instantly you were peeking your head through the small lock again and allowing the relief of seeing heeseung’s figure wash down on you, quickly checking if his mother’s figure also walked into the room before finally flying out of the keyhole when you couldn’t spot her and only heard her footsteps gradually fading away.

Heeseung was able to notice your gold dust before he was able to find your small body flying towards him, eyes traced on the glowing dust that decorated his carpet, leading his vision to the door of his closet where you were flying from, the second he was able to make out your glowing body in the dim light of his room he instantly opened his hands for your safe arrival in his hold.

“You’re not being that discreet with your hiding anymore, you know?” He chuckled when you landed in his soft palms, in the blink of an eye you climbed his arm to nuzzle closer into his neck while he gently caressed your back with his index finger, “I missed you!” You beamed around his skin, making his smile widen when he noticed your dust twinkling all over his clothes.

“I missed you too.” He whispered for you, his soft words fanning against your skin when you pulled away to gaze into his doe eyes, exhaustion and fatigue evident all over his gaze as he looked at you with his droopy eyelids. “Rough day?” You asked gently, your fluttering wings aiding you in separating from his fingers and moving towards his fluffy hair, where your tiny hands began to work through his locks and massaged his scalp gently.

Heeseung sighed at your touch, closing his eyes instinctively and almost loosing his footing when his knees almost buckled at the instant relaxation your magical touch granted him, he slowly nodded at your words careful to not move you around while you caressed his skin, “how about taking a nap?” You spoke, moving your body closer to his ear so he would be able to hear you better.

Heeseung sighed before placing his hand on the side of his head, palm facing above and inviting you to jump in and when you did he brought you to his eye level, where you could easily see all the twinkling stars in his gaze, “I think that would be a great idea.” He whispered, awestruck by your mere existence as it has always fascinated him.

He couldn’t believe his luck when you spotted you surrounded by a glowing cocoon of leafs, his eyes widening in disbelief while his feet stopped in his tracks when he realised the oddly glowing ball of leaf began to open up, his head spinning as he questioned reality when a sleepy and fragile you emerged from the small cocoon, a few lavender and rose coloured flower petals wrapped around your tiny body while your wings gently opened up, allowing countless glowing particles to fall beneath you.

His bewilderment increased rapidly when his gaze found yours, an instant invisible string extending from your chest to his pulled him closer to you, neither of you could explain what the sudden push or force was on that fated day, but you both knew that your meeting was written in both of your destinies.

And heeseung couldn’t have been more thankful for stepping out of class late that day and walking past the garden to spot you, as you had been the only person he completely trusted in his life. You were always there to help him to the best of your ability during his difficult days, whether it was by making a stupid human joke or just by decorating his studying table with your glowing dust— your presence significantly changed heeseung’s life in the best way possible.

He couldn’t imagine his life without all the gold dust now.

His gratefulness for the heavens above intensified when you eagerly nodded at his words before flying away from his palm, moving towards his bedside table like you had always done when it was time for him to surrender to slumber that always welcomed him with a warm embrace whenever you were around him.

He motioned for you to close your eyes as his hands reached for his discarded clothes on the bed, smiling endearingly when your face reddened while you covered your face with your hands, only opening them when heeseung plopped down on his bed, the air from his sudden jump fluttering your wings and petals making you glare at him to which he only laughed at.

“You’re so adorable.” He chuckled, his smile deepening as his eyes turned into lovely crescents when your blush deepened, “you should leave for now.” Heeseung spoke, his drowsiness heavy in his tone while his eyelids took longer to open up the more he blinked, “why?” You questioned, eyebrows furrowing as your heart thrummed in your chest, you knew exactly why he was asking you to leave.

“He’ll be here soon, so you have to go.” He nuzzled closer into his pillow, lips pouting against the soft pillowcase as he fought the urge to keep his eyes open longer, “but seungie..” you looked down disappointedly, fiddling with your fingers at the thought of not being able to see your love today, “no buts, sunshine. You have to go.” He replied, finality laced around his slurred words while his eyebrows twitched slightly, indicating his brewing frustration at the thought of you staying here when he was here too.

You knew about heeseung’s protectiveness over you, he preferred for you to only stay in his room, nervous about the reaction of other people to your existence especially when he didn’t know what they would be capable of, heeseung wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if anything was to ever happen to you, especially not when he would be the reason behind it.

So isolating you for the time being from the outside world was the best idea his stressed and anxious mind could come up with, his relief of knowing that your own fairy friends visited you sometimes gave him some sort of peace of mind and whenever the guilt became too much for his weak heart he would accompany you to trips into his garden where he would get mesmerised by your glowing figure passing by him in a blur, your excitement very clearly evident when your golden dust would turn a pretty, sparkling white.

He opened his blurry eyes to the sight of your head that lowered, his heart leaping to his throat when you looked up at him with your eyes begging him to allow you to stay, heeseung quickly shook his head in refusal, you had to understand that he couldn’t allow you to face any possible harm in any way, “no, sunshine. My words are final.” He finished before closing his eyes once again, a hidden smile etching its way onto his face when you huffed adorably and flew away, the only remaining bit of your presence being the gold dust that had a soft tint of crimson in it, expressing your frustration and anger before you sneaked inside of the lock in his drawer.

You decided to sit against the tiny mint box in the corner of the wooden drawer, a bunch of rings and discarded book covers tumbled and brushed against your legs on your way before you sighed in exasperation and laid back on the surface of the box.

How am I supposed to see him now? You wondered, your mood souring further at the realisation that he won’t even know that you’re in here, more used to visiting you next to the window or the wardrobe rather than heeseung’s bedside table. Your only hope suddenly becoming your gold dust that will catch his attention and guide him to the drawer.

You turned to your side, waves of disappointment and sadness crashing down your fairy body making your wings sink further and dim their light against the box, the glow in the drawer decreasing gradually which led you to close your eyes, wonders and thoughts of your love slowly dissipating from your mind..

And before you could get fully indulged in the quietness that filled the drawer along with your sadness, you heard the familiar distant rumble of thunder, a gentle whoosh of wind followed the sound indicating the arrival of the sandman.

Your body shot upwards from the box, sitting up against the object and not moving an inch further, anxious about heeseung spotting you the second you step out.

The wind increased gradually, a soft breeze neither warm or cold— one that felt like an inviting embrace of slumber, of deep deep rest that called to your mind tenderly.

That’s just how gentle he was. His whole presence was a mirror of his heart.

You heard the quiet twinkle that reached your ears easily, his pleasant voice wishing heeseung a peaceful sleep and sweet dreams. You wished and prayed in your heart that his eyes will search for you once heeseung’s closed completely, hoping that he will be able to spot the shimmering dust and locate the drawer.

Closing your eyes with silent pleas to the heavens above, prayers continuing to float up into the sky and pausing when you heard the faint stumbling of foot steps next to you.

Your eyelids shot open before your head turned, welcoming the sight of jaeyun sneaking quietly into the drawer from the keyhole, clad in his regular sandman outfit that consisted of a white button up and white pants, symbolizing an angel in your eyes rather than a sandman.

His fluffy hat and jacket got caught up in a rough piece of wood springing up from the floor of the drawer, slightly ripping through the fabric but jaeyun paid no mind to the ruined material, his features brightening when his eyes spotted you, “my love!” His voice beamed at you.

“My dea—“ you weren’t even given the chance to finish his nickname before he swooped you into his arms, warm embrace overflowing and buzzing with excitement whilst relief and joy rushed through your body at the contact.

“I missed you so much.” He whispered into your hair, arms wrapped around your waist with his fingers patting gently against your skin as if he was making sure that you really were in his hold, he rested his head against yours when you inhaled his comforting scent of rain and faint touches of citrus, nuzzling your nose to his neck the further he snuggled into you.

One of his hands then trailed upwards, gently resting below your jaw as he lifted your face to gaze into your eyes that always seemed to spill with the utmost amount of love and adoration for him, thankfully his eyes mirrored your own completely.

“I missed you too.” You replied quietly, suddenly shy in his hold as you two haven’t been able to float around each other’s companies for some time now, his smile widened at your avoidant eyes, nose scrunching before he allowed a soft laugh to tumble past his plump lips.

His hand trailed down from your jaw to your neck, index and middle fingers grazing your collarbones making you push yourself further against him as you sighed at his sweet touch, the one you missed the most that never failed to leave a trickling trail of fire behind it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you again, my precious.” He leaned forward to whisper against your lips, both of your eyes instinctively closing at the close proximity allowing your senses to heighten and to bask in each other’s presence, “it’s only been four days, love.” You whispered back, lips slightly brushing against each other making your heart thunder in your chest.

“That’s too long, way too long darling.” His hand then moved to rest on the back of your neck while the other dropped to grip onto your hip, pulling your body flush against his and finally connecting your lips.

Quiet gasps fell apart from your mouths and remained silent, the contact sent sparks flying around your nerves as if it was the first time you kissed your love, heart hammering against your ribcage in sync with his own like your hearts were confirming each other’s existence, your hand lowered to interlace with his own around your hip while he tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss.

His tongue teased your bottom lip making you smile against his mouth to which he found torturously endearing, he breathed you in like you were the last air on earth, the only oxygen his lungs desperately searched for while you melted in his embrace further and further, drowning in his presence that allowed you to sink deeper into the undying devotion you carried for him.

And just like that, it was only you two in the world, the tight space of the drawer long forgotten, so was heeseung’s peacefully sleeping body and so was the loud rustling of leaves against the window due to the storm that raged outside seemingly replicating the emotions in your chest.

You pulled away once the burning sensation of your lungs made your head become light, dizziness from both the lack of breath and from jaeyun’s lips searching for yours, head unconsciously leaning and following your movements with his eyes still closed, chasing after your touch when you only chuckled at his needy expression.

Quickly leaning back to peck his lips when you could no longer resist his pouty and slightly swollen lips, you pulled back just in time to see his eyes opening up, the view of his deep brown orbs that contained lifetimes of emotions swirling beautifully in them. Admiration, need, desire, care and tender feelings all decorated his pools like minute specks of stars in the vast wide sky.

Yet the one that stood out the most was his love that dripped like honey from his eyes.

“Can you stay tonight?” You asked in a hushed tone, somewhat expecting disappointment to follow your question yet that annoying cloud of dissatisfaction quickly dispersed when jaeyun smiled widely, “only if you make me tea.” He snickered, eyebrows raising expectantly at your response.

“Your favourite honey tea?” Smiling at the way he nodded his head in an adorable manner when you mentioned his most beloved beverage that he claimed only you knew how to create, stating that it was the special flavour of your gold test that sweetened the tea further than any sugar or honey could.

Before any other word could be exchanged between the two of you, your interlocked hand pulled him with you towards the keyhole of the drawer where the two of you sneaked out this time, careful and quiet to not make any sort of loud noise that could possibly disturb heeseung in his sleep, your wings quickly aided you in floating in front of the drawer as you waited for jaeyun to follow after you.

And when your dear lover popped his head outside of the keyhole with his doe eyes searching for you, the thunder rumbled outside again causing your beloved human to shift in his sleep, the sudden movement of his body caused jaeyun to quickly push himself back inside of the keyhole (bumping his head on the way as well to which you stifled a laugh at when he whined at the pain) while you quickly fled under the drawer in attempt to hide yourself.

Once heeseung’s movements ceased, indicating the safety of the area for you and Jaeyun to move, you hastily soared towards the keyhole and knocked on the piece to gather jaeyun’s attention, he peeked his glossy eyes out first before swiftly pulling out of the keyhole, fine glittery dust that shined in the colour of baby blue fell past his feet and landed against the carpet next to your own golden dust.

You reached your hand towards him once more when small fluffy clouds began to appear around his feet to balance him, your fingers laced once more while your wings fluttered and you both took off towards the window.

The moonlight illuminated your way, guiding the two of you to the small opening of the window to the outside world, your feet finally rested against the window sill where heeseung kept a few of his colorful plants knowing how much you adored flowers, thinking that this would be easier access for you than the garden whenever you felt like sleeping atop a flower petal.

Besides the few plant pots was where a small leaf and wooden table located, two small wooden chairs that were woven with vines and decorated with flowers were placed next to the table, the little glimmering dragon flies rested against the wood next to the tables providing both of you a cozy atmosphere even with the rain pouring a few feet away from you.

“Take a seat, I’ll be right back jaeyunie.” You spoke before separating your hand from his and smiling at the pout that almost instantly appeared on his face at the loss of contact, he looked up at your nodding and smiling face that reassured him which was enough to have him walk towards the chairs and patiently wait for your return with his eyes just trailing behind you and your golden glitter.

You noiselessly moved back inside heeseung’s room from the window, carefully flying towards the drawer and sneaking through the keyhole to find all of your discarded honey and herbs, collecting all the needed items for jaeyun’s tea to your best ability in your arms before peeking outside of the keyhole and soaring outside of the small window opening.

Jaeyun’s face visibly brightened when he spotted your glow returning from the glass window, a familiar ease settling into his bones at the sight of you carefully maneuvering around the plants and smaller tables that were placed on the window sill.

Some of them contained small versions of the larger flower pots with miniature sprouts peeking from around the dirt, while others contained small vases and tubes that were filled with colourful liquids to which Jaeyun assumed were your experimental spells and potions.

You moved towards one of the smaller tables, hands reaching towards a little dark oak box that had carvings and engravings of you and your fairies initials, opening the small piece of wood to allow the sight of the small cups and glasses to enter yours and jaeyun’s vision, glass cups that carried drawings and paintings of your boredom and random sparks of creativity that jaeyun absolutely adored with his whole being.

“I want that one!” He pointed towards the cup in your right hand that was decorated with countless pink and red miniature hearts, one that you painted when you had missed jaeyun heavily during the days when he was too busy to appear in heeseung’s room, coincidentally it also became jaeyun’s favourite cup to drink from without even knowing the story behind it.

Easily feeding further into your destiny and fated thoughts that tied you both to eachother.

“Okay, my love.” You chuckled at his excited tone before placing the two cups on the table and closing the box, unaware of the dopey and stupidly loving smile that painted jaeyun’s face behind you.

The second you started to prepare your tea by boiling the water on a small fire you started with the aid of the fire flies around you two, jaeyun got lost deep in thought, tangled between multiple memories of the two of you.

And his mind pushed him further back into his memory lane, where he was able to remember your first encounter with him that was engraved on the back of his eyelids now with how repetitively it played in front of his eyes.

The sun had just sank behind the horizon and Jaeyun had arrived in heeseung’s room, a new friend that he met a few weeks ago when the sandmen’s assigned rooms and friends were changed, he respected heeseung deeply and was able to tell that he was in the process of formulating a precious friendship that will for sure last a lifetime.

His clouds thickened around the soles of his feet and knees to balance himself above heeseung’s figure beneath him, hand sneaking into his small pouch that was wrapped around his waist, the navy blue fabric that was decorated with smaller yellow stars that were drawn very carefully by his best friend sunghoon, carried small golden particles that encapsulated his dust that he had spent day and night perfecting.

One that heeseung instantly fell in love with as he was able to instantly drift away into slumber the second jaeyun’s soft and gentle fingers poured the dust atop his eyelids, allowing him to experience the sweetest and deepest dreams in his life.

On that memorable day, jaeyun settled back on the bedside table to ensure heeseung’s sleep was successful by following his breathing pattern, one that he luckily memorised on his first day that he got confined between heeseung’s walls that held his captivating drawings and paintings about supernatural beings, once jaeyun’s eyes moved away from heeseung’s chest and onto his drawings, a glittery drawing that seemed to appear as a fairy caught his attention and—

Wait was it glowing?

Jaeyun could recognise the familiar golden glow of fairies from miles away, the warm light that he grew to find an immense amount of comfort and safety in, the sight easily made him get atop his clouds again and drift towards the painting.

Brushing his hand against heeseung’s own brush strokes made an exciting tingly sensation cascade down his spine, jaeyun’s mind rushed at the gentle and feather like flecks that now shined on the tips of his fingers.

And before Jaeyun could take in the painting more and focus on its details, he saw a large and questionable amount of floating gold dust in his peripheral vision, jaeyun was also able to tell that the dust was oddly enough getting bigger, almost as if it was coming closer before— oof!

A sudden quiet crash sounded in heeseung’s room, a blurry collision between two barely visible bodies resulted in a hushed thud on heeseung’s carpet that now carried both the sandman and the fairy, along with the sparkles and dispersed clouds surrounding them in a circle.

Surprisingly, the glitter easily got tousled with the remaining bits of clouds.

“Ouch!” The two creatures yelped in unison when they landed against the floor, one massaged his bottom while the other rubbed her head to console the throbbing ache that began to slowly diffuse.

Before you could lift your head up from the floor that appeared fuzzy in your vision now, jaeyun quickly got up on his own feet, the clouds beneath his figure swiftly dissolving at the sudden spike in his emotions, he anxiously cleared his throat in an attempt to gather enough courage before extending a hand to your figure that still sat on the ground.

And when you lifted your head to meet his own eyes, you felt the rotation in heeseung’s room slow. Out of nowhere the wind that whispered against the windows sounded muffled, heeseung’s shuffling in his bed went unnoticed when your eyes were locked on jaeyun, where thousands of thoughts swirled and swam around his iris, but both of your hearts slowed when the two of you saw way further than anyone else.

A clear pathway to each other’s souls.

“Are you okay?” He asked breathlessly, still under the trance of your presence that seemed to bewitch him entirely, “yeah…” responding with your voice distant, miles further away in a tornado of feelings before jaeyun shook his hand in front of you again which easily pulled you out of the hypnotic state he seemed to have on you.

The second your fingers interlaced his own, a sudden rush of electricity blasted against your nerves, sparks of excitement with bright glows that challenged your golden dust clouded your locked hands, you were able to feel all of these signs of the universe that stated your meeting with your soulmate, you were sure jaeyun felt it too.

The charming smile that spread across his face while his eyes poured love and adoration confirmed all of your thoughts.

God you two were so in love from the first second.

The quiet thud of the cup of tea in front of jaeyun popped his little daydream bubble and brought him back to reality, he smiled when he saw you taking your seat in front of him with your own cup filled with the hot beverage while you looked at him with your eyes mirroring his own fond ones.

Jaeyun was convinced that you had other kinds of superpowers besides being a fairy, one that had to involve enchanting him entirely and wrapping him tightly around your pinky finger, one that had to explain the reason why he could feel lightness spreading in his chest, extending along his body till the tips of his toes and his fingers.

“Is it good?” You questioned after having your own sip of your tea, expectancy laced your tone as if Jaeyun wasn’t going to have thee most delicious beverage to ever coat his tongue in a few seconds, god you didn’t even know how perfect you were.

He nodded to your own words without even paying any mind to the fact that he hadn’t even tasted the tea, making your eyebrows furrow but before you could say anything else, he spoke. “Did you know that sandmen exist because of fairies?” You hummed in confusion to his words to which he smiled at.

“The first sandman… was deeply in love with a fairy.” He began, his voice distant as if he was reminiscing the memory of his first love himself, the sight of him getting lost in his own thoughts at the idea of his own words were enough to have you blushing, cheeks tinted even with the cold air of the rain around you both.

“One night, his fairy had fallen asleep before him.” He swirled the hot liquid in his cup, “so he stared at her twitching wings that dripped with her dust as she dreamt.” You nodded along to his words, immersing yourself in the story as much as your lover has, especially since it seemed like a reflection of the two of you.

“What happened then?” You piqued making jaeyun hum before breathing in softly to continue, his eyes remained stuck on the moving tea that shined with your golden dust beneath the fireflies, “he decided to try something to hopefully put himself to sleep.” One of his hands snaked on the table to toy with your fingers before interlacing your pinky fingers.

“He picked up some of the magical dust from the bedsheets, they glowed a soft blue indicating that his fairy was in a deep sleep.” His voice picked up in pitch as he neared the point of his story, the smile that never faltered from his face stretched further while his fingers now grew restless against yours as you nodded along to urge him to finish.

“And he placed it on his eyelids.” He chuckled, the story now sounding adorably funny as it tumbled past his lips, the old story of how his own creation came to life seemed laugh worthy for him now, as the love in the story strangely resembled the one he held in his heart for you now.

You chuckled at the story, lowering your eyes shyly at the loving ending that also reminded you of your lover who sat in front of you, seemingly too busy interlocking his hand with yours atop the wooden table.

“Strange story of your beginning.” You spoke, eyes now trailing to the gold that continuously twisted in circular motions in the cup, “very. and it’s all thanks to you. ” He replied, his other hand reaching to grasp onto the cup and bring the rim between his plump lips.

“Seems like our kind have always been destined to one another.” He voiced out all the thoughts and theories that spiralled in your brain, confirming all of your suspicions and squishing all of your surprise at his words in a soft gasp that went past your throat, “yeah, always.” You spoke as he began to gulp down the tea.

It was moments like these that you appreciated your late arrival to heeseung’s room which allowed you to bump into the sandman that your whole life revolved around now. Moments where his chestnut hair glowed a breathtaking gold shade that made him appear more magical, where his eyes took the appearance of melted chocolate with stars swirling in them and when his mere smile was able to knock the breath out of your lungs.

“I love you.” You confessed, surprised by your sudden words but not regretting them, not after jaeyun’s beautiful eyes grew in size and his ears reddened. “I love you too, my precious.” He spoke.

And before the two of you could fully immerse yourself in each other’s company, get lost with the smell of rain surrounding the two of your bodies while the fireflies provided you warmth— a little spark appeared next to the window.

Where a small, shining yellow portal opened up to garner both you and jaeyun’s attention when your heads snapped towards the portal that revealed your friend’s exasperated expression, “we’ve been waiting for you two love birds to finish your stupidly cute date for the past hou—“ sunoo got cut off by a hand that quickly wrapped around his mouth before it pulled him slightly back inside of the portal, “take your time, don’t worry about him!” Jungwon popped up behind him to assure you to continue your ‘date’.

Their wings fluttered against one another, while sunoo’s was surrounded with a red glow, jungwon’s had bright pink falling off his wings, an indication of how flustered and embarrassed he was to interrupt your intimate moment with jaeyun, to which the two of you bursted laughing at.

And at the sound of your laughter, both sunoo and jungwon’s dust turned a hot pink colour.

Yet before the two of you could even respond to the fairies that stood stiffly with one leg inside of the portal to fairy land while the other was on the window sill’s surface, jaeyun’s fingers that interlaced yours got yanked out of your hold.

Your head swiftly turned to the sight of jaeyun’s bestfriends pulling his arms and body away from the table, with countless yells and protests being exchanged between the trio while you, sunoo and jungwon only watched in surprise.

“You said you’d be gone for only fifteen minutes you asshole!” Jay yelled, his grip on jaeyun’s arm tightening more as he dragged him towards their own blue portal while Jaeyun fought his hardest to break free from their grip, “it’s been an hour! Do you know how many people we put to sleep instead of you?!” Sunghoon added more fire into the fuel, “you both are acting like I’ve never covered for you!” Jaeyun yelled back.

“I think it’s better that we leave now.” Sunoo suddenly whispered into your ear while jungwon only nodded to his words on the other side of your ear, you shook your head before getting up from your own seat just in time to hear jaeyun’s “I’ll be back soon, baby!” And with that final yell, the blue portal that belonged to the sandmen closed with the final tufts of clouds dispersing behind it.

“You two get going, I’ll follow you.” The pair of fairies nodded before disappearing on the other side of the portal, you hastily moved to place the two empty cups besides the wooden box, walking to the window and fluttering your glowing wings to fly towards heeseung’s sleeping figure, your heart wouldn’t be able to rest well if you were to leave without checking up on heeseung.

“I’ll be back soon.” You whispered before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, careful of not allowing any of your golden dust to land on his face before fleeting back outside the window and disappearing to the other side of the portal that closed up instantly.

Completely missing the quiet tsk that tumbled past heeseung’s smiling lips, you really weren’t discreet with your hiding anymore.

And jaeyun should also change his magical dust formula because this one clearly sucked.

♡ — a,note 2 ! i hope u enjoyed this :D arguably i think this is my most ‘fluffy’ work and i adore it a lot anywho i hope u liked it !! feedback is greatly appreciated :D have a wonderful day / night !! ♡

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