#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO COME AFTER OUT OF THE WOODS BUT I MESSED UP N POSTED IT EARLY WAHHHH

[wovenst4rs]

Diary

Xia Yi Zhou/Caleb × reader

Wordcount: 1k

Caleb had never hidden much from you. Whatever you wanted to know, he would happily share with you, no matter how secretive he was supposed to be about it. All it always took was you looking up at him with that pleading expression that always made his blood rush and the words would come out of his mouth before he even remembered to keep it shut. Most of the time, you didn’t even need to ask; Caleb simply chose to just tell you by himself. Finding that getting to think of his words and calming down his racing heart before telling you on his own terms was easier than making a mess of himself in front of you. 

Which is probably why the first time you walked in his room -well  his new room since you stole his- and noticed him slamming a small notebook in his jacket’s pocket, smiling as he stood up from his chair desk, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. It didn’t help that when you asked him what was in that book? He simply shrugged the question off. Opting to cage you next to the door with his arms instead.

-”It’s just some personal project,” Caleb had explained, gently guiding you out of his room with a hand on the small on your back.

You pursed your lips; his answer leaving an uncomfortable taste in your mouth, even as he walked you down to the kitchen. Technically, you had no reason to believe he was lying. After all, he was still your Caleb. He may have changed slightly, but he wouldn’t lie to you. Not your honest Caleb…

It took you less than thirty minutes to decide to sneak into his room that night. You reasoned that if he could fake his death and make you grieve him for a year, then he technically asked for you to snoop into his thing. If he didn’t want you to, then he should’ve locked his door at night like every reasonable person- or not fake his death- but that was just unreasonable thinking it seemed.

So as you pushed the door of his room open, the knob cold against your hand, you left behind any lingering hesitation; the curiosity pulling you closer into the empty room. You let out a shaky breath, thankful that Caleb fell asleep on the couch as soon as the movie you convinced him to watch started. 

Things may have changed, but even after years, you two still couldn’t do movie night without him passing out halfway through the movie. You would often tease him about it as teens. Especially the way he would cling to you in his sleep; his body looking for yours even when unconscious. 

You let out a satisfied hum as you turned on the lights; the jacket he wore earlier sitting on the back of his chair, inviting you in. Taking a few quiet steps, you reached for the pockets of the jacket and bit your cheeks as you felt the leathery outside of the notebook under your fingers. The corners of the pages, yellowed from time, were practically asking you to open them and read through every line tattooed on them by Caleb’s favorite pen.

You leaned back against his bed, the wood cracking softly under your weight as you opened the book. The first page was mostly empty, only a few lines written at the top.

September 3rd 2040

-”Y/N hasn’t stopped coughing since this morning. Am worried about her. Gran keeps repeating that it’s normal and that antibiotics should start helping soon but don’t know what to think anymore. I bought her her favorite snacks and she immediately threw them up. I’ll update later.”

You paused as your eyes lingered on the date, realization flooding in. This was Caleb’s diary. You froze, questioning if you should even be reading this. It was Caleb’s diary, you couldn’t just read his most inner thoughts without him knowing.

But… The temptation to read about the last year was strong. Unbelievably so. To learn about what happened while you were missing from his life. Anything to explain his sudden demeanor change.

So you turned the pages. Skipping a chunk of them until you neared the end. Your stomach deeping as your eyes ran over the words you longed to discover. Page after page, warmth coiled around your spine. Your name appearing once, twice, then thrice, blood rushing down your body. 

That big sentimental idiot hadn’t let a single page remain empty without your name staining the page. It was almost sweet.

Almost,

because the rest of his words were anything but sweet. The thoughts he had always tried to hide about you laid bare on the paper. Each sheet describing a new way he wanted you undone in front of him. How he had fought his feelings for years, fearing you only saw him as a brother figure. How he had tried convincing himself that it was enough. That as long as you were near him and safe, that he could smother the flames spreading through his heart at the thought of you with anyone else.

But he couldn’t. And God knows he tried. But you had never made it easy for him. You always seemed to know which button to push to get his body to overheat. Your smiles made him ache for more. Your tears left his mind blank, except for the thought of kissing them off your cheek. The world forgotten as he swallowed your pain.

He wanted you so much that sometimes he wished he could resent you for it. Resent you for the way his body reacted every time your shirt rid up ever so slightly as you reached for a book in his bookshelf. His body and mind fighting each other at every echo of her voice; wanting nothing more than to hear you cry and choke his name.

Guilt had become an afterthought for him, even as he faked his sleep simply to have an excuse to pull you closer to his body during movie nights; your smell sticking to his clothes in a way that made his head spin. 

Your eyes widened as you read the last page again. If he faked being asleep then-

You gasp as you hear a sound at the door, wiping your head back to see Caleb silently observing you. His eyes bore into yours; the small sigh escaping his lips made you shiver unconsciously.

-”Took you long enough”.

This was supposed to be a drabble but this ended up being longer than expected 🫠

Tbh idk if I should continue this. Writer block has really been hitting hard but Thank God after months I think am finally getting motivation 🙌

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*English is not my first language so this work may contain a few mistakes*

[crsssie]

hi, i saw the 1989 tv event that you were doing and i was wondering if you could do the song slut! with tim drake? i was thinking maybe something to do with the lyrics "in a world of boys, hes a gentleman" but its completely up to you on what you wanna write :D

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman - tim drake x reader

Tim shows up at your door with flowers the first time. You take them from him, but you don't let him in. That's fine for him

Tim shows up at your door with your morning cup of coffee and your favorite pastry the second time. You take it from him with a thank you, but you still don't let him in. He's happy you thanked him. (he smiled the whole drive to work)

Tim shows up at your door with a carton of ice cream the third time. You let him in, shoveling the ice cream into your mouth as you cry over a show. He sits away from you, staring at you the whole time, chest warm.

Tim shows up to your door with the groceries you ordered the fourth time. You let him in, letting him organize your fridge as you continue your business call. He asks if you want dinner when you finish.

Tim shows up to your door with the necklace you left when you moved out the fifth time. You let him in, only half-dressed for your date, asking if you should wear heels. He tells you you look good in everything and you roll your eyes.

You show up to Tim's door once. He lets you in as you shove the bouquet into his arms, a smile on your face. "You're forgiven."

1989 event

[skywalkerslvt]

Pierced-Ellie Williams x AFAB!Reader

❥Pairing: loser!Ellie Williams x AFAB!Reader

❥Summary: After playing two truths and a lie with your best friend ellie, you reveal you have secret piercings. things ensue...

❥CW: smut, nipple play, reader has nipple piercings, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), tribbing, ellie is a bit of a nervous loser in the beginning, top ellie, reader is sorta a power bottom, 4.2k words

❥a/n: This was supposed to be a really short fic but i went crazy (horny) and wrote all of this lmfao. hope u enjoy! <3 pics are from pinterest

The basement was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a flickering lamp in the corner and the soft glow of the streetlights seeping through a small, grime-covered window. You could hear the muffled hum of the world outside, distant enough to feel like you were the only two people left in the world. The scent of old wood and dust filled the air, mixing with the sharp tang of alcohol from the half-empty bottle of whiskey resting between you and Ellie.

Ellie was leaning back against the basement couch, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy from the booze. You both were sprawled out on the floor, legs tangled as you reached for the bottle once again. Laughter bounced off the walls as Ellie threw her hands up in defeat.

“You're really bad at this game,” you teased, shifting a little closer to her. “But hey, maybe you'll catch me in a lie this time.”

Ellie cleared her throat, her nervous energy spilling over as she sat up straighter. “Oh, yeah, for sure. I got you this time,” she mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck like she always did when she was flustered.

You smirked, knowing exactly how to make her squirm. “Alright, here goes. I've broken my arm twice, I can speak a bit of French, and… two years ago, I got nipple piercings that no one knows about.”

Ellie's face went bright red, her hand freezing halfway to the bottle. She blinked at you, then laughed nervously. “Wait, what?”

You leaned in slightly, watching her face closely as you spoke. “You heard me. Nipple piercings. Two years ago.” You let the words hang there, watching as Ellie shifted awkwardly, her gaze quickly darting to your chest before settling on your eyes.

“Th-that's gotta be the lie,” Ellie stammered, clearly flustered as she fidgeted with the label on the whiskey bottle. “Right? I mean, I…you wouldn't…would you?”

You gave her a sly smile, brushing your leg against hers just enough to get her attention. "Guess you'll have to figure that out, huh?"

Ellie swallowed hard, her cheeks burning as she tried to come up with something witty in response, but all she managed was an awkward laugh. "I mean... y-you're messing with me, right?"

You leaned back, letting your gaze linger on her for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe I am," you said with a shrug. "Or maybe you just don't know me as well as you think you do."

Ellie looked like she was about to implode, her mind racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out if you were hitting on her or just playing the game. You could see it written all over her face—the nervousness, the uncertainty—and it only made you grin wider. She had no idea how into her you really were, and it was almost too fun watching her try to piece it together.

Ellie shifted nervously, clearly out of her element as her eyes flicked between you and the bottle, as if it might give her some kind of answer.

“Is that your final guess?” you asked, leaning in, your voice teasing as you watched her squirm.

Ellie swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “Yeah… yeah, that’s my final guess. The piercings, they’ve got to be the lie,” she said, but there was hesitation in her voice, like she wasn’t quite convinced.

You smirked, biting back a laugh. “Wrong.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide, her face an even deeper shade of red. “What? No way. You’re messing with me.”

“Nope.” You shrugged, acting casual as you leaned back. “That was a truth.”

Ellie blinked, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “There’s no way. You’re just messing with me to screw me up. I don’t believe you.”

You leaned in, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “You wanna check for yourself?”

Ellie’s eyes went impossibly wider, her throat bobbing as she swallowed nervously. “I—I… uh, what?” Her voice cracked, and she quickly looked away, fidgeting with the bottle in her lap like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

You couldn’t help but laugh, watching her completely unravel. “Relax, I’m kidding,” you teased, though the glint in your eye said otherwise. “Unless… you really want to know.”

Ellie’s whole face burned, and you could practically hear her heartbeat from where you sat. She stammered, her words falling over themselves. “I—no, I mean—wait, are you actually…”

You bit your lip, amused by how lost she was. “Nah, I’ll just show you. Wouldn’t want you losing sleep over it.”

Before Ellie could stammer out another response, your shirt was over your head and thrown across the room. Her eyes were glued to your chest as you reached back to unclasp your lacy red bra.

Ellie's breath hitched as your bra fell to the floor, revealing the small silver barbells glinting under the flickering light. For a second, she just stared, her mouth slightly open, completely frozen in place. You could see her trying to form words, but nothing came out.

"Believe me now?" you asked, voice teasing as you leaned in, your chest close enough to brush against her arm.

Ellie blinked rapidly, her face bright red, looking like she might pass out from sheer embarrassment. "Holy shit," she muttered under her breath, finally managing to say something, though it sounded more like a dazed confession than an actual response.

You chuckled softly, leaning back just enough to give her some space but still close enough to keep her flustered. "Told you it was the truth."

Ellie's gaze flickered up to meet yours, her expression somewhere between awe and disbelief. "I—I mean... yeah, l believe you now." She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, her usual nervous tic in full force as she fumbled to find the right words. "I just didn't expect you to actually... show me."

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on her. "Well, I'm not one to back down from a challenge," you said lightly, your voice still laced with that teasing edge.

Ellie let out a nervous laugh, her eyes darting away from you as she tried to regain some composure. "Yeah, uh... challenge. Right." She was flustered beyond belief, and it was almost too cute how lost she looked.

Ellie's eyes were still glued to your chest, her breath shallow and uneven. You could feel the tension between you both, thick and electric in the dimly lit basement. The way she looked at you, completely entranced, sent a thrill through you.

"You can touch them if you want," you said softly, the invitation hanging in the air between you.

Ellie's head jerked up, her eyes wide and unsure. "I-uh, what?" She stammered, clearly caught off guard by your offer.

You smirked, brushing her knee gently with yours. "You heard me."

Ellie swallowed hard, her face burning even brighter. "Does it... does it hurt?"

You shook your head slightly, your voice dropping lower. "It hurt when I first got them, but now..." You leaned in, letting the words roll off your tongue, "...now it just feels good."

Ellie's eyes flickered back to your chest, her hand twitching like she was debating with herself. She hesitated, nervous, her fingers hovering near her lap as if she wasn't sure what to do. You could see the uncertainty in her, but also the undeniable pull.

Sensing her apprehension, you crawled closer to her, swinging your leg over one of her thighs so you could straddle it. "It's okay," you whispered, reassuring her. "I don't bite... unless you want me to."

That seemed to snap something in Ellie. She gave a shaky laugh, her hand finally reaching out, her fingers brushing tentatively over your skin. Her touch was featherlight at first, careful, like she wasn't sure if this was real or not.

"See? Doesn't hurt," you murmured, your voice soothing, though your heart was racing with excitement.

Ellie's fingers, still a little shaky, began to trace the outline of your piercings, her touch growing bolder as she got used to the sensation. You watched her face, the mixture of fascination and nervousness playing across her features. Her thumb brushed against one of the barbells, and you couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

Ellie's eyes flickered up to meet yours, her breath catching at the sound. "Did I–was that okay?" she asked, her voice low and breathless, like she couldn't believe what was happening.

You smiled, biting your lip as you nodded. "Yeah, Ellie. That feels good."

Hearing that seemed to give her a little more confidence. She exhaled slowly, her fingers moving with more purpose now, gently rolling one of the piercings between her thumb and forefinger. The sensation sent a spark of pleasure through you, your body reacting to her touch in ways you knew she couldn't miss.

Her other hand hesitantly joined in, tracing the other barbell, her eyes locked on yours as if she was watching your every reaction, unsure but so eager to please. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, the warmth of her hands sending waves of heat through your body.

"Does this...feel good?" Ellie's voice was a low rasp, her own face flushed, eyes wide with anticipation.

"It feels really good," you whispered, your voice heavy with the tension between you. You arched your back slightly, pressing into her touch as her hands grew more confident, playing with your piercings in a way that had your breath hitching.

Ellie swallowed hard, her gaze dipping to your chest again as her hands continued to explore, experimenting with different pressures, watching your reactions closely. Her nervous energy was still there, but there was something more-something hungry in the way her touch lingered now, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

You could feel her pulse racing, her breath hot and shallow as her fingers tugged gently at the piercings, testing the waters. Every touch sent shivers down your spine, your skin alive under her hands. You leaned in, lips brushing her ear as you whispered, "You're doing so good, Ellie."

Her breath hitched at your words, and she stifled a groan as her hands moved more boldly now, her fingers teasing and pulling in a way that had your body arching toward her, craving more of her touch.

The air between you was electric, the playful teasing long forgotten, replaced by something far more intense. Ellie's lips parted, her breath coming in ragged bursts as she leaned in closer, her body pressed against yours, her hands still playing with your piercings like she couldn't get enough.

Ellie's hands were still moving over your chest, her touch growing more assured with each passing second, but there was still a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She swallowed, clearly trying to steady herself before she spoke again. Her voice was barely a whisper, thick with uncertainty and need. "Can I... can I try with... my mouth?"

You felt a surge of heat wash over you at her request, her shy stammer only adding to the electric charge between you. "Yeah," you breathed, your voice soft but encouraging as you straddled her thigh, the fabric of her jeans pressing between your legs as you ground down slightly. "Go ahead, Ellie."

Her gaze flickered up to yours, a mixture of nerves and excitement, before she leaned in. Her lips hovered just above your skin for a moment, as if she was gathering the courage, and then you felt the soft brush of her mouth against your nipple. Her tongue flicked out, gently grazing the piercing, and the sensation made your breath hitch.

Ellie's hands settled on your hips, steadying herself–and you–as she grew more confident. Her mouth closed over the sensitive skin, her lips soft but eager as she took one of the piercings into her mouth, tugging gently with her teeth. You couldn't stop the moan that slipped out, your hands instinctively burying themselves in her hair, holding her closer as the pleasure intensified.

At the same time, your hips moved against her thigh, the friction of her jeans sending jolts of pleasure through you with every slow grind. Ellie groaned against your chest, clearly feeling the pressure of your body against her leg, her mouth working more fervently now, her tongue swirling around the piercing before she tugged again, harder this time.

You gasped, your fingers tightening in her hair, your hips pressing down harder on her thigh. "Ellie.." you whispered, your breath coming in shallow pants as the sensations built inside you, a delicious mix of her mouth on your chest and the steady pressure between your legs.

Ellie pulled back for just a second, her lips slick and flushed as she looked up at you. Her eyes were dark with lust, her breath ragged. "Is this... is this good?" she asked, her voice low and strained, like she was trying to hold herself together.

You bit your lip, your head tilting back as another wave of pleasure washed over you. "So good," you murmured, grinding down on her harder, urging her to keep going. "Don't stop."

With a renewed sense of determination, Ellie dove back in, her mouth working over your chest with more confidence, her hands gripping your hips tighter as you rocked against her. Each pull of her lips sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, mixing with the rhythmic grind of your hips on her thigh. The heat between you was overwhelming, every touch and movement amplifying the tension until it felt like you might explode.

With a sudden surge of confidence, Ellie gripped your hips and gently pushed you back, guiding you to the floor beneath her. You gasped in surprise but quickly surrendered to her touch, your heart racing as you felt the cool floor against your skin.

Her hands moved with purpose, brushing up your thighs as she shifted to hover over you. The flickering lamp cast shadows over her flushed face, illuminating the desire in her eyes. "You okay?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping back into her voice, but it was mixed with a hunger that made your stomach flutter.

"Yeah, Ellie. Just... keep going," you encouraged, feeling a thrill rush through you as her fingers slipped beneath the hem of your skirt, inching higher.

She hesitated for just a moment, her fingers brushing against your skin, and then she boldly lifted your skirt, exposing your thighs. The rush of cool air made you shiver as her fingertips danced closer to where you needed her most.

Ellie hesitated for just a moment before her determination surged back. With a swift motion, she shifted to kneel between your legs, a glint of mischief in her eyes. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your skin, as she pushed your panties to the side and used her fingers to part you slightly, allowing her to find that sweet spot.

"Can I... try something?" she asked, looking up at you with a mix of eagerness and uncertainty.

"Yeah, please," you urged, your voice barely above a whisper, the heat pooling in your core.

With a teasing smile, Ellie brought her mouth back to your piercing, her tongue swirling around the metal as she simultaneously slid two fingers into you, pushing deeper as she began to stroke your sensitive spot. A gasp escaped your lips, the combination of sensations causing your body to arch instinctively toward her.

"Ellie!" you cried out, the heat of her mouth and the skillful movements of her fingers driving you wild. She watched you closely, her own excitement evident as she felt you tighten around her.

"Just relax," she murmured, her voice vibrating against you as she continued her exploration, her fingers working in and out while her mouth kept teasing your piercings. You could hardly keep still, your hips moving in rhythm with her fingers as waves of pleasure washed over you.

As Ellie continued to work her magic, she shifted her focus, her fingers moving more deliberately to target your clit while her mouth lavished attention on your piercings. The combination of sensations sent shockwaves through your body, making you writhe beneath her.

"Ellie, that feels so good," you gasped, lost in the bliss of her touch.

With every flick of her tongue and stroke of her fingers, the tension inside you built higher, the sweet pressure almost unbearable. "Just let go," Ellie encouraged, her voice low and sultry, her determination evident as she worked tirelessly to bring you to the edge.

And then, with a final flick of her fingers, you shattered, your body arching off the ground as pleasure washed over you in waves. "Ellie!" you cried out, your voice a mixture of ecstasy and disbelief at how incredible it felt.

Ellie didn't waste a second; she licked her fingers clean, a devilish grin spreading across her face. "Fuck, you taste so good baby," she said, her eyes dark with hunger. "I need more."

Before you could respond, she began kissing her way down your body, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin until she reached your thighs. She quickly removed your skirt and panties, leaving your slick cunt bare before her. Her fingers gripped your hips as she pulled you closer, her breath warm against you as she settled between your legs.

With expert precision, Ellie took her time, her tongue swirling around your clit, teasing and sucking in just the right way. Each movement sent shivers down your spine, your body instinctively responding to her every touch. "Ellie, yes!" you gasped, the sensations quickly building again.

She worked you closer to another peak, her eyes locked on yours, filled with both mischief and desire. You could feel the pressure mounting, a familiar tightening in your core as she expertly brought you to the edge once more.

With one final flick of her tongue, you let go again, your body trembling and shuddering beneath her as another orgasm washed over you. "God, Ellie!" you cried, the intensity leaving you breathless.

Ellie pulled back, wiping her mouth and grinning widely. "You really know how to make a girl happy," she teased, but you could see the need in her eyes, an unspoken desire lingering between you.

"Please," you breathed, your voice a husky whisper, "let me get you off." You could feel the heat pooling in your core again as the idea electrified you.

She looked at you, surprise flickering across her face before it shifted to a playful smirk. "You sure?" she asked, her voice low, excitement dancing in her eyes.

"Absolutely," you replied, determination flooding your veins.

With a swift motion, you shifted positions, settling yourself beside her.

You locked eyes, a silent agreement passing between you as you straddled her thigh, your fingers dancing down her body.

You guided her to open her legs wider, your body buzzing with anticipation. As you began to grind against her, the friction of your bodies sent waves of pleasure radiating between you. "Just like that," Ellie encouraged, her breath hitching as you pressed down against her.

Your movements grew bolder, your hands exploring the curves of her body as you brought your lips to hers, kissing her hungrily. You could feel the heat rising between you, the thrill of the moment igniting every nerve.

"Fuck, you're riding me so good, baby," Ellie rasped, her voice raw with need as her hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements. You ground down against her, the heat between your bodies almost unbearable as your slickness coated her, making each slide of your hips easier, smoother, and more desperate.

The wetness between your thighs mixed with hers, the sensation of your clits brushing together sending shivers through your entire body. Each movement was electric, your hips finding a perfect rhythm as you ground down harder, the friction driving you both wild.

Ellie's hands slid up your sides, rough fingertips grazing your skin before she cupped your breasts. Her thumbs brushed over your nipple piercings again, flicking them just right, making you gasp. "You like that?" she murmured, her voice thick with desire as she tugged gently on the metal, your nipples hardening under her touch.

Your body trembled as you pressed your chest further into her hands, the pleasure shooting through you with every little tug and pinch. Meanwhile, your hips rocked faster, sliding your wetness against hers in perfect rhythm.

The slick sounds of your bodies moving together filled the air, each grind pushing you closer to the edge.

Ellie's hips began bucking up to meet yours, desperate and needy as your clits rubbed together again, sending sparks of pleasure racing through you.

"Fuck, Ellie," you moaned, grinding harder as the pressure between your legs built to an overwhelming peak. You could feel her trembling beneath you, her breath coming in ragged gasps, matching your own.

Your wetness coated her thigh, smearing across both of your bodies as you moved together, the friction just right. Every grind of your hips made your clits brush against each other, the pleasure intensifying with each slick, desperate slide. Ellie groaned beneath you, her hands moving back down to grip your waist, pulling you harder against her.

You could feel her arousal mixing with yours, the heat between you almost unbearable. "God, you feel so fucking good," Ellie groaned, her voice thick with lust as she bucked her hips up to meet yours, the slickness between you making each grind smoother, more desperate.

The tension in your core was building quickly, winding tighter and tighter with every movement. Ellie's fingers dug into your hips, guiding you as you rocked against her, the pressure of your clits rubbing together sending you hurtling toward the edge.

Your body trembled as you leaned forward, bracing yourself on her chest.

Ellie took the opportunity to reach up, tugging at your nipple piercings again, sending sharp pleasure shooting through your body. "I love watching you ride me," she rasped, her voice breathless as she pinched your nipples harder, making you gasp.

The combined sensation of her rough hands on your chest and the relentless friction between your legs was too much. Your hips bucked wildly, grinding down against her as your orgasm slammed into you. "Fuck, Ellie," you cried out, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed through you, your slickness dripping down her thigh as you came.

Ellie groaned, her own body trembling as she watched you fall apart above her, your hips still moving, slower now, but still grinding against her, drawing out every last bit of your release.

As you came down from your high, Ellie's hands moved to your waist again, guiding your hips back into a steady rhythm. You could feel her need, the way her body trembled beneath yours, the slickness between you making it impossible to stop.

You leaned forward, capturing her lips in a heated kiss as your hips started moving again, faster this time, the friction of your clits rubbing together driving both of you wild. "You're so wet," you whispered against her mouth, your breath ragged as you rocked your hips down harder, desperate to feel her come undone beneath you.

Ellie groaned into your mouth, her hands gripping your waist even tighter as she bucked her hips up to meet yours. "Fuck, you feel so good," she gasped, her voice breaking as the pleasure became too much to bear. "Keep going, baby, don't stop."

Your bodies moved together, faster and faster, the slick sound of your wetness mixing with hers filling the room. Every grind of your hips made your clits brush against each other, sending sparks of pleasure through you both. The heat between your thighs was almost unbearable, the need to push her over the edge driving you harder, faster.

Ellie's breath hitched, her body tensing beneath yours as her orgasm built. "I'm so close," she groaned, her voice shaky as her hips bucked up wildly. You could feel her trembling, her body on the verge of release, and you ground down harder, determined to push her over the edge.

With one final grind, Ellie's body tensed, her back arching as she came with a shuddering moan. Her hands gripped your hips so hard it almost hurt, pulling you down against her as her orgasm washed over her, her body trembling beneath yours.

You slowed your movements, rocking gently against her as she came down from her high, her breath ragged and uneven. You pressed your forehead against hers, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat and arousal as the last waves of pleasure faded away.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room your heavy breathing. Then Ellie let out a breathless laugh, pulling you down into a soft, lazy kiss. "Fuck," she whispered, her voice still thick with pleasure. "That was incredible." You smiled against her lips, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all.

"You're pretty incredible yourself," you teased, pressing one last kiss to her lips before collapsing onto the floor beside her, completely spent.

[traveler-at-heart]

Sister, wife?

Summary: The team mistakes you for Natasha's sister when you first meet.

Request by @lynattyx

Loki again.

Thor seemed more annoyed than anyone else, but that was only logical. He had spent centuries putting up with his brother.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Siblings can be a pain” Natasha tried to comfort him, while he looked ready to release a storm over Loki outsmarting him and escaping.

“Speaking from experience, Red?” Stark asked with a curious stare.

“Got a sister” Natasha shrugged her shoulders, looking out the window of the Quinjet as if she hadn’t said anything interesting.

“Really? What’s her name?” Steve said, intrigued.

“I won’t tell you, because if I say it three times you’ll summon her. That’s a reference from…”

“Yeah, I got it” Steve nodded. “I didn’t really like that Beetlejuice”

“That’s because you hate fun” Tony said, stepping forward. “Alright, we have a signal. Anyone up for a cigar? Loki’s close to Cuba”

—

“Lay low. That’s pretty much all you can do now” Maria said with a somber tone over the comms.

Loki had gone a little too far this time, almost getting half of Havana blown up.

Needless to say, the US wasn’t happy with the diplomatic mess the Avengers had created. Maybe that was Loki’s plan all along; make it impossible for them to go after him with the American government on their backs.

Well, he got what he wished for.

“I don’t suppose we can go to the Compound, then” Tony mumbled. “Barton, Red? Any ideas?”

“Coordinates are set. We’ll be there in a few hours. Try to get some sleep. All of you”

No one was in the mood to ask questions. If Natasha said it was a safe place, then they’d take her word for it and be done with the matter.

“You sure about this?” Clint said, looking at her from the copilot seat.

“Yeah. She’ll just give me a hard time for not telling her in advance. You know how she likes to have everything extra clean when there are guests”

“How did you manage to score such a gal?” he joked and Natasha glared at him.

“Hey, I’m a catch. My mac and cheese is delicious”

“Whatever you say, Tasha”

—

The Quinjet landed, and the only way you could tell was by the tree branches moving with a sudden gust of wind.

“Hey” Natasha said with a coy smile, going up the steps as the rest of the team got off the jet, looking around curiously.

“Welcome home” you pulled her into a hug. “Should have told me they were coming, and I could have cleaned up a bit”

“I missed you too” she joked against your ear, and as she was about to lean and kiss you, Tony interrupted the moment.

“Hey, Romanoff and Romanoff”

“You must be Tony. I’ve heard a lot about you”

“Have you? Because Natasha here didn’t tell us much about you”

“She was probably worried about you running your mouth” you joked, making him smirk.

“You have heard about me”

As Steve walked in, Natasha waited for Clint to show him something she wanted to fix in the garage.

The house was big and in the middle of a little wooded area.

“You’re gonna have to share rooms. And someone will sleep on the couch” you warned them.

“Not it” Tony said, as you pulled out a pillow and a blanket from the closet.

“I’ll take the couch” Steve offered, which of course he did. “Thank you…”

“Y/N” you nodded, waiting for Tony to follow you.

“Barton? Thor?” he looked around.

“Oh, Clint’s probably scolding Natasha because she didn’t fix the ceiling like he told her to” you laughed. “Thor flew away like thirty seconds after landing. And burned part of my lawn in the process”

“So sorry about that. It’s quite the thing to hang out with these brutes. So, uh, what do you do?”

“I’m a Psychiatrist” you answered, opening the door to the guest room.

“Get to see Natasha a lot?”

“Not as much as I’d like”

“Come by the Compound anytime you like. I’ll send you a pass or shall I just say your name three times?”

“What?” you tilted your head in confusion.

“Nothing. Thanks for letting us crash” he rubbed his neck.

“Sure. Get some rest”

You ran into Clint as he went upstairs, knowing his way around the house.

“She’s outside”

“Is she… is she ok?” you said, sighing. It was one thing to see it in the news, and another one to know she was out there risking her life against literal Gods and aliens.

“Just tired” he assured you. “Seeing you will help. Have a good night”

“You too. Sorry to say you’re sharing a room with Tony”

“Ah, jeez” he groaned, making you laugh.

Steve was lying in the couch, restless. He waved at you shyly as you walked out, knowing Natasha was waiting in the porch.

Honestly? They were a nice bunch.

“Hey” you said, stepping out.

“Hi, detka”

“You ok?” you said, leaning your chin against her shoulder, with your arms around her waist.

“Just tired”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Clint said”

Natasha chuckled at that, squeezing your hands.

“He knows me”

“I know you better”

“Do you, now?” she turned around, quirking up an eyebrow and smiling at you. “So, what do you think I want right now?”

“Cuddles with your wife and then tomorrow morning I think you’ll be in the mood for blueberry pancakes and hot cocoa”

“Damn, you do know me well” she laughed, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s go to bed”

—

You were up next morning, and unsurprisingly, Steve had already been out and running a good ten miles.

“The rest?” he said after greeting you.

“Clint got up early to fix what Natasha broke trying to fix the other thing that broke, God bless his soul. Tony’s asleep and so is Nat”

“Really? Even Romanoff? She’s up at break of dawn”

“Nah, not when she’s home. Now clean yourself up, breakfast is almost done”

“Yes, Ma’am”

Natasha was the first one down, as your room had a private bathroom. By the sounds from upstairs, you suspected the boys were arguing over who go to use the other restroom first.

“Hear that sound? Children. Ready for all that?” Natasha said.

“Yeah, but ours will be cute. And we’ll make Clint build another bathroom” you said, getting a pancake out of the pan.

“You’re so smart, that’s why I love you”

“Only that?” you said, laughing as you felt her hands go around your waist.

“Among other things”

You turned around to protest, but her lips stopped you from saying anything.

“I did miss this” she said, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You moaned against her mouth, forgetting there were more people in the house until you heard Tony slam the door to the bathroom. Natasha went to get some coffee, and you wished she’d kept kissing you.

But the teasing would be endless if they caught you in the middle of it.

“Bathroom's all yours, Cap! Morning, Romanoffs”

“Morning, Tony” you said. “Help yourself to some pancakes and coffee”

“Delicious, thank you”

Steve came down a few minutes later, at the same time Clint walked in, announcing that he had fixed the thing.

“You’re a hero” you said, grateful. “Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get it right next time” you added as Natasha pouted.

“Mean”

“It comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” Tony said. “Including all the hair pulling and slapping and fighting for bras”

“Ah, what?” you said, confused.

“Hey, don’t speak to my wife that way, asshole” Natasha slapped the back of his head, making him choke on his coffee.

“Did you just say wife?” he turned to look between the two of you.

“Yes, Y/N is my wife. Who did you think she was?”

“The maid?” you joked.

“The sister!” Tony looked at Steve for backup.

“Well, to be fair… yeah”

“My sister’s name is Yelena” Natasha said, massaging her temples. “Y/N and I have been married for almost two years now. And I didn’t want you to know because you’ll be insufferable about it”

“Babe, they’ve been good so far” you chuckled, squeezing her hand.

“We can behave, honey boo” Tony said.

“Ok, yeah. I get it now” you rolled your eyes.

“Either way, you’re coming to our party” Tony said, poruing himself more coffee.

“When is it?”

“Whenever we get our hands on that Asgardian bastard”

“Language” you said at the same time as Steve.

“This is gonna be fun” Tony laughed, looking at you over his cup of coffee. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Romanoff”

[alicentofhightower]

the cost of a dragon

pairing: addam velaryon x wife!reader

synopsis: addam is covered in cuts and scrapes from falling and running in the forest, and now you must take care of him.

includes: fluff, episode 6 heavy spoilers, probably historically inaccurate w some parts but we’re just gonna Let That Slide, not proofread again oops

wc: 1.3k

a/n: i love him so bad. rn my top 3 tb characters are rhaenyra rhaena and addam. he’s so sweet!! i really hope we get to see a lot more of him in the next few episodes

-

Addam is bewildered when he returns to your home, panting, eyes wide and mouth agape. You’ve never seen him like this, but you guess that it’s the dragon laying beside your house that’s done it.

“What’s happened?” You exclaim when you see the way he’s stumbled in, bleeding from a cut on his cheek.

“…The, the dragon,” He mumbles, locked hair spilling over his shoulders. Addam walks over to where you stand by the kitchen table, hands gently grasping your forearms, as yours do his, thumbs running over your skin to ground himself. He smells strange, like something otherworldly. Could it have been because of the beast outside your door?

“It came to me, followed me through the woods by the shore. I think I’ve claimed him. Yes, that’s what I’ve done. I must go.” Addam attempts to retract himself from your grip, but to no avail.

The pots and pans inside rattle when the silver creature lay its head on the yard outside, no doubt resting from its flight. “Please, my love,” Addam insists. “I need to go and see the queen myself. She is in need of more dragons herself, is she not? If I serve her, perhaps she will allow you and I to live at Dragonstone with her. This is our chance.”

You shake your head, apron ruffling from the beach’s wind blowing through the window. Addam has always been ambitious, has always wanted the best for you and himself. He’s fiercely loyal to you, a quality that made you want to marry him in the first place.

“Addam.” Your hands fly up to cup his cheeks, stopping him from continuing on with his tangent. “You’re covered in gashes and dirt and sand. At least let me lend you a hand.”

He softens at that, jaw seeming to unclench. Addam’s brown eyes have always been expressive, and now they seem to look at you as if you’re the sweetest person he’s ever known. “…I suppose you’re right,” He mutters, “but we must make haste.”

Finally, you let go of each other. You use one of your hands to intertwine your fingers with his, and the other to grip your skirts as you lead him to your room. It’s small and modest, mostly swallowed up by the bed you share. “Sit,” You say, almost commandingly, quickly fetching a spare piece of cloth by the tub in the main room and a bowl of water.

Addam’s eyes almost glint at the way you flounce about before him. He spreads his legs so you are able to stand between them, chin tilting up so he can make eye contact with you while you fix him up.

“Let me see.”

He holds out his right arm, palm up, covered in tiny scratches and sand from his poor attempt to escape from his new dragon. Seasmoke, he remembers. Addam squeezes your right hand lightly while the other cleans him up.

You barely manage to suppress a heavy scoff at the mess in front of you, but you dab gently at it with the towel anyway, soaked with water. “What did you do?” You ask, brows knitting together. “Did you try to run from it?���

“Yes,” He admits, face scrunching together at the fresh memory. You’ve told him to be careful of the sky-beasts constantly looming over the two of you, and he knows he’ll be scolded for trying to escape the damn thing.

You shake your head, mostly to yourself, and Addam’s shoulders deflate. “Well, what would you have done?” He asks, exasperated. “My apologies for wanting to come home to you tonight.”

You pinch his arm. “I only worry for you,” You say, voice soft. Addam and his brother, Alyn, are the only family you’ve left; you’d never known your father, and your sweet mother had died of a fever shortly after your seventeenth nameday. She hadn’t been able to last, to see you wed the man you love so dearly.

“…What will you say, when you see Queen Rhaenyra? She may think you are coming as a foe, to battle rather than service.”

Addam hisses as you brush against a particularly deep cut, eyes squeezing shut. “Sorry,” You say, and he only tips your interlaced fingers up to his lips and kisses the back of your hand.

Your husband pauses after he lets your hands back down, considering the weight of whatever his words to the Black Queen will mean. He almost thinks of it as a duty, to you and his brother. To further your ever so small family.

“I suppose the words will come to me when it happens.” He swallows harshly, eyes averted from yours, darting around like he’s telling himself to fucking think.

You’ve moved onto his other arm, now, and suddenly the odor of him has become unbearable. It’s nothing like anything you’ve smelled before.

Grimacing, you drop the washcloth and cover your nose with your hand, taking a step back. “What?” questions Addam, clearly confused. “What’s the matter?”

“Gods, you fucking stink. What is that?”

Addam laughs. He laughs, tension seeping out of him as he does. “It must be the dragon,” He claims, reaching out to grab your waist and pull you back towards him. “Don’t mind it, please.”

You’re unable to fight the smile you feel blooming, because despite the fact that your husband reeks of his new dragon sleeping outside your home, and your feet are sore from walking to the markets, only to find nothing, and your nerves are set ablaze thinking of his meeting with Rhaenyra, Addam is here. He’s here with you, holding you, safe in the comfort of your humble little home.

The feeling is fleeting, only settling in you for a moment, but you tip your head down to press a kiss to his mouth. “You must be vigilant,” You plead when you pull away, ignoring the way Addam’s lips seem to chase after yours. “And you must return to me. I do not know what I would do if I were to lose you.”

“I will be. I swear it.”

You brush away the dried blood on his cheek with the cloth, frowning. “We should leave, shouldn’t we? Fly to Essos, where we will be safe without the threat of war. That dragon is large enough to saddle three, isn’t it? We can go-“

A thumb soothingly presses against your lips, silencing you. “…If I can put the thing to use, it will strengthen us. Strengthen whatever I have with my father.”

Addam had always been desperate to get the same attention from Lord Corlys that Alyn had always seemed to receive after he’d saved the man. You’d never spoken to the Lord Velaryon yourself before, but it was hard to miss the way he’d stare at you when you visited your husband in the shipyard, almost melancholically.

“I do not care for jewels and gowns and for you to be gilded in glory, Addam,” You state, pushing his wrist away from your face. “I care for you. Should we not go now? I could find your brother.”

“No.” He shakes his head, standing from the bed, now towering over you. His fingers, callused from his seemingly never-ending work on Lord Corlys’s ship, caress your waist almost reverently.

Almost every inch of your skin heats up when Addam leans down to kiss your chest, right where your heart is. The skin is covered by the sea-blue gown you wear, a white apron tied about your waist, and you shudder at the feel of his lips on such an intimate spot.

He kisses up from your bosom to your mouth again, firm and sweet and longing. There’s no guarantee you’ll ever see him again, but some strange part of you feels that all will be well. It’s a naive thought, perhaps, but one you welcome nonetheless.

“I will come back to you,” He promises, voice rasping. “I love you.”

[c0llisiion]

★ smut , toji x reader , vanilla , npr.

★ w/c : 533

We all know Toji is rough and likes hard sex. Like that man will have you drooling and a snotty mess by the end of every round, and it’s one of the best feelings ever. But what about slow domestic sex with Toji?

The one where he would pull you firmly towards him, your bare back against his warm chest as he kissed down the side of your neck on a cold, lazy morning.

The one where he would squeeze and grope your breasts gently, careful not to wake you up because you needed to get enough rest after a really good rough night.

But he failed in resisting his urges. Miserably, of course. All plans of letting you sleep in and giving your body rest were thrown out the window as he could feel your naked ass rubbing against his morning wood.

He tried. He tried to wait, but god, the way you were sleeping so peacefully, with your hair splayed and chest heaving. He needed to be in you no matter what.

Toji's hand slipped under your thigh, gently lifting it and laying it on his hip as he brought his cock to your entrance, rubbing the tip against your folds to get you wet and lubricated.

You whined and huffed, slightly annoyed at the fact that your beauty sleep was interrupted. “Tojiii… Not right nowwww…” you mumbled, still half asleep.

“Shhh…” Toji quickly hushed you as he started prodding into your hole.

You groan and eventually give in. The feeling of his round mushroom tip entering your pussy, making you wetter by the second.

Toji breathed in sharply, his warm breath fanning against your earlobes as he bottoms out into you with a muffled groan.

Your warm, gummy walls sucking him in perfectly.

Your breath hitches as you feel his hips move, his long, thick length driving in and out of you at a slow rate.You hum and bite down on your lower lip.The way he was humping you. His cock hitting all the right spots. This is something you always craved.

Toji wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer. He let out a deep sigh, his hips continuing their slow movements.

“You feel so good doll… so warm… so sweet…” he whispered in your ear, his voice gruff. “I love lazy mornings with you… not as much as I love being in you…” A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest.

You hum in contentment and relish in the feeling of Toji's cock penetrating your walls.

He notices the lack of sound from you. “Where’s your pretty little sounds, pretty lady?” He asks all pouty and with a hint of insecurity. “Do you not like it..?”

You chuckle before letting out a hum, focusing on his length.

Toji smiles against your skin. “That's more like it..” He kisses your shoulder before slightly increasing his pace as he feels his orgasm approach.

He rolled his hips smoothly, hooking his arm under your thighs so he could hit deeper spots, which he knew you loved.A few more slow thrusts, and Toji is planting his seed deep in your pussy, his moan slightly muffled as he buries his face in your hair.He should do this with you more often.

A/N: hihi! Quickly decided to write this and post lol 😝 NPR. if you see any mistakes? No you didnt. Just keep scrolling. Anyways sorry for being inactive, i was supposed to post something on Christmas but my pet passed away and i couldn’t complete it nor could i come online 😿 anyways merry late Christmas and happy holidays <3

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 6)

You go to confront The Witch and Lady Death

Word count: 3900

Warnings: smut, fingering, more murder

You try to call Tony on the way over, but his number isn’t there. You scroll through your text messages, his thread isn’t there either. You try recent calls. Nope. 

It’s like he’s been entirely erased from your phone. 

You’re getting frantic, desperate, and you know that you can’t exactly look up the personal phone number for the director of an FBI branch, so on a complete whim, you check your blocked contacts. 

Fucking Rio. 

She must’ve gotten into your phone when she came by to get your clothes that night and made sure there was no way you could reach your life outside of Westview. No way you could get help. 

Fingers gripped around the blade of the knife, you’re about to leave the room when your phone lights up with a call. Tony. You scoff, decline it, and block him. You don’t have time for that. 

Grimacing, you massage the area between your eyes. You’ve made a huge mess of everything. 

You unblock him and call him and he picks up on the first ring. 

“Y/N, where the hell have you been?” He barks and you wince at his scolding tone. 

“Things here have…developed,” you start, weighing how much you should tell him. 

He scoffs. “None of my calls or texts have gone through. I thought you were dead!” You try to say something but he barrels over you. “I’m on my way to Westview right now. I’m supposed to land in about an hour. I don’t know what’s going on there, but I’m bringing you back to Miami.” 

“No!” You cry out. He can’t. “Please, Director, I’m so close, I’m about to get them right now. I know who they are and where they are, I’m on my way.”

You can hear his sharp intake of breath when he realizes what you’re about to do. “Agent, stand down. That is a direct order. You are not to engage with them.” 

A blush spreads through your body as you remember just how much you’ve engaged with them. 

“It’ll be fine,” you assure him. “They don’t want me dead.” 

The sound of him hitting the tray table on the jet reverberates through your phone and you almost jump. “Dammit, Y/N, this isn’t a game! This is life or death, and you are not to try and get them all by yourself. Turn around from wherever you are and go back to your motel and do not leave until I get there!” You’ve never heard him this mad. 

But you can’t. You’ve come too far to let them slip away like this. You have your gun and maybe the element of surprise on your side. You have the power to end this tonight. 

Tony’s still ranting about how irresponsible and impulsive and stupid you’re being, so you hang up. The call ironically disconnects in the middle of him saying how you never listen to anything he says. 

You’re more convinced than ever that Agatha and Rio did something in the woods that day that fucked you up beyond measure. 

And who was that other woman? 

Somehow, after all of that, you had ended up in the hospital with hypothermia and pneumonia, and the post-traumatic and retrograde amnesia accounts for the block in your mind. Did you hit your head on something? 

Or did someone hit you on the head with something? 

Agatha and Rio and the mystery woman had been so shocked and afraid when you came across them doing something bad that they had clobbered you in the hopes that you would forget, or die? 

It’s plausible. 

If nothing else, you need answers before you kill them tonight. Maybe knowing what they did will give you some semblance of peace and you can sleep without fearing that you’re going to murder innocent people. 

It can hopefully get rid of your headaches, at the very least. 

When you get to the address left on the note, Agatha’s car is already parked out front. You breathe a sigh of relief and the tension in your shoulders you didn’t know you were carrying seeps out. They’re here. They didn’t send you on a wild goose chase. 

Your heart is beating so fast you think it might fly right out of your chest and you try to slow down your breathing before entering the viper’s nest. 

There’s no telling what you might find in there, or what tricks they have up their sleeves, so you want to be mentally prepared. 

When your breaths are finally under control, you get out of the car and immediately slip on ice. You crash down to the pavement with a thud and you struggle to get your bearings and 

Snow. 

Clearing in the woods. 

The woman beckons you forward and you find her with two other women. Out of the three, there’s two brunettes and one with gray hair. The gray-haired one looks older, lines prominent on her angry face. She’s standing against a tree.

The two brunettes smile. 

When you get closer, you can see that the gray-haired lady is standing in the middle of a big mound of sticks and branches. 

Why doesn’t she just move? 

The cold ground bleeds through your pants and brings you back to reality. The big mound of sticks and branches coupled with the fire you started seeing…was she on a pyre? 

One thing at a time, you remind yourself, pushing yourself up with the help of the car next to you. 

You silently slink up to the front door. It’s slightly open. You pause and press your ear to the wood, listening for anything that might indicate a struggle happening. 

Nothing. 

You push it all the way open and carefully step inside, wincing when the floorboard creaks under your foot. It’s so silent in the front corridor of the house that you think you can hear your blood rushing under your skin. 

There’s flickering light coming from the living room and you make your way in that direction when you hear something. You strain your ears and stop against the wall to try and discern what it is – is that a smacking noise? 

Are they kissing? 

You dare to peek around the corner and yes, not really to your surprise, Agatha and Rio are making out amidst a crime scene.

 A dagger sits on the kitchen table next to a plate of the same cookies from their house, two purple azaleas, and two containers. 

Two people, a man and a woman, are laying on the ground gasping for air. Their skin is getting tighter, shriveling, lines etching into their face as their cheeks hollow out. 

Their chests are still intact though. Maybe they haven’t gotten to that step yet? Clearly Agatha and Rio have been sidetracked.

You should go help them. You should go in there and save their lives, you should stop The Witch and Lady Death. Why do you feel so hot? You must have a fever, there’s no reason your body should be this warm.

But then you look in their direction and you’re enraptured, all other thoughts leaving your head.

The skeleton mask is thrown on the floor and the glow of the fireplace lights up Agatha and Rio trying to devour each other’s mouths. 

A flush of heat stutters through your body as Rio reaches her arms around Agatha’s neck and tries to pull her even closer. Agatha’s hands are clasped on her wife’s cheeks and you can see her tongue sliding into Rio’s mouth. The electricity under your skin is back, roaring to life, while your eyes move from the people on the floor, taking their last breaths, to Agatha and Rio, still kissing like their lives depend on it, to the 

Snow. 

The clearing. 

The sound of a match striking against the matchbox. 

You watch it fall, almost as if in slow motion. 

A brilliant blaze of fire erupts. 

Agatha’s foot squeaks on the floor as she walks Rio backwards, mouth never leaving hers. Your fingers tighten around the gun so hard you think you might snap them. You should shoot them. You should shoot them both right here, right now. 

But you can’t move. 

You’re stuck, rooted to the same spot around the corner, watching as Agatha’s lips trail down Rio’s neck. The younger woman’s head drops back to give her wife more room and you can almost feel the pleasure she does. 

“Agatha,” Rio whines and you never thought you would hear her beg. But the mighty therapist, the same woman who poisoned you after eating you out on your couch, is reduced to holding her wife’s hair so she doesn’t move away. 

Your breath comes out in sync with Rio’s, like you’re imagining that you’re her instead of you, that you have Agatha pressed up against you instead of being pressed against a wall. 

Rio’s fingers dig into Agatha’s thick locks and she switches positions, whirling Agatha around, and she takes control of the kiss. Your eyes are wide, rapt with attention, not daring to look away as Rio moves down to Agatha’s chest and rips her flannel open, revealing her pale chest and lacy black bra. 

Your mouth waters and the ache, the same one you felt in the woods and in your motel room, the same one you feel whenever you’re around them, floods through you, settling right between your legs. 

Rio nips at Agatha’s breast over the fabric, mouthing at her nipple, and you would kill to be with them. Agatha is watching her fondly, with heat in her eyes, and you think Rio must be looking up at her. 

Now would be the perfect time to shoot, so why can’t you move?

Because you like this too much, your body answers for you. You have to tug at the neckline of your sweater as you feel too hot. 

Rio kneels down, hands sliding up and down Agatha’s thighs while she sucks on the smooth expanse of her wife’s stomach. Your body is swimming with desire, it’s dizzying almost, and you think you need to cum soon or you might die. 

Agatha gasps when Rio sinks her teeth into her skin roughly and then soothes the spot with her tongue. She reaches up, moves Agatha’s hair out of the way, and unclasps her bra and you feel a guttural moan form in your throat. You have to bite your lip hard so it doesn’t escape. 

The pale skin of her chest is flushed red and there’s a slight sheen of sweat on her clavicle. Her nipples are a dusky rose color, pebbled and hard, and you want them in your mouth so fucking bad. 

Rio surges up to do exactly that, tugging on them with her teeth, and Agatha groans, eyes fluttering shut. 

Your brain finally forgets about shooting them, forgets about the fact that they’re serial killers at all, and you do possibly the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. 

You put the gun into the waistband of your pants and you step out from behind the corner. 

Agatha’s eyes fasten on to you immediately, but instead of looking surprised, she looks impatient. Like you should’ve been here thirty minutes ago. 

“There’s our superstar,” she drawls, hands tangling in Rio’s hair, forcing her still. “What took you so long?” 

You try to think of something to say, anything at all, perhaps a remark about how you caught them, when Rio rakes her eyes up and down your body and chuckles. “Look at her, Aggie. She didn’t just get here. She’s been watching.” 

Agatha smirks in agreement. “I wonder what got her more hot and bothered, watching us” She nods to the surely dead couple on the ground. “-or watching them die.” 

“You two are crazy,” you say, willing your hand to grab your gun, but it doesn’t obey. The heat in your voice betrays you, though. 

Rio simpers, advancing toward you with Agatha in tow. You clench your teeth as they start circling you like sharks. “Want to know how we do it?” Rio purrs into your ear and you shudder. 

“No,” you spit out, trying desperately hard to keep your eyes from darting down to Agatha’s breasts. She’s made no move to cover up. Her nipples are still hard.

“First,” the detective starts. “We lace the cookies with a delicate mix of hydrofluoric acid, acetone, isopropyl, and a few other things meant to just confuse test results. It slowly decomposes their body from the inside out and they’re dead within minutes.” 

Rio moves your hair out of the way to press kisses to your neck and it sends goosebumps down your spine. 

“And then,” Rio says right against your skin while Agatha’s hand slithers from your waist to your stomach up to around your throat. You can feel your pulse throb against her fingers. “I take my knife and carve out their hearts. The first cut is always the sweetest. After that, we use bleach to wash it away and hydrogen peroxide to eat away anything we left: blood, fingerprints, DNA.” 

“Voila,” Agatha says, snapping her fingers that aren’t around your throat. You hate how wet you can feel yourself getting. “That’s how you get away with murder.” 

Rio’s hands are on your hips now, squeezing in time with the hand on your throat. Your airway is constricted, you know you should be scared, but you meet Agatha’s blown-out pupils and are sure yours look the exact same. 

The therapist finds your gun and disarms you. “Or in your case,” she says right into your ear, jabbing the muzzle into your back. “You just lure them into the woods while you’re unconscious and slit their femoral arteries.” 

All the air leaves your lungs, both from their proximity and your own weapon being used against you. 

“Get on your knees,” Agatha orders, letting go of your throat so you can immediately drop down. 

Your knees hit the ground hard, but you barely even register the pain, looking up at them eagerly to await what’s next. 

Rio slowly walks around until she’s standing next to Agatha and tucks the gun under your chin, forcing it up even more. “Look at how much she’s getting off on this,” she says in a hushed voice. The air between the three of you is thick with tension, the dead bodies only a few yards away completely forgotten. 

“You’re capable of so much more than just being a profiler,” Agatha says wistfully, stroking your hair with some sort of affection. “You can be so much more.” 

Snow. 

The match drops.

Fire. 

The gray-haired lady screams. 

You’re running through the woods. Are you being chased? 

There’s a crack as your head hits the ground.

“What did you do to me?” You ask, voice breaking. “What did you do to that woman?” 

Rio drags the gun up the side of your face, traces your cheekbones, and then presses it to your lips. Instinctively, your tongue darts out to flick at the cold metal, and both their eyes flash. “You still don’t remember everything?” Rio asks. 

“I remember that you killed her, and it fucked me up,” you tell them, voice level as it’s finally making sense to you. “I found you two in the woods. You burned her, and then what? You tried to kill the ten year old who saw it? And this is — what? Your way of finally tying up all those loose ends?” 

Agatha snorts and Rio scoffs. 

“Look at our superstar, thinking she knows everything. We don’t want to kill you,” Agatha says, rolling her eyes. Rio takes the gun away from your mouth and tosses it onto the couch. 

Your gaze flicks between them, not sure who to look at. “What do you want then?” 

Agatha winds her fingers through your hair and yanks you off your knees, dragging you in for a kiss, biting your bottom lip hard. A metallic taste fills your mouth and it only makes you hungrier, so you open your mouth and shove your tongue into her hot and waiting mouth. 

You feel Rio’s body pressing against your back and her hand delves under your waistband to cup you over your soaking underwear. Your hips involuntarily jolt at the contact and you moan, but it’s swallowed up by Agatha’s lips. 

The detective pulls your shirt over your head as Rio pushes your underwear to the side and lazily spreads your wetness around your cunt. 

There’s a tugging in your gut, a burning, aching, guttural tugging that is going to be the death of you. Electricity skates through your veins, lighting up your blood and setting it to a boil. 

You’ve never felt so hot in your life. 

Agatha’s lips on your neck do little to quench your thirst for more and Rio shoves two fingers into you with no warning and a gasp tears its way out of you. Agatha bites on your collarbone as Rio twists her fingers and you groan loudly. 

“She loves this, Rio,” Agatha says like you aren’t even there. Rio whimpers and curls her fingers, her other hand snaking around to grab Agatha’s throat. The older woman’s breath hitches as she kisses along your bra, tasting the perspiration on your cleavage. 

Rio’s fingers inside you and Agatha’s mouth now sucking on your nipples, having pushed your bra down, somehow isn’t enough. 

You need to feel them. 

Your hands find Agatha’s breasts, kneading them and pulling on her nipples. She makes a noise against your skin and it only sears you more. You slide your fingers down her stomach, over the red marks from Rio’s mouth, and dip them into her pants. 

She’s just as wet as you are, and you gingerly rub her clit, gathering wetness from her entrance and bringing it back up to swirl at her. She pants hotly against your skin and you can feel her hand creep behind you to Rio, who has set a slow pace inside you. 

“Aggie,” Rio breathes and bites down onto the back of your shoulder. Agatha chuckles breathlessly and you’re able to twist your head just enough to see Agatha’s hands down the therapist’s pants too. 

It makes you clench around Rio’s fingers. You’re all being fucked, and fucking someone, and you can feel Agatha’s wetness the same way Rio is feeling yours, the same way Agatha is feeling her wife’s. 

You slide your middle finger into Agatha, groaning when her walls flutter around you. Rio squeezes a third finger into you and you keen at the stretch, but then she starts fucking roughly and it’s everything you need and more. 

Her thumb swipes at your clit and you try to time your thrusts into Agatha with Rio’s into you. 

Rio’s teeth find your shoulder blade again and dig in, and the pain just makes your body feel even more alive. 

You’ve never felt like this before. The intensity is tenfold what anyone else has ever given you. 

Your ring finger joins your middle and Agatha nips at the curvature of your breasts. Your free hand palms hers and you roll her nipple, enjoying the way she gets tighter around you. Rio plays with her wife’s other boob, and you don’t think you could move a muscle either way because the two women are wrapped so firmly around your body, holding you in place in the middle. 

But that’s nothing new. You’ve been intertwined with them since you’ve gotten here, maybe even almost your whole life. 

Agatha’s lips capture yours and you can feel her muscles in her arm strain against your bicep. You curl your fingers and find the spongy spot that pulls a resounding gasp from her mouth right into yours. Rio pauses, pulls out, and when she presses back at your entrance, your head almost falls back when you feel four fingers posed. 

The detective seems to know because she chuckles against your lips, sucks on your tongue. 

And then she pulls away as Rio plunges four fingers into you, the stretch burning. But the pain gives way to even more pleasure and when she twists them upward, you almost cum. 

“I’m so close,” you moan and Agatha leans behind you and out of the corner of your eye, you see her kissing Rio. And then Rio pulls your head back by your hair and her mouth is on yours and then there’s a flurry of tongue and teeth and lips and you don’t even know who you’re kissing but it’s someone and it’s so good and you’re about to —

— Rio’s fingers stop inside you and you whine, frantically rolling your hips. Your fingers are still pumping at a steady rhythm inside Agatha and you can feel by the movement in her arm that she’s still fucking Rio. 

“Why did you become a profiler?” Rio asks into your ear. “Tell us and we’ll let you cum.” Her thumb brushes against your clit and you’re so sensitive, you think you might be able to cum anyways with that and the fullness. 

“You guys…you killed her so I wanted to know why you did, how you could,” you choke out and Agatha peppers kisses all over your chest. The livewire in your body is about to snap. 

Rio gives you one harsh thrust and you almost sob. “Try again,” she orders. 

Tears prick in your eyes and your fingers falter inside Agatha. You can hear Rio’s breaths becoming shorter and shallower, indicating how close she is. Agatha’s eyes dart from your dark pupils to your swollen lips. She’s still holding onto her composure, better than you and her wife are at least, but you can tell she’s on the edge. 

“I don’t know,” you say, but is that the truth? 

The thrumming in your head comes back, like a memory knocking on your brain, asking to be let in. 

You give in. 

Snow. 

The clearing. 

The three women: two brunettes and one with gray hair.

You can now see that the gray-haired lady is tied to the tree.

The sound of a match on the matchbox. 

The match is flicked onto the sticks by someone, igniting the stake and a brilliant blaze of fire erupts. 

Who set the fire?

Your eyes snap open, the entire block in your mind gone and the memories flood through your head. 

“I wanted to understand why I did it,” you gasp and you know that you finally got it right when Rio starts fucking you with a renowned vigor. 

It takes no time at all before you cum explosively all over her hand and the two of them follow shortly after. The feeling of Agatha orgasming around your hand triggers another one in you and you cling to both of them while you come down from the most intense high of your life. 

They soothe you, whisper sweet nothings, press kisses all over your face, and you wince when Rio pulls her four fingers out of you, the emptiness filling you. 

You start to shake and you don’t realize you’re sobbing until they’re kissing your lips and you can taste the saltiness from your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, baby girl,” Agatha says, and they wrap their arms around you, holding you and letting you cry. “We got you. We’re not letting you go.” 

You sniff and lean into their embrace, feeling whole for the first time in your life. 

[mayanneaa]

gossip girl - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x reader

SUMMARY : you train jj to be a proper gossiper.

WARNING(S) : established relationship!! slight swearing but it's pure fluff!, not proofread

A/N : xoxo. my tummy hurts so fucking bad. also this one's ending might be a little shitty forgive me pls (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 1k

masterlist.

“JJ!” You exclaim, skipping through the Chateau, looking for your boyfriend. The air is sticky, filled with the smell of wood, salt, and beer.

You make your way through the living room and spot your boyfriend in the back, lying on one of the hammocks.

He covers his face with his arm, slowly swinging.

“Jay, you have to hear this!”

JJ sits up the second he hears your voice, his eyes almost shut. “Hi, baby.”

He extends his arms, and you quickly hug him, leaving a peck on his lips.

“Okay, so you better hold on to this hammock, because—”

“Woah, woah. Wait,” he says, rubbing his eyes and moving in the hammock, trying to give you some space. “What’s going on?”

You grit your teeth while sitting on the edge of the worn-out material, not being able to keep this to yourself any longer. “Ugh, remember when I told you my mom asked me to go help the Jones? They just moved back here but without Ben.”

JJ furrows his brows, “Ben? The father…?”

You nod, “Yes! Well, their daughter is our age, and, by the way, she’s super sweet! Maybe I should invite her over here—”

“You’re drifting off the topic, baby.” JJ reminds you, now fully awake and interested in your story.

“Yeah, right. When I got there, she seemed kinda sad and annoyed, so as the good person that I am, I asked her what was wrong, and she spilled the whole tea! Everything!” You ramble, animating with your arms, and JJ watches your every move with a slight smile, clearly amused.

“She said her father cheated on Ms. Jones with a girl who’s barely 20! Do you understand that?!”

JJ giggles under his breath, lying back down. “Yeah. That’s so fucking messed up…”

“Right?” you say before you take a deep breath, “She mentioned that that side chick used to live here and that we might know her, but i have no idea who could that be.”

“Damn, you gossip like an old lady.” Your boyfriend says, pulling you to his chest. You gasp, dramatically placing your hand on your heart.

“I will find out. I mean, who cheats on such a beautiful woman like Ms. Jones? Especially this… this Ben? He looks like he sneaked onto the Earth—”

“Woah, woah, chill!”

You sit on the couch in your living room, sipping the juice from the recipe you just tried out and trying to get through a book when you get a notification.

With a sigh, you reach for your phone to read the message you got from JJ. He’s supposed to pick up his hoodie, which he left there last week.

A few minutes later the comfortable silence gets broken with the loud ring of the bell.

JJ doesn’t even hesitate, he just comes in without a second thought. You take a look at his face and can immediately tell he’s not in the best mood. He immediately comes up to you.

“Hi,” you say as he leans in to kiss the top of your head. “What’s up?”

He grunts, “I had to go and fix the AC at the Jones house. They were talking so fucking loud my head feels like exploding—”

You let out a gasp, and your eyes glisten. “At the Jones? What were they talking about?”

JJ squints his eyes, “Uhh I don’t know? I stopped paying attention after some man joined in.”

You look at him, disappointment mixed with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah, they were arguing so I just did my thing and left.”

You groan. “You are kidding me. JJ, you could’ve heard something about the drama!”

He widens his eyes, a sheepish smile crawling onto his lips. “Ohhh, right… I’m sorry, baby.”

Your lips form into a pout, and JJ raises his eyebrows. “Nuh-uh, don’t pout at me for this. I’m not a gossiper, you know that.”

“Well, I know, I know…”

“But I promise I’ll tell you anything I hear.”

You sigh and hug him, breathing in his scent. “You better.”

You don’t even know when did you drift off to sleep, sitting on the back porch at the Chateau. The soft breeze and whistles of wind put you to sleep like a lullaby.

The front doors close with a loud crack, announcing that JJ has returned from the shop. You and the Pogues were supposed to have dinner tonight, and your boyfriend had to go and buy all the missing ingredients.

“Baby, you won’t believe it!”

You slowly open your eyes, eyelids fluttering from the orange sunset sky. You hum, and JJ runs outside, the grocery bag still in his hand.

“Did you get everything?” You ask, stretching your arms with a yawn.

“Yeah, I think so, anyway…” He speaks so fast you have to gain your consciousness quickly in order to understand what he’s saying. “Guess who I met at the store!”

You squint, trying to come up with a name in your mind, still fogged up with sleep. “Rafe?”

JJ shakes his head and you click your tongue.

“Topper?”

“No!” he gets a bit frustrated, a sight that makes you laugh. “What was a thing you were super invested in?”

Your eyes widen. “The Jones?”

JJ’s grin grows even wider. “Yes! Oh my God, would you believe that the man I saw is actually Ms. Jones’ new boyfriend? And that’s not the best part. He’s Ben’s cousin who’s much more successful too! This man owns four different restaurants and has three houses in Asia, Europe, and South America. He’s crazy rich!”

You gasp. “Wow. You really clocked all of this, didn’t you?”

He looks at you, a proud look on his face. “Duh. It was so much fun!”

JJ starts to tell you the story about how he had to follow them in different isles to hear everything and in the meantime, you check the grocery bag.

“…Then they moved to the dairy fridges, so naturally I went after them and—”

“JJ.”

“Huh?”

“You forgot half of the products...”

[tacticaldiary]

Reader joining 141 for a mission and Simon is not having it and is pissed at price for calling them and all of the other guys are confused about why ghost is so upset till they find out reader is his wife after the mission

Maybe reader got hurt and ghost goes off on price

The Price Of A Secret

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive-"

"This is different." He grits out.

"And why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the table. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

A/N: It's 2:45am and I have no energy to proofread caution advised-

Masterlist

The moment the picture of the intelligence officer joining them flashes on the screen, Ghost puts his foot down.

"She's not coming."

Everyone in the room pauses, Price staring at Ghost mid sentence. It's the usual 141, and then it's her. Sitting there with a mildly frustrated look, refusing to look at him because she should have known he'd try to pull some shit like this.

"Why not?" Price folds his arm, narrowing his eyes. "Is there an issue, Lieutenant?"

She was supposed to work from the inside, drawing out data and cracking through defences that they then passed on to people like the 141. An integral part of the process of running the whole task force, but not once was she involved in hands-on field work.

It's not that she's incompetent. No, not at all. Ghost would have his head bit off if he even remotely implied that because it simply isn't true. She got the top scores in almost every part of her training exercises, and yet she chose the intelligence part of the military to serve in. His wife was as competent as they got.

His wife.

"This is a covert operation, the fewer people the better." That's what he goes with. Not because his heart picks up at the thought of her being anywhere near what they deal with every day.

"I won't have the range I need to retrieve the data from their servers if I'm not close to them." She speaks up, and their eyes meet from across the room.

His determined, hers resolute.

Sometimes he really hated that she was so fucking stubborn. It had been the same stubbornness that cracked down the iron grip he'd had on the walls in his mind and around his heart, but if that stubbornness was what got her killed Simon would give up this joy in a heartbeat.

He'd do it for her if it meant she kept on living.

"This isn't up for discussion, Ghost." Price states, "She's part of this operation on my authority."

"Price-"

"End of discussion. You settle whatever you have going on outside this room." And fuck, he can't refute a direct order like that, can he?

Ghost sees her release a long exhale, and he knows he won't share such a relief until this damn operation was over and done with.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Her body is so limp it scares the ever-loving shit out of him.

Ghost grips her so tight it's as if he himself is the only thing tethering her soul to her body, boots thumping hard against the muddy ground as they retreat back to their extraction point, data successfully retrieved.

Successfully, not smoothly.

The plan was simple. They'd flank the building while she camped out near the edge of the woods, retrieving the intel they needed. A couple of fuckers slipped out of the building and went straight for her.

Ghost's stomach turns when he remembers how he found the scene. She wasn't answering through her comms, but he knew he wasn't able to leave his position until the building was secure.

Waiting felt like an eternity, he could feel Soap send troubled glances in his direction at the way Ghost was unusually silent and more brutal than.

When the building was finally secure, they'd gone to reunite with her position and found three men dead, bloody seeping into the ground in a crimson mess. The last one standing hovered over her unconscious form, over his wife with a knife raised ready to slit her thought.

The only thought Ghost had as he ripped the man away with his hands was that he was going to take the one good thing in his life away, and he would not let that happen. Not her. Not like this.

"Bleeding wound to the head, unconscious but still breathing!" Gaz called out while Ghost shoved the man's own knife into his throat. Tossing the gurgling body aside like a ragdoll, he's immediately by her side, assessing before carefully lifting her up in his arms.

It's the most emotion Ghost has ever expressed in front of the others, but he couldn't give a fuck about the looks or the questions right now. Her heartbeat against him settled him the slightest bit with the reassurance that she was alive.

Angry does not begin to describe what itches under Ghost's skin as they scramble into their exfil airship.

"Medic!" He barks the second they lift off. Setting her down, he brushes the bloody strands of her hair away from her face.

Despite the urge to stay by her side, the medic gingerly requests for him to take a step back so he could work. Ghost obliges but his eyes never leave her face.

He's painfully aware of his wedding ring pressing against his chest, strung onto a chain long enough to be tucked under his uniform. A matching one to her own.

Nobody speaks.

Perhaps they recognise the anger washing off of Ghost in waves, because if they'd just bloody listened to him, she wouldn't be laying there with a head wound.

The atmosphere is heavy and sombre. Even Soap keeps his mouth shut, too confused by the outward, uncharacteristic way Ghost was acting to make fun of it.

It's only when the medic announces she's stable that the suffocating knot in Ghost's chest loosens. There's audible relief from everyone in the place.

"Bloody hell." Price breathes, and something in Ghost snaps.

"I told you to dismiss her from the op." He says coldly, turning to the man.

"We got what we needed, son." He sighs, deep and tired, and part of Ghost understands that this was their life. But he's too worked up to care.

"At a fucking cost."

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive, that's all that matters. Nothing permanent, yeah?" He glances at the medic, who confirms with a nod before slipping away.

"This is different." Ghost grits out.

"Why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the metallic walls. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

How long had it taken for Ghost-...no, for Simon to let someone crack open his defences until he was coaxed out and allowed himself to love again? Four years they've been married, and four years he's kept it a secret.

It's not that he doesn't trust his team. He trusts them with his life, would lay his own down for Johnny, Gaz, and Price any day.

But this? This was bigger than him, she was the most precious thing that had ever happened to him, and the safest way to preserve that was the keep it on a need-to-know basis.

She'd agreed with him, of course. In that soft, patient way she always has with him. She'd seen the paranoia in him, recognised that he needed this one thing for himself, and she'd been more than happy to oblige.

What was outside validation about her relationship worth when she got to crawl into his arms at the end of the day? Be granted the pleasure that comes with being loved by someone as protective, intelligent, and sharp as Simon Riley? She adores all of him, even the jagged pieces that cut into her from time to time, because he's always there to take care of her afterwards.

"She's my wife." He repeats quieter, sitting back down. Exhaustion lines the slope of his shoulder's dark circles well present under his mask.

"You're married." Soap is the first to speak, incredulously. "You? Ghost? You're married?" His eyes flicker down to Ghost's left hand, and then to Gaz and Price who look equally as surprised. "I mean, congratulations?" He trails off, knowing it's not really the situation to celebrate.

"Thanks." A tired, small voice has everyone's attention back onto the figure on the bed. Ghost is on his feet in moments, by her bedside. "It'll be five years in...what, a month?" She cracks an eye open, giving Simon a tired, smile.

"Two months." He corrects with a mutter, and Johnny looks like he might just collapse. "Sitrep?"

"We're not on the field anymore." She groans, pushing herself to sit up. Ghost's hands fly to her immediately, helping her sit up. At his blank, insistent stare, she relents with a deep sigh. "My head's killing me but other than that just a few scrapes and bruises." Her hand travels down to grab his at her shoulder, squeezing briefly.

"I'm alright." Her voice turns into something soft and reassuring, and it's only then that a quiet, shuddering breath comes out of Simon's lungs. "I think I'll sit to working from the inside though." She jokes weakly. "Leave the dirtier work to you brutes."

It lightens the mood as intended, eliciting a snort from Gaz. "Yes, ma'am."

He'd make sure she got checked out properly when they landed, but for now he takes his place sitting beside her. The others fall into a hushed conversation after a while, but he makes no move to join them.

A warm hand intertwines with his, hidden beneath the bulk of their combined gear.

"I'm alright, Simon." She mumbles, just loud enough for him to hear.

Simon squeezes her hand in response. "Fucking hell, love." He breathes.

And it's enough to convey everything he's thinking. Humming, she tips her head against his shoulder and lets her eyes slip shut. The warmth of his body, even through the tang of copper is enough of a familiar comfort to drain the tension from her body.

She's fast asleep against his shoulder a minute later, and the devil himself couldn't make Simon move lest he wake her now.

He wasn't a publicly affectionate person by any means...but he trusted his team enough for this right now.

Letting his own head press against the metal wall behind them, his eyes shift to meet Price's. A softer, knowing look from the Captain is all he needs to hook his chin over her head and turn his attention outside the small window.

And if he counts her breathing while she sleeps for his own peace of mind? Well, that's no one's business but his.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(10/09/2023)

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter eight ♡

Summary: After being with Joel again, you're back home. Caught in a whirlwind of emotions, you're determined to finally talk things through with him. But just as you're ready, life throws more obstacles in your path—and so does Travis, apparently. WC: 15.3k A/N: Well, It’s been two long weeks since I last updated the story, and I can't even begin to tell you how much I wish I could have written this sooner! But the good news is, I’m officially on vacation now, and all my finals went well. So, I’m hoping to update more regularly from here on out <3 Please remember that i no longer use the taglist, so if you want to receive notifications you can follow me on capuccinodollupdates!

When the door clicked shut behind you, the sound felt final, heavy in a way that made your chest tighten. You leaned against the door, the cool wood steadying you as a flood of emotions rushed in, each one colliding with the next. Surprise. Anger. Helplessness. Pain. And somewhere in the tangled mess, something softer—love? Desire? Whatever it was, it caught you off guard, made your knees buckle. You slid down to the floor, your back scraping against the doorframe as you went, until you were sitting there, small and folded into yourself.

The first sob escaped before you even realized it was coming, a fragile sound that cracked in the quiet of the room. Tears followed, slipping hot and fast down your cheeks, and you wiped at them instinctively, as if erasing them would make the moment less real, less unbearable. Your knees came up to your chest, and you buried your face there, trying to make yourself small, trying to disappear.

What were you supposed to do now? How could you fix this?

The first time with Joel had been a mistake—or that’s what he’d called it, anyway. A lapse in judgment, a moment of weakness, a thing that shouldn’t have happened but did. And you’d told yourself to believe him, even though every nerve in your body said otherwise. But tonight, it was different. This time, you had been the one to lean in, your lips the ones that crossed the distance, your hands the ones that sought him out. And he hadn’t stopped you. He hadn’t hesitated. No, he’d kissed you back, fiercely, his hands gripping you like you were the only thing keeping him steady.

Did he need you as much as you needed him?

The thought spiraled through you, looping and tangling until it became something you couldn’t unravel. You sat there for what felt like forever, unmoving, the weight of everything pressing into you. When you finally pushed yourself to your feet, your body felt heavy, your muscles tight with the ache of holding too much. Your shoulders throbbed as you rubbed at them absently, trying to knead away the tension, but all you could think about was the weight of Joel’s hands there just moments ago.

His touch had been deliberate, slow, like he was memorizing the shape of you. You could still feel it, the way his fingers had mapped your skin, his warmth sinking into you. And his eyes—dark, searching—had felt like they were seeing more of you than you were ready to show.

For a brief, fragile second, it had felt right. Like you were exactly where you were meant to be, like he was meant to be there with you. But the feeling didn’t last. It dissolved into something bitter, something sharp that stabbed at the edges of that fleeting joy.

What was happening to you?

Despair bubbled up in your chest, sharp and consuming. You wanted to run, to escape, to leave this house that suddenly felt too small, too stifling, as if the air itself had turned against you. But running wouldn’t help, would it? No matter where you went, Joel would follow—in your thoughts, in the way your body still hummed with the memory of him.

Names darted through your mind like unwelcome guests: Joel, Travis, Sarah, Sienna, Clara. Each one tugged at you in a different way, their presence reminding you of what you’d done, of what you couldn’t take back, of what had happened during the last few weeks.

You pressed a hand to your chest, where the ache was sharpest, right beneath your ribs. Your breathing was shallow, uneven, your lungs struggling to keep up with the storm inside you. Inhale, exhale. You forced yourself to slow down, to count the breaths until they came easier, but it wasn’t enough. The tension stayed, coiled tight in your body, refusing to let go.

When you caught sight of yourself in the hallway mirror, the reflection startled you. Your eyes were glassy, rimmed red, your face pale and unfamiliar. You looked like someone else—someone fragile, someone lost.

Calm down, you told yourself, the words hollow even in your own head. Just calm down.

In your room, you undressed methodically, peeling off layers that felt heavy with his memory. The air was cool against your skin, but even that wasn’t enough to erase the warmth of his hands, the way they’d lingered like he was afraid to let go. You closed your eyes and exhaled, but all you could see was Joel—his hesitant voice, his uncertain eyes, his body golden in the light spilling through the window.

His gaze lifted to meet yours, and the intensity in his eyes was like a physical touch, hot and almost unbearable. “It’s not my case at all,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion. “Not a single day has gone by where I haven’t missed you. Do you have any idea how empty this house feels without you? How empty my life feels?”

He had looked at you like he was waiting for something—waiting for you to leave, maybe. Like he’d already braced himself for the sight of you walking away again. And yet, in his eyes, there had been something else too: fear. Like he wasn’t sure if he could handle it this time.

Joel had hurt you in ways he would never fully understand. Ways you weren’t sure you could articulate, even if you wanted to. What had all of this been for? Why had he done it? Was it out of boredom, selfishness, some unspoken need you couldn’t possibly fulfill? He had a girlfriend. Sienna. He was still dating her, wasn’t he?

And then there was Clara. He’d made you believe there was something there, too. He’d admitted it outright—he’d used her. Said it with a kind of brutal honesty that had stung more than it soothed. The worst part was that you had valued his honesty, that it had felt like a gift even as it tore you apart. You knew him well enough to believe he hadn’t lied, not about that. His words had been sincere, and that sincerity only made it harder to bear.

The truth was a weight in your chest, heavy and immovable: one of the most important friendship of your life was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. Even if you and Joel managed to untangle yourselves from this mess, to salvage whatever was left, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing could undo what had happened. His kisses, his sharp words, the way his touch had lingered—they had left marks you couldn’t erase, scars you weren’t sure you wanted to hide.

You stepped into the bathroom, shedding your clothes in silence. The room was cold, the tiles biting at your feet as you turned on the shower. The water sputtered, then poured hot and steady, and you stepped under it, letting the heat soak into your skin. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, imagining the water washing him off of you, carrying away his touch, his scent, the ghost of his hands.

But it wasn’t that simple.

*

Later, cocooned in a pile of warm blankets on the couch, you finally began to feel your body relax. The ache in your muscles started to fade, but Joel was still there, present. You felt him in the tender bruises on your hips, where his fingers had gripped you too tightly, as if holding on for dear life. You felt him in the hollow ache inside you, the space he seemed to occupy without even trying.

For a moment, you thought you could smell him on your skin—a faint trace of cedar and salt, something earthy and him—but you shook the thought away. It was impossible. Wasn’t it?

You pressed your head deeper into the couch cushions and closed your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on sleep, on anything but the way he had looked at you tonight.

Your body was still. Your mind was anything but.

*

When you woke, your back ached in protest, the sharp pull of poorly positioned sleep making you wince. The dry taste in your mouth felt like a rebuke, and your eyes were heavy with the kind of exhaustion that lingers even after hours of rest. A dull headache crept in as you pushed yourself upright, the blankets slipping off your shoulders.

The clock on the small side table blinked at you from under the soft glow of the lamp you’d just switched on. 9:23 PM. You’d been asleep for nearly three hours.

You groaned softly, rubbing at your lower back with one hand as you stood, catching a glimpse of yourself in the living room mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, disheveled and weary. Puffy eyes, tangled hair, pajamas that had twisted in your sleep. You looked like the physical embodiment of a bad day. God, you needed a break.

Your thoughts drifted to Cassie, miles away in Rome, likely fast asleep in the early morning hours. Even if she were awake, you weren’t sure you could unload everything on her tonight. You made a mental note to call her tomorrow, when the guilt and exhaustion felt less immediate.

The kitchen was cold and quiet as you opened the fridge, hoping for something—anything—that might resemble comfort. But of course, there was nothing. The emptiness on the shelves felt like a metaphor you didn’t want to unpack. You sighed and shut the door, leaning against it for a moment.

It was times like these when you missed your mother most, her gentle hands brushing your hair back, the way she’d kiss your temple and tell you it would be okay. Living alone meant there was no one to do that for you. No one to soften the edges of your sadness. You had to pick yourself up, take care of yourself, even when it felt impossible.

There had been a time when Joel was that person. And Sarah, with her quick wit and bright smile, had been the distraction you needed. But not anymore. You couldn’t lean on them now. Not after everything. You owed Sarah a make-up evening, though. The memory of her hopeful face when she’d invited you to dinner today made the guilt twist in your chest. Tomorrow, you promised yourself. You’d make it up to her tomorrow.

Resigned, you tied your hair into a loose bun and started chopping vegetables for a salad. The repetitive motion was grounding, if nothing else, but it didn’t stop your thoughts from drifting to darker places. When your phone buzzed on the couch, the sound startled you.

You washed your hands quickly, drying them on your t-shirt as you hurried to pick up the call. Travis’s name lit up the screen, and for a second, you hesitated.

Your chest tightened as guilt surged through you. Ignoring the call wasn’t an option; Travis didn’t deserve that. You swiped to answer, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

“Hello?”

He said your name with a kind of warmth that made you pause, like he’d been waiting to hear you for hours.

“Good to find you awake,” he said, his voice gentle but edged with something unsure. “I felt bad leaving your house earlier without saying goodbye properly.”

“You left a note,” you reminded him, sitting back down on the couch and pressing a hand to your forehead. “It’s fine, really.”

“Still,” he said, a faint sigh on the other end. “It felt… a little abrupt. Evasive, maybe?”

You hummed in agreement, not trusting yourself to say more.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, concern creeping into his tone. “You sound… off.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear, covering the microphone as you exhaled shakily. He was right. You did sound off. You felt off. Lately, you felt like you were failing everyone, yourself included.

You and Travis weren’t serious. Nothing had ever been defined. But he’d been kind, patient, more understanding than you probably deserved. And you cared for him, in your way. He’d even told you earlier that he’d wait, that you could take the time you needed to sort things out with Joel. And yet here you were, complicating things further by falling back into Joel’s orbit.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you lied, your voice too even, too practiced. The guilt made your stomach twist.

“Still feeling that hangover, huh?” he teased gently, his laugh light and familiar.

“Probably,” you said, smiling faintly at the memory of last night—his exaggerated grimace as he’d crouched over the toilet, the surreal shade of blue in the bowl.

“Well,” he said after a pause, his tone softening, “tell me you haven’t eaten yet.”

“I was… trying to make a salad or something,” you admitted, glancing at the half-chopped vegetables on the counter. “I don’t really feel like cooking.”

“Good,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I was thinking about ordering pizza and bringing it over. If you’re up for some company, that is. No pressure. Just friends.”

His voice faltered slightly on the last words, and the sweetness of it made you ache.

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Turning him down would feel worse than whatever strange guilt was already weighing on you.

“I like pizza,” you said finally, a smile tugging at your lips. “Definitely better than salad.”

“Way better,” he agreed, laughing softly. “No offense to the salad—or the salad maker.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound lighter than you’d expected. 

*

On the television screen, Vida Boheme radiated elegance, her black-and-white ensemble tailored perfectly, her nails immaculate, and the glint of her pearl necklace catching the soft light. The scene unfolded with Vida sitting at a table surrounded by the women of the village, Noxeema, and Chi Chi, all leaning in as if she were about to reveal a profound secret.

“You know what we should have?” Vida said, her voice lilting with certainty and charm.

The camera cut to Noxeema, dressed in a vibrant orange outfit, her expression deadpan, gesturing as though the answer was obvious.

“A day with the girls,” Noxeema declared, turning to the elderly woman beside her with a conspiratorial smile.

You smiled at the screen mid-bite, the warm glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room. Turning to Travis, you shook your head, half-indignant, half-playful, a hint of laughter in your voice.

“I seriously can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie,” you said, your words slightly muffled by the bite of pizza still in your mouth. You quickly swallowed, grabbing your glass of soda for a sip before continuing. “Cassie and I used to watch this one all the time. This or Riding in Cars with Boys. Classic.”

Travis, lounging beside you with his socked feet propped up on the coffee table, gave a casual shrug, glancing at you with a smirk. “Wait, you mean the Drew Barrymore one?”

“Obviously,” you replied, rolling your eyes and nudging him with your elbow. “Please tell me you’ve at least seen that one.”

He grinned, as if sensing the trap you’d set for him. “I have,” he said slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching. Then he dropped the bomb. “But it’s kind of a downer, don’t you think?”

You froze mid-reach for another slice of pizza, your head snapping toward him. “A downer?” you repeated, your voice laced with disbelief. Your eyes narrowed as though he’d just insulted your favorite family member. “Are we talking about the same movie?”

Travis held up his hands defensively, his expression a mix of sheepishness and amusement. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t say it was bad! Just… I don’t know, it bums me out.”

He paused to finish chewing a bite of pizza, clearly weighing how to explain himself. You leaned back, arms crossed, waiting.

“Okay, hear me out,” he said finally, his tone quieter now. He shifted slightly, sitting up straighter. “The first time I saw it, I was twenty. It was right after my dad passed away.” He hesitated, glancing down at the pizza in his hand. “Not that I was close to him or anything. Honestly, I barely knew the guy. But my mom… she was wrecked. And watching that movie, seeing all the family stuff, all the pain... It just hit a little too close to home.”

His words hung in the air between you, the weight of them settling quietly in the space you shared. You studied him for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden honesty that had slipped into the conversation. It wasn’t the direction you’d expected things to take, but there was a kind of openness in him now that you couldn’t help but appreciate.

“I had no idea, Trav,” you said softly, your voice gentle as you shifted on the couch to face him more fully. “That makes so much sense.”

He nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a small, self-conscious smile. He seemed almost reluctant to hold your gaze, his fingers idly picking at the edge of the pizza crust in his hand.

“Yeah, well…” he started, his tone lighter now, as if shaking off the vulnerability he’d just shared. “That aside, you gotta admit—the movie’s kinda heavy. All that stuff with the dad? It just plain turns my stomach.”

“With her son’s dad or her dad?” you asked, leaning forward slightly, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Oh, Lord, her dad,” he groaned, throwing his head back against the couch as if even the memory of the plot exhausted him. “I’d almost forgot ‘bout him. But yeah, both, I reckon. Still, her son’s dad takes the cake. What a piece of work.”

You laughed lightly, the sound bubbling up as you thought back to the first time you’d seen the movie. “I watched it for the first time when I was ten,” you told him, your grin widening as the memory surfaced. “And I’m not kidding when I say it terrified me. I was so scared of getting pregnant as a teenager that I wouldn’t even let my first boyfriend hold my hand.”

Travis let out a warm chuckle, the sound drawing a smile to your lips. He tilted his head toward you, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure that ain’t how babies happen.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you felt your cheeks flush. “Hey, I was young and ridiculously innocent,” you shot back, holding your hands up in mock defense. “It didn’t matter anyway. The poor guy dumped me before I could even think about trying it.”

Travis laughed again, a deeper, more genuine laugh that sent a pleasant warmth spreading through you. The way his face softened when he laughed, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, it tugged at something deep inside you. You found yourself watching him for a beat too long, taking in the quiet tenderness in his expression. There was something different about him tonight—something that felt steady, comforting.

On the television, the women of the village were parading in colorful dresses, their laughter and movements filling the screen with life. Stockard Channing’s character stepped into the frame in a stunning red gown, her hair slicked back, adorned with a sparkling appliqué.

Travis gestured toward the screen with his pizza slice, his voice pulling your attention back to him. “Now, that’s somethin’. She’s got, what, maybe ten minutes of screen time? And she just about steals the whole dang movie. I like Vida too. Amazing."

You smiled at his observation, appreciating the way he could shift gears so seamlessly, from quiet reflection to casual banter. “Right? She’s iconic. Cassie and I used to try to copy her attitude, but, uh, let’s just say it didn’t land.”

Travis raised an eyebrow, his grin crooked. “You? Tryin’ to act all high-and-mighty like that? I’d pay good money to see it.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you reached for another slice of pizza. “Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly convincing. Cassie, on the other hand… she nailed it. She had the whole icy glare thing down.”

Travis chuckled, leaning back into the couch with an easy smile. “I can’t picture you doin’ icy. You’re too warm for that.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. There was something so matter-of-fact in the way he said it, like it wasn’t a compliment so much as a simple truth.

“Well,” you said after a pause, your voice quieter now, “I guess I’ll just have to stick to being me.”

“Can’t imagine that’s a bad thing,” Travis said, his soft tone softening the edges of his words. He glanced over at you, his gaze warm, steady. 

The moment passed as quickly as it had come, and Travis broke eye contact, reaching for another slice of pizza, and you shifted your attention back to the movie.

“Back up, Virgil,” Carol Ann said, her voice firm, her gaze unwavering as she confronted her husband. “I’m a drag queen.”

Virgil, the abusive husband, looked at her surprised.

“Stupid fucker,” Travis muttered under his breath, the words slipping out almost by accident.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, the sound startling in the quiet room. His comment felt so unfiltered, so distinctly him.

The clock on the wall read almost 11 PM, and as the minutes stretched on, you felt the weight of the day settling over you. Your body ached for rest, your eyelids heavy as you stretched your arms above your head.

Leaning back against the couch, you let your head tilt, the soft warmth of Travis’s shoulder inviting as your body gave in to its exhaustion. He didn’t seem to mind, adjusting slightly to make your position more comfortable.

On screen, the movie carried on, but the details blurred as sleep began to pull at you. For a moment, the day’s worries faded, replaced by the quiet hum of the TV, the soft sound of Travis’s breath, and the steady rhythm of your own heart.

For Travis, this was just as complicated as it was for you—maybe even more so in certain ways. He liked you too much, too deeply for how short a time you’d been together. He’d grown accustomed to the way your presence softened the sharp edges of his days, to the ease of your laughter and the subtle ways you tried to hide how much you cared. He’d started to imagine a version of his life with you in it, a version that didn’t feel as far-fetched as it probably should have.

But Joel.

Joel was the immovable obstacle, the thing he could never quite get around. Not because of just jealousy—although there was a trace of that too—but because Travis knew that whatever existed between you and Joel, it was bigger than him. It was bigger than you, even. And he knew, with a sinking kind of certainty, that no matter what he did, no matter how patient or kind or present he tried to be, he would always be standing in Joel’s shadow.

What made it worse, though, was that he accepted it. He wasn’t proud of that, but he had made his peace with it, or at least he thought he had. If being with you meant living with the ghost of your best friend, then fine. He’d find a way to make it work. And if you decided you couldn’t be with him at all—if all you could offer was friendship—then he’d take that too. Hell, he’d even try to like Joel, which would be an uphill battle considering the guy had never mattered much to him before.

Travis dropped his gaze to you, watching in silence for a moment.

He had noticed right away that you’d been crying—your eyes were still a little red, the skin beneath them slightly swollen despite your attempts to hide it. Whatever had happened earlier, he knew it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Joel.

But he didn’t ask. He wouldn’t.

He had promised you time, space, no pressure. And Travis was a man of his word, even if it hurt to keep it.

Still, the thought of Joel had his jaw tightening. For a guy who usually avoided conflict, the idea of punching Joel square in the face had crossed his mind more than once since you’d told him everything. How could Joel have done that to you? How could he have looked at you—you—and treated you with so little care?

Travis didn’t understand.

He knew Joel was stubborn, strong-willed, the kind of guy who seemed charming and generous until the moment he decided otherwise. Joel could be kind, sure. He could be thoughtful, maybe even sweet when he wanted to be. But he could also be cold, sharp-edged, someone who wielded his words like weapons.

“I don’t think that’s true.” His voice was calm, steady, as if he’d already thought this through. “I think Joel has... feelings for you. And I think it scares him so much he doesn’t know what to do with it. That’s why he’s defensive. That’s why he can’t stand me. That’s why he kept watching us at the barbecue like I was committing some kind of crime.”

“Travis—”

You had looked at him then, your expression unreadable, and Travis had felt a small, selfish flicker of hope. You didn't seem to believe him.

Maybe you wouldn’t go back to Joel. Maybe you’d leave him behind for good this time.

He hated himself for thinking it—for the way relief had bubbled up in the pit of his stomach even as you wiped at your eyes, trying to keep your composure. It wasn’t fair to you, and it wasn’t the kind of man Travis wanted to be, but the truth of it was there all the same.

Because as much as he wanted to be the one you chose, he wanted you to be okay even more. And he meant it. Even if it made him feel pathetic. Even if it meant giving up the small, selfish hope he’d been holding onto.

When Travis left your house earlier that day, he entered his own feeling like his chest was a tightly wound spring about to snap. His emotions churned in ways he hadn’t anticipated. First, there was confusion—a sharp, disorienting kind of bewilderment. He hadn’t planned on feeling so strongly about you. He had always liked you, sure, but he never expected it to grow into this. This sharp, aching attachment that felt impossible to let go of. Losing the possibility of discovering what you could be together felt like a quiet kind of devastation, one he wasn’t entirely ready to admit to himself.  

And then there was jealousy.  

Jealousy that burned hot and ugly, coiling itself tightly around his insides until it became hard to breathe. The thought of Joel—his presence, his history with you—sliced through him in a way he couldn’t rationalize. All the interactions he’d had with Joel over the last few weeks replayed in his mind on an endless loop. The veiled comments, the pointed jabs, the little ways Joel had gone out of his way to provoke him, to make him feel small.  

The worst part was the anger that followed. Not just at Joel but at himself. For not saying something. For not standing up for himself, for you, for whatever it was that had been building between the two of you. He should have fired back. He should have said something—anything—to cut Joel down to size. But he hadn’t. He’d swallowed the insults, keeping his composure because that was what he did. Because that was who he was.  

By the time he made it to his bedroom, Travis felt drained. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to force the tension out of his shoulders. Getting angry wasn’t worth it, he reminded himself, pacing the length of the room as if he could walk off the weight of his emotions. This wasn’t his fight to have; it was yours. Yours and Joel’s.  

Still, the thought brought him little comfort.  

In an effort to shake off the heaviness in his chest, he went for a walk, letting the brisk evening air sting his face. Later, he stood under the scalding spray of the shower, letting it beat against his skin as if it could scrub away the swirling thoughts that had taken up permanent residence in his mind. By the time he reached for his phone, hoping for a reply from you, the ache in his chest had dulled but hadn’t disappeared entirely.  

Hours later, as your soft breaths fell against his shoulder, Travis felt the tension ease slightly. You were asleep, completely at peace, and he was struck by how delicate you seemed in that moment. How your face, so often animated with sharp wit or quiet determination, had softened in sleep. He thought briefly about staying like that all night, letting you rest against him, but the ache in his neck was becoming impossible to ignore.  

Just as he was trying to figure out how to move without waking you, there was a knock at the door. Three sharp, deliberate raps that shattered the quiet of the room.  

You didn’t stir, not even a little. Travis glanced down at you, then gently slipped out from under your weight, careful to cover you with the blanket you’d neatly folded on the other couch earlier that day.  

The hallway felt darker than it had before as he made his way to the door, his mind spinning. Should he wake you up? Probably. He hesitated, hand hovering over the doorknob. Was opening the door himself crossing a line? Maybe. But before he could talk himself out of it, he tugged the door open.  

And there, standing on your doorstep, was Joel.  

For a split second, Joel’s expression betrayed him. His eyebrows lifted, eyes widening slightly as if he hadn’t been expecting Travis to answer the door. The surprise vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by something steadier, harder. His gaze flicked past Travis, scanning the interior of the house before landing back on him.  

Travis could feel the storm brewing inside him again, all the resentment and frustration he’d tried to let go of earlier crashing back in full force.  

Joel didn’t say anything at first. Neither did Travis. The two men stood there, the silence between them thick and unyielding, charged with everything they weren’t saying.  

Travis clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. He wasn’t going to let Joel get under his skin—not again. Whatever reason Joel had for being here, it wasn’t his business. Not really.  

"Travis," Joel said, his voice firm and clipped, the kind of tone that brooked no argument. "Can you call—"

"Joel," Travis interrupted, his tone sharp but with a thin veil of politeness that neither man believed. "How's it going?"

Joel’s jaw tightened, the movement barely perceptible. If Travis hadn’t been watching so intently, he might have missed it.

"Fine," Joel replied, his impatience cracking through the surface of his calm demeanor. His dark eyes met Travis's with the kind of intensity that felt like a challenge. "I need to talk—"

"She can't right now," Travis interrupted again, his voice firmer this time, leaving no room for debate.

Joel’s eyebrows flicked upward, just a twitch, but enough to betray his irritation. His mind whirred, questions piling up faster than he could address them.

"Is she okay? Did something happen?" Joel asked, his voice low and measured, but laced with something more—an edge of concern that Travis couldn’t fully place.

Travis leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as though settling into the moment. "Oh, she’s fine," he said, feigning nonchalance. "She just had a long day. A really long day." He tilted his head, letting the words linger. "She’s sleeping now. Needed it."

The knot in Joel’s stomach tightened, a slow burn starting to spread through his chest. Something about Travis’s tone—the deliberate drawl, the smug edge—rubbed him raw. "Was she upset about something?"

"You could say that," Travis replied, completely unaware of Joel's concerns, shrugging as though the details were inconsequential. "She was wound up earlier, but I helped her relax."

Joel’s eyes narrowed, his gaze cutting through the smugness Travis wore like armor.

"You helped her relax," Joel repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

"Yeah," Travis said, straightening a little, his smile sharpening. "She needed someone to be there for her. Lucky for me, I was."

Joel’s nostrils flared, his composure cracking slightly. "What are you trying to say, Dunn?"

"Nothing at all," Travis said, his smile widening. "You know how it is. Just statin’ the obvious, you know? Folks like us—we step up when someone needs us. You’d do the same thing, wouldn’t you?”

The words hit Joel like a punch to the gut, an unanticipated blow that left him reeling. A knot began to form in his stomach, twisting tighter with each second of silence.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stood there, looking at Travis, digesting the words as if they were a meal gone bad. His face felt hot, his pulse heavy in his ears.

"Anyway," Travis continued, his tone light but with an edge of something smug, "it's kind of late, isn't it? She had a long day. Poor thing was so tired she fell asleep on me and everything." He smiled, leaning against the doorframe like he didn’t have a care in the world.

It was a deliberate smile, one Joel recognized instantly for what it was: a taunt.

If this conversation had been happening under different circumstances, Joel might have enjoyed hearing such words. Might have smirked at the irony of some guy bragging about holding his girl, oblivious to the fact that she'd been in Joel’s arms earlier that day. But now, standing there on your porch, the words felt like nails in his chest, sharp and unbearable.

“I see,” Joel said finally, his voice tight, each word sounding like it had been carefully measured before leaving his mouth. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to the floor for just a second before snapping back up. His eyes locked on Travis with an intensity that couldn’t be ignored. “I just think it’s a little strange, that’s all. You answerin’ her door like that.” His tone shifted, gaining a sharpness that hadn’t been there before. “Pretty sure she needs to talk to me too, don’t you think?”

Travis chuckled softly, the sound low and disarming, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Why? Did something happen?"

Joel straightened, squaring his shoulders as he inhaled slowly. The action made him seem bigger somehow, more imposing, as if the weight of his presence alone could force Travis to back down.

"None of your business, Dunn," Joel said, his voice gravelly, the words biting.

"Maybe. But today she told me she wasn’t sure she wanted to see you," Travis added, his voice quieter now but no less pointed. "She seemed pretty certain about it. Said she wanted space, and honestly?" He tilted his head, his expression almost pitying. "I think that’s a good call."

Joel stepped forward, his body tense. "You don’t know a damn thing about what’s between us," he said, his voice low and gravelly.

Travis didn’t flinch. If anything, his smirk deepened. "Yeah, maybe," he said, his voice light. "But I know what she wants. And tonight? Certainly not you."

The words hit their mark. Joel flinched, barely, but it was enough for Travis to see. Enough for Travis to know he had scored a point in whatever unspoken battle they were waging.

Joel’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure.

"Again, none of your damn business," he said, his voice dropping low, rough with frustration. He stepped forward, just an inch, but the movement carried weight.

Travis met Joel’s gaze head-on, his jaw clenched, his body tense. For a brief moment, he considered saying more—letting loose all the things he’d held back in the past. But something in Joel’s expression stopped him. Something raw and heavy, something that mirrored the storm Travis had felt earlier that day.

"Sure," Travis said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "None of my business. But hey, I’ll let her know you stopped by."

Joel let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he took a step back. "Right," he muttered, his voice laced with derision. "Don’t bother. No need."

He lingered for a moment longer, his gaze fixed on Travis, a mixture of disdain and something else—something softer, almost mournful—flickering behind his eyes. Then, without another word, he turned and walked off the porch, his steps quick and purposeful.

Inside, Travis closed the door with a quiet sigh. Leaning against the door for a moment, he let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to shake off the lingering tension. It had been childish, he knew that. But Joel had treated him like this before, made him feel small and insignificant, and for once, Travis had enjoyed turning the tables.

He moved quietly down the hallway, stopping briefly in the bathroom before returning to the living room. You were still lying on the couch, curled under the blanket he’d placed over you earlier. Your face was soft in sleep, peaceful, and he felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite name as he looked at you.

Instead of heading to the guest room or leaving altogether, Travis grabbed the remote and settled onto the other end of the couch, careful not to disturb you. He flipped through the channels aimlessly, the soft glow of the TV casting flickering light across the room.

This time, he wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t scribble out a note or disappear before you woke up. Tonight, he’d stay.

*

Travis leaned against the kitchen island, watching you with quiet amusement as you poured sugar into your coffee cup. The soft hum of the morning settled around you, the slow ache in your back from sleeping on the couch a reminder of how little sleep you'd gotten. You glanced over at him—he was still there, still here, though you hadn't expected him to stay the night. His presence surprised you, though there was a comforting weight in it, one you hadn’t quite prepared for.

The coffee, when you finally tasted it, was perfect—rich, balanced, like it knew exactly what you needed to start the day. You closed your eyes briefly as the warmth spread, savoring the sensation. Travis chuckled softly from behind you. "Is it good?"

You smiled to yourself, the corner of your lips curving slightly. "Like you have no idea," you teased, letting the moment stretch just a little longer before breaking it.

“Well, let’s do this again sometime," he said, pushing himself off the stool. He straightened his coat with an exaggerated gesture, his voice light, almost playful. "Smells good.”

You didn’t respond immediately, just took another sip of coffee and turned to the toaster, waiting for the bread to pop. The quiet felt like a small luxury, one you weren't used to, but savored nonetheless. 

“Well, I’m off,” Travis said, his footsteps echoing faintly as he moved toward the door. "I’ll see you later, okay?"

You glanced over your shoulder, the cup still cradled in your hands. "Sure, I’ll text you," you said, as his lips brushed against your cheek in a quick, lingering kiss. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

His eyes softened for a moment, a promise without words. “Of course,” he said, and then he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

Alone, you turned and reached for your phone, which sat untouched on the coffee table. It had been the first thing you'd done when you woke up—texting Cassie. Her response had been as you expected: she was home, curled up in bed, eating ice cream and watching TV. It was 4 pm in Rome.

“Aw, look at you,” Cassie cooed, her smile lighting up the screen. She tilted her head, examining you with playful scrutiny. “How cute do you look this morning? How’d you sleep?”

You exhaled slowly, leaning back in your chair as you tried to find the words to describe the chaotic whirlwind of emotions you’d woken up with. “It was... okay,” you said finally, your voice hesitant. You paused for a moment before adding, “Travis came over last night.”

Cassie’s eyebrows shot up, and her face practically filled the screen as she leaned closer to her phone. “Ooooh, Travis,” she teased, dragging out his name with a knowing grin. “Well, well, well. Did something finally happen? Don’t leave me hanging.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, albeit nervously, as you reached for your coffee mug. The warmth of the ceramic grounded you, but the bitterness of the coffee didn’t do much to mask the knot tightening in your chest. “No, nothing like that,” you said after a sip, shaking your head as you spoke. “In fact, I don’t think anything is ever going to happen between us.”

Cassie’s playful expression faltered, replaced by a look of concern. Her brow furrowed, and she tilted her head slightly. “Wait, what? Why not? Did he do something?” Her tone softened, but her curiosity didn’t waver. “C’mon, tell me.”

You hesitated, staring into your coffee as if the swirling liquid might somehow hold the answer. The truth had been sitting heavily on your chest all morning, and you knew you couldn’t keep it in much longer. “He didn’t do anything wrong,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, almost apologetic. “It’s just... I—”

Cassie leaned in closer, her eyes wide with anticipation. “You what?”

The weight of what you were about to say made your chest tighten. You hadn’t spoken it aloud yet, and the words felt sharp and foreign on your tongue. But there was no other way to get it out than to just... say it.

“I slept with Joel.” The words tumbled out in a rush, and the moment they left your mouth, your heart started pounding like it was trying to break free.

Cassie froze, her jaw dropping as her eyes went wide with shock. For a moment, she just stared at you, her face a mix of disbelief and intrigue. “Wait, wait, wait. What?! When?!”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling as you set your mug down. “Yesterday,” you admitted in a whisper, avoiding her gaze. “And, um... on his birthday.”

Cassie’s mouth fell open even wider, her hands flying to her face. “No. You are not serious right now.”

“I am,” you said, sighing as you ran a hand through your hair. “It just... happened. I don’t even know how to explain it, Cassie. I should’ve told you sooner, but... everything’s just been so complicated.”

She leaned back, shaking her head slowly as if trying to process the bomb you’d just dropped. Then, without warning, her face lit up with wild excitement.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, her voice rising a few octaves. “I knew this was gonna happen! I totally knew it! Tommy and I used to joke about it all the time—like, ‘When are they gonna stop being so stubborn and finally admit it?’”

You blinked, looking at her with a mix of confusion and amusement. “Wait—What? You guys were talking about us? What, like a whole secret conspiracy or something?”

Cassie burst out laughing, her grin widening. “Oh, honey, it was not a secret. Tommy was basically on a countdown. We’d be sitting there, sipping our beers, and he’d go, ‘Any day now, he’ll cave. We just need to wait for the stars to align.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of it all making your head spin.

“I’m over here thinking I’ve been doing a pretty good job at keeping my feelings in check, and meanwhile, Tommy’s plotting my love life like some kind of matchmaking genius?”

Cassie shot you a teasing look. “Oh, he’s not a genius. More like an overenthusiastic amateur. But he’s not wrong, was he?”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh. “This is ridiculous.”

It took a while for her to collect herself, but then she zeroed in on the more important question.

“How was it? Does Travis know?”

“Yeah, he knows... about the first time,” you said, a sigh escaping your lips as you rubbed your forehead, exhausted. “I... Well, it wasn’t planned.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “I assumed as much.”

You exhaled slowly, gathering your thoughts. "So, on his birthday... we had this massive argument," you started, your voice a little shaky as you remembered how everything had unfolded. "He’d been hiding this thing from me—he's been dating someone... Sienna, that's her name. He didn't tell me, not even once. I had to find out from Sarah." You paused, shaking your head in disbelief. "And then, he actually asked Tommy not to say anything. Can you even believe that? Like, really? I thought he trusted me."

Cassie’s face tightened as she processed your words, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, the concern in her voice palpable. "What the hell is wrong with him? He couldn't even be honest with you?" Her gaze darkened slightly, her brow furrowing. "I swear, some people... men."

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head.

"Exactly. That's exactly how I felt. He didn’t even tell me, so I confronted him about it. And we fought—big time. He actually told me I was just jealous. Said he knew I had feelings for him, that I liked him. And I—I just snapped. I told him no, I didn’t. That he wasn’t my type. That we were just friends." You rubbed your temples, trying to remember how you felt in that moment. "I was so mad, Cassie. So pissed off that he’d kept something like that from me."

Cassie’s expression softened a little, though there was still a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“You totally hit his ego, didn’t you?” she said with a raised eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "Come on, admit it. That had to have been part of it."

You couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly.

"Yeah, I guess I did," you admitted, rolling your eyes in a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help myself. It just came out."

"Well, I’m sure it worked," Cassie mused, leaning back into her chair with a sigh. She paused, her lips curling up into a grin. "So, then... you kissed him, huh?"

You closed your eyes at the thought of it.

"I did," you said, your voice a little more distant as the memory replayed in your mind. "And it was... God, it was the best kiss I’ve ever had. No joke. The best." You let out a breath, feeling the weight of your words. "And the best sex too. Sorry, but it’s true."

Cassie gasped in dramatic disbelief, her hands flying to her face.

"Joel Miller," she whispered, almost in awe, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite process it. "Who would've thought? You’re killin’ me here. This is too much."

You nodded slowly, still lost in the vividness of the moment.

"Yeah, but here’s the kicker," you continued, your voice quieter now, a trace of sadness creeping into your words. "When I woke up, he was gone. Just... gone. No note, nothing. It was like he’d disappeared into thin air. Then, when he came back to talk to me, he said it was a mistake. That we should never have crossed that line. And he... he looked at me like I was the one who’d messed everything up. Like I was the one to blame. And we fought again, Cassie. I don’t know what to do anymore. I just don’t."

You felt the weight of everything you’d said—the confusion, the regret, the pain—and let it hang in the air. Cassie sat silently, processing it all, her eyes soft but intense, focused on you as she tried to understand your tangled mess of emotions.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been talking until you finally took a breath (an hour, maybe?), looking up to find Cassie watching you with a quiet expression, her concern clearly etched in her features. You shifted uncomfortably.

"I don’t know what to do, Cass," you said, your voice small, the heaviness in your chest like a brick pressing down. "I feel like I’m losing my mind over all this. Like I’m... I don’t even know anymore."

Cassie stayed quiet for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed everything you’d told her. Then she let out a soft sigh, sitting up straighter.

“Well,” she said, her tone calm but firm, “it’s pretty clear to me what’s going on.” Her voice softened just a little, but it was certain. "Do you want me to tell you what I think?"

You looked at her, the uncertainty swirling inside you, but you nodded, desperate for some clarity.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice filled with so much tension, you felt like you might snap.

Cassie didn’t hesitate. “You love him. And he loves you,” she said simply, her words hitting you like a wave. “It’s been obvious from the start, hasn’t it? You both tiptoe around it, but the signs are all there. I even asked him once, you know.”

You blinked, caught off guard. "You asked him?"

She nodded, her gaze unwavering. “Yeah. It was a while ago—on your birthday, I think, when you were turning... twenty-eight? I asked him straight out, just to see what he'd say. He denied it, of course. Told me he only saw you as a friend. But, honey, I saw through it. He was nervous as hell. You could practically see the feelings swimming under the surface. It was obvious.”

Your breath caught in your throat. "What do I do, Cass? What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Cassie exhaled slowly, her expression softening as she looked at you with understanding.

“You need to stop running from it,” she said, her voice gentle but full of conviction. “You love him, and he loves you. If there’s nothing standing in your way, you’ve got to go for it. You can’t just keep pretending it isn’t there.”

You swallowed, your heart heavy in your chest. "But what about Travis? He’s... he’s... And Sienna, Joel doesn't even—"

“That woman he’s dating, Sienna, isn’t an obstacle, I mean, it's obviously not serious. He's just going to break up with her and that's it. And Travis, well, that isn’t serious either,” Cassie said, her voice firm with conviction. “So really, what’s stopping you from going to talk to Joel and figuring things out? Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing in your way. Besides, he told you himself, didn’t he? Yesterday, he admitted it—that he misses you, that he’s sorry, and that he feels terrible about everything. I’m not saying you need to forgive him right away or pretend that everything is fine, but—come on, in my opinion, he deserves a chance to show you how sorry he is.”

You shifted uncomfortably, the idea of confronting Joel still sitting heavy in your stomach.

"This makes me nervous," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Cassie asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"Talking to him... I don't know, God, it makes me nauseous just thinking about it," you admitted, your hands shaking slightly as you placed them in your lap. The thought of confronting Joel about everything, of peeling back all the layers of confusion and regret, felt like a weight that would crush you.

Cassie’s laughter was soft but genuine, amusement dancing in her voice as she took in your panicked expression.

“Easy,” she said, trying to soothe your nerves. “Just take it one step at a time. Talk to Joel first, then you can figure out what you’re going to do with Travis.”

You shook your head, the knot in your stomach tightening. “No, Cassie, I’m telling you, Joel never actually said he wanted to be with me. In fact, he was pretty clear that he was willing to accept Travis... and—” 

"Jesus Christ," Cassie cut you off, her voice rising with frustration. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing as she locked onto you, as if trying to break through your fog of doubt. "Are you even listening to yourself right now?" she asked, her tone a mix of exasperation and impatience. "He told you that because he’s terrified, okay? He’s scared of what might happen between you two, but trust me, he wants you. Deep down, he’s desperate to be close to you again. He said all that because he wants to convince you, but it's clear as day. He’s not trying to shut you out; he's trying to gain you back. He needs you, and you need him. That’s the truth." 

She let out a breath, her face softening for a second. "You need to stop overthinking everything and just see it for what it is. Trust me."

You exhaled slowly, trying to process her words, but the doubt still clouded your mind.

“Okay, I trust you, Cass, I do, but... what if I go talk to him and he tells me that I’m wrong, that he doesn’t want anything, that I’ve misunderstood everything? What if it’s all just one big mistake on my part? I couldn’t stand the humiliation. I just couldn’t,” you said, your voice rising with the tension. “If that happens... I’ll move out. I’ll leave. I’m serious. I don’t think I could live with myself after that.”

Cassie groaned loudly, her frustration palpable. She covered her face with both hands, groaning again before dropping them dramatically. When she finally looked at you, her eyes were sharp, her gaze unwavering.

“You’re being way too dramatic,” she said, her voice tinged with exasperation. “That’s not going to happen. He’s not going to shut you down like that. But if you’re really that insecure about it, then just... take it slow. Go talk to him. See what he says. Don’t try to rush it, okay? You’ve already done the hardest part, just by being honest with yourself.”

You rubbed your eyes, a mix of frustration and exhaustion settling in.

“Okay,” you said after a long pause, your voice quieter. “I’ll do that. I wanted to invite Sarah over anyway, so I might as well start there. I’ll take it one step at a time.”

Cassie’s face softened with approval, her lips curving into a smile. “Sounds perfect to me. You’ll do fine.”

The conversation shifted then, easing into lighter topics as you both chatted aimlessly for the next couple of hours. It was around noon when Cassie started telling you about the small chaos in her life. She vented about a fight she’d gotten into with the guy who lived below her, the constant tension over thin apartment walls. Then, there was her boyfriend—how he’d been acting strange, how she’d found some unsettling things on his phone that made her question everything. You listened, nodding along as she vented her frustrations. 

Then, she shared something that took you by surprise.

“I really need to get away from Rome,” she confessed, her tone suddenly more serious. “I’m thinking about coming to Austin for a bit. A change of scenery... I just need a break from everything, from the stress. I need to recharge.”

You grinned at her, feeling a sense of relief and excitement bubble inside you. The idea of seeing her, of having her nearby again, was like a lifeline. You wanted her here, now more than ever. And you couldn’t help but celebrate inwardly that her need to escape Rome stemmed from conflict—something that meant you’d have her to yourself, even if just for a little while. 

At one o’clock in the afternoon, you heard the familiar rumble of Joel’s truck engine, a sound that seemed to make your heart skip a beat. You hurried over to the window, your pulse quickening as you pressed your hand against the cool glass, watching him. Joel’s truck backed out of the driveway, and there she was, Sarah—her smile wide and easy as she climbed into the passenger seat. They drove off together, the sound of the engine fading as they disappeared down the street.

You didn’t know why you felt the need to watch so closely. Maybe it was just to reassure yourself that he wasn’t avoiding you or that whatever had happened between you the night before wasn’t as messy as it seemed in your head. But there they were, together, and you couldn’t shake the knot tightening in your stomach.  

Half an hour later, the engine rumbled back into your consciousness. You pressed your ear to the window, straining to catch the sound of his truck once more. When you saw them return, your anxiety flared up again. They weren’t gone long, and that gnawing feeling of uncertainty crept back in, latching itself onto your chest. You knew what you had to do. You couldn’t wait any longer, or it would just get harder to face him. To face this. To face everything.

Taking a deep breath, you rushed upstairs. You threw on a thick white sweater over your T-shirt, pulling it down quickly over your hips, the fabric brushing against your skin. You stood in front of the mirror for a moment, running your fingers through your hair. It was wild, messy—just like everything else—but you managed to smooth it into something presentable. A little makeup, just enough to make you feel like you weren’t about to crack under the weight of this conversation. You didn’t want to look like you were out of control. You needed to feel in control.

When you went back downstairs, your heart raced, and a part of you wanted to turn back. To hide. To not deal with any of it. But then you remembered. He came looking for you yesterday, right? He wanted to talk, and he had been honest with you. You could do this. You just had to go to him. No more games, no more hesitation. You had to find out where you stood. You couldn’t keep putting it off, not without making everything feel even more tangled and complicated. 

The door swung open in front of you as if the universe was pushing you forward, or maybe it was just the weight of your own feet propelling you. The cool air slapped at your cheeks as you stepped outside, the breeze sharp against your skin. The sun, bright but low, kissed your face in a way that should’ve been comforting, but instead, it made everything feel more vivid. You walked quickly, every step pulsing with nervous energy, your body moving faster than your thoughts.

When you reached Joel’s door, you stopped for a moment, staring at the old, worn wood. Your fist trembled as it hovered over the surface, then you knocked, three quick, tentative raps. 

Silence stretched for a few seconds—seconds that felt like hours. You almost knocked again, your resolve faltering, but just as your fist was about to make contact, the door opened. 

There he was. Joel. 

His figure filled the doorway, leaning slightly, the faintest hint of exhaustion in his eyes. He was dressed simply—black pants, a black long-sleeved T-shirt, Converse shoes. Casual, effortless. His hair was the usual mess, tousled and rebellious, little spikes jutting out as if the world had no business asking him to tame it. It should have been familiar, comforting, but something about the way he stood there, looking at you—neutral, unreadable—shifted the air around you. 

Your heart stuttered. His eyes weren’t soft like they had been the night before. They were guarded, intense, fixed on your face, as though he were waiting for you to speak first. There was something in that expression, something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the uncertainty or the confusion or the way his jaw was set, like he was preparing for whatever was about to happen. 

"Hi, Joel," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, and you could feel the warmth creeping up your neck, flooding your cheeks. It was ridiculous, how shy you suddenly felt in front of him, but you couldn’t help it. "How are you?"

He let out a sharp sigh, as if the sound itself was an effort, and his gaze shifted past you, looking out into the distance like something on the other side of the street had become suddenly fascinating. His eyes briefly flickered back to you, and for a split second, they dropped to your neck, then to your lips—lingering there a moment too long before quickly darting back to your face, as if he was consciously avoiding something. A pang of disappointment struck you, sharp and immediate. You swallowed, your pulse quickening, suddenly aware of the closeness between you both. You just wanted him to look at you the way he used to, to see something familiar in his eyes again.

"I'm kinda busy, actually," Joel muttered, his voice colder than you'd ever heard it, the words clipped and distant.

“Oh… what are you doing?” You asked before you could stop yourself, your curiosity slipping out before your thoughts could catch up.

Joel shifted his weight against the doorframe, making the subtle move of pulling himself back, like he was creating even more space between you. His eyes flicked to you, briefly scanning you from head to toe, before he looked away again, almost as if the idea of meeting your gaze was something he wanted to avoid.

"Need somethin'?" he asked, his tone flat, almost uninterested.

The words hit you like a slap. The detachment in his voice was like ice water thrown in your face, and the coldness of it left you reeling. You felt a tightness in your stomach, your heart stuttering in your chest, as you tried to steady yourself. Something had shifted—something was off, and you could feel it, heavy in the air between you.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," you said, shifting nervously on your feet. Your voice was quiet, but firm, the question you’d been holding back finally slipping out. “Can we talk about what happened?”

He raised an eyebrow, his face unreadable, cold.

"What for?" he asked, his voice clipped, hard. His gaze flickered over you again, and it almost felt like he was sizing you up—like you were nothing more than an inconvenience to him. 

You stood there, completely thrown off by his coldness, the harshness of his words catching you off guard.

“What for?" you repeated, your voice softer now, almost vulnerable. "Well, to… to clear the air, Joel,” you added, the words barely coming out, as though saying them made the weight of the situation even heavier.

Joel shifted, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, his posture defensive. His eyes roamed over you briefly, then locked onto your face. The movement was so subtle, but it felt like a barrier being put up between you both. Your chest tightened as his presence seemed to grow colder, more distant. You felt a knot twist deeper in your stomach.

“There’s nothing to clear up,” Joel said, his voice now cutting through the silence, blunt and sharp. 

You inhaled sharply, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and you took a small step forward, your body moving without thinking. But even as you did, you could feel it—the growing chasm between you, the space he’d created between you that seemed impossible to cross. His arms remained firmly crossed, his body language locked tight. 

"What's wrong with you?" you asked, your voice softer now, laced with confusion and hurt. You could feel your heart aching, the raw emotion creeping into your words despite yourself. “Why are you acting like this?”

Joel’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked away, the tension in his face so palpable that it almost felt like a physical barrier between you. His eyes darted to the side, catching the fading light of the afternoon, and his profile was so perfect, so effortless in its intensity, that it made your chest ache with something you couldn’t name. He didn’t have to look so goddamn beautiful when he was angry, when he was pulling away like this.

“I ain’t actin’ in any way,” he finally muttered, his voice low, rough, and weary. It was as if the words didn’t even belong to him, like they were just something he was forced to say. “I’m just tellin’ you that you and I ain’t got nothin’ to talk about.”

The words hit you like a slap. The frustration bubbled up from your chest, burning in your throat, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You exhaled sharply, trying to control the tremble in your voice.

“God, Joel,” you muttered, your words heavy with exasperation, frustration, and the kind of confusion that felt like it was cracking your heart open. “Why do you always do that? What the hell happened yesterday? What the fuck is wrong with you? Can you just stop confusing me for one damn second?”

Joel scoffed, the sound like a knife scraping against stone, a sharp, sarcastic laugh that didn’t even reach his eyes. He turned his head, looking past you, anywhere but at you, as if trying to escape the weight of the moment, as if you were somehow the one making this harder than it had to be.

You stood there, watching him, your heart racing in your chest, trying to understand what was going on in his mind. But the more you tried, the more it felt like the pieces just wouldn’t fit. When he finally looked back at you, there was something in his expression—a cold amusement, a bitterness that didn’t belong. It made the pit in your stomach twist painfully.

“I confuse you?” he asked, his voice now laced with amusement, as he pointed at your chest with his index finger. His eyes glinted, but the expression didn’t reach his face, not really.

You crossed your arms, mimicking his stance, as if somehow it would make you feel less vulnerable.

“Yes, Joel, you confuse me.”

He shook his head slowly, still smiling that bitter little smile.

“I’m done with this conversation, darlin’,” he said, his voice colder now. “And with all of this.”

Frustration bubbled up again, and you took a step back, feeling the familiar sting of unshed tears behind your eyes. You tried to hold it together, but the pressure in your chest was too much.

“What the fuck is wrong with your head, Joel?” you asked, quieter now, but the words still packed a punch. “Seriously, because it’s not normal to act this way.”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at you, that same unreadable expression on his face, the silence stretching between you like a thick wall.

“Can you say something, at least?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them, desperate for something, anything, to break through.

“I think I was pretty clear,” he said after a long pause, his voice clipped. “I’m done with this conversation.”

You laughed, incredulous, the sound bitter on your tongue. “It’s ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself.

Joel’s gaze turned hard again, like stone.

“And if I recall correctly,” he continued, “I expressed myself quite well yesterday. I don’t intend to waste breath repeating somethin' that serves no purpose.”

You stared at him, stunned, the realization sinking in.

“You’re mad because I didn’t come to dinner last night, is that it?” The words came out before you could stop them, and part of you hated yourself for asking it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

Joel paused, his gaze narrowing slightly.

“Ah, no,” he clarified, shaking his head, his tone sharper now. “I think you had other plans, didn’t you?”

You stood there, frozen, trying to make sense of what he was saying, of what this all meant. But as he stood there, waiting for you to speak, you realized there was no clear answer coming. You didn’t know what to say anymore.

“What are you talking about?” you whispered.

"I think it's pretty obvious," Joel replied, his voice tight, as he pushed away from the doorframe. His hand waved dismissively toward the door handle, an almost casual gesture that only made your frustration grow. "But it's all good, don't worry."

You blinked, trying to make sense of his tone.

"Is this about Travis?" The words left your mouth before you could stop them, a bemused smile starting to form as you processed what might be happening. Was Joel really making some kind of jealous scene?

Joel sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in that familiar way you knew meant he was worn out, defeated even. He took a half step back, gesturing toward the door like he was dismissing the whole conversation with a simple movement. The air between you was thick, and you could feel your neck heating with the anger that had begun to coil tightly in your chest.

"No," you said, your voice low but heavy with irritation. "You're not gonna do this."

You didn't back down, not this time. You stepped closer, closer than you ever had before, your body moving almost instinctively. Your hand found his, gently but firmly pushing it away from the door handle. 

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours, surprised, but there was a hardness in his expression that only deepened the tension between you. His jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this, and it made something inside of you feel a little less afraid.

“Stop acting like that and talk to me,” you said, your voice quiet but urgent, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. You were so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, see the subtle flicker of something—anger, maybe, or something deeper—behind his guarded eyes. You almost wished he’d let it out. Anything, just to break this suffocating silence.

Joel’s jaw tightened, and he let out a sharp breath, as if trying to calm the storm inside him. He turned his face away briefly, looking out into the distance like the world outside was more important than what was standing right in front of him. When he finally met your eyes again, it was like a wall had been erected between you, the tension in his gaze so thick it made the air feel heavier.

“What’s the use?” he shot back, his voice rising, rough with frustration. "What’s the use of me talkin’ to you? Tell me, what’s the fucking point of it?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. You had no idea what was happening between you anymore. 

He didn’t wait for you to speak. “I was clear with you yesterday,” Joel continued, his voice growing more intense with every word. "I told you everything. Everything. What do you want to talk about now? What fucking sense does it make?”

His words stung, but they didn’t scare you. You took a step closer, your chest tight with both anger and desperation.

"Yes, you did," you replied, your voice steady now, despite the pounding in your chest. "But we didn’t solve anything, did we?"

The laugh that left Joel's lips was harsh, bitter. It echoed in your ears, making your stomach drop.

“I confuse you," he muttered, sarcasm lacing his tone. "You say I confuse you, don’t you?" He shook his head, an empty laugh leaving him. "But I’m not the one who throws himself on top of you, takes you to bed, and hours later spends the night with someone else.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. The words hit you like a physical blow, and you stepped back, your pulse racing in your ears. You stared at him, unable to form a sentence, your mind struggling to process the accusation. 

“What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, trembling as the word slipped from your lips before you could stop it. The space between you felt like it was closing in, thick and suffocating, every breath becoming harder to take. You wanted to step back, but your feet wouldn’t move.

Joel stood frozen, his posture rigid, eyes dark with frustration and something deeper—something raw—that you couldn’t quite name. The tension hung between you like a heavy fog, and every second that passed felt like an eternity. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering, and it was like he was trying to see right through you, into everything you’d tried to keep hidden.

“You say you can’t be my friend,” he started, his voice rough, like every word was being dragged out of him. “That you want me gone.” He paused, his breath hitching, and you could see the weight of it in his chest, in the way his fists clenched. “I... I had to sit there. Day after day. Watching you walk around with him—watching you laugh, watching you pretend like it was all fine, like none of it mattered.” His voice cracked, the emotion too much for him to contain. His eyes darkened, and the hurt in them felt like a punch to the gut. “But it wasn’t fine, was it? It never was.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the words slicing through you. You wanted to say something, anything, but the truth was, you didn’t know how to answer. How could you explain the mess that had been brewing inside you for so long? The confusion, the guilt, the longing, the fear.

Joel’s breath quickened as he continued, his words gaining momentum, each one a little sharper, a little more painful.

“And then, when I finally decide to take control of my feelings—when I finally decide to be honest with you, to lay everything out, to tell you how I feel—you just shut me down. Just like that.” He gestured sharply with his hand, his voice rising, cracking under the weight of his frustration. “And then you sleep with me again. For what? Was it even real? Did you even think about it, or was it just another damn impulse?”

“Joel—” You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The rawness in his voice, the way it trembled with pain, made it impossible to breathe.

“And I don’t give a damn that you didn’t come to dinner,” he cut you off, his tone now biting, hard like steel. “That’s not the problem. Not really.” He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. They were searching, desperate, like he was trying to find something in you that made sense—something he could hold on to. “You kissed me. You kissed me and made me think maybe, just maybe, you were starting to feel the same way. But I guess I was wrong, wasn’t I? I guess that meant nothing to you.” His voice wavered, breaking on the last word, and you could see the pain written all over his face. “So why the hell did we do it?”

The words hit you like a blow, sharp and heavy, but it didn’t stop something inside you from snapping. The frustration, the anger, the hurt—it was all too much to hold in anymore. You opened your mouth, and the words rushed out before you could stop them.

“Yeah, it was an impulse,” you shot back, your voice thick with frustration, raw and unfiltered. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to do it, or that I regret it. You, of all people, should know that.” The words were sharp, but they were true. You weren’t going to apologize for wanting him. For needing him. For feeling something real that couldn’t just be swept away. “Don’t you dare be a hypocrite.”

Joel’s eyes flared, and he took a step closer, his body tense with rage. His face was a mask of fury, and the air between you seemed to crackle with the force of it.

“I don’t give a shit,” he spat, his words bitter, venomous. They landed between you like daggers, each one cutting deeper. His gaze burned into you, dark and endless, and you could feel the heat of it searing through you. “You think you can just walk away from this without any consequences? You think I’m just some damn fool you can toy with?” 

You didn’t back down. You couldn’t. Every part of you ached, but there was something inside you that refused to let him see how much he was breaking you.

“No,” you whispered, your voice quieter now but filled with a quiet strength. “But I’m not the one who’s been playing games here.”

The silence stretched between you, thick with everything left unsaid. Joel’s breath was heavy, his chest rising and falling like he was fighting to stay in control, to hold onto something, anything. But you couldn’t hold onto anything anymore, not when he was looking at you like this. Not when you both knew everything was falling apart.

Finally, Joel exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I don’t know what the hell you want from me no more,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly. “I really don’t. I’m done. You can go on and tell that to your doorman.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” you shot back, your voice sharp, cutting through the tension in the air.

Joel’s expression twisted with anger, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m talkin’ about that damn idiot you like,” he snapped. “Stop actin’ like you don’t know a damn thing.”

The words hit you like a slap, and for a second, your vision blurred, the sting of his anger biting into you. But you weren’t about to let him see you break. You bit down on your lip, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall. 

You glared at him, your hands balled into fists, trembling with the effort to control yourself. Stepping forward, you shoved the door open, the force of it leaving a crack in the silence.

“You’re full of shit, Joel,” you shot back, your voice low but fierce, the tremble in it only adding to the weight of your words. “You’re a fucking asshole.” 

Determined, you turned and walked quickly, your steps carrying you away from him, away from everything that had gone wrong between you. But you didn’t get far. As if by some cruel twist of fate, you heard him behind you—his long strides eating up the distance in seconds. 

“I’m not doing this again,” you said, your voice shaking now, but you kept your back to him, gripping the door handle with white knuckles, holding on like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. 

You didn’t want him inside. You didn’t want to face him, not like this, not with everything so broken between you. You opened the door wide and turned, positioning yourself between him and your entrance like a wall. 

Joel stopped at the edge of your space, standing there for a moment, silent. His eyes—his entire face—betrayed a chaos of emotions. He looked at you like he was struggling to breathe. Slowly, carefully, he moved a step closer, his face so close to yours now that you could feel his breath, the warmth of it. His voice cracked when he spoke again. 

“I was honest with you,” Joel whispered, his voice barely above a breath, thick with emotion. His words trembled as if they carried the weight of something unbearable. “I told you everything, every damn thing I’d been holding inside for so long. I didn’t wanna do that—hell, it’s damn near impossible for me. But I did it. I laid it all out for you. For you, damn it.” His voice cracked, the rawness of it hitting you harder than anything. “I was ready for anything, anything you wanted. I’d do whatever it took, even if it meant beggin’. I'd take whatever you threw at me, no matter how much it hurt. But then..." He paused, and you could feel the weight of his words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. “Then you kissed me. You fucking kissed me. And for just a minute, I thought maybe... maybe you didn’t hate me that much. Maybe this could be somethin’. Maybe we could be somethin'. More than just... whatever the hell we’ve been lately, you know?”

His voice faltered, cracking at the edges, and you could see the pain behind his eyes, raw and real.

"But what was it for?" he asked, the words bitter on his tongue, as if they had burned him just to speak them. “What was it all for?”

The tears started to fall before you could stop them, hot against your cold skin. You stood there, silent, the air heavy between you two. His anger was palpable, the frustration, the hurt, everything he’d been holding back pouring out in waves. You didn’t know what to say, you were terribly confused, but you didn't have the strength to ask the reason for his discomfort, for this sudden anger.

Joel took a breath, his chest rising and falling with a kind of desperation that made your heart ache.

“You tell me,” he said, his voice rising now, tinged with something like pleading, something you hadn’t expected. His teary eyes were glowing in the daylight. "What was it for? So you could turn around, go back to him, and not even wait a damn day before you’re back in his arms? Gettin' his fuckin' dick wet like nothing happened? Is that what this was all for?”

His words were harsh, cutting into the quiet, and you could hear the anger, but also the heartbreak in them, in him.

You opened your mouth in disbelief, a gasp escaping your throat as if the words he’d just thrown at you had physically wounded you. The pain in your chest was sudden, sharp—like something had cracked open inside you. Your hands trembled as you raised them, and with whatever strength you could muster, you shoved him away, hard. Joel staggered back, his breath coming quick, his chest heaving in frustration. But before he could say anything, you took a step toward him, your palms pushing against his chest again, this time with even more force.

“I never slept with Travis, you fucking asshole,” you choked out through your tears, the words tumbling out like you were trying to expel something suffocating. “Never. Not once.”

The change in Joel’s face was instant, a shift so sudden it was almost imperceptible. His expression softened, confusion flickering behind his eyes, his mouth opening slightly, as if he was about to speak but couldn’t quite find the words. But you weren’t done.

“I can't fucking believe it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. The hurt in your chest felt like it was pressing down on your lungs, making it hard to breathe.

He took a step back, eyes searching yours, almost like he was looking for some sort of explanation, but you didn’t have one.

“That's ridiculous, you were pretty obvious at the barbecue, right?” he started, his voice strained.

“I fucking lied to you, Joel,” you said, your voice cracking. The admission felt like it tore something open inside you. “I was angry, and I wanted to hurt you. I… I don’t know, I just wanted to make you feel bad. So I fucking lied about it, just like you did with Clara, remember?"

His face twisted in disbelief, his eyes narrowing as he processed your words. But before he could respond, you rushed on, the anger bubbling up in your chest again, the pain mixing with something else—something darker.

“You really think I’m capable of sleeping with you, and then doing it with him?” You shook your head, unable to believe the distance between what he was thinking and what had actually happened. “What kind of person do you think I am? You don't know me at all.”

His jaw clenched, muscles tightening like a coil ready to snap, and his eyes—God, his eyes—flashed with something so intense you couldn’t quite place it. Anger, maybe? Or was it something deeper, something darker? Fear? Desperation? You couldn’t tell, but the way his gaze hardened, like steel being forged in fire, made you want to crawl out of your own skin. You couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

“And what the fuck do you want me to believe?” Joel demanded, his voice rough and jagged, cracking like a man at the end of his rope. It was raw—like he hadn’t just been hurt, but betrayed. “When I came to see you last night, he—he was pretty damn clear with me.” His words punched the air, heavy with the weight of something he’d been holding back, but his frustration was impossible to ignore. "How the hell can I believe a damn thing you tell me now?"

“How?” you asked, your voice rising in disbelief. “How the hell? I’m your damn best friend. Have I ever lied to you? You act like you don’t even fucking know me anymore.”

“Well, I don’t know,” he started, his voice strained with a false calm. “According to Dunn, he seems to know you better than I do. Maybe he's right. And clearly, you didn’t wanna see me last night, did you?”

The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment. You froze, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess of emotions swirling inside you. His words didn’t fit together in your mind. What was he talking about? Your pulse quickened, but your throat tightened, like you were choking on your own confusion.

“What... what are you talking about?” The words slipped out in a whisper, barely more than a breath. You wanted to understand, but nothing made sense anymore. Everything felt like it was collapsing in on itself. "Please explain it to me."

Joel exhaled sharply, his breath heavy with exhaustion, like the very air was too thick for him to breathe. He rubbed his face with both hands, dragging them down slowly, as if trying to wake himself up from some twisted nightmare he couldn’t escape. The frustration, the hurt—he was wearing it on his skin now, like a second layer. 

"Ask him," Joel muttered, his voice tight, strained. "I’m done. I’m fuckin’ tired of all of this. I can’t do it anymore, damn it." His shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world was on them. 

And then, as if the final shred of strength he had left had finally snapped, he let his hands fall to his sides, defeated. A short, bitter laugh broke from him, harsh and empty, echoing in the silence. It cut through you, making your heart ache in a way you couldn’t explain. His eyes, filled with unshed tears, glistened in the light filtering through the leaves above, the sunlight casting shadows that seemed to mirror the pain in his expression.

“Apparently, I can’t get anything right,” he said, his voice thick with defeat. The words were coated with the kind of resignation that made your stomach twist. He looked at you for a moment, his gaze filled with something you couldn’t name—pain, maybe? Or was it the last flicker of hope slowly fading away? You could feel your chest tighten with every passing second, and that damn ache in your throat started to burn. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Your mind raced, but you couldn’t make sense of any of it. What did Travis have to do with this? What the hell was going on? Everything felt like it was slipping through your fingers, and the harder you tried to hold onto it, the faster it seemed to unravel.

“I think you should go,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible. The words felt like they were being ripped from your chest. You didn’t want to be cold. You didn’t want to hurt him more. But you didn’t know what else to say. Every word felt like a betrayal, and you were drowning in the confusion, in the pain of it all. You needed space. Distance. You needed to breathe without feeling like your heart was being crushed. "I just... I need some time."

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Joel didn’t move. He stood there for a long moment, just looking at you, his face a mixture of hurt, frustration, and something else you couldn’t place. His lips parted like he was going to say something, but no words came out. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he nodded once, his eyes still locked on yours, and without another word, he turned away. Each step he took felt like it was pulling him farther from you, and you hated how much you wished he would just stop. But he didn’t.

You watched him walk away, feeling like you were watching the last thread between you snap. He disappeared inside his house, and you stood there, staring after him, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You didn’t even realize you were still standing there until you felt the cold air on your face, and then you moved into the house, slowly, mechanically.

Inside, the silence was overwhelming. It felt like everything had shifted, like the ground beneath you was unsteady. Your heart was still racing, your chest tight with all the words you hadn’t said. You couldn’t make sense of it. You couldn’t understand why things had gone the way they did, why everything always felt like it was about to fall apart. And now, there was Travis—what did he have to do with any of this? Why did Joel keep bringing him up?

That night, as you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, sleep was as distant as it had ever been. Despair clung to you like a second skin, making it impossible to close your eyes for even a second. You tossed and turned, but it was useless. The weight of everything was too much, too heavy to ignore. You couldn’t keep carrying it.

Your phone sat on the nightstand, and after a while, you reached for it, fingers trembling as you unlocked it. You opened the chat with Cassie, the words spilling out in a hurried, frantic rush. You couldn’t think too much about it. You just needed to get out of here, to escape, to breathe.

“I need to get out of here. Now.”

You hit send without a second thought, then stared at the screen, waiting for her reply. The silence in the room was deafening, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. 

[st4rlvr]

Home sweet chaos || BCN

The apartment was quiet except for the muffled sounds of cardboard being ripped open and metal tools clinking against each other. Sunlight filtered through the half-assembled blinds, illuminating the chaos scattered across the living room floor: screws, wood panels, and instruction sheets that might as well have been in another language.

“Are you sure it’s supposed to look like that?” Y/N asked, brow furrowed as they squinted at the lopsided bookshelf Chan had been working on for the past hour.

Chan sat cross-legged on the floor, tool in hand, staring at the bookshelf as though it had personally betrayed him. His curls were already falling into his eyes, and there was a smudge of something—probably grease—on his cheek. “Of course! It’s all part of the process, Y/N. Trust me, I’ve got this.”

“You said that an hour ago, and yet…” Y/N trailed off, giving the uneven bookshelf another pointed look.

Chan sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the carpet with a thud. “Okay, fine. Maybe I don’t ‘got this.’” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breathless laugh. “Building furniture is harder than I thought.”

Y/N chuckled, setting down the screwdriver they’d been holding. “So you’re telling me you’re a music producer, you can layer a hundred sounds and beats into a perfect track, but you can’t build a shelf?”

Chan groaned, covering his face. “Why are you attacking me in my own home?”

“Our home,” Y/N corrected with a grin. They crawled over to sit beside him on the floor, nudging his shoulder gently. “We’ll figure it out. Together. That’s kind of the whole point of this, right?”

He peeked through his fingers at them, his smile softening as he dropped his hands. “Yeah. Together.”

The two of them eventually managed to get the bookshelf upright—though they agreed it was safest to leave it in the corner where no one could touch it—and decided to abandon the idea of building the rest of the furniture for the day. Exhausted and covered in sweat, they both sat in the middle of the empty living room, surrounded by cardboard boxes.

“I’ll go grab food,” Chan said suddenly, pushing himself to his feet. “You stay here and relax. I’ll be quick.”

Before Y/N could argue, Chan was already halfway out the door, leaving them alone in the midst of the semi-unpacked apartment. They flopped back onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh, marveling at how surreal it felt to call this place home.

When Chan returned, he was carrying two plastic bags of takeout, the smell wafting through the room instantly. “I come bearing gifts!” he announced triumphantly.

Y/N sat up eagerly, their stomach rumbling at the thought of food. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Chan replied with a grin, settling onto the floor beside them. They spread out the food between them—containers of rice, noodles, and some dumplings that Chan had declared were “non-negotiable.”

Neither of them bothered with plates. Instead, they ate straight from the containers, sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor, laughing about how this would be a core memory one day.

“It’s kind of perfect, though,” Y/N said between bites. “Even if the bookshelf is wonky and we’re eating on the floor.”

Chan smiled at them, chopsticks paused midair. “Yeah. It’s ours. That’s all that matters.”

There was something about the way he said it—simple and soft, but filled with meaning. The boxes and unfinished furniture didn’t matter. Neither did the mess or the chaos. It was theirs.

Chan nudged Y/N’s knee playfully. “Hey, next weekend, we’ll actually finish the rest of the furniture.”

“Or you’ll just give up halfway through again,” Y/N teased, earning a playful glare from him.

“Hey! I’m learning. Give me a break,” Chan laughed, shaking his head.

They both fell into a comfortable silence after that, the food slowly disappearing between them as the last bit of sunlight faded outside. The apartment still didn’t feel quite like home—yet. But sitting there, side by side on the floor, laughing over bad furniture-building skills and sharing takeout, Y/N realized it didn’t matter.

It already felt like home because Chan was there.

[zegrasdrysdale]

Morning wood with EE73?? Please and thank you 🩷

[ good morning to you too ] e. edwards

➾ paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

➾ summary : friends become lovers when an awkward moment turns into a morning of passion

➾ warning(s) : smut !! morning wood, fingering, soft morning sex, unprotected p in v sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), nicknames during sex, a single use of “y/n”

➾ author’s note : this was supposed to be a short lil thing but then i got carried away and it’s now 90% smut and 10% plot (oops)

༺═──────────────═༻

Her entire body slowly wakes up from head to toe when she wakes from her light sleep. At first she feels nothing as she comes out of her sleep, then she slowly begins to feel something poking the back of her thigh. She’s very quick to realize that it’s Ethan’s dick that’s poking her. She remains very still so she doesn’t cause anything to happen. Especially since he’s already moving a little bit.

Then the worst case scenario happens. Ethan mumbles her name in his sleep. It’s her nickname that only he calls her.

She moves quickly but hopefully carefully out of bed to avoid what will be a very embarrassing moment for the both of them.

What she thought was graceful was really not. She ends up scrambling out of bed and falls to the ground. Ethan wakes up and looks over the side of the bed.

“Uh, good morning to you too?” he says, phrasing it like a question. “Why did you decide to fall out of bed?”

She stares up at him. “You have, um …” she trails off. “A problem. It poked me. I was trying to leave you to take care of it but ended up falling out of bed.” And you said my name remains unsaid.

That’s territory that she’s not sure she wants to enter. It will change everything between them if she says it. She isn’t interested in ruining the most important friendship she has.

Ethan leans back to see what she means. She watches his cheeks turn tomato red from the ground. “Oh shit,” he gasps. “I am so sorry. I didn’t- this rarely happens. It would happen when you sleep over. I-”

“You can’t control it,” she interrupts. “It’s natural. I’ll just leave and go make breakfast so you can take care of it.”

As she stands up, she realizes that between her thighs is damp and there’s a pit in the bottom of her stomach like she’s turned on. She presses her lips into a tight line and crosses one leg over the other to put some pressure on her core.

Yeah, this is super embarrassing. She can’t believe that her body is betraying her like this.

“(Y/N), come here,” he orders.

“Ethan, I-”

“Come here, Sunny,” he tries again, this time with an emphasis on her nickname.

She remembers the day he started calling her Sunny.. It was their freshman year and she was having a bad day. They met in English 101 at nine in the morning. He noticed that she wasn’t having the best day and said to her, “Well, aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine.” She just glared at him not knowing that they were going to be the best of friends within the month.

Ethan called her ‘Sunshine’ for a few weeks until she got tired of it, so he shortened it to ‘Sunny’ right as Michigan went on winter break.

Clearly, he still uses it. It still makes her feel something. Especially now after she heard him moan her nickname in his sleep while he has morning wood.

The use of her nickname pulls her right to him. She sits with her legs crisscrossed on the side of the bed that she slept on. Her hands are folded on her lap to hide what’s probably a very obvious wet spot on the grey shorts she decided to wear to bed last night.

He sits up and lets the blankets fall to his waist. His hair is a complete mess since he’s just moving for the first time all morning. He quickly runs his hands through the mess to tame it before he turns his attention to his best friend.

“Do you trust me?” Ethan questions. She nods to answer his question. “I need you to use your words. I need to make sure that you trust me.”

“I trust you, E,” she tells him.

Ethan sighs and moves himself closer to her. He puts a hand on her knee and she sharply inhales. She looks at his hand before looking at his face. Their eyes meet and she immediately begins to relax.

This is Ethan Edwards. He wouldn’t do something if she didn’t want him to. She trusts him and he knows that.

He leans into her and claims her lips in a gentle kiss. She leans further into him and reciprocates the kiss. The pair test the waters between them as their relationship takes a turn she never thought would happen.

In the three years she’s known him, she’s wanted him. He had girlfriend after girlfriend or was hooking up with girls so she never got the chance to try anything with him. This is that chance.

The kiss deepens when Ethan brings his free hand up to cup her jaw. She allows herself to wrap one of her hands around his wrist so he doesn’t move his hand. She leans into the light touch. Her free hand slides into his hair so he doesn’t back away from her.

She finally has him and she doesn’t want to let him go. She also makes it a point not to rush anything. She lets Ethan take full control for the time being.

Her lips part and Ethan slips his tongue past them. She gasps as Ethan licks into her mouth. A soft hum follows.

His free hand drops to her waist and he pulls her closer to him. She throws one of her legs over his tights and straddles him over the blankets. She feels the bulge on her core through the covers.

Ethan lies down until he’s on his back with his head on the pillows. She follows him and her hair forms a curtain around their faces as the kiss quickens. One of Ethan’s hands pushes her hair back and she smiles into the kiss that follows. His other hand runs up and down her back slowly.

“Need you to do more, E,” she mumbles between kisses. “Please. Please.”

“You’ve never been patient, have you?” he teases. Ethan pulls back and meets her eyes. There’s a layer of lust that covers and darkens them.

“I’ve been patient enough,” she admits. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this to happen, Ethan.” He blinks at her. “So, I need you to stop taking this slow and do something. Anything, E.”

Almost like he’s been given permission to do anything he wants to her, which she basically has, Ethan flips them so she’s on her back and her hair forms a halo around her head on the pillows. She smiles and stares up at him.

Ethan kneels between her knees to pull off his Michigan hockey t-shirt and tosses it to the floor. She runs her hands from the waistband of his pajama pants up his chest. She traces his toned stomach and bites her lip. His hand fall to the bottom of her borrowed t-shirt and he dips his fingers underneath. She pulls the fabric up and off her body. His eyes fall to her naked upper body, and she doesn’t feel uncomfortable under his gaze. She stares up at him as a finger runs from her lips and down her body until it reaches the waistband of her shorts.

Impatiently, she lifts her hips so Ethan can slide off her shorts. He smiles and hooks his fingers in her shorts. It isn’t long before he tugs them down and leaves her completely naked beneath him. Her legs drop to the side for him.

“Fuck, Sunny,” Ethan sighs as leans down to press little kisses to her stomach. “So beautiful. All for me. All mine. You’re all mine now.”

“I’m all yours,” she breathes out. “Please, Ethan.”

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he assures her. “I’ll take care of you.”

She feels one of his fingers run through her slick folds. It catches her off guard and she hums. Her eyes flutter shut and she lets her sense of touch take over. She runs her fingers through his hair.

One finger turns into two, and both his fingers push into her. She gasps and curls her fingers in his hair. Ethan begins to flick his wrist and curl his fingers inside her in a ‘come here’ motion. “Oh my- fuck, Ethan,” she groans.

He kisses the inside of her upper thigh. His movements speed up slightly and she’s a shaking mess underneath his touch.

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip to stay quiet since she’s in a house full of hockey players. The last thing she or Ethan want right now is for them to be too loud and his teammates come knocking on the door or mess with him when he leaves the room. It takes everything in her to not scream his name when he adds a third finger while he continues the ‘come here’ motion.

A knot forms and immediately begins to tighten in her belly. Ethan crawls up her body so they’re face to face, but his fingers stay where they are.

“Ethan,” she pants. “E. I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m close.”

He withdraws his finger as soon as the last word comes out of her mouth. She frowns and looks up at him as he licks her slick off of the three fingers that were inside of her. She could cum just from that, but she does her best to wait.

“My fingers aren’t going to be the thing that makes you cum, pretty Sunny,” Ethan tells her as he kneels between her legs. “Not this time when I have been waiting years to get inside of you.”

He pushes his pajama pants and boxers off his body. Her eyes widen slightly as his dick pops out of his boxers. She knows the stories that have been floating around campus so she’s aware how big he is and she saw how big his bulge was in his pants.

She might die today. She wasn’t prepared for all those stories and rumors to be true.

Ethan settles himself between her legs and leans down to hover over her. She stares up at him and feels his tip at her entrance.

“Last chance to stop,” Ethan tells her. “Tell me know if you don’t want this, Sunny.”

“I want this,” she assures him. “I want this more than you will ever know, Ethan. I want you. I need you.”

With her full permission, Ethan slowly pushes into her. She bites her bottom lip and hums as he fills her with his cock. Her back arches off the bed at the feeling. He pushes into her until he bottoms out.

He allows her to adjust to his size before he begins to roll his hips. Ethan starts slow before slowly speeding up every few thrusts. Her hums turn into moans as Ethan moves deeper into her.

She wants this moment to be never ending. She knows that now she can have him whenever she wants and she gets to re-live this moment, but she’ll never experience this moment again. This moment when she allowed herself to be with Ethan after denying herself for the longest time. She let herself be vulnerable with the guy she trusts the most in this world.

Their friendship has officially turned into something more, and she is excited to see where it goes. She’s dreamed of this for almost a year and a half when she realized she wanted to be more than friends with him at one of the hockey celebration parties after an important win.

This is a chance of a lifetime for her. To be with the only guy that she’s wanted for the past 18 months or so. This is it.

A loud moan passes her lips as Ethan throws one of her legs over his shoulder and moves as deep as he can at the new angle. He quickly leans down and kisses her to quiet her. The kiss is feverish from the start and she hums every time Ethan thrusts his hips into her. He keeps her from getting too loud and the moan slipped by.

Her arms are wrapped around his neck and her fingers are in his hair. The bed creaks with every thrust of Ethan’s hips.

Soon, Ethan’s lips are not enough to keep her quiet. Moans bubble from her throat as he rolls his hips as fast as he can while moving as deep as he can.

“Holy fuck, E,” she gasps. “I’m close. Wanna cum so bad. Please.”

Ethan hums. “‘m close too, pretty girl,” he tells her as he pulls back from the hot kiss. “Wanna cum with you.”

She throws her head back as Ethan hits her favorite spot over and over again. The knot threatens to come undone any second and she pants the closer she gets to her pending orgasm.

Her legs shake as she holds herself off. She can feel her walls clenching around Ethan and she’s at her limit.

“Ethan!” she cries out as she cums around his dick. “Oh my God. Fuck, E.”

Her breathing becomes extremely labored and her vision goes white as she releases. She is so out of it that she doesn’t feel Ethan pull out and cum on her thighs and stomach. Her head is in the clouds and it takes her a few minutes to come down.

It can’t get any better than that, right? Then she realizes that she hasn’t gotten his tongue and realizes it could get so much better than that.

When she comes back to reality, there’s a wet cloth on her stomach and thighs. She looks down and watches as Ethan cleans up his mess. He looks up at her and smiles. “Welcome back,” he teases.

“Your fault,” she retorts.

Ethan throws the cloth in the direction of his bathroom before he crawls next to her. He throws the blankets over the two of them before he lies on his side to look at her. His head rests on his hand and he holds himself up with his elbow. She reaches up to trace his jawline.

There are footsteps outside of Ethan’s door, signaling that someone is up. Hopefully they didn’t wake whoever it is up with their morning activities.

“Why haven’t we done that before?” Ethan questions. “I mean, that was really fucking good. I might need to go another round soon.”

“Don’t you have practice soon?”

He quickly flips over to grab his phone. “Oh, shit,” he gasps at the same time a knock rings throughout the room.

“Yo, Eddy!” Luca calls through the door. “You ready to go?”

She giggles as Ethan runs frantically around the room to find something to wear to practice. He makes a point to stop and leave a lingering kiss on her lips.

“We’ll talk when I get back,” he tells her. “Don’t go anywhere, okay? Promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She nods in agreement and watches Ethan run out the door. Luca’s voice carries in the hall. “I didn’t want to interrupt you but we were gonna be late,” Luca says as the two of them walk away.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[tightjeansjavi]

as natural as another leg around you in the bed frame

A/N: well..this was supposed to just be a fluffy little piece with a dabble of smut but uhh we took the angsty route! Don’t act so surprised ;)

~word count: 2.0k~

Summary: Joel returns home to you after patrol injured, and hiding it from you.

Pairing | post! outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, minor injuries, mentions of a knife wound, stitches, blood, brief lying, stubborn Joel, soft! Joel, protective! Joel, he turns into a whimpering mess! Joel, comfort, care, unconditional love, tending to Joel’s wounds, intimacy, handjob in the tub, praise, talking him through it, ends with a well deserved nap, reader has no physical descriptions, no age gap, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

If there’s one thing that Joel Miller loves most in this cruel, unforsaken carnage of what is left of the world that he knows, it’s the privilege of getting to come home to you. He has someone to protect outside of Ellie, who is well off in her own life with Dina by her side. Joel would still put his life out on the line for her without a second thought. He’d do the same for you because well, you’re his; and he is yours.

He comes home to you, to your arms, to your warmth everyday. He thrives in it the second his arms loop around your waist and he hugs you so tight to his chest you can hardly take in a lungful of air. You let him hug you just like so every time. You love him, and that’s all there is to know.

Your Joel sometimes returns home to you with speckled blood spattered on his cheeks, dusting his eyebrows and salt and pepper hair. Sometimes his flannel is caked in dirt and congealed blood, but it’s never his own. He always reassures you that it’s not his. He kisses the frown that appears between your brows when you’re feeling unconvinced. Maybe it’s due to the way his hands tremble at the slightest, or his breath hitches in his throat, a wheeze slides past his lips as he tries to mask it with a quick clearing of his throat.

You see right through it, and he knows you do.

“Joel,” You softly whisper through the calming domestic air. “Are you hurt?”

He tightly shakes his head, back going rigid and stiff like a plank of wood. He avoids making direct eye contact with you to try and mask the fact that he is lying.

“M’not hurt, sweet girl.” He murmurs as he slowly slides his rifle strap from his shoulder. He winces slightly from the jagged gash on his right bicep as he hangs the strap of the rifle along the rusted hook on the wall.

“Please don’t lie to me. You’re hurt. I can see it written all over your face, Joel.” You pleaded with him as your hand traveled up the expanse of his chest and finally rested along his jaw. You could feel the patches of his wiry beard lightly scratch across the soft underside of your palm.

“S’just a scratch. Ain’t deep or nothin.’ I’m alright. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me, sweetheart.” His words rumbled like thunder from an oncoming storm. He wasn’t exactly an expert liar.

“Let me see it.” You demanded in an urgent tone, thumb gently brushing across his chapped lips.

His head dips down in defeat as he leans into your soft caress, “Honey,” He starts, almost vying to plead with you, but you don’t let him finish.

“Joel, please. Please just let me take care of you. You’re hurt, and I need to make sure it’s not infected.”

He begrudgingly agrees because he knows this is a battle he cannot win. His hand slowly reaches up towards his face as his fingers find yours and thread them together before dropping them to his side. He lets you lead him up the staircase and to your shared bathroom. He doesn't speak, only grunts as you sit him down on the edge of the closed toilet seat.

You can feel his eyes drifting across your back as you grab the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet.

You’re too good to him, he silently thinks to himself as he begins to undo the buttons of his flannel. His shoulders ache as he peels the fabric from his skin and discards it onto the faded tile floor. He’s got a makeshift bandage wrapped around the wound as you use the empty trash cash as a makeshift stool. “Just a scratch?” you question as he unties the fabric. The gash is at least an inch or so deep. Just enough that he’ll need stitches.

“S’nothin.’ Stopped bleedin’ hours ago.” He mumbled under his breath.

“Why did you want to hide this from me, Joel?” The firstaid kit is resting along your lap when he finally makes eye contact with you.

“Cus’ I don’t like seein’ you upset when I get hurt. S’my fault. M’gettin’ slower out there. Can’t keep up like I used to.” He sounded defeated as his shoulders slumped forward.

“Joel, I'm not upset, okay? I just don’t like it when you hide these things for me. I’m sure the guy that knifed you is in far worse condition than you are.” You responded softly as you pulled out what probably was 20+ year old disinfectant, but it still did the trick.

“Let’s jus’ say he’s gonna have a real long sleep. Bugs n’the critters will make good use outta his body.” Joel was never shy when it came to his duty on patrol, and what it sometimes turned out to be. He knew you were not frightened by this knowledge, and he knew you held no moral judgment over his head for it.

“This is going to sting a little.” You briefly warned him as you held the spray bottle a few inches above his wound before administering a few spritzes.

“M’favorite part.” He teased with barely a wince given.

When his wound was clean, and the needle was sterilized, Joel pressed a tender kiss to your temple in reassurance. “G’nna patch me up nice n’good now, baby?”

“Mhm.” You murmured softly.

“‘Atta girl.” He relaxed his posture, and his arm so you would have an easier time stitching his skin back together. He knew this part always made you a little apprehensive, but humming soothingly under his breath did the trick.

Once you had successfully sutured his wound, you wrapped it firmly in a bit of gauze before tilting your head in the direction of the tub. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

He didn’t argue this time, but before you could stand up, he was reaching for your face with both hands as he pressed his lips to yours in a gentle embrace. It was tender, sweet, ignited by his devotion for you. The kiss lasted all of a few seconds before he was reluctantly pulling away. You heard the familiar crack of his knees as he slowly stood up.

You silently started the water for the tub. Checking the temperature every few seconds to make sure it was adequately warm enough for the two of you.

You listened to the faint clink of his belt, followed by the denim of his jeans sliding down his strong thighs. You watched from your peripheral as his broad form slowly sunk down into the soothing water. He made sure to keep his bandaged arm resting along the rim of the tub so that it wouldn’t accidentally get wet.

“S’nice.” He softly grunted as he stretched his legs out. “Y’gnna join me?” He tilted his chin to the side, watching you with a soft expression etched across his weathered face.

“Of course I am, baby.” You saw a hint of a smirk tug on his lips. He couldn’t help but indulge himself in watching you undress. You were beautiful, and he was a man after all.

Much to his surprise, you didn’t make yourself comfortable between the expanse of his thighs. Instead, you sank down behind him, with your arms wrapping around his middle, breasts pressed firmly to his back as you hugged him tightly.

“What’re y’doin’ back there, honey?” He asked, words vibrating through your body as he craned his head over his shoulder to try and look at you.

“Just want to hold you.” Was your response as you began to press soft kisses between his shoulder blades.

“You’re a sweetheart, y’know that? M’so lucky to have ya.” He nearly whispered as he settled further back into the warm water, and your gentle grasp around him.

Your hands traveled upwards from the soft swell of his tummy, and up to his shoulders where you gently began to knead the sore muscle tissue with your fingers. You worked your way through a stubborn knot just below his right shoulder blade. He melted into your touch like warm butter on a pan. He didn’t realize just how tense he was until you started working your way through his sore spots.

“Y’don’t gotta be doin’ all of this f’me, sweet girl.” His eyes fluttered shut as he let a breathy sigh escape past his lips.

“I want to, Joel. I want to take care of you. You’re always taking care of me..you deserve the same kind of treatment. You do so much to keep me, Ellie, and the rest of the town safe from harm. Most importantly, I love you. You’re my partner, and you deserve all the care and attention from me right now.”

Fuck.

“I love you too, sweet girl. Love you s’fuckin’ much. You’re always s’good t’me. Luckiest man in town, gettin’ to be loved by you.” He hummed appreciatively.

He could feel you smiling against his damp skin as your hands slowly drifted back down to rest along his tummy as a comfortable silence washed over the two of you. The water had begun to turn a slightly diluted pink color from the dried blood naturally being washed away on his skin. The tub faucet dripped a few droplets that landed on the tub's surface leaving delicate ripples in their wake.

He could stay like this forever; here with you.

When your fingers lightly brushed across the expanse of coarse, dark hair along his pelvic area, words were already tumbling from his lips before you could even ask him.

“Please.” He murmured as he desperately tried to grasp at his rational straws. So many times he had denied himself of his own pleasure, simply because he’d much rather take care of you.

His hand that wasn’t resting along the edge of the tub slipped under the water and guided your hand to where his softened cock laid between his thighs.

“Please,” He asked again, voice nearly cracking from the desperation to feel your touch.

“I’ll take care of you.” You whispered as your fingers slowly wrapped around the base of his shaft, thumb reaching up to paint across his weeping tip.

His head fell back to rest upon your shoulder as he gripped the side of the tub with knuckles turning stark white. A whimper escaped past his lips as you slowly began to twist and pump your wrist. You worked him in expert, slow strokes as he praised you shamelessly.

“S’good.” He uttered with a soft grunt. “S’good to me. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop, sweet girl.” He’d beg you if necessary, but based off the way you were softly shushing him with delicate kisses laid upon his cheekbones, he knew you had all the intentions of taking care of him.

His thighs began to quiver underwater, toes curling, hips bucking upwards against your hand as profanity mixed with praise tumbled from his parted lips like an avalanche along a steep mountain pass. He turned into a whimpering mess just from your hand alone.

“Shh. I got you, Joel. I got you. You’re safe..let go baby, it’s okay.” You whispered against the shell of his ear as he cried out your name. His hips stilled in the now cloudy water from his post release. He felt spent, placid, calm in your grasp as his cock went soft in your palm.

You washed away the remnants of blood that stuck to his hair and face, before you departed from the lukewarm embrace.

He was the one to wrap a fluffy towel around the both of you as he left soft kisses anywhere his lips could reach. You declined his generous offer to go down on you simply for the fact that you could sense his exhaustion from the day. You softly offered him a nap instead. His one request was to feel your skin against his, while he paid no mind to the sheets getting damp from not properly drying off. His legs tangled protectively around yours as you lazily pulled the duvet over your bare skin. His nose nuzzles the spot between your neck and collarbone as his arms wrap around your middle. One hand splays out across the soft swell of your tummy, while the other rests across your hip. You sleep for hours in this domestic intimacy that you have forged tirelessly together.

You’re his; and he is yours, and that’s all there is to know.

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[miguelschamp]

how you get the girl

pairing: liam dunbar x fem!reader

summary: liam hurries to find a way to explain why he’s been standing you up

warnings: none

you and liam had been friends for about a year before you told each other how you felt. you guys were taking it slow and hadn’t made it official yet.

he was working his way toward actually being your boyfriend. which meant taking you on dates, goodnight and morning texts, and everything in between.

the problem was that he hadn’t told you he was a werewolf. so, he couldn’t tell why he had stood you up twice already.

coming up with lame excuses about his parents which you seemed to take pretty well. but you also had a gut feeling that he was lying.

tonight was supposed to be the night he took you on a date to a new restaurant that had opened a few weeks prior. he was determined to make it up to you.

he hated how your eyes held sadness whenever he had to come up with yet another lie. he promised that tonight there would be no excuses. that he would actually make it.

you made it to the restaurant first. a little earlier than your initial meeting time.

then 30 minutes passed. you sent liam a couple of texts asking if he was anywhere near and got no response.

then an hour.

then two.

of you standing and mingling outside of the restaurant. you definitely called him more than fifty times. and texted him even more.

you knew this would happen. a small part of you was hoping it would be third times the charm. evidently it wasn’t.

your walk home was filled with tears. sad that he couldn’t even take you seriously enough to text and say he wasn’t making it. you were also embarrassed at the amount of customers that walked in and came back out with pitiful looks on their faces.

by the time you made it home, it was around 10:30 and you had school the next day. so, you just got in the shower and headed off to bed. crying yourself to sleep.

•••

liam knew he messed up. bad.

he was actually going to make it on time to your date. then scott called him frantic about meeting in the woods to catch the latest supernatural creature terrorizing beacon hills.

after hours of fighting, they finally stopped it. then he checked his phone and his heart dropped at the amount of texts and calls he got from him.

now he was running through the halls trying to find you. he turns the corner before heading down toward your locker. he sighs in relief as he sees you digging through your locker.

“y/n!” he calls out

you huff refusing to look over at him. you shove a book into your locker as he stops beside you.

“hey, i’m so sorry about last night.” he breathes. you stay silent as you close your locker. you sling your backpack on your shoulder before walking off. liam’s face drops before he follows after you, “y/n-“

“what?” you snap turning to him

“i’m so sorry i stood you up last night. i was so busy.”

“doing what?” you ask

liam blinks, “um.. i was just- uh-“

“and don’t lie.” you interrupt

“i was just busy.” he says hoping to satisfy you

it doesn’t.

“doing what?” you say, “too busy to even answer my texts instead of standing me up. again.”

“i know, i’m sorry.” he says holding his hands out, “but i can make it up to you-“

“no, you can’t. you can’t even tell me the truth about why you left me outside of a restaurant for a date that you planned, for two hours.”

“y/n/n-“

“you know what liam, i don’t think this is gonna work.” you say pointing between the two of you

liam furrows his brows, “what? no. i promise i can make it up to you.”

“even if you could, you can’t be honest with me.” you say looking up at him. his heart drops as sadness swarms through your eyes, “goodbye, liam.”

liam’s shoulders fall as you turn and walk off. he had to come up with a way to come clean to you. he didn’t want to lose you.

his eyes widen before he rushes down the hall.

•••

you sat in the library trying to get some homework done on your free period. you look up as someone pulls a chair out beside you.

you frown as lydia martin sits next to you. two other girls take places on the other side of the table.

you knew who they were. they were seniors that you saw liam hanging out with sometimes. you didn’t know how he knew them, but it didn’t matter much to you.

“um, hi?” you say

“hi.” lydia smiles, “i’m lydia and this is kira and malia.”

as you look to the two girls, kira gives a wave as malia raises her brows in acknowledgment. you then turn back to lydia.

“we were wondering if you wanted to hang out.”

“me?” you say bewildered, “but you guys are seniors. i don’t even know you guys.”

“no, but you’re pretty and i like hanging out with pretty people.” lydia shrugs

you blink as you mouth opens and closes looking for an answer, “uh, sure?”

“great.” lydia beams before holding her hand out, “can i see your phone?”

you quickly dig around in your backpack before handing it to her. she types for a few seconds before handing it back to you.

she stands up, “i’ll text you where to meet us. see ya.”

you watch as all three girls leave the table. you turn forward slowly in your seat as you set your phone on the table.

•••

lydia texted you about an hour after school ended. you found yourself walking through the woods as she told you to meet them at the outlook.

as you arrive, you look around. as far as you could tell, no one was there or had been there previously.

you pull out your phone again rereading the text.

meet us at the outlook. we’re already here ;)

you sigh as you slide your phone in your back pocket, “what is up with people standing me up?”

this had to be some prank they were trying to pull on. seniors always messed with the younger class. you just didn’t think it would happen to you.

you look over as you hear leaves crunching. liam walked up cautiously.

“hi.” he says

“hi.” you say hesitantly, “you can have this to yourself i was supposed to meet…” you trail off as it all clicks in your head, “you set it up, didn’t you?”

“yeah.” you sigh as your arms cross over your chest, “but i swear it was for a good reason.”

you brows raise as you turn to him, “what? so you can tell me more lies and promise another date?”

liam nods, “i deserve that. but i promise i’ll tell you the truth.”

you shift your weight from one foot to the next. you tilt your head and liam finally gets the hint that you’ll listen.

“do you believe in the supernatural?”

you frown, “what?”

“the supernatural. do you think it exists?”

you couldn’t believe the stupid question he was asking, but answered anyway, “maybe. i don’t know. depends.”

“do you think werewolves exist?” he asks

liam can see your confusion deepen as he looks at you, “liam, what the hell are you talking about?”

“do you?”

“i don’t know, liam. literally anything can exist.” you huff

“okay.” he says. you watch as he gets closer to you. he holds his hands out, “do you trust me?”

you eye him, “not with you asking that as we stand on a cliff.”

he chuckles, “i just need to know that you won’t hit me or anything.”

“liam-“ your words die as you watch his eyes glow yellow. soon after, hair begins to grow from his cheeks and fangs protrude from his mouth.

liam watches worriedly as your eyes widen. he can hear your heartbeat accelerating. he holds his hands out, “y/n-“

you back up as you look down at his hands. he looks too and immediately brings his hands down. he forgot about his claws.

“i promise i wont hurt you.” he says as he slowly shifts back to the liam you knew, “that’s why i keep messing up our dates.”

“you’re- you’re a werewolf.” you say softly

“yeah.” he says. he holds his hands up to show his hands were back to normal before walking up to you. “the seniors you see me hanging out with sometimes are all apart of my pack.”

your eyes widen, “they’re all werewolves?”

“well, no.” he says, “it’s a mix, but i can explain all of that to you.”

you let out a deep breath as you look down. your hands go up to your cheeks, “oh my god, you’re a werewolf. so, are you like out in the woods or something when we’re supposed to be on dates?”

“there are other creatures that try to come into the city and we fight them off.” he says before chuckling, “scott has terrible timing when it comes to needing my help.”

“liam, why didn’t you just tell me?” you say as your hands fall

“because i didn’t know how you’d take it or if you’d even believe me. i didn’t want to lose you.”

“well, it’s better to be honest with me, so i don’t think you’re a complete jerk.”

he smiles as he nods, “i know that now and i’m sorry. really sorry.”

you look up at him as he steps in front of you. he gently takes your hand, “if you’ll give me another chance, i can guarantee i won’t screw it up this time.”

you laugh, “are you sure? you’re like a superhero now. fighting off beacon hills crime.”

he smiles before shaking his head, “scott knows all about us now, so he’s gonna try to refrain from calling me unless it’s detrimental."

you search his face as he waits for your answer. he was hoping this was enough to convince you that he wasn’t a jerk and was just someone trying to juggle his own life and saving others.

“i’ll give you a chance if you do something for me.”

he stands up straight, “anything.”

you smile, “can you do the eye thing again?”

liam laughs before his eyes glow yellow again. he watches as your eyes bounce back and forth between his. a few seconds later, they’re back to their baby blue that you’ve grown to love.

“okay, you get another chance.” you say playfully rolling your eyes

his smile widens before his hand goes up to your cheek closing the gap between you two. a soft kiss being placed on your lips.

[lovely-parasite-04]

Iced Coffee, Detective?

Agnes!Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Prologue

Part 1

SUMMARY: Y/N makes it to Agatha's house expecting an hour or two of entertainment and instead finds herself in more "trouble" than she prepared for.

WARNINGS: Mention of a gun, Agatha being Agatha

NOTE: This was a long time coming, lol. I got a lot more interaction than expected, and I was so excited! However, for the longest time I didn't know where to take my little blurb and had this part halfway finished just collecting dust. I also was feeling partially guilty for picking this back up when I have scholarship essays to write but heehee oh well that will happen when it happens. ANYWAY I hope you enjoy and if you have thoughts, feel free to share :)

Walking through the neighborhood to get to Agatha's house, I made it a point to avoid looking at the plot of land Wanda Maximoff had decided to take over during her time here. There was no longer a house there, and the concrete foundation that was left had graffiti all over it. I think it's the first of anything I have seen vandalized in Westview. Despite the words overlapping and being hastily spray painted onto the small structure, I didn't need to know what it was all about; there was nothing nice written in all that mess about the Scarlet Witch or her actions in Westview.

Agatha's lovely house was to the right.

  It was a very cozy house on the outside, with beautifully green bushes almost blocking the front windows and what looked like the outside of a bay window to the left of the door. Overall the property looked shockingly plain to hold someone so...not plain. Who knows what I would find on the inside.

  What was I even doing here, anyway? I don't have to be here. There was absolutely no obligation to follow through with Agatha's summoning. She would have forgotten about it soon enough. But now I'm in front of her door after my shift to...what? To be questioned about someone - who I'm certain is imaginary - I lied about knowing? To entertain Agatha and then in turn myself? To maybe get a little insight on this curse of hers? To see her play "bad cop" with no "good cop" to save me?

  Jesus, just knock on the door.

  I raised my hand, shaking my loud-ass thoughts away and deciding to wing it. Suddenly the door swings open and I almost "assault an officer." Agatha catches my fist before it lands in her face, "Woah! Watch out there, kid." Her hair was still up but a little rattier like she'd just been napping - if her clothes were anything to go by. A Star Trek T-shirt that's two sizes two big, velvet sweatpants, and purple fuzzy socks.

  I couldn't help a giggle escape me and I blurted out, "Did you just wake up?"

  "You were supposed to call before you came in. I could have been out following a lead, or in a meeting."

  "Oh, lucky timing I guess." Right. Stick to the script. Even if you don't have a copy of said "script" for yourself. This would be an actor's worst nightmare.

  I have to clear my throat to remind her she's still got my wrist held above my head, and then I swallow at the thought.

  "Seriously though, the door is glass. You didn't need to knock." She drops my wrist and immediately turns on her heel into her house - I swear I see her start to yawn, but then maybe being under the spell is exhausting. I know after the town was liberated, I stayed in my bed for days just recovering. The door was definitely not glass, so she must have heard me pull into her driveway and watched me through the window. At least now I have a little clue to what she thinks her "prescient" looks like. An office with a glass door. Neat.

  I mentally smack myself knowing now that she watched me stare at her door for so long. I can't be embarrassed for too long though, because entering Agatha's house was like entering a new world - and not one I expected. The dark wood and light green walls gave an earthy cozy feel to the living room and the sofa looked old and comfy. I catch sight of a wall covered in random pictures of grass and flowers with red yarn connecting them every-which-way. Agatha pulls a funky looking arm chair up to her coffee table, gesturing for me to sit on the sofa. I comply - I was right about the couch - and I notice the head of a garden hose lying on the table in front of me.

  "Sorry," Agatha takes it and puts it into the side of her pants? "There shouldn't be any need for that, right?"

  No way that's what she's using for a gun.

  "Um...no, ma'am."

  "Great. Goooood." She smacks her lips and pulls a Manila folder out of nowhere, switching it between her hands almost to taunt me. Her eyes haven't left me since I arrived. "We'll get to this in a second. First, tell me about how you knew the girl."

  Uh-oh.

  My hands were suddenly damp and I did my best to rub them off on my own pants, looking around as if that'd give me a clue to what my relationship was with this fake victim. Then I remembered the pictures of flowers on the wall. "I-We were gardeners. Together. We gardened together...all the time."

  Agatha's eyes squinted and her lips pursed, "Interesting." That was the worst lying I had ever done, but how could she not believe me? Wouldn't her mind just make something up to go with her narrative anyway? "How did you two meet? Garden club?"

  "Sure."

  "Oh really? And who else was in this club? Probably a bunch of other old ladies."

  "Woah. Rude."

  "Moving on." She suddenly stands and drops the file she had in her hands and I choke on air as she bends over to pick it up. The velvet sweatpants she's wearing have the word "Naughty," bedazzled on the butt. This is definitely entertaining. If someone knocked me out right now and woke me back up to tell me I dreamed all of this, I'd believe them. She whips back around and offers the file to me, "Let's take a look at this file, huh? Sound like fun?"

  Fun. For sure.

  I take the file from her hand, now unable to take the image of her bedazzled ass out of my mind, while she circles the couch and leans over my shoulder. I'm perfectly still as I feel her cheek a hair away from mine. I can smell her shampoo, I think. It's mostly a clean smell with a small floral hint to it.

  Great. Now I'm taking in the notes of her scent. I can't fall for the town hero/cook/ancient witch. What would that make me? The idiot? Definitely some sort of idiot. Then it hits me that she is unfortunately exactly my type: older, brunette, and a little deranged. I'm toast.

  "Go ahead." She whispers in my ear. Dear god. "No need to be scared. There's nothing in there you can't handle."

  Taking a deep breath, mainly to slow down my now rapid heartbeat, I open the file. Inside are some bills addressed to someone named Ralph Bohner - tragic last name - and a couple blank papers. I pretend to take it in but have no idea where to go from here, so I look back at Agatha. Big mistake. Her mouth is now a hair away from my mouth.

  My neck nearly breaks from how far and fast my head shoots back, and I guess Agatha thinks she startled me because she chuckles before standing straight again. "Just as I thought..." What? What does that mean?

She comes around the couch and her hands are shaped into finger-guns with her two index fingers pressed against her lips in a thoughtful manner. Until she's leaning over me, her arms supporting her weight against the back of the couch on either side of my head. Her face is centimeters away from mine. I know I'm blushing but I'm praying to whatever's out there that she can't see the red under that spell of hers. She cranes her neck past my face to be right by my ear again and whispers, "I know it was you."

Huh?!

  "I don't-"

  "Pretty interesting reaction you had to my file there...only a guilty killer would act that way when faced with the cold. Hard. Truth." She yells the last part and I knock my head into her arm trying to lean away from it. Pushing herself back up straight, she looks down her nose at me and gives half a chuckle and god do I have butterflies right now?! "I'm afraid I'm gonna be taking you in now."

  Taking me in? What does that mean for her? What will that mean for me? I've been found guilty? For a crime that doesn't even exist by a cop that's not even a cop. This has gone too far. I need to get out of here. I'll make it out of here and go home and never mess with the town cook again. I can't get tangled in this - what am I meant to do?

  I slowly start to scooch to the edge of the couch with my hands up in surrender. "Aw man, that sucks. Well listen, Ms Harkness - Detective! Sorry, Detective Harkness. I..I have homework that is due tonight and damn look at the time. It's been fun-" Making the most coherent excuses I can think of knowing damn well she's only gonna hear what she wants to, I slowly stand and begin to back away when her own hands shoot up. Before I can do anything at all, red fuzzy handcuffs are around both my wrists. I choke on air while Agatha stands there completely serious. I really hope these are meant to be regular handcuffs and don't belong to her. I don't think I could handle it otherwise.

  "You're not going anywhere, toots."

  Now I'm really toast.

-----------------

[pursuitseternal]

“Antics of the Newly Ascended:” ✨🩸What it must have been like right after the Rite for… everyone…

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4.4K of “Ascension Puberty” and Smut

Summary: “I can’t yet speak its language…” Astarion doesn’t know all his powers, despite the title of Vampire Ascendant, despite having a Bride at his side. Suppose these manifest themselves surprisingly, even awkwardly… a bit of comedy and smut.

CW: awkward campmates, Vampires stuck on the ceiling, peacock-preening Ascendant Lords, Bride/Spawn Tav also learning what it means to be a vampire, and the hot smut that always delivers (oral sex, hand job, anal fingering, blood kink, dom and sub!Astarion)

Ao3 Link | Astarion fic Masterlist

The First Day…

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A/N: Mostly, I consider this Astarion’s Ascension puberty, that awkward time he’s getting to know his “changing” body… and how it might surprise him sometimes. In my own play-thru, it strikes me that after the Rite, it’s just life as usual for everyone. I like to think there are some lingering feelings and learning curves… so here is some comedy and smut (a gift to @marimosalad because the double stimulation towards the end was her amazing idea 😘)

Not quite “The Rogue You Were” maybe a prequel

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You had heard he had demanded his own room now at the Elfsong. Wyll had told you, his one good eye rolling in its socket with ire. “His Lordship demanded a separate chamber for him and his.. consort,” he had spat the word out with disgust in your direction, “one that befits his new status and power of Vampire Ascendant.” Wyll sneered, put out, jilted. That forever part of him that was a monster hunter and hero still unable to wrap his mind around what you did for love. “You best not keep him waiting, Consort.”

Someday, the Blade of Frontiers might understand. But not today, not one day into Astarion’s reign as Ascendant and your new immortal life at his side.

Now you creep outside his door, just one room over. The same he had stolen you away to last night… when you became his, when you died to be reborn his consort. He had pointedly refused to really call you spawn. And while the memories of that night were hazy, aside from the most glorious sex of your existence, you knew whatever was done was done.

You waited, your hearing even sharper now, heightened as vampire. From behind the door you hear groaning, grunts of effort, and sighs of exertion.

And you frown. Could he really be… taking care of himself… after everything you had done with him last night? Even now this evening, with you merely a wall away? Like you wouldn’t come running for pleasure if he called for you, with or without compelling?

You knock on the door. Hard. Furious. If your heart still beat, it would be racing in rage.

“Leave me,” he barks back.

“Astarion,” you hiss. And then you knock harder. “Let me in.”

Inside, you hear scrambling, boots scraping on wood. A messy hurry of activity punctuated by curses.

If you hadn’t been there yesterday, hadn’t felt the lives of so many flow into your beloved, hadn’t been spattered by Cazador’s blood yourself as the same Infernal ruins were carved in his flesh… you would scoff at the suggestion Astarion was at all changed.

You finally hear the door handle unlock, and riding the swell of your self-righteous anger, you burst in.

“After all I have done for you… all I did to get you that Ascension, all the times I spread my legs, you insist on…”

You freeze. The door behind you shuts by magic. And looking up beside you, you see why. “Astarion,” you begin, much quieter, trying to stifle a laugh, if only from the pure irritation that seethes on his sharp face, “why are you on the ceiling?”

He hangs upside down, that mess of silver curls near standing on their ends. His face is flushing, that newly reborn heart letting all that magnificent, ascendant blood rush to his head. He folds his arms and spreads his legs. As if he could be intimidating while being inverted.

“I told you this morning, my treasure, it will take some time to become acquainted with my new self.”

You scan the room, skin tingling at the memories of pleasure not one day ago. And yet, here he was being more ridiculous than ever before. “So… the private room isn’t just for mind-blowing sex now that you and I are joined for eternity…” you fight the smirk on your lips as his upside down glower deepens. “It’s so you have some privacy as you… practice.”

“Don’t you dare… tell the others,” he growls, pure irritation and annoyance seething in his voice.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love,” you chuckle, extending your arm above your head as you walk beneath him. “Need a hand, my beloved vampiric master?”

He pouts, grumbling, but reluctantly reaches to grab you. His fingers wrap into yours, that warm touch of his still shocking and foreign. You pull with all your might, feeling his body release from the ceiling, floating as you tug him down until his feet rest beside yours.

He’s fuming, chest rising and falling beneath that elegantly embroidered tunic he has taken to wearing.

You grin, reaching to stroke his cheek as his parlor resumes that pale luster you know and love. Cleaning your throat, you purr, “And this is where you say…”

“Take off your clothes, my beloved consort,” he smirks and sneers at once, jutting his face into yours until you feel his warm breath on your lips.

“Not until you say…” you pause, arching your brows.

You wait. His lips fluttering, eyes boring into yours with almost glowing red intensity.

“….thank you,” he finally grumbles. Barely audible.

You turn your head, cocking your ear in his direction. “I’m sorry, what was that, my lord?”

“Thank you,” he replies louder through gritted teeth.

You can’t help but have another giggle tickle your throat. “I have no doubts you’ll master your powers in time, and until then, I’ll be here for you, my love, to lend you a hand.”

He gives an annoyed sigh. “By the hells, if the others find out…” he hisses, mad at himself rather than you.

“I think I can keep my mouth shut around them, and busy doing other things around you…” you close the distance between you, small as it might be, raising on your toes to press your lips against his, despite the disdainful pout.

“Hmmm tempting, but I do find myself rather famished…” he pats you on the cheek.

You grin, tilting your neck and sweeping your hair, an offering to sate him as you always have. You hold your breath, his lips hovering over that favorite vein of his. But he merely plants a small pecking kiss. “Delicious as you are, I think I’m in need of something more… filling.”

“Food?” you balk, jaw dropping as he catches your hand and opens the door.

“All of man’s appetites and desires are mine again, and after two-hundred years of food like ash and wine like vinegar, it’s time I started tasting all life has to offer.”

He turns, his face grins in power, but there is something in his eyes. Giddy, almost childish in excitement, like waking to presents on your birthday. It lasts a flickering second before he turns his head. You follow, hand held in his warm grip, led back into the common rooms. The scent of roast pork and vegetables fills the air. He lets your hand drop, making quick strides to the serving table before carving himself a huge hunk of meat off the carcass and ladling a pile of potatoes on the side of his dish.

“Well,” Wyll comments as the vampire settles down in a seat, “never thought I’d see the day when a vampire joins the feast with more than a goblet of blood.”

“First time for everything Wyll,” he croons in reply, taking a hearty bite just for emphasis. He doesn’t even wait to swallow completely before he continues. “First time a vampire ascendant has feasted, or existed, at all, don’t you forget.”

“I doubt you’ll let us,” Karlach teases before taking a sip of ale as ripples of laughter break out.

A bit nervously.

You look at the food, your stomach more than hungry, but… You recall as you lick your lips and catch your new fang on your tongue by accident, it’s not just food you crave.

You hear your name from the group, Karlach again breaking the chatter, “Hurry up, dish yourself a plate and get moving soldier. It’s not the same without you!”

You pick up the knife and begin to carve, but nagging thoughts won’t shut up. Can you even eat this? Can you ever feel full again? Can it ever be the same again, now that you’ve binded yourself to immortality?

A hand rests on yours, Astarion moving your hand in his to finish cutting a slice of pork for your dish, spooning out a helping on the side of the rest. “Eat, my treasure,” he orders softly with that sly smile. “Things won’t be all that different for you now.” You look into his eyes. Sincerity, pride, a flicker of concern. “Things will be different for you than when I was a spawn. You are mine, your veins hold my blood, ascendant blood. And besides, if this doesn’t fill you to bursting, my dearest pet, I suppose I’ll just have to offer you something else in the privacy of our room later.”

You arch a brow, stomach growling at the promise. “I hope you mean more than your cock, Astarion.”

He just grins wider. Feral and sly. Then he places a hand at your back and brings you to the rest of your party. You can sense the relief among everyone else once you sit down on the little couch, Astarion settling so close beside you, your arms rub with every movement. But that is nothing new.

Everyone falls right back into that perfected camaraderie, the only thing missing in the inn is a campfire. The banter and the toasting and the storytelling of the day's events to those who remained behind.

Tonight was no different… and yet, everything was.

Your ears seem to hear every word in the room, more sensitive, more overwhelming. Your stomach gnaws on itself, the plate of food on your lap untouched yet. And then, there is the utterly unfamiliar sound beside you, the gnashing of Astarion’s teeth as he bites into his food with abandon. You watch from the corner of your eye. He can’t seem to shovel it in fast enough… like a man who hasn’t had a morsel to eat in two-hundred years. It’s so… strange. Watching his jaw work furiously, watching the juice of his meal trickle from the corner of his mouth.

Not unlike when he has fed on you, you laugh inwardly. You reach your thumb to clean it for him, and it makes him turn, cheeks full of food, eyes smiling. He takes your thumb in his hand, pressing the juice to your own lips. A silent command to suck. You close your eyes, savoring the brush of his warm touch, hiding your sight from having to observe the others watching you.

You part your lips and suck… stomach rolling in hunger, appetite thoroughly whet with just that drop on your tongue.

You feel his face press against your ear to whisper, “Different for you than it was for me, my treasure…”

You shake him off, too hungry for sensuality, digging into your meal and joining the banter slowly.

Astarion remains mostly silent, laughing to himself here and there. Other than him eating and drinking, he is right however, it isn’t all that different now, you observe. Not yet anyway.

Not until he has you alone in your rooms once more. Hands gripped hard into your hair, cock thrusting down your throat as you kneel before him. You gag and sputter, sucking greedily. Indulging him. Letting him feel that power he’s gained in his life for once. His wild smile as he watches you taking him in so well makes you practically drip on the floor from between your legs. He pants relentlessly, growling praises over you, his little love, his good girl, his greedy consort.

New words, new titles, same obsession.

Same fingers caressing your jaw as it works eagerly, same touch clawing into the back of your head.

Only now his cock pulses with his heart, his skin flushed, his cum warm when it inevitably trickles down the back of your throat.

You swallow, pursing your lips around his cock so he feels every little ripple of your cheeks, your throat. Astarion pants above you, and you can count every one of his heart beats through his shaft in your mouth. “Glorious little love,” he manages to speak, swallowing to wet his throat. “Claiming a kingdom is nothing compared to the sight of claiming you on your knees, darling…”

Two fingers slip under your chin, pressing firmly to release his cock from the wet of your mouth. “On your feet, my love,” he smirks. “Time to give your master all his tribute.”

“You are enjoying this far too much, Astarion,” you purse your lips, smiling faintly and tauntingly as you do stand. “I think you should allow me to choose how you receive your… what did you call it?” You plant your hands on the expanse of his shoulders, feeling the muscles moving under your touch as he reaches to grip into the swell of your ass.

“Tribute,” he purrs, squeezing that fullness commandingly in his palms.

“Oh yes, that,” you tease, devious twists to your lips as you give him a firm shove. But he holds tight, sending you both backwards into the bed. His chuckle rumbles in his chest beneath you. “Why doesn’t my lord make himself… comfortable,” you whisper into his pointed ear, watching it twitch as you run your tongue up its long edge.

“What do you have in mind to please me, my treasure?”

You press him down, clambering on his sprawled, flawless body beneath you, your hands closing around his wrists. His smile says it all as he lets you pin him, arms bent around his mess of silver locks. “You’re so… hot,” you moan, sliding yourself over his erection, feeling it jolting as your body slathers it in arousal.

“I know,” he tilts his head, flashing his fangs and grinding into your folds.

“No, I mean…” His eyes narrow, a flicker of suspicion. “Yes,” you correct with a giggle. “You are heartbreakingly handsome, devastatingly beautiful, ruinous…”

“Better,” he preens with a feral grin. “But you meant my body, my skin, my newly beating heart…”

“It is… different,” you hum, nuzzling into his neck, caressing those two little circular scars that made him what he is. His pulse beats against you, a steady drumming that still startles you.

“Almost as different as the way you make me even harder, darling, now that the mere sight of you demands instant arousal…” His hips buck through your folds again, just to demonstrate. “Now… about your adulation and homage that’s long overdue to your lord and master…”

“Shh,” you press a finger to his thick, wicked, smirking lips. Slinking down, a toss of your hair over one shoulder, and you meet his crimson eyes, dilated wide and glazed with his lust. Gently, you sweep both your hands over the sinews of his thighs, bending his knees for him.

Or, at least he lets you…

He nestles into the bed, languorous, luxuriating atop the thick covers. You let him. You can feel the difference in his being—not the power, the beat of his heart or the tingle of untamed magic that dances erratically in his touch from time to time.

He’s free. Not a care in the world. No fear, no anxiety, not even a trace of suspicion that he might be caught and forced back into hell under Cazador. He has everything now. Even you. Especially you.

You hover there, arms propped up over his hips, the tip of his cock wavering against your breasts as you just observe him. His lips twitch into a smile. “It’s rude to keep your lover waiting, you know…” he purrs. You chuckle. That veneer of power, that rasp and roll in his voice, a performance to sway you.

Not that you need it.

But it will be fun cracking that veneer all the same. You let your hands roam his body, massaging and caressing the powerful muscles of his legs. Their every definition you know by heart now, the glide of his skin on yours a nightly comfort and pleasure for you both.

Your new eyes can count every beat of his heart in his veins, your ears can almost hear that rush of blood pumping, making him achingly hard for you. And it makes you lick your lips. You lap inside his left thigh, bringing a giggle to his throat. “Don’t think I’ll leave you hungry, my pet, but pleasure first.”

“Say please,” you taunt, grazing your new fangs over his skin. As he has done to you a thousand times before.

“What?” he drolls, raising his head a little, your hand flying to the hard planes of his belly to hold him down.

“Say… please… my lord,” you smirk into his thigh, laughing to yourself as you mix submission into your demand.

“Eager to test your new powers as well? Can’t say I’m surprised…” he feigns a dramatic huff. “Alright pet, just this once. Give me my pleasure first…” he places a hand at the back of your neck, drawing you back between his legs, “…please.”

“Good boy,” you rasp before running your tongue up his shaft. You dip your lips over that seeping head of his, his groan of pleasure reverberating in his chest. Your hand, your mouth take him in deeply again, resuming a more delicate pressure, a gentler pace than he demanded of you before. It relaxes him, slowing his pleasure as you feel his skin heating all the more.

And you take full advantage of his ease.

You press a thumb over the tight little pursing of his ass. Instantly making him shake and groan. Both your hands play in tandem, drawing louder and louder hisses from his slack mouth as you beat his cock and circle that hole.

He squirms at the unexpected contact. A pant of need sounds from his mouth. You run your hand through your folds, covering your hand in your own slick, and he laughs knowing full well what you’re doing.

But that laughter melts once you sneak a finger and then two inside him, the delicious sound of his whimpers replacing any giggles. “Gods,” he mewls, “don’t you dare stop.” He manages to speak between the grunts you pull from his throat. Thrusting your fingers deeper inside him crooking and thrusting to make him catch his breath in pleasure. You feel his cock leaking seed down your fingers already, a whine escaping his clamped lips as you find that spot inside him. Cock jolting in your touch as you thrust into him again and again.

You lose no focus on that pulsing cock as well, your hand around his shaft sliding through the lingering spit and slick you’ve left dripping on his cock. His whole body shakes, and you can’t take your eyes off the way he’s coming undone. You’ve given up sucking him, your lips sore at any rate.

Instead, your hands work a magic on him, sweat beading on brow, fangs biting his own lips until they bleed. He clutches the bedding in his fists, and you watch as every vein in his arms strain to the surface with the exertion.

Hips buck in time with your fist around his cock, ass sinking back down on your fingers as he plummets back down each time. “More. I’d like more,” he groans hard, head wagging back and forth. You feel his muscles clenching around your fingers, and you slink another one inside, a louder whimper of approval is your praise. Words have failed him as he can do nothing now but ride the growing wave of pleasure you have sent washing over his oh-so-mighty and ascended form.

His balls tighten, cock shuddering in your fist as he struggles for breath. Every muscle, inside and out, goes rigid and spasms, your fingers covered as spurt after spurt of his cum erupts everywhere.

A hand flies to his face, palm over his mouth to hide the little pants he’s making as you squeeze out the last of his seed and slide your fingers out from inside.

“Is my lord… so… very… pleased?” you taunt, crawling to watch as he tries to regain composure, to salvage that dominating veneer of power.

Handsome face twitching, he can barely put two words together. “Obviously,” he manages to eke the word out. “That was…” he pauses to pant, body still shaking beneath you with the last tremors of his climax, “…amazing.” His arm comes to pull you into his chest, to press your supple, if cold to the touch, body into his embrace.

You hear it, the racing of his heart as you rest your head on his chest beside it. A slice of envy, of uncertainty, slices into your heart and twists your gut. And from the way his hand paws through your hair and down your back, you’re sure he’s readying himself for another round.

You swallow, hesitant, your thighs clenching as his hand begins to snake between them. He senses it, your unwitting reluctance. That familiar yet unfamiliar warm touch ghosting higher on your leg. “Darling,” he purrs into the top of your head, “something the matter?”

You shake your head even as your words scramble their own way out. “Last night,” you whisper almost inaudibly, “you said you would miss my warm flesh…”

“And…?” He lets the question hang in the air. Lets you speak the rest of it on your own tongue.

“Do you?” you mutter, unable to look into his face, bracing yourself for the worst.

“Not if it means I can plunder you for all your riches for all eternity, my treasure,” he croons, slowly rolling you on your back. Crushing you with his wiry frame until you wriggle against his every inch. “But, if you’re truly worried about how delicious you’ll feel…” he holds his wrist up to your mouth, “why don’t you break in those virgin fangs, my pet?”

“You mean?” you finally look up, the hunger in his eyes, the pride to see you licking your own new-formed sharpened teeth.

“I do indeed, my dark consort,” he smirks so wickedly, your own hunger for his blood and his body flames to life. It blinds you as you look into his eyes. “You’ll only need a taste,” he grins with a rakish tilt of his head, “I swear it.”

He presses the inside of his wrist to your lips, that warm skin brushing you with its softness. You can hear it, even in that small span of his wrist. Thump… thump… it makes your stomach flare, an empty pit, hungrier than you ever were for food.

And just for him.

You press your fangs into his skin. Hesitant.

A firm grip snakes behind the back of your neck, his laughter in your ear as he shoves you into his flesh harder.

Hard enough to pierce him, to let his blood flow on your tongue and tingle your mouth with its power. Rich and delicious, sweet and tanged with just the same flavor as his scent. You suck, greedily, a vague feeling you’ve tasted it before.

His other hand rubs up the back of your head, lacing his commanding touch through your hair, cradling you, keeping you feeding. His eyes flicker shut, tongue licking his lips before his mouth goes slack in his own pleasure.

He likes the way it feels, having you feast on him, drinking down his ascendant blood to pool in your belly.

“Can you feel it?” he murmurs, “my power flowing in your veins… my heart beating in your breast.” His hand ghosts down over your shoulder to cup firmly around that breast. “Your skin is flushing, your folds will swell even fuller the more you take me inside you…”

You release your mouth, a moan slithering from your sticky throat as his fingers pluck and play with your nipple.

“There is no one more worthy of this than you, my little love,” he slides his wrist from your lapping tongue, fingers clawing loosely around your throat to lift you against his own hungering lips. “You need not fear anything, I told you, not even the worry that your immortal flesh would ever repel me, my darling.”

You curl into his arms, letting his warmth seep through you, inside and out. His kiss dances slowly with your lips, his tongue licking all his blood from your fangs and lips. A hum of satisfaction rumbling in his throat, “Mmm… You taste… divine…”

“You mean… you taste divine, my love,” you laugh into his kiss. You place your hand against his neck, softly pushing him off of you.

“I do indeed,” he purrs, his knee shoving your thigh to the side, spreading you wider. “As do you, if I may?” His silver brow arches, wry and mischievous. You tilt your head, your neck already sore from last night, from where he sucked you dry. You hiss, delicious pain slicing through you, his fangs in your neck burying the same moment his cock sheaths into your folds.

Hip undulating slowly, he drinks noisily behind your ear. And you do feel on fire, burning as hot as him, the friction of his thrusts, the trickle of your blood down your neck… they scald you.

They make you feel alive in his arms, alive with him fucking between your thighs.

It’s enough to shatter you in a matter of moments, his lips barely off your bleeding neck before you clench and spam around his pulsing cock. Your voice tears from your throat in a scream. So much fuller and hotter than ever he felt inside your walls. Thicker. Heating you from within. The pressure drives you wild, your climax more intense than ever as you writhe beneath him, as stars cover your vision and pleasure steals your breath.

He laughs again, that tickled giggle to watch you panting to catch your breath, barely able to make a sound more than a whimper yourself. “That’s right, my pet, let them all hear you through these flimsy walls….”

You laugh, breathy and quick, wrapping your thighs tightly around his waist. “So quick to forget what I managed to reduce you to?” You steal a hand back to his clenching ass, returning your touch to that tight little hole.

He gasps, biting his lips as if to keep himself from crying out again. “Don’t you ever tell them,” he growls, smiling with that predacious gleam in the crimson of his eyes.

“I don’t need to,” you can’t help but laugh, letting the words already in your mind already make you smile. Even if they are his own… even if he just might make you pay deliciously for them for the rest of the night, “given the noise you made, I’m sure they already know…”