#This is the second time I’ve made this joke I need more material | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

0mg-bird · 10 days ago

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

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

Bombshell Of The BAU~ Part II

Spencer Reid x Fem!Agent Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You love it when he calls you that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So many guns.” You comment.

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

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

“You’re on my hair.” You wince.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “I am helpful!”

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

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

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

“How am I no better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do we do?” You whisper.

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

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

Another knock.

“Reid, it’s Morgan.” The voice comes.

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

“Reid! Open the door.”

Nope, he’s not leaving.

“Son of a bitch.” He grunts.

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

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

“Reid-”

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

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

“What were you doing?” He asks.

“R-reading.”

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

Go away, go away, go away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was all a lie.

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

But the team can’t know that.

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

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

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

“All you have to do is ask nicely.”

“Please?”

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

Emily laughs, Spencer goes red in the face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He holds his hands up in surrender.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Morgan.” Reid sighs, following behind you.

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

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

“Yes you do.” He mutters.

“Only sometimes.”

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

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

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

“If you want me to, yes.”

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

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

The offer is tempting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s getting long.” He says.

“Nonsense, I love it.”

“You love everything.”

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I feel no remorse.” You breathe.

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

Now, you have a moment and are seizing it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone rings.

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

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

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

“Emily.”

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

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

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

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

“Will do, thanks Em.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The kids?” You ask.

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

“I didn’t…I should’ve-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

The team sees it now, of course they do.

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

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

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threeacttragedy · 4 days ago

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Entry 12: The One Where We Start Laying the Yellow Brick Road to Italy

I realized the other day that, even though I like to bounce around from place to place in the Lukola timeline, I probably needed to start tightening things up on the ship if I ever wanted to get to the end of the story. And, yes, dammit, this story better have a finale at some point because there’s nothing more annoying than an open-ended ending, particularly in the romance genre.

Today we’re going to take a quick jaunt over to Italy because –

NO! Not because Luke is allegedly filming there. If you’re into real-time stalking, you’re in the wrong blog. But, I’m sure there’s a Discord for that.

It’s because I’ve had several people ask for my opinion about the change in behavior between Luke and Nicola during their Day 1 interviews there. Wait – people are interested in my thoughts? Wow, that’s actually kind of nice. Thank you! Okay, back to what I was saying –

Was there a change in behavior when Luke and Nicola reached Italy? Yeah, actually, there kind of was.

By May 9, we had been gifted with a slew of material from Luke, Nicola, and the Bridgerton cast and, I must admit, those early interviews are some of the most entertaining of the tour. In the very beginning, Nicola appeared as the utmost professional – charming, intelligent, and witty at the right moments – and Luke played her likeable counterpart to “Book Colin” perfection – bouncing between being awkwardly boyish and wickedly roguish, all while looking at Nicola like she had just served him homemade peanut butter crumble.

The two of them together, playing off each other, in my opinion, was better than Bridgerton Season 3 (you cannot beat the World Tour being 99% Luke and Nicola, with only a few random side characters taking up screentime). There was some major “Electric Love” radiating from those two throughout the tour, but it seemed very much heightened in the beginning (probably because they hadn’t yet answered the same question 67 times). By the way, if you haven’t heard that song by Børns, go have a listen. It will, at the very least – hopefully – put you in an upbeat mood for the day.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes – was there a change in behavior between Luke and Nicola when they reached Italy?

Absolutely.

Do I know why?

Absolutely not.

Perhaps Luke was bent because someone spilled his coffee, or Nicola was upset because her stylist made her to wear that little silver bow in her hair. In my opinion, the most intriguing part of Day 1 of the Italy press junket was that Luke and Nicola struggled with answering the question, “What is love?” I swear they both babbled on like two kids in debate class who hadn’t bothered to read the material given to them before taking their respective podiums. They finally seemed to settle on Luke’s “Maybe it’s, like, connection.” Well, they seemed to be missing the “connection” that day.

Honestly, no one can explain their “don’t stand so close to me” vibe during those first day interviews except Luke and Nicola. But, we can at least have some fun and speculate about it with a bird’s eye view. At this point, you should know that I love spreading the puzzle pieces out and seeing how they might all connect. Most people – when putting a puzzle together – start with the side pieces, right? You’ll get my joke in a moment (I hope).

In March 2024 – I don’t know the specific date because my timeline is rather murky going back that far (I was unaware Lukola even existed!) – Luke traveled to Los Angeles for a photo spread with InStyle magazine. I’ve heard two versions of this story. The first being that Luke traveled to Los Angeles with Antonia alone; the second being that he traveled to Los Angeles with his friend group, which included Antonia. I couldn’t tell you which is true, and it really doesn’t matter because it doesn’t necessarily add or take away from today’s story.

Before I get started, I wanted to give a “hurrah” to The-One-Whose-Group-Chat-Fills-in-Lots-of-Missing-Bits-for-Me-Including-the-Part-Where-Video-Footage-of-Antonia-in-Los-Angeles-Seemed-to-Indicate-a-Celebrity-Was-Not-the-Videographer-and-There-Were-So-Many-British-Accents-in-the-Background-One-Would-Fancy-a-Guess-She-was-Traveling-with-a-Group.

Moving along…

On April 7, 2024, Antonia posted a series of photographs and clips to her Instagram grid indicating she had been in Los Angeles, including one where she was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory and one where she was sitting at a table marked with the number “95.” On April 14, she posted a second set of photographs, tagging her location as Beverly Hills, California and using “End of Beginning” as her audio (yes, I side-eyed this choice of music so don’t feel bad if you did as well). The second photo dump included her lounging on a rooftop.

I’m not going to delve into posts made by Luke and Nicola during that timeframe. I mean, I’m sure Nicola’s comment, “’Friends’…sure Jan,” on Luke’s April 11 reshared post about Bridgerton Season 3 was only meant to be applicable to Polin. And, if Luke wanted to use yellow and black hearts to represent the colors Nicola and he were wearing in his April 12 post, that’s cool, too. And, I am definitely not going to speculate on Nicola’s April 15 post (for Big Mood) that Luke liked, and she captioned, “I will bite off anything that dangles.”

By April 21, Luke and Nicola were in Australia at the World Premiere of Bridgerton. I am only going to provide a quick overview of Australia instead of a full-fledged recital because, at some point, I will almost certainly dedicate an entry to this country. Let’s start with Luke pulling off the hottest walk-up in Netflix human history (I mean, have you watched it in slow motion?). Then, we had the hard launch of the handholding business (because why again?). And, we had Luke tripping over his words, “We’re very, like, giving…I’m not talking about those scenes…” Oh, and Nicola telling an interviewer that, “[y]ou can’t keep a good girl down,” and, in response, Luke’s lips curling into a wicked-ass Cheshire cat's. We had them in the garden, with Nicola bending down to hug Luke after she had scratched/hit/petted his head. Perhaps I should not mention the possibility of a man’s shirt being visible on a bed behind Nicola (I said possibility not that it was). And, Nicola telling Luke, “You’re the funnier one,” when he was concerned that perhaps Benedict was funnier than Colin. Then we had the “Nicola-in-the-green-dress” day where, as they were going down the steps, Luke seemed to instinctively reach for Nicola’s hand, but she played it cool and took his arm instead. Oh, and that entire “green dress” day in general (I mean, there was so much shit going on that day). And, best we do not forget Nicola saying, “the best foundation for love is friendship,” which mirrored the bracelet “someone…in Australia” gave Luke that read, “Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?” Because that’s not suspicious at all. Alright, let’s get the fuck out of Australia – but not before I mention Nicola commenting on Luke’s April 27 Instagram post with “Ready for the next?” and Luke replying, “Absolutely.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, their shenanigans in Australia expanded the USS Lukola tenfold.

Oh, also, let me throw this in here because, if you are a “ring truther,” this fact plays a significant role in the Lukola timeline. If you do not know what a “ring truther” is, that’s perfectly fine. You can catch up by reading Entry 6 (The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad) of my blog. I mentioned in Entry 6 that some Lukola sleuths have stated the metadata they pulled from the sketches of the Claddagh ring uploaded by Chupi indicate they were done as early as April 26. In other words, it means the Claddagh was likely commissioned between Australia and Italy. In fact, if we are to believe Chupi when it said it took four weeks to make the ring, then it had to have been commissioned by May 9, 2024, at the latest. Oh, lookie there, that’s Day 1 of the Italy interviews.

But, before we get to May 9, let’s pause on April 29. That was the day Luke’s InStyle spread was published – yes, the one I mentioned earlier. Luke has pictures from this photoshoot still on his Instagram grid – in fact, Nicola commented, “Yess dude!!” on them – but those aren’t the pictures I want to talk about. No, I want to talk about the pictures InStyle posted on its Instagram grid that day. These photographs came directly from Luke, which was confirmed by the InStyle article when it said, “…the actor delighted the InStyle team by delivering the polaroid photos he’d taken for this story tucked oh-so-carefully in a little brown bag for safekeeping.” The pictures Luke provided, among others, included one where he was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles; one where he was sitting at a table marked with the number “95;” and one where he is sitting in a lounge chair on a rooftop. If you want to see the pictures, InStyle still has them available – you just need to go through hundreds of posts to find them. Luke did not like this InStyle post, which was kind of odd because he was tagged in it, and they were reportedly his pictures.

Why did these InStyle polaroids seem so familiar?

Oh, that’s right, because they were.

Remember that April 7 post of Antonia’s I mentioned a bit ago? Yeah, the one where Antonia posted a bunch of random pictures from Los Angeles and – only after InStyle posted Luke’s polaroids – fans realized Antonia had preemptively posted her version of some of Luke’s polaroids.

I am not going to speculate too much about these pictures or their implications in this blog post, but these pictures may resurface in future posts because I find myself side-eyeing the fact they even exist. And, we should probably accept that Luke was aware of them before his pictures came out on April 29 because he threw a like on Antonia’s April 7 post. Could it have been a “blind” like? Sure, I guess, but the logical side of my brain says he probably looked through them at the time she posted. Let’s not worry too much about it right now, though.

After trying to write out my “general” opinion about the pictures several times, I finally decided that the best way I could articulate my thoughts was through the conversation I had with my father. Yes, Dear Dad returns again for another insightful Q&A.

I started by showing Luke and Antonia’s three “matchy” pictures to my dad and then asked him to compare them. To be clear, the pictures were their respective Griffith Observatory, Table 95, and Rooftop Lounging pictures.

Me: “So what do you think?”

Dad: “About what?”

Me: “Ugh! Why did Antonia take those pictures?”

Dad: “Well, to show she’s part of the ‘in’ crowd. The only reason I can see them being taken is if she was going to put them on the Internet.”

Me: “Uhh, as a matter of fact, she did put them on the Internet! Approximately three weeks before Luke’s were published.”

Dad: “See! I’m not as dumb as you think.”

Me: “Whatever. So, you really believe that? She took them to show people that she was, like, there?”

Dad: “Yeah. Why else would she take them? They’re not the kind of photos you’d take normally. What’s she going to do, put them in an album and show her friends in five years and say, ‘Look, I sat in Luke’s chair?’ Who does that? Nobody. Plus, Luke’s pictures look like they were taken with a polaroid camera and Antonia took hers with, I guess, a phone. Why use two different cameras? Again, it doesn’t make sense. Seems to me like she knew what pictures he was taking, and she was trying to copy them so she could put them on the Internet.”

Thanks, Dad.

You do not have to accept my father’s thoughts on the photographs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. However, I think we can meet in the middle and opine that, at a minimum, Antonia’s pictures caused the weak Lukolas to jump overboard; at most, they gave some people stalker vibes; and somewhere in between, they introduced Antonia's negative influence over the fandom and what some may consider trolling behavior (even if it wasn’t recognized then).

Now, before we land in Italy on May 9, let’s summarize what has happened during the preceding two months.

First, we had Luke traveling to Los Angeles in March with Antonia, either alone or as part of a friend group. Luke had pictures of himself taken while there.

Second, we had Antonia posting pictures in early April that would be linked directly to Luke’s pictures by the end of the month.

Third, throughout the month of April, we had Luke and Nicola traveling together for the World Tour. We have all seen these interviews, and we have all formed independent opinions about them.

Fourth, based on Chupi’s own words, we know the Claddagh ring must have been commissioned no later than May 9.

Okay, now we’ve reached May 9, Day 1 of the Italy press junket.

Besides the press interviews, what happened on that day?

Well, Antonia reposted Luke singing Coldplay’s “Yellow” to her TikTok account.

Uhh… Huh. Interesting.

I mean, it’s possible that this was just a coincidence and she just liked Luke’s version of it. Or, it’s possible Antonia knew that “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song and she anticipated trolling Nicola and/or the fandom with it. But, if we believe she knew “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song, that means either Luke told her, or someone with that knowledge told her (i.e., someone from Luke’s team or family/friend group). We also know that Luke mentioned this song in the May 16, 2022 Netflix Tudum article when Nicola and he were asked about their song choices for Season 3. Luke stated his frontrunner was “Yellow” by Coldplay “because of Penelope’s dresses.” Regardless of why Antonia posted the song, I find it hard to imagine Netflix, Bridgerton, Shondaland, Nicola, or Luke were too impressed by Antonia resharing it on TikTok. I mean, at this point, Netflix & Co. would surely have been aware that Antonia’s “copycat post” went over with the fandom like a wet blanket in December in Canada. I imagine some questions were being asked and Luke may very well have received a hand slap from Corporate – and maybe even from Nicola.

But, that’s not the only thing that happened on May 9.

Luke posted his Homme magazine spread to his Instagram grid on that day, too. He captioned the post, “Chatting through all things S3 with @hommeplusmag [o]ut next week x.” Nicola commented, “Yessss,” and Luke tagged his post with the location of Hackney, London. That last part – about Luke tagging the location in Hackney – apparently sent the fandom into a deep-dive of…Nicola’s backyard. Why? Because Nicola lives in Hackney (Nicola herself confirmed she lived in Hackney in a March 18, 2024 interview with Derry Now), and rumors started to circulate that Luke’s pictures were taken at her home.

Hmm, I didn’t realize May 9 was such a busy day, did you?

So, which came first – the chicken or the egg? Did Antonia repost “Yellow” to her TikTok before Luke posted his Homme in Hackney images to Instagram, or vice versa? I’m sure someone out there has this information. The answer might help shine some light as to why Luke and Nicola seemed “off” in the early part of their Day 1 Italy interviews. But, then again, does the order really matter? Regardless of who posted first, it would seem to me that “Yellow” was a very possible culprit for the different energy on set that day.

That, or Luke really was peeved over someone spilling his coffee.

#lukola #luke newton #nicola coughlan #my thoughts #my opinion #speculation only

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 5 months ago

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𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝚅𝙸𝙸𝙸. 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, existential crisis about relationships and self-worth, insecurities, relationship growing pains, one step forward two steps back type shit | WORD COUNT: 10.6k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: Who needs enemies when you've got inner demons?

“Oh fuck,” you choke.

“Yeah?” Joel pants, pressing the fronts of your thighs even deeper against your chest as he drives into you. “Right there? That where you need it?”

“Right there! Right there! Keep going keep going keep—”

Sweat drips from the tip of his nose onto your shimmering skin, drenched from the almost hour long session you’ve had. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come already. He manages to draw them out of you repeatedly, even when you feel boneless and floaty and like you couldn’t possibly produce another climax if you wanted to. You have no idea how he hasn’t come yet or how he manages this sort of stamina. It has to be powered through sheer will alone.

“Give it to me,” he commands in a near growl that ignites something in your spine and has your body obliging within seconds. He finally joins you with his own bliss, letting out a ragged moan as you feel the kick of his cock against your quivering walls. His motions finally begin to slow, and you both hiss at the heightened sensitivity of him easing out of your warmth.

You blink lazily as you watch him deftly unsheath his softening length from the condom, tie it off, and toss it into the trash. He sinks into the space next to you in bed with a little wince and groan that you immediately clock.

“You okay?” The euphoric fog quickly dissipates as you hone in to him.

He gives a dismissive wave at your fretting and instead tries to pull you against his sticky, warm frame. “S’nothin’,” he insists.

“But you made a face, and—”

“Just mighta tweaked my back a little there at that last bit,” he admits a little sheepishly.

Well, maybe his stamina and force were impressive for his age, but there were still things that showed it. The age difference between you wasn’t something often discussed, but you’d gleaned from comments here and there that Joel seemed a bit more bothered by it than you did. It frankly wasn’t an issue for you in the slightest, and any opportunity to reinforce that to him was one you’d make good on.

So, you reverted to what you and Joel had always shared: a sense of humor.

“Wow, dicked me down so hard you injured yourself. Now that’s commitment,” you joke.

He chuckles lightly at your toothless teasing and rubs an open hand along your hip. Encouraged by his reception to your ribbing, you double down.

“Here I was thinking ‘blow their back out’ meant something else, but what do I know,” you titter.

He laughs earnestly at that and pretend pinches your thigh. “Always got jokes after but never during. Never got jokes when you’re too busy tryna take this dick,” he poses with an arched brow, stilly cocky somehow even with a pinched back.

“Yeah, you got me there,” you giggle. You snuggle closer and let out a deep breath. “How about you lay on your belly. I can rub your back a little bit as a thank you and a sorry all rolled into one, okay?”

“Ugh, I think I’d prefer bein’ heckled over bein’ pitied,” he protests.

He rolls over like you asked, but the sentiment of his veiled remark lingers: you wanting to take care of him must somehow be rooted in feeling sorry for him. It’s as untrue as it is unkind, and you want to squash every last hint of it.

“I’ve got some catching up to do, you know,” you challenge. “The least I can do is return the favor every now and then.”

He makes a questioning, muffled sound into the bedding.

“I was kinda thinking that it’s just what we did these days – looked out for each other. Besides, I think a back rub after making me come 500 times is the least I can do.”

You don’t point out all the countless ways he’s stepped up for you, often without even knowing just how much it mattered in the moment. He laughs again and finally relaxes into the sheets. It feels like a victory over his doubtful mind, and you get to work kneading deep strokes into the taut muscles in his lower back. He sighs at the palliating sweep of your hands, and, after a few moments pass in silence, you realize he’s fallen asleep. You smile to yourself and keep massaging.

Kenzie: i turned down the double phoenix acct Kenzie: they offered it to me but i didnt want it Kenzie: not worth it Kenzie: not worth losing a friend over :( Kenzie: plz text if ur ever ready Kenzie: bc i rly want to talk

You push out a long, sharp lungful of air and lock your phone. Kenzie may be a lot of things, but nobody could ever accuse her of being half-hearted. You can’t recall a time when anyone has pursued reconciliation with you to this degree, and, although it might be colored by wishful thinking, it seems like she is genuinely remorseful. The fact that you also have your own misdeeds to address makes the idea of responding to her all the more compelling.

There was no way around your rotten conduct that night. You’d left a partially drunk Kenzie with two fully unsafe men, and it was wrong. She’d let you down immensely – had left you feeling betrayed and upset on top of everything Logan had done to you – but it was no excuse for how you’d acted so far out of your own character. The blame wasn’t squarely on anyone’s shoulders in the situation, and it made the entire ordeal a giant, confusing mess.

You sigh again, maybe a little too loudly, because Joel peeks a head out of his office and calls your name.

“Everything okay?”

“Um….”

Tell him.

Tell him tell him tell him.

Tell him!

“You got a minute?” You know his calendar is clear for the rest of the afternoon, but it still felt impolite to assume you could just waltz in there whenever you wanted.

“C’mon.” He jerks his head towards the door and summons you to step inside. “What’s wrong?” he probes the second he closes the door behind you.

“I... need your advice,” you hedge.

He motions for you to proceed, and you take a deep breath before starting. “Okay, you remember my friend? The one I used to work at the grocery store with? The one from New Year’s Eve who sent you all those pictures of me?”

He nods along to your questions and flushes slightly at the mention of the pictures, one of which he’d set as his home screen almost immediately only to get caught the next day by your curious eye. “Yeah, Carrie? Er… Kiley?”

“Kenzie,” you gently correct with a short lived smirk. “Yeah, so, I was thinking about– I dunno, I guess meeting up with her? Talking stuff through?”

You’ve never told him everything that happened that night, and it leaves him at a disadvantage to understanding the nuance and extent of your falling out. You’d thought about just being upfront about the whole thing, sure, but any time you’d get near discussing it, you always talked yourself out of it.

Joel looks thoughtful, considering your words and all your unspoken tells, before responding. “What made you consider talkin’ it out?”

You aren’t really sure how to answer that one. “I dunno. She just keeps texting me, and… I dunno. I think she means it when she says she’s sorry. And I have stuff I should apologize for, too. I guess maybe we both need to speak our piece to clear the air or whatever, and I dunno from there to be honest. It’s just… complicated.”

“So, is meeting up to talk what you want to do or what you feel like you should do?”

There he went again with those laser focused questions that cut through all the bullshit. He was getting better and better at that, and truthfully it made you a bit nervous, like he could see right through you.

“I think I want to, actually. As much as it makes me nervous thinking about it. Confronting it all or whatever. And, I just– I really miss talking to her, you know?”

“Well, if you think it could help you decide a path forward one way or the other, then I think it might be worthwhile to set it up,” he reasons.

It sounded so simple how he put it. Was it really that simple? Or was it just Joel bringing that quiet confidence to a situation and letting some of it rub off on you? Either way, it felt good to finally have someone to discuss these kinds of things with. It didn’t feel like such a massive dilemma with him helping you weigh the pros and cons.

With nothing more than one short conversation, Joel had you feeling worlds better about the situation than you had in months. The inherent comfort he brought was a slippery slope, one that had your foothold wavering on the determination to keep things to yourself. The urge to divulge more and more, to unpack all the things that weighed you down, grew each time his steady, gentle sense of calm cradled you.

Bringing him onboard with the Kenzie situation was a small step forward in your effort to open up to him, but it felt like you might’ve finally turned a corner.

It’s a relief to find the coffee shop isn’t too crowded. You aren’t sure how this reunion is going to pan out, and you don’t much care for an audience to the possible spectacle of it all. The paper to-go cup – your chosen alternative to the ceramic mug in case things went south – glides against your fingertips as you nervously rotate it back and forth. The rapidly cooling brown sugar caramel latte slips across your tongue and down your throat quite effortlessly despite the nerves wracking your body as you await Kenzie’s arrival.

The bell above the door peals to signal a new customer. Kenzie drifts through the frame and pauses at the front counter, surveying the cafe for you. You pop a hand into the air to get her attention, and eventually her line of sight pans your direction. She straightens up when she spots you, but it’s not the confident posture she normally assumes. She is noticeably nervous as she heads your way.

You stand to greet her out of habit, bumbling halfway through when you realize a hug might not be welcome – or even what you want – and you awkwardly settle back into your seat just as she reaches the section. She doesn’t hesitate at your awkward body language, instead just plopping into the chair across from you and sitting quietly for longer than you’ve ever witnessed. Her gaze alternates between the tabletop and the large window several booths away. She shakes her head, sighs loud and long, and finally meets your eye.

“Can I go first?” she asks, sounding a bit on edge. Grateful that you don’t have to figure out how to start this conversation, you motion for her to speak.

“I know I’ve said it a million times in texts — and I’m sorry for blowing up your phone – but I want you to understand that I am, like, actually sorry. I really am sorry.”

“Yeah, I gathered as much,” you yield. “I don’t think you’re the type to keep saying it if you didn’t mean it.”

“No, totally,” she affirms. “I wouldn’t be trying so hard if I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t be trying to– I don’t know– I wouldn’t put so much effort into something I didn’t care about.”

“It’s– I can see that. I know it’s…”

“Listen, I can’t take it back, which fucking sucks, but it’s true. As much as I wish I could go back to that stupid event and make different choices, I’m stuck with the ones I made. I acted like a terrible friend, and I understand 100% why you were upset. You had every right to be upset with me.”

Her eyes close for a moment, arms firmly crossed against her chest, before she continues.

“The next morning I woke up and couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t know who the fuck was looking back at me because I didn’t know that person. I didn’t know I was somebody who would act that way in that situation. I’m, like, I-I pride myself on being this ‘girl’s girl’ or whatever, but then I went and—”

She stops abruptly and waves a hand in the air before tucking it quickly back into her elbow.

“—and I’m fucking rambling right now. Ugh. I don’t know why I didn’t step up and be the friend you needed, but I do know that every fucking day since I have kicked myself for it. I acted like my whole entire life was on the line or something, like defending you was going to cost me my entire future career, and it was so, so stupid. No job is worth that. No opportunity or whatever is worth risking….”

Her lips press together in a tight line, and she looks off to the window again. “It wasn’t worth losing you as a friend,” she finishes somberly.

You allow yourself the passing moments to digest everything she shared, also affording her a moment to collect herself. Seeing the unshed tears shimmering in her eyes almost has you forgiving her right then and there, but this was a necessary sort of pain. The circumstances deserved to be acknowledged by you both in your own way, no matter how uncomfortable or upsetting it was.

“It’s really nice to hear you say that, Kenzie. I– That night, I just… it hurt so fucking bad. I didn’t expect it, and I think that’s what made it hurt worse.”

She turns to you again, hastily blinking tears away, and nods. “I get it, babe. I do. I really do. I didn’t even know I could be the kind of person I was that night, and it has been so fucking eye opening for me. It peeled back a layer, and I saw a side to myself that was so ugly. I’m glad I know it’s there now because I can– I don’t have to let it make my decisions for me, you know? But it’s– The cost of losing you has just been…”

She swallows hard and tips her head back, trying in earnest to not cry in the middle of the coffee shop. “Shit,” she sniffs and squeezes her hands together on the tabletop.

You’re reaching over and grasping her hand in yours before your brain has entirely caught up with your decision to give this friendship another try. “Hey, I need to apologize, too,” you say quietly.

“What?” she balks.

“No, Kenzie, I do. I might’ve had a bad encounter with Logan, but I left you with him and Charlie all by yourself. You wanna talk about the morning after and wondering what kind of person you are? I felt so much guilt for leaving you after knowing what I’d just gone through with Logan. You could’ve been hurt so bad, and I left you there to fend for yourself,” you huff with obvious disdain for yourself.

“Nothing happened,” she assures you. “I left pretty soon after you did, and they were both at the bar taking more shots. I wasn’t even there for more than, like, 20 minutes after yo–”

“That’s not the point,” you interrupt. “The point is: I left you in a bad situation because I was upset. I could’ve been upset with you and made sure you left the unsafe situation, too. It wasn’t an either or choice.”

“I guess,” she sniffles and shrugs. “I probably would’ve done the same thing, so it’s not like either of us is perfect.”

“No,” you agree with a strained exhale of a laugh, “we’re not.”

She shoots you a small, watery smile, and you feel the tension dissipating in real time. “Can we… Do you think we could try again? To be friends?”

It hurts your heart to hear the uncertainty and vulnerability in her voice. “Yeah, I think so. I definitely think so.”

She wraps you into a hug and squeezes way too tight before settling back into her chair and demanding you catch her up on your life. You smile into your drink, knowing full well how much you’re going to savor her reaction when you tell her about you and Joel.

You hold your tongue from all the anxiety ridden thoughts that threaten to spill over when Joel finishes zipping up the medium size duffle bag full of basic workwear and little in between. You want to go with him. You don’t want to be away from him. You hadn’t realized how comforting it’s been knowing that he lives a few streets away from you and that he’s there. It’s all a bit delusional and unrealistic, but it’s where you’ve landed more often than not as of late.

Keep it simple. Keep it neutral. Don’t be needy. Don’t be clingy. You keep repeating it to yourself like a self-help mantra, but it does little to make you feel any less self-disparaging about the pathetic mindset you’ve somehow let wholly encapsulate you. You’d spent your entire life without Joel Miller and had taken on anything that came your way. Now suddenly you’re acting like a little lost puppy at the first inkling of being away from him for a few days.

You had always known yourself as the strong fortress, ready to shield yourself and Calum from whatever you could, but these days it felt like the foundation of that tower was crumbling from the ground up. Every genuine connection and slip of warmth and kindness and sincerity from Joel was another stone falling away from your intricately, expertly fortified mental stronghold.

It was terrifying, and you couldn’t make it stop.

Sometimes you’d even been surprised when simply being with Joel made you want it to crumble. But you didn’t know that person. You didn’t know the version of yourself who’s not afraid to come down from the high defense and unlock the door at the base. You didn’t know the version of yourself who wants to pull that heavy door and have Joel pushing from the other side just so he can get in sooner. So you can let him in sooner.

But most of the time, you’re at your post in the tallest peak of that tower. Ever the vigilant sentinel for hurt and destruction because there’s never not been a time where ruination hadn’t been lurking on the horizon. A watchful eye for the anger and violence and malice disguised as love, a Trojan Horse meant to deceive and destroy you from the inside out should you ever let your guard slip.

All the while berating yourself for being too clingy despite keeping anyone and everyone at arm’s length. A devilish whisper in your mind echoing that you’d end up driving Joel away if you didn’t maintain the buffer that made you more palatable. Ensuring you were lacking any of that pesky complexity that made people nervous. Because being with you wasn’t easy. Because someone getting to know you was never going to be easy. Because you were work. Your existence meant effort for everyone around you – and a lot of it. Because you’re a burden. Because you’d always been those things and didn’t know how to be anything else.

Because the effort required would never be worth the reward of truly knowing you.

“How many days did you say?” you ask again for the millionth time. He answers graciously, of course, and makes no mention of how he’s already told you.

“I dunno. Three, probably. Hopefully. Don’t wanna miss much here and definitely don’t wanna sleep on that back killer sofa of theirs multiple nights in a row, but I don’t wanna leave her and Ben to take it up with that asshole landlord of theirs, either. So, hopefully three? Gonna leave Wednesday afternoon as soon as I finish up with the Williams Project permits.”

Three days to address the damaged cabinets in Sarah and Ben’s apartment kitchen. Their landlord had discovered their blunder before she and Ben could get it sorted, and now he was apparently trying to charge them an exorbitant amount to have a “professional assess the damage and make the necessary repairs.” Luckily for Sarah and unfortunately for her money grubbing landlord, Joel was a licensed contractor, and repairing a few kitchen cabinets was light work in his world. They lived far enough away that a day trip wasn’t feasible, so Joel allotted a day on each side of a solid workday for traveling there and back.

“I guess that’s not that long,” you muse with a sullen frown. For a fleeting moment you think about how he didn’t even care that Sarah had messed something up in the apartment. He wasn’t angry with her about it, and he didn’t even seem to mind that he was now having to take time off work and make travel plans to help fix her mistake. It was a given that he’d do that for her. The thought of it makes your throat tight and your eyes hot. Keep it simple.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” he tuts. He strides over to where you’re slumped against the headboard watching him pack and sidles up next to you. “I already told you not to worry about makin’ it up to the office. You have the house key and you got what you need set up here. Whatever else can wait until I get back.”

“I know that,” you huff. “But you won’t be here.”

Keep it neutral.

“No, I won’t,” he concedes softly. He runs a warm palm up your thigh, and you shiver at the simultaneous electric and calming surge it sends through your body. “But, you just hole yourself up here, and I’ll make it up to you when I get back, alright?”

“But I don’t sleep good now unless–” You cut yourself short and flick aimlessly at his bedspread.

Don’t be needy.

You know you’re being sulky about his very short trip away from you, but you can’t snap out of it. All those thoughtful texts and sweet goodnight calls had built upon themselves to the point that it wasn’t even just a habit anymore – you were pretty much dependent on those interactions from Joel every night if you wanted anything close to a peaceful night’s rest. Your brain felt jetlagged and erratic without the soothing and settling check-ins from Joel, and god did it feel so easy and good to just keep doing it. He was so easy to rely on.

You see him most days of the week, and even still the couple of days you’re physically away from him feel strange and empty. Those Monday morning kisses and hugs are mandatory for your nervous system to regulate itself and flatten into a smooth, rolling wavelength. It was the sort of instant salve you’d always longed for but never thought would be true. Now here you are feeling tangled and all sharp edges without his presence and immediately set right when he’s there again.

The altered brain chemistry he’d caused felt permanent at this point, and it was frightening to know you couldn’t change that. There would never be a time again in your life where you’d be okay without him.

Don’t be clingy.

You lift your gaze when Joel hasn’t responded yet, and you study the odd look of contemplation on his features. He senses the weight of your stare and turns to you again.

“What if you could stay here while I’m gone? Would that make it easier on you?”

“Joel, I’m just being—”

Stupid. Demanding. Ridiculous. You don’t get to pick which demeaning label to slap on yourself because Joel moves right past it.

“Tell your old man that we’ve got an out of town conference, and the guy that was supposed to help keep us organized had to pull out last minute. Say it was offered to you next, and you wanna make a good impression so you said yes. Be ‘outta town’ while I’m at Sarah’s. Stay here.”

What you wouldn’t give to sleep in his bed and have the scent of him lingering on the sheets to help the days pass quicker. But life was never easy like that, not in your experience at least. It couldn’t ever be that simple.

“I dunno, Joel…”

“No, listen,” he says with more emphasis now, propping himself up across your middle so you have to lean back into the headboard to make enough space for him. “A commute that’s just a walk down the stairs? Got whatever you need in my kitchen, and I can order you somethin’ if it isn’t. You can take up the whole couch every night and watch whatever you want. The whole house to yourself. Walk around naked if ya want.”

His grin widens when you laugh and roll your eyes. You aren’t sure why he seems so urgent about it all the sudden, but it convinces you to at least consider trying to pull it off. It would be nice to feel closer to him while he’s gone…

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to try,” you admit and try to hide that burning ember of hope in your voice.

For some reason it felt like you needed to manage expectations – yours or Joel’s, it depended on the day – just in case this all went awry. As if curtailing and containing the explosion of feelings pouring out between you two would somehow make it all hurt less should this not work out. But it was painful to think like that, and you were sick and tired of living in pain and fear and doubt.

“There’s my girl,” he beams, and you feel on cloud nine when he acts like this over you. Like it’s some big favor you’re doing for him by taking over his house and using up his resources while he’s gone.

“Yeah yeah, no promises. Still have to run it by my dad,” you remind him pointedly. “Anyway, you need to finish packing so we have time to fuck.”

“Oh, is that right? Got me a little to-do list with your name at the bottom, huh?” His arms snake around your body in a way that is most definitely not the type of movement that’s going to lead to packing, so you give him a playful push to finish his task.

“Alright, I’ll hurry up.” He stands and rifles through the empty outer pocket of his bag. “Hand me that extra charger on the nightstand, will ya?”

“Sure,” you reply and shimmy over to the flat surface where no extra charger is to be found. You glance down at the floor to make sure it hadn’t been knocked off at some point, but there’s nothing there either. You lean forward and slide the small drawer open to look just as Joel makes a strange noise that you think is meant to halt you in your search, which is puzzling up until it’s not.

There’s no charger in sight, but there is Kenzie’s dress and tights crudely shoved to the back like an afterthought. Your bra is a little further back as well, but your panties from that night sit front and center in the immediate opening of the drawer. Unlike the rest of the garments, they look like they’ve been taken out and put back several times over, and you have a pretty good idea why.

“Joel Miller,” you gasp with an amused, scandalized grin. “What exactly are these doing right next to your bed, all tucked away in here?”

You’re certain if you held a hand close enough to Joel’s cheeks right now you’d be able to feel the heat rolling off them in waves. His mouth opens and closes dumbly while he stands there speechless. Getting caught red handed looked pretty damn good on him.

“It’s not what it— I didn’t — I’m not a pervert,” he sputters. “It was just a coupla times, I swear.”

“Oh, you’re not a pervert, Joel,” you contend with a honeyed, low voice as you crawl on the bed towards him. “You’re a deviant.”

His shoulders relax a bit when you start to giggle furiously, clearly amused at discovering his little secret. “Quit it,” he appeals weakly. “S’embarrassing.”

“It’s only embarrassing,” you amend, quickly standing and wiggling out of your jeans, “if the thought of you masturbating to my used panties like some dirty little secret wasn’t so hot.”

His pupils swell as he watches you tug your panties off and put your jeans back on. His gaze follows your hand as you unzip his duffle bag and drop them right on top of all his items before zipping it back up.

“So from one deviant to another, those are on the house,” you say and pat the duffle bag where the brand new used panties rest inside. “You know, for all your travel needs.”

You give him a playful wink and plant a little kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Nothin’ but trouble,” he huffs in a laugh.

All the worry about whether or not your dad would buy the story of heading out of town last minute for a work convention was pointless because he barely even listened as you stuttered through the lines. You hadn’t been that bad at lying in a long time, and you think it might be that you wanted this so badly. You got to see Joel almost every day of the week in person and through video calls on top of that, and the idea of him suddenly being gone even when you knew he’d be back made you feel jittery.

The universe finally took pity on you, it seems, because your dad was so wrapped up in winning over Denise’s family that he didn’t even seem to care that you’ll be “out of town.” One less thing for him to manage, you suppose. You wonder if having an empty house was preferable in the event Denise or her family wanted to stop by or have a nice dinner. If you were out of town, he wouldn’t have to decide whether or not he should acknowledge your existence to them.

Regardless, once this effort of making a good impression passes, you’re sure he’ll double back to you and start something over you up and leaving. As if you could control things like last minute business trips, even if it was all made up anyway. It never mattered if something was literally impossible to control. It would still be your fault somehow.

But for now it meant enough wiggle room to get out of the house for a few days. It meant freedom to exist in Joel’s space while he was away. It meant a calm, quiet, and serene night – every night. You felt like you could cry from relief.

The day had finally come to head out to Sarah and Ben’s. It’s not been more than a few hours since he kissed you goodbye, and he already misses you like crazy. He’d anticipated it, of course, but not so soon. Not like a little lovesick schmuck, glum and pitiful without their special companion. At least he didn’t have to worry about you staying in your own house while he was gone. Your dad bought whatever line you fed him about traveling for work, and Joel’s chest relaxed the moment you told him. You staying in his house with his things around you was the closest he could get to keeping an eye on you in person.

He’s just under 30 minutes out from Sarah and Ben’s when a text notification from you pops up. He needs to stop for something to snack on anyway, so he pulls off the highway and into the closest convenience store parking lot. He swipes on his phone until your text thread fills his screen, and his eyes bug out at what’s staring back at him.

You’re propped up in his home office chair with your legs spread wide and knees hooked over the edge of the armrests on either side. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else. One hand is lifting the hem of his shirt up just above your mound, and the other has fingers dancing close to your bare pussy. He doesn’t even think twice before clicking it open and zooming in, groaning a little at what he wants to imagine is a little wetness spreading between your folds. It takes him a solid 5 minutes of staring to realize you’d texted a caption with the picture.

You: a benefit of wfh → no bra no pants and no panties 🤭 You: miss you ❤️this shirt smells like you the most so I decided to wear it

“Fucking christ,” he mutters under his breath.

He doesn’t know where this emboldened version of you came from, but he always knew something was trapped under the surface of all your guarded demeanor. Now it’s like a switch has been flipped, and he’s grateful to see you so open if not a bit of a handful. He likes to think he can keep up with you, but you keep knocking him on his ass with this sweet, sexy confidence you’ve had as of late.

Joel: Holy shit I stop for gas and see this? 🤯 Joel: You look so fucking good wearing my shirt. Joel: Both of us just might have to have a work from home day if that’s the dress code. 🥵

You: wanted you to know I was thinking about you You: and maybe give you a reason to think about me too Joel audibly laughs at that. The notion is entirely ridiculous that you aren’t constantly in his thoughts, that he isn’t incessantly thinking about how to spend more time with you.

Joel: I’m always thinking about you!

Joel: But now I’m thinking about you while I’m in the middle of a parking lot trying to decide if I can do anything about this hardon you gave me. Lol. 😵

You: show me

Joel adjusts in his seat and fiddles with the angles for a minute or so before finally settling on a straight down shot of his hand palming the tent in his jeans. He sends the picture and waits.

You: looks good, baby You: want it right here

His cock jumps when he sees the accompanying picture of your pussy close up, being spread by your pointer and middle finger in a wide V. It’s definitely wetter than in the first picture. He doesn’t even need to zoom to see it. By the time he’s saved your photos to his camera roll, another text from you has come through. His cock and heart both jump this time when he sees it’s a video file. He taps the play icon and hunches over the screen, already fully absorbed in whatever you’ve sent.

The video starts on a closeup of your mouth with your middle finger bobbing in and out. You spit more saliva onto it when you remove it, and you let it make a long, slimy trail that connects from your fingertip to your tongue. You guide the camera down to your pussy and press your wet finger against your clit. Joel turns up the volume and rewinds the clip about 4 seconds just so he can hear any noise you make when you finally touch yourself.

It’s the smallest little dreamy sigh, and it makes his erection borderline painful. He has to take it out of his pants when he realizes the slow, deliberate motions you’re making on your clit are spelling out his name, almost like a little game between the two of you at this point. He peers around the lot and breathes a sigh of relief that it’s not too busy. There’s no occupied vehicles nearby, but that doesn’t guarantee someone won’t be walking to one of the empty cars around his truck, either. He considers digging into his bag for a half second after the worn panties you’d tucked inside, but he decides against it. He was already in enough trouble as it was keeping himself poised.

Joel: Can you send one of you putting a finger in there for me, sweet girl? Joel: Miss that sweet pussy already. Joel: Had to take my dick out it was pressing on my zipper so bad.

You: not as much as she misses you ;( You: sorry about the zipper You: hope this helps ❤️

The next video you send makes him grip the base of his cock to keep it from making an explosive mess everywhere. He grabs up some napkins and spits into his hand before tapping the play button and stroking himself. He can’t quite tell what you’ve got the phone propped on, but you’re on the ground with your ass in the air and a hand reached around from below you to slowly pump two fingers in and out of yourself. He can see your asshole pucker whenever you hit a spot that feels really good, and then his brain is thinking about if you’d ever want to try that with him.

“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers to no one as he tries to discreetly jack off. “Stretch it for me, sweetheart.”

He’s already blowing his load about six strokes in, the divine song of your whimpers and moans making it happen quickly. He’s panting, eyes darting around to ensure no one has seen him, and he doesn’t come down

before you’re locking eyes with the screen with a little smile and stopping the recording. He cleans himself up with the dry, rough napkins he’d thankfully had stashed in the console and sends a reply.

Joel: Literally just jacked off in the middle of a parking lot because of you. Joel: You make me crazy. Joel: 😰🍆✊💦😵‍💫🛻

You: feelings mutual, baby 🥰 You: just came really hard thinking about you

He hopes to god that what you’re saying is true and that you feel as strongly for him as he does for you because he doesn’t know if he could take it if the opposite were true. He saves the video to his phone for later, thinking of an opportunity to watch it again with the panties you’d tucked into his bag, all crammed against his nostrils and mouth. He feels like a dirty old man, and it makes him laugh to himself knowing how much you’d love that.

Joel made it back in record time and without having to even push the speed limit that much. It did little to quell his antsy mood, though, still eager to get back to you. Even Sarah had taken note of his distractedness and at one point even made the comment “who are you smiling at?” when she’d caught him grinning at his phone like an idiot over a dinner selfie with a cheesy little pun you’d sent him. He’d done a poor job of shrugging off her needling, and thankfully she dropped it after a little while. It didn’t stop her from making another comment about getting back home to “take care of things” and looking triumphant when he’d confirmed her suspicions by doing a piss poor job of hiding how flustered it made him.

He throws the truck into park and slings his bag over his shoulder, bounding up the front steps and wiggling the key into the lock as fast as he can without scratching the plate. You hadn’t replied to his text from an hour ago about how he’d be home soon, and it made him all the more anxious to see you. The house is quiet and dark even though it’s not far past five o’clock. He calls out, but there’s no response. He checks the living room, the home office, the guest bedroom. He finally finds you in his bedroom.

You’re curled into a little ball with his bedding twisting around your limbs. Your breaths are small and even, and you look so serene it makes his chest hurt. You look perfect here in his space. It could be your space, too. Maybe. One day. He doesn’t bother analyzing and correcting the clamorous, insistent draw to keep you closer to him and more often. He wonders if you’d ever move in with him. It’s all tricky, of course, because of the age difference and because of the work relationship and for a million other reasons that are never enough to make him slow down. It’s too much too fast, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

He wants you close. He wants to take care of you and keep you safe and make you feel happy and loved. He wants to cook for you and spend lazy afternoons together watching movies. He wants you to pick a paint color for the downstairs bathroom. He wants you to choose decor items to put all around the house so you mark your claim here. He wants your clothes sitting in the washer so he has to move them over to the dryer before he can start a load of his own. He wants to pull down two coffee cups every morning instead of one. Hell, he’d even shop around for that nasty caramel flavor syrup you love so much that it makes him gag from the sweetness. He’d learn just how you like your caramel coffee and make it for you every morning.

He wants your shoes to pile up by the front door because you kick them off the second you get home. He wants to argue with you over what to set the thermostat at, only to give in to whatever you want it to be. He wants to have a Saturday morning routine where he teaches you to drive until you feel confident enough to take the test. He wants you to bug him about landscape ideas you have for the backyard. Bug him to the point that he’ll spend hours breaking his back over, all to find it was worth it in the end when you’re sat together on the deck out back on warm summer nights as you watch fireflies.

He wants to take you to a botanical garden so he can learn your favorite flowers and get you bouquets of them frequently. He bets you’d be so good at the corn mazes they set up during the fall festivals around town, and you could ride the ferris wheel afterward. He wants you to rope him into some random community center adult class about pottery or watercolor and tell him what a nice job he’s done even though yours will look way better. He wants to make a fuss about getting a real tree for Christmas because you like the smell. You probably won’t remember to water it, but he’ll remember to water it. Because you want it and because you like it, so he’ll remember. Because he’d do anything to make you happy and to make you his.

You stir at the recognition of someone else being in the room. He snuggles into the bed beside you immediately and warms at how even through a sleep drenched brain you place who he is. You sling two sluggish arms around him to draw him snug against you. You say his name in a little surprised, breathy whine that makes him chuckle and grin.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he murmurs quietly into your ear. “You takin’ a little nap?”

“Got my period and got super tired,” you mumble back. “Aw, Pluck,” he coos. He turns you to your side and presses a warm palm against your lower abdomen, working it in gentle, firm circles. You sigh at the welcomed ease to your achy middle. He would never wish for you to feel unwell, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to being able to take care of you the rest of the night. The best part of it was that you were finally letting him take care of you. Trusting him with it. And he’ll be damned if he wasn’t going to rise to the occasion.

“I think Rachel is working today. She usually works Fridays,” Kenzie explains as she holds the door to the Electric Pony Sex and Erotica Shoppe.

“You seem pretty well acquainted,” you snort.

“Ugh, this place saved my life,” she declares with such sincerity you know she really believes it. “Dry spell for months. Would’ve gone insane - like, clinically - without their help and recs.”

“Fair enough,” you concede.

The dull pink neon glow gives the blacked out entrance lobby a friendlier feel. There’s a perky looking woman with a sparkly nose ring flicking through a Muscle Bear Monthly magazine at a plastic window that reminds you of a bank teller. Her eyes lift to you and Kenzie before lighting up in recognition.

“Kenz! Hey, girly pops!” She motions you both over and waves off Kenzie’s ID. “You’re fine. Need to see your friend’s, though.”

You dig your state ID card out of your backpack and slide it under the opening toward her. She scoots it back to you and buzzes you into the main area. Your eyes dart every which way as you take in a whole slew of products. You weren’t a prude by any means, but being surrounded by so many toys and accessories and outfits and performance enhancers felt a little bit intimidating. It was a lot different than looking at a few things online and inevitably closing out of tabs when you were reminded of the fact that you had little to no privacy in your own home and therefore could never justify getting anything for yourself.

“So, what’re you lookin’ for? Anything in particular or just browsing?” Rachel asks, mostly to Kenzie.

“I’m actually still good from my last haul, but my friend needs a few things.”

You jump in before she can blow your spot up completely about why you’d made this trip. “Yeah, I just, um, sort of wanted to step my game up a little, I think.”

“Oh, perfect. We get that a lot, so we can definit–”

Kenzie cuts Rachel short and adds, “Her boyfriend is older and more experienced and has a nice dick, so she wants to match his energy a little bit. Right now she basically just needs help with riding dick and giving blowjobs.”

“Kenzie!” you hiss.

“What?! You do! You said you still can’t really fit him that far into your mouth!”

“Okay, I think we can figure something out,” Rachel laughs in an easy sort of way that makes you feel a touch less embarrassed after Kenzie’s disclosure.

You grumble under your breath and follow Rachel’s lead to a large wall of toys. Kenzie has the sense to look a little chastised and trails behind. You’re staring down row after row of dildos and plugs, and you try to ignore your nerves and remind yourself of why you came here. You’d only just begun your physical relationship with Joel, but this being your first of that kind with a male partner had you noticeably lacking apprise of anything beyond basic technique. Neither of you were dissatisfied with anything, but you couldn’t shake the blow to your self-confidence that came with having such a competent partner.

“So, let’s just start with the basics, okay?” Rachel begins. “Have y’all been together for a while or is this something newer?”

“Newer. Like, brand new, sort of. In a lot of ways.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just asking to see if this is a learning a new partner situation or trying out new stuff to spice things up type situation,” she explains. “Okay, so. Kenz mentioned some oral stuff and positioning techniques. Is that where you’re looking to get into or were you thinking a different direction?”

“Um, no. I guess… Yeah, just…” you stumble.

“Listen, we’re super chill here and just wanna make sure everybody leaves and has a good time when they get back home, okay? So no pressure and definitely don’t feel embarrassed.”

You weren’t sure how to explain that you weren’t really embarrassed, per se. You’d just never had this sort of chatty girlfriends dynamic where you talk about your sex life and your love life and all the nitty gritty in between. You’d always been the listener, and now being the talker was different.

“No, I’m good. I just, you know, I’m new with guys for a partner. So it’s just kind of, like, I’m figuring it out as I go along, and I’m not always sure what to even ask,” you admit.

“Well, luckily for you, guys for the most part are pretty simple in my experience,” she says encouragingly with an amused grin. “The main thing is just being into it, you know? Whatever it is that you’re doing, if you seem like you’re having a good time and he’s turning you on and ‘ooohhh oh my god’ you love his cock and all that, nine times out of ten they’ll be happy.”

“Well I’m definitely into it, so that’s not a problem. Like, very into it. He’s, um, he’s really good in bed.”

“You said he’s older and probably got more experience, right?”

“Yeah, definitely. He’s not complaining or anything. I just– this is just me wanting to…”

“Show him you’ve got a top tier pussy that he’ll want to lock down?” she offers.

“Yeah, something like that,” you exhale in a laugh.

“Okay, got it. I think first thing is we gotta see what we’re working with. Certain things just don’t work as well with, like, if a dick has a strong curve to it or if it’s on the bigger side. So take a look at the wall over here and try to find something similar to his size and shape.”

Kenzie instantly perks up at this and is practically glued to your side as you peruse the offerings. After a few minutes you find one that is pretty close to Joel except for slightly more of a curve. Kenzie’s mouth is theatrically agape as you pull it off the shelf and hand it to Rachel, who raises her eyebrows and purses her lips.

“Well damn. Good for you, honey.”

The following half hour is crammed with more information about how to be on top, what sort of lingerie would be cute but still comfortable, throat training, and everything in between. Like two best friends helping you prep for the biggest exam of your life, Kenzie and Rachel work in tandem to personalize and curate your education.

It was about the point where you were supposed to be mimicking a hip motion while straddled atop Kenzie for practice that you started to feel more overwhelmed than ever. After promising you were going to practice reverse cowgirl on a pillow in the mirror, they let you take a break from the symposium.

“Okay, so the outfit pieces and throat training sequence kit bring you to…” Rachel trails off as she punches a few keys on the register. “$212.53.”

You choke back the panic of spending money on yourself and pull out some bills from your secret stash. It would be worth it in the end. You knew that. At a price like that, it had to be, right? With your new collection of things you’d have to figure out where to hide, you and Kenzie bid Rachel an excited goodbye and head out.

Joel was most definitely trying to get you to tell him where you went shopping and what you bought. His fabricated reason for closing up an hour early so he could “check something at his house before dropping you off” didn’t make any sense. He was clearly chomping at the bit for you to tell him. It’s like he somehow knew the contents within were for him. Never one to indulge – especially on yourself – your purchase had him hovering around like a moth to a flame trying to catch a glimpse.

“You never said where y’all went,” he mentions casually as he pointlessly arranges and rearranges the dishes in his kitchen cupboard.

“Oh, nowhere, really. Just a few places Kenzie wanted to browse,” you supply with feigned disinterest that Joel doesn’t buy for a second.

“Mhhmm. Awfully bright pink bag with a flirty lookin’ pony on it. Can’t imagine what sorta store that was,” he hums with a little amused grin. “Find anything for yourself?”

“A few things, maybe,” you admit with a coy smile.

“And am I ever gonna get to see those few things?”

“Maybe if you’re really, really nice,” you tease.

“Right,” he snorts. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

You giggle and aimlessly flip pieces of mail on the counter. “So, um, speaking of Kenzie, I never got to thank you for helping me with that. Giving me advice and the push I needed to meet up with her so we could try to work things out.”

“No big deal. Just wanna help you.” He shrugs it off, but you sense there’s more he wants to say. Suddenly turning serious again, he says, “I’m here for that kinda stuff, you know? If you need me. ‘Cause I need you to understand that. Whatever you wanna talk about or just have somebody listen to you think out loud. Whatever it is. I’m here for you.”

“I know. I’m not really the best at sharing stuff,” you admit. “It’s just… hard.”

He nods and leaves his pretend task of straightening dishes to settle next to you and circle your hand in his own. “I get that. Sometimes, though, it’s– you gotta– you don’t hafta drown in it, you know? If there’s somebody offerin’ a hand to pull you out….”

You aren’t so sure you’re still talking about sharing milder problems like rocky friendships. You play dumb and keep the conversation away from his unspoken insinuation.

“I know. I just like to try to handle my own problems, you know?” you offer up weakly. “I feel like if you can’t solve your own problems then you’re just putting the strain on everybody around you. And besides, me and Kenzie ended up having a good conversation that day. Neither of us even cried in the middle of the coffee place, so that’s a win,” you chuckle nervously.

“So, I mean– I never really got all the info on that, I don’t think. What was the main issue that was causin’ a problem?”

His gaze is steady. He knows this is the most direct he’s ever been in asking about your private life. He knows whether or not you choose to answer might just determine if your attempts to be more open with him are going to hold up or if you’re going to shrink back into yourself and push him away.

Tell him.

Tell him tell him tell him.

Tell him!

“I.. don’t … I’m worried it might upset you,” you answer truthfully. You knew he’d be unsettled by Logan’s inappropriate advances at that New Year’s Eve event. Joel looks surprised at the disclosure, like he hadn’t ever considered it would be something that would involve him somehow.

“I’m not gonna be upset with you,” he assures you.

If only you could explain that’s only the half of it. Even him just being “upset at the situation” would probably be enough to spark all your nerves alight and reduce you to a neurotic, frazzled mess. But he was always so calm and collected. He never seemed ruffled no matter what you threw at him. Maybe you could tell him what really happened. Maybe this could be the soft launch into finally revealing the truth about your dad.

So, you give him a rough setup about Kenzie’s college degree almost being completed, how she landed this internship that could mean really great things once she graduates, and how New Year’s Eve was supposed to be her big foray into taking on a client on her own with the company. You don’t sugarcoat the first impressions of Logan and Charlie, and a knowing look catches in his eye. He understands where this story is headed.

Your heart hammers as you recall the unreciprocated flirtation on the dancefloor that was followed by Logan stalking you to the bathroom and putting his hands on you. Joel’s jaw muscles flicker as his indignation builds, and you have to remind yourself repeatedly that reaction is not directed towards nor intended for you.

You finally manage to finish recounting the terrible night, but you don’t feel any weight lifted now that the truth is out there. Joel looks confused and angered. You thought he might’ve felt happy to know the truth finally. If anything, he seems more agitated than ever.

“Have you seen him since? Does she still talk to them? Work with them?”

“No, she dropped the account. She doesn’t see them, and I haven’t seen either of them since.”

He sits in silence for a moment, turning over all the new information in his mind and reframing his past knowledge. Then–

“So.. when you… that night when we.. was that just….”

“No, no,” you object. “It wasn’t just some reaction to all that. I-I really had feelings for you already. You really made me feel… you made me feel better. Safer. I felt safe with you.”

“Not safe enough to tell me what had happened,” he points out a bit glumly.

“Joel, don’t be like that,” you beg.

“No, I just wish I’d been more– I dunno, I wish you could’ve seen me as somebody to trust with that. I wish I’d been that for you when you needed it, and I wasn’t. I let you down.”

“It was just a lot that happened really fast, Joel. I hadn’t even– I’d barely had time to process any of it. It wasn’t because you aren’t trustworthy. I’m telling you now, right?”

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me about this…..” He trails off and shakes his head before leveling you with a hard stare. “But all it makes me think is what else you’ve got under wraps because I haven’t done enough to make you feel like you can trust me.”

The hairs on your neck feel prickly at the sudden change in tone. He’s dancing right on the edge of what you’d been avoiding the most the entire time you’ve known him. Your mouth opens and closes a few times without result other than your tongue feeling like sandpaper.

“Like how come you can’t tell me why you really went to the office on Christmas Day,” he says flatly.

You swallow hard and shake your head, your chest heating to a million degrees.

“Or why your dad is so weird with all these rules and say so over your bank account.”

“He’s always been like that,” you argue. It’s not lost on Joel that you didn’t actually address anything with that statement.

“Yeah? He always been gettin’ into fistfights with Calum, too? That just how he’s always been?” he levels at you.

Your spine draws up and straightens your entire body at the unambiguous remark. “I’m not getting into all this right now, Joel.”

He huffs an unamused laugh and pushes himself from the counter, hands on hips as his head drops and shakes side to side in disbelief. He looks back at you with a look you’ve never seen from him before: disappointment. “You can’t even tell me what Calum’s deal is?” he lobs. “Just fuckin’ shows up and goes through your stuff without you knowin’, and next thing I know you’re loaded up in the car with him? Just off to god knows where? And I’m not allowed to ask or anything. I gotta just act like that’s normal and I’m fine with it.”

All nerves siphon directly into prickly anger at the mention of your brother’s role in all this. “That’s none of your fucking business,” you snip.

“Yeah? And what if I wanted it to be my business, huh? What then?”

“Then I’d say you needed to take a step back and get a grip.”

“Unbelievable,” he grumbles. He paces the floor a few times before approaching you again. “So, is that what our relationship is gonna be like? You just get to hide stuff from me and leave me worried about you? And I don’t get to ask any questions or have any say in it?”

“I’m not some fuckin’ project for you to work on and fix, Joel,” you snap. “And what you feel about the boundaries I have aren’t any of my business at the end of the day.”

“So that’s it? You just get to have all these rules and all these walls up, and I just gotta take it or leave it? Pick up the pieces only when you let me and not when you need me?”

“Need you? What exactly is it about me that makes you think I need saving so bad, Joel? Huh? What, because I’ve got a–a more difficult home life or whatever? A bad family dynamic? A mom that didn’t give two shits about us and walked right out without a second glance back?” you fume. “In case you weren’t aware, I’ve been handling whatever comes my way my entire life just fine. I don’t need you and your weird fucking savior complex making things into something they’re not.”

“Wow,” he scoffs. “Savior complex? S’that what you call bein’ worried sick over somebody you care about and wanting to help them? You ever think about that? That maybe people are just tryna be helpful?”

“Who says I need help? Who says I need anything or anybody? Who says I need you?” You regret it the moment you say it as you watch Joel’s face crumple for a split second before he straightens it out again.

“Yeah, you don’t need me or anybody else, huh? You just got it all figured out.”

The air is heavy as you draw in tighter breaths. Joel stomps out of the room before circling back into the kitchen with glossy eyes.

“Dammit, why do you gotta do this shit?” he huffs. “Why can’t you just let me be there for you? I want to. I want to be there for you.”

“I don’t need your or anyone else’s help, alright? I’ve done fine on my own my entire life, and I’m not interested in feeding men’s egos anymore.”

His lips purse tight like they’re catching words between his teeth before they can become cutting projectile that would only make this conversation more hurtful than it has already devolved to. A muscle near his earlobe twitches, and then his face smooths out like a long wave washing along the shore, smoothing out the gritted sand to a flattened pane once more.

“If that’s how you feel, I know better than trying to change your mind,” he rebuts calmly and coolly.

Despite the neutral mask he wears, the halo of a wounded heart wraps around every syllable, and your heart plummets. You did that. You made him sound that way. You made him feel that way. It’s all happened so fast that you can’t quite figure out how to undo it, how to go back those few precious seconds and stop yourself from lashing out.

“I’m going home,” you whisper.

You snatch up your things and hurry out the door, ignoring the call of Joel’s voice begging you to let him drive you so you get there safely. That insidious voice inside your head bitterly reminds you there's no point in getting home safely when your home isn’t safe.

tagging

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@ellenmunn @confusedpuffin @lavema @zooty-and-fruity @reneerocks3617

@fishingforpike @pastelnap @pastelpinkflowerlife @docharleythegeekqueen @janaispunk

@jodiswiftle @bonezone44 @toomanystoriessolittletime @jupiter-soups

@cumberpegg @weho2kcmo @thethirstwivesclub @heartstoptrying @beelzebeth87

@joelmillersblog @joeldjarinff @littleficreccs @joelscowgirl @elli3williams

@indiegirlunited @lyuir @gay4magnetobutfanfiction @ficrecreblo @gossipgirl-03

#fic: chrysalism #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #hurt/comfort #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fluff

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pimosworld · 6 months ago

Note

would you be able to write something about santi and frankie making a tree house for the reader's kids?

her kids have always wanted one and there's a perfect tree for it right in the center of the back yard, but she's never had the time to make it herself or get a professional to make it.

one day, at a neighborhood barbecue, pope is talking to reader's kids (trying desperately to be their favorite uncle) when they inform him of their plan of how to get their mom to make their tree house.

he tells them to draw him up a plan of their dream tree house and tells them he'll see what he can do. with the help of fish, they draw up a real plan of action from the drawing and set out finding materials. reclaimed wood, an old slide that really just needs a fresh paint job, a carpet to go inside, and some old moroccan style tiles for the roof.

they show up, truck bed full of supplies, unannounced and get to work unloading and constructing the thing. how can the reader be so mad when her kids look so happy helping them build it and playing in it once it's built?!

(new anon, sorry that this was so long.)

Pairing-Triple frontier boys x f!reader

Summary-Your kids find a way to get what they want both for you and for them.

CW-SFW, Fluff, angst, mentions of parent loss, mentions of spouse loss, tf boys being protective, tf boys being great uncles, mentions of insecurities, kids being menaces, dating, cursing, inaccurate descriptions of tree house build time because this is my world and we can build tree houses quickly, so much fluff. The boys being good with their hands.

WC-2.7k

A/N- I’m sorry this took me so long anon. Writers block sucks but it’s only fitting that the anniversary of my first ever fic COMPANY that came up a few weeks ago featuring the tf boys is kicked off with your request for some Frankie and Santi being amazing. I made some adjustments but I hope this is everything you wanted and more.

[Triple Frontier Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

If you build it

“I can tell they’re up to something.” Santi shoots you a look as he flips the burgers on the grill.

“They’re kids of course they’re up to something. The question is what.” Santi closes the grill as he looks across the wide expanse of yard at his niece and nephew playing in the sandbox.

It looks like the childlike version of an ops mission happening. To someone else it may just look like a little girl playing with a stick in the sand but Santi knows better than that.

****

It’s such an odd feeling, you should still be grieving right? You most certainly shouldn’t be looking at Santi and his chiseled jaw as he watches your kids play. Or watching the way his muscles flex in his tight tee shirt as he crosses his arms. You’re so distracted you don’t even realize he’s speaking to you.

“Can you watch the grill for a second?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you feel flushed for all the wrong reasons. The sweltering heat does nothing to hide your embarrassment.

“Ya of course but don’t be gone too long. I’ve been known to burn anything on the grill.”

“I’ll make it quick then.” He winks at you as he walks across your lush green yard. Swiftly dodging a football that Benny throws deliberately at his head as he flips him off in return.

“You’re gonna burn a hole in his pants if you keep staring.” You jump at the sound of Frankie’s voice and he has the decency to look apologetic at your reaction.

You hadn’t really noticed how much they’ve all aged in the last few months. His hair is a little longer as it curls around his cap. His worry lines are just a bit deeper than you last remember them being. Yet he still smiles at you all the same as he pulls you into a deep hug, kissing the top of your head.

“I didn’t mean to scare you cariño, I was only joking.”

You shove him off playfully as you open the grill again. “I wasn’t staring.”

He bumps you out of the way as he grabs the spatula from your hand. “Sure…whatever you say. Your secrets are safe with me.” You watch him as he effortlessly dispatches all the burgers to a plate and sets them aside.

You bite your lip as you wait for him to say something but you know he’s giving you time to think. Something he’s always done for you, knowing that your mind is going a mile a minute and if anyone interrupts that train of thought it might be gone forever.

He’s just standing beside you like a steady weight as he glances around the yard at some people he barely knows and others he knows like the back of his hand. Now it’s mostly close friends and one or two neighbors, compared to several months ago when he couldn’t pick out a familiar face among the crowd. People tend to forget that your grieving continues even long after you’ve decided not to show up.

He shouldn’t feel bad for you because you’re a strong woman. More resilient than any of them could ever be.

“Frankie, can I ask you something?” You say with a nervous smile.

“You’re allowed to move on.”

You glance up at him and it’s intense the way he meets your eyes. “I didn’t ask the question.”

“You didn’t have to…my answer is still the same.”

****

As Santi approaches the sandbox he can see some kind of intricate drawing. Lexi is using a stick practically the size of her to draw it out while her brother Liam watches from the corner. She looks so much like you, especially with her focused face on as she draws another detailed set of lines that he still can’t quite make out.

Liam glances up at him and gestures with his fingers to stay quiet. Santi takes a seat at the corner of the box near him as they patiently wait for her to finish. He looks so much like him that Santi has a hard time not getting choked up, he’s grateful that they both have your personality.

“Okay.” Lexi throws the stick to the side and dusts her hands off on her white skirt. “I think it’s done.” She looks up and flashes a toothy smile at Santi and he can’t help the way his heart melts.

“Can I ask what exactly this is?”

The little girl lets out a deep sigh as she looks over at her twin brother and he just holds his hands out in silent communication that she needs to take the lead.

“Well…this is a tree house.” She pauses briefly and Santi thinks that’s cool that she can draw but then she starts. In great detail for several minutes animatedly explaining the process of her vision coming to life.

Santi has to get up and stand from her perspective to really get a grasp of what she’s talking about. He tries to follow along as she explains the duel ladder system, one on the trunk and another hanging down from the middle entrance of the house. Two doors, one for entry and the other for the slide,that lets out perfectly into the softest patch of grass in the yard. Her and her brother evidently couldn’t decide on carpet or tile so they opted to split it down the middle. Her half would be tile and his half would be carpet. They would obviously need enough room for arts and crafts, the kitchen and naps.

He’s never been so impressed with an eight year old in his entire life.

He’s so enthralled with the design that he doesn’t notice the little girl standing there staring up at him expectantly.

“So what do you think?” She’s wringing her little hands together as she glances over at her brother with an equally curious look on his face. As if a lightbulb goes off in his head Santi is suddenly aware of what exactly they were up to.

“Mija…are you asking if I can help?”

She nods her head as she rocks back and forth in the sand.

“We both have allowances if that helps.” Liam chimes in from the corner of the sandbox and Santi has to try to disguise his smile behind his hand.

“Foods ready!” You yell from across the yard and Santi meets your eyes. A look of what are you up to written all across your face.

He crouches down waving Liam over and the little boy carefully avoids the blueprints in the sand to join them. “Okay…here is what I want you to do.”

****

Your kids are being uncharacteristically good. They finished all their food, they haven’t bothered you in over an hour and even offered to help clean up the table after everyone ate.

Most everyone has cleared out from the barbecue besides for the boys who seem to be enthralled with something over by the sandbox. Frankie keeps glancing over his shoulder at you and Will has shot you a thumbs up twice. If they thought subtlety was their strong suit they are sadly mistaken. You often wonder how they managed to be special ops and keep things a secret when it’s so obvious they’ve all got something up their sleeve.

****

The something they had planned despite your initial worry was in fact a much needed day for yourself. Benny was going to take the kids to the zoo and despite wanting all the credit Will assured you he would be accompanying them so that an adult would be present.

Over the last several months various repairs around the house had gone undone in the chaos of being a newly single mom. Frankie and Santi volunteered to spend the day getting your house in order while you had a full day planned with Will’s wife Jenna. Brunch, pedicures, shopping…you couldn’t remember the last time you treated yourself to a day that wasn’t centered around your kids. As much as you loved them you knew that at times it felt like the person you used to be was long buried underneath a world of stress and hurt.

Dating was completely off the table at the moment…especially since your current situation was all but off limits. Taking care of yourself for once could be a great start in the right direction.

****

“I told you to get half inch screws Pope.”

“Those are half inch!” Santi says as he hears Frankie grumbling under his breath.

“These are definitely a quarter inch and that explains another problem.” Frankie chides as Santi flips him off.

They’ve been at this for a few hours having completed the tasks in your house in a matter of no time. All this a ruse to get the tree house completed before you and the kids are back from your day out.

It’s been awhile since they’ve done something like this. Not just the physical labor but the reward at the end being something that they know is going to brighten a lot of days. They may bicker and fight like brothers but at the end of the day Santi knows how much they both needed this. To have their minds occupied with an intricate task.

Intricate doesn’t even begin to describe what’s unfolded before them. With their niece's original design in mind and a few additions when they got to the store this is turning out to be better than some places they’ve slept while in the service.

Frankie is putting the finishing touches on the bug screen that he decided would be a good addition to the entryway for the balmy summer nights. Santi’s never felt so large while he sits on the wooden bench that doubles as a reading nook. The wood matching the same structure that he knows could withstand any storm or hurricane. The sun is setting, casting a shadow along the bright yellow carpet they found on clearance at the back of the home decor store.

The leftover Talavera tiles Santi had from his home remodel fit perfectly on the half that would be the makeshift kitchen.

There are three exits and two entries. The trap door with a knotted rope, the wooden plank stair steps and the slide that leads to the softest patch of grass in the yard.

Santiago’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of car doors slamming and children’s laughter.

“We should head down.” Frankie grunts as he shuffles over to the slide, reaching for his standard heating oil cap placed on the bench nook.

Santi raises his eyebrows at the man taking in the scene about to unfold.

“What? How else are we supposed to get down?”

“Oh I don’t know the stairs or the rope maybe?” He says sarcastically. “We don’t need you breaking the slide before they even get a chance.”

“Fuck you, this slide was built to withstand a hurricane.”

His nieces squeal from across the yard interrupts their fifth squabble of the day.

Frankie flashes him a wide grin. “Last man down has to ask their mom on a date.”

“What?!”

“Byeeee.” Frankie slides away, throwing him the middle finger on the way down.

Santi had already talked to him about this ad nauseam. It always felt like the wrong place at the wrong time.

He opened the latch to the trap door, opting to climb down to spare him the embarrassment of using a children’s slide in front of you.

****

You pulled up to the house at the exact same time as Will and Ben. You don’t remember the last time you’d felt this refreshed. Your hair and nails done, way too many bags piled in the backseat of Jenna’s car with a new wardrobe. It was exactly what you needed and a much needed conversation with another woman to reassure you that you were perfectly capable of making your own decisions about your love life. You shouldn’t feel guilty about moving on and doing what’s best for you and your children.

You half expected your kids to be happy to see you but they both gave you light hearted waves as they raced each other around the side of the house, leaving you in the driveway with Will and Ben with amused looks on their faces.

“What’s gotten into them?” You say as the boys shoot each other a look and Jenna takes your hand on hers to lead you around the house.

“It’s better to ask for forgiveness than for permission right?” Ben says from behind you and now you’re really starting to worry. Your daughter's screech has you pulling away as you run into the backyard.

The sight you’re met with is one that completely knocks you off your feet. Your children are jumping up and down in front of a beaming Frankie and the largest tree house structure you’ve ever seen. This is something out of an outdoor life magazine.

You don’t realize you're frozen in place as the rest of the gang join him on the lawn. Santiago perhaps on purpose opted to make your life that much harder by effortlessly climbing down the rope ladder. In all the years he’s been out of the service the man still has an impeccable physique. You will your feet to move as you take in the thing that your kids have been asking you for since they could talk. The thing your husband didn’t make time for and the daunting task seemed impossible for you on your own. Paying someone was out of the question and you were too prideful to ask the boys to help you out anymore than they already did.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Santiago approaches with the most worried look you’ve ever seen on his face.

“Look, I’m really sorry if we overstepped. I know we should’ve asked and it wasn’t our place…but the kids-“

His ramblings are cut short when you throw yourself into him. He instinctively hugs you tight as he feels the wetness from your eyes soak into his shirt.

It’s embarrassing to admit how long it’s been since a man has held you and right now you can feel your resolve breaking as he soothingly rubs his hands down your back to calm your tears.

“I don’t know how to thank you Santi.” You mumble into his chest as you try to calm your beating heart.

It’s a moment before you break apart and he really gets a good look at you. Even with fresh tears in your eyes you look stunning. The most relaxed he’s seen you look in ages and just as beautiful as the day Tom introduced you to the boys.

With the group and the kids thoroughly distracted he figures now is as good a time as any. He’s far enough away that if you reject him he can slink out of the backyard and disappear to another country for three to six months while the shame dies down.

“Listen, I have to say something before I lose the courage to say it.” He nervously rubs the back of his neck as he focuses on some inanimate object behind you. “I understand if you’re not ready or you think this is highly inappropriate and in that case I’ll pretend this never happened.”

You can feel the hairs stand up on your arms and you dig your nails into your palm to keep from passing out at this very moment.

“I know it’s wrong to say but I’ve always thought you and the kids deserved better. You know I loved him but it killed me to see the way he treated you and in another life perhaps I met you first and things would look a little different. I just can’t help but think maybe this can be a second chance and if you’re willing, I’d like to take you out sometime.”

The silence is deafening as you try to form words and Santi looks as though he wants to spontaneously combust at your lack of response. In all honesty you were never really good at flirting and now you’re spiraling because what do you say besides.

“Yes.”

He lets out a huge sigh of relief as he looks up at the sky thanking whoever is watching that he didn’t just make a complete fool of himself.

You both turn around to see Benny helping your son climb the rope and Frankie sliding down with your daughter in his lap as she claps her hands. Will and his wife made it inside at some point and they wave to you both from the large open window.

“It looks like I may be able to take you up on that offer tonight.”

#triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #santi x reader #tf boys x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia fluff #santiago garcia x francisco morales #santiago garcia x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #Benny miller #will miller #triple frontier au #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters #oscar isaac characters #triple frontier x reader #santiago pope garcia angst #santiago pope garcia fluff

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greenorangevioletgrass · 2 years ago

Text

given the circumstances (part 1) | b.r.b.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x actress!reader

summary: your relationship with Bradley goes from 0 to 100 after a little happy accident. [Part of “The Actress & The Aviator” universe]

word count: 5.9k

Warnings: established relationship, language, pregnancy, mention of vomit/nausea, accidental pregnancy, fluff, smut [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink, hint of mommy kink?, breeding kink, size kink, creampie]

notes: they’re back babeyyyy! This is set about 1.5 years after the events in “It’s Classified”, and it fills in the gap of the blurbs I did a while ago. But you don’t have to read it first, this can be read as a standalone. I have missed writing for them so much, and I hope you enjoy reading this! <3

✨ follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it! ✨

PART ONE

You’ve been New York-bound for six whole months, doing two shows on Broadway back-to-back. Bradley came to visit you for your musical’s opening night about two months in (and again for your second show, a modern take of Romeo & Juliet), but with your shows and his sudden deployment to God knows where for three months, the time and space apart was killing you.

Which is why you’re determined to take some time off as soon as you’re done, just to be with your stupidly handsome fiance at home in the stupidly sunny California.

Your first month or so was a bliss. You would wake up to the smell of your coffee, and saunter into the kitchen where Bradley would kiss you good morning. There’s no rigid structure to your days, save for the occasional work meetings. Most of your time is spent playing house with your fiance, redecorating the house you both barely lived in before you were called off to work. Wandering around and jotting down inspirations for your new screenplay. Treating yourself to frozen yogurts and manicures. Adjusting to life in the San Clemente neighborhood of Orange County.

(Bradley made a joke about you joining The Real Housewives soon, which earned him an elbow to the rib. Whatever. He was more Housewife material than you anyway.)

But halfway through your second month, you started feeling lethargic and just… off. You chalked it up to the weather and exhaustion, since you’ve been back to work, going to pre-production meetings for your upcoming movie. You tried to brush it off with vitamins and heartier meals, powering through for a couple of days.

“You sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good…” Bradley looks at you in concern when you shuffle into the kitchen that morning.

You’re really not, but you blatantly refuse to acknowledge that. “I’m fine. Still tired, is all. I just need some…” the coffee scent wafts in the air—the same scent that always woke you up in a good mood these past six months—and you gag. “Oh fuck.”

Bradley’s voice calling out your name sounds distant as you dash towards the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before you puke your guts out.

“Hey…” he holds your hair back with one hand while the other rubs your back patiently. Staying calm despite his head is running a mile a minute in panic. “What happened, sweetheart?”

Everything feels like hell from your mouth to your stomach, and you groan as you pull the flush. “I have no idea. I just… I could smell the coffee and suddenly…” you motion at the toilet. “I mean, what the fuck?”

He sighs, wiping off sweat from your forehead and brushing the strands of hair sticking on it. “Maybe it’s stress?” he guesses, although they both know it’s unlikely. You’ve been keeping it relatively chill since you got here. “Or a stomach bug? Or…”

You look up to find his brown eyes softly gazing at yours, in worry and concern and… “Or what?”

He grimaces almost apologetically, and you slowly catch what he means.

“No. No way. Nuh-uh.” you shake your head so quickly, you give yourself a headache. “I’m on birth control. I’ve never missed a day…” That’s not true. As the words leave your mouth, you remember the surprise trip Bradley took you to Big Sur one weekend where you forgot both your pills and condoms…

Fuck.

“Babe… What date is it?”

He stammers for a bit, “Um, the— it’s the 18th.”

You do the mental math, counting the time gap between today and the Big Sur trip, and your last period… and your eyes widen. Your head is swirling, and so is your stomach.

“Sweetheart, do you think you might be—”

Before he can say the damned word, you feel the bile rising again. Your pointer finger lifts up in wait, as you bury your face in the toilet and throw up once more.

His heart catches. You’ve talked about having a baby, and you’ve talked about wanting to have one… some time in the future. He didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Butterflies fill his stomach at the possibility of you carrying his baby right now at this very moment, but the sight of you looking so… defeated by your own body is enough to create a nasty pit in his gut.

“What can I get for you, baby?” he asks softly, caressing the back of your neck.

There’s absolutely nothing else to empty from your stomach at this point. It’s basically just water and dry heaving, and your eyes are tearing up from the terrible sensation.

“Ginger ale from the fridge…” you manage between heavy breaths, “...and some test packs from the pharmacy, please.”

“Okay, sure. Got it. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” He offers both his hands and gently pulls you up. If he’s nervous or excited or both, he does a pretty good job of not showing it. He pulls up some tissues from the bathroom counter and wipes your mouth without batting an eye.

He lays you down on your side, getting you all nice and comfy, before disappearing into the kitchen, returning with a can of ginger ale and a puke bucket, just in case.

“Sweetheart?” his hand is soft and warm on your cheek, and his voice even more so. “Drink up. Hope it’ll settle your stomach a little bit.”

You sit up a little, and take small sips from the can. At least it helps alleviate the bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I put your phone on the bedside. Call me if you need me, alright? I’m just gonna run over to CVS. Be back before you know it.” He kisses your forehead, and you make a face in protest.

“I’m gross right now!”

“I don’t care,” he chuckles. “Just rest up. Love you.”

Of course he knows what to do. Picture perfect Bradley Bradshaw, who knows how to be caring without being overbearing. Who kisses your clammy forehead after you puke your guts out. Who is literally running to the nearest drugstore to get her pregnancy test packs right now, for fuck’s sake. He’s just… perfect.

You lie back down and smush your face into the pillow, faced with the fact that you’ll never be able to live up to that. And if you can’t… how the hell are you supposed to raise a child? How the hell are you supposed to pull your weight when your fiance can already do it so well?

“Babe?” He calls out upon entering the house a few short minutes later. “I’m back. I got the…” his words trail off as he walks into the bedroom and sees you in tears. His whole features soften up as he approaches you gingerly, sitting by your side. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

You shake your head as you sit up, sniffling a little. “What are those?” You nod at the paper bag he put down on the foot of the bed, hoping it’ll divert the conversation a little. It’s a little too big for just a bunch of pregnancy test sticks.

“The tests. And some snacks I thought might help with your stomach.”

And with that, the tears burn the corners of your eyes again and your lips quiver as they fail to hold back the cries.

“How are you so good at this?!”

He pauses in confusion, and then… it dawns on him. An amused glint appears in his eyes. “Are you… crying because I got a good bedside manner?”

Your hands fly up to your face, hiding it from view. “I’m not! Shut up!” You really were, but he didn’t have to say it like that… and your reaction only confirmed his speculation.

Bradley chuckles. God, he loves your silly little antics. “I mean, I had to take care of my mom all through high school, so…” he shrugs sheepishly.

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. An uncomfortable awkwardness sets in as you remember his late mother’s terminal illness, right in the peak of his high school years. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m just… glad I’m doing it right?” He smiles in reassurance, wiping what’s left of your tears and kissing your nose. He lifts up the ginger ale can to your hand again. “You lost a lot of fluids to make up for. Drink up some more, and we’ll do the tests, yeah?”

You glance at the paper bag again, watching him fishing around… “How many pregnancy test packs did you get?”

“I got three just to be safe.”

You want to laugh, but you probably would’ve ransacked the test kits too, if you were the one to buy it. So instead, you nod slowly, ponderously. “Three is… three is good.”

You know how these test kits work, they’re all the same, but you insist on reading the instructions pamphlet anyway. With two other test kits to spare, Bradley simply takes another copy from another box to read.

“Pee on a stick, wait for up to 5 minutes.” You put down the pamphlet on the counter. “Easy enough.” You sigh like it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

And it is. Every tick of the clock feels louder and farther from the one before, and you’re trying your damnedest not to look back onto the counter where the blue-tipped sticks are lined up. Inspecting it up close and see the lines that appear.

You sigh in exasperation, breaking the stilted silence. “I don’t even know what I’m hoping for, if I’m honest. Is that weird?”

He shakes his head a little. “Not at all. This is a weird situation to be in, I think it makes sense if we’re still not sure what we want.”

“Do you know what you’re hoping for?” You turn your head towards him. Maybe you’ll know it when you hear it.

“Honestly? No.” Yes. He knows exactly what he wants. He just doesn’t want to admit it and freak you out even more. “I’m just thinking about you. About us…”

“What about us?”

“Just that… whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

Bless him. It would be infuriating if you weren’t so comforted by it. Leave it to Bradley to always know just the right thing to say.

And he means every word of it too. Yes, he wants a baby with you now, but you don’t, or if it doesn’t turn out to be now, then… he can stand to wait a little more. For as long as you need.

“How long do we have left?”

Bradley joins your gaze towards the nautical clock on the wall. A silly little gag gift you gave him last Christmas, for your favorite flying seaman.

“Three minutes and fifteen seconds…?”

“That’s about the average length of a pop song.”

He grins. “Exactly. One pop song, and we’ll find out.”

You nod. Listening to the tick, tick, tick of the clock. It drones on and on, and it seems to lull slower as it goes. Fuck Einstein and his theory of relativity. You pick the first random song that pops into your head and holds onto it for dear life. It’s your only way of keeping track of the time, at this point.

“I took my love, I took it down…” you sing under your breath, tentatively.

Bradley snorts. “It’s a good song.” That’s an understatement. He adores Fleetwood Mac, and this is the first song he learned on the guitar when he was 10.

“Climbed a mountain and I turned around…” you throw him a side-eye, a more than obvious invitation to join you.

Bradley has his eyes closed, though. But he nods along and sings along in his warm voice, “And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hill…”

“‘Til the landslide brought me down.”

The two of you are singing with your whole chests now, belting out the chorus to drown out your nerves, forcing yourself to stay on tempo even when you feel like rushing it to the end. Right now, it’s more like Nick Miller’s nervous singing from New Girl than a beautiful bathroom jam session, but you don’t care. Bradley is vocalizing the guitar solo part like the back of his hand, playing the air guitar and everything, and you’re so, so happy that out of all the people in the world, you’re doing this with him.

And at that moment, you realize that your worries earlier today were misguided. Yes, Bradley knows how to take care of you, and he probably knows a thing or two about babies. But he’s on your side. He’ll be pulling the weight with you. Being good parents is not a competition—you know he’ll cheer you on like he is doing right now. He knows you’ll do the same for him, too.

Well I’ve been afraid of changes

‘cause I’ve built my life around you

But time makes you bolder, even children get older

and I’m getting older too

You didn’t notice it at first, but Bradley also softens up on the final chorus, lost in his own thoughts. He has built his life on self-preservation, protecting himself from the lies of the people he loved, and depriving him of the love and family he’s always wanted. But maybe it’s age or the wounds healing (or you swooping into his life at just the right moment)… but he’s not gonna live forever. He knows in his heart of hearts that he wants this baby. He wants this life with you.

When you ask him to look and tell you the results, he doesn’t even flinch. He just nods, kissing your temple as he reaches for all three test kits behind you. His hand shakes a little as he picks them up, though, flipping to see the indicator side. One line for negative, two for positive.

And there it is.

“They’re…” his throat catches, his face unreadable. “They’re all positive…”

“What?”

He shows you the test kits, two blue lines all across the board. His voice wavers, with tears and smiles at the same time. “We’re having a baby.”

“Oh my God…” you walk into his arms in a daze, still not sure what you’re feeling. Are you relieved because you simply know the answer, or relieved because it’s true? Are you terrified because you want it or you don’t?

Bradley cups your face with both hands, tucking unruly strands of hair behind your ear. His brown eyes brimming with tears, blurry as he admires your beauty. The mother of his child. Gosh, he can’t believe his luck.

“How do you feel, honey?”

It tugs at your heartstrings, just how soft he is. So brave, and so gentle at the same time. You have no idea what kind of parent you would be, but you know he would make a great one. “Shocked,” you admit. He nods. “Scared.” This time, you’re a bit embarrassed, but he completely empathizes. “But…” you put your hand over his, closing your eyes as you lean your cheek against his palm, so warm and soft and right, “…happy.”

***

And after two months of a relatively slow life, things are going from zero to 100 very quickly.

Bradley manages to duck out of work early and take you to the doctor that very afternoon. Everything seems to be in order. The baby is, indeed, there— a 7-week-old blob as big as a blueberry with a heartbeat.

Heartbeat.

Your heart all but stops beating when you first hear it, much stronger than you thought it would. But there it is. Strong. Alive.

There.

“That’s… that’s our baby…” You choke up, staring at the ultrasound screen in awe. His hand brings yours to his lips for a loving kiss.

Gosh, you must’ve cried about six times that day. Bradley twice as much (He would deny it to his grave, but you kept count.)

And then, once the novelty wears off a little and the new situation sets in… the two of you get to work.

Bradley updates the entire kitchen inventory and goes into a research (or, as you like to call it, a rabbit hole) into what you can or cannot consume during your pregnancy. You’re constantly on the phone with your agent to rearrange your schedule for the next year (he sounds happy that you’re expecting, but a little inconvenienced that he has to move some things around and even cancel your involvement in a few projects). Conversation topics at mealtimes now include baby names, nursery ideas, and childcare plans.

Bradley comes home to you huddled over your laptop one evening, brows knitted in focus. The AC is cranked up to the max in the summer heat, and you’re all bundled up in the throw blanket. He wants to squee over how cute you look. He puts down the takeout bag of Pad Thai on the coffee table.

“Whatcha got there, my little cocoon?”

“Insurance, mostly.” You look up to kiss him briefly, before you continue typing on. “I’ve been talking to them all afternoon, going through the birth plans and sorting everything out. Very exciting stuff.”

“Hell yeah! Paperwork! The thrill of calling up an insurance company on a Tuesday!” Bradley counters your deadpan with an overexcited cheer, flopping himself on the spot next to you with another big kiss. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Well,” you take a thoughtful deep breath, going through your mental to-do list and realizing… you’re pretty much all set. “How about a back massage?” You give him the puppy eyes, as if you needed it in the first place.

“Copy that, Ma’am.” He throws her a lazy salute and tugs the throw blankets off of you. He starts on your shoulders, noticing the tension under your skin. “Jeez, babe. How long have you been hunched over here?”

Before you can answer him, he’s already working the knots on the base of your neck, you don’t even know you were so tense there, and you respond with a resounding moan.

He raises his eyebrows. “I’ll… take that as a compliment, then.” He grins, ever so proud that he’s eliciting these sounds out of you.

It’s not like you were playing it up or anything. You really were tense, and his hands really do feel good. And while it does make you moan and sigh blissfully, it’s hardly your fault that it makes him think of something else, right?

“Baby…” his voice sounds like a gentle warning.

“Yes?”

His hands stop. “Don’t test me.”

“Oh, okay. Would you prefer this instead?” you grunt oafishly, a piss-poor impression of him in bed, “Fuck baby, that’s it. That’s it. Good girl…”

“Hey!” he pokes his fingers to your side and cage you in his arms so you have nowhere to go. Nowhere to avoid his ministrations.

You giggle uncontrollably, squirming as he gets on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face. A mere distraction to his real tickle attacks. “Stop! Stop! Roo-roo!”

He pins your arms over your head, his cheeks tinged pink with mischief now. “Yield?”

“I’m willing to negotiate.” You flash him a coy smirk.

He frowns. Go on.

You raise an eyebrow. You know what I’m talking about.

He raises his, mirroring you. Interesting…

You tilt your head slightly. Well?

And just like that…

“Deal.”

Your lips meet each other halfway in a searing kiss. The pregnancy hormones are kicking in in full gear, and you’re needier. Much needier than you already are. You want Bradley all the time, in whatever form he’s in, in whatever situation you are in. He knows this, and he finds this endlessly adorable. He would poke fun at you for that…

If only he wasn’t so god-fucking-damned enamored by you for it.

He tears off your dress, reveling in the sheer sight of you. Your curves growing softer, more pronounced in the past month alone. The very subtle but steadfast roundness of your belly. Your breasts, as they grow fuller and—

“Oh…” you whimper as he rolls your nipple between your fingers.

More sensitive to the touch.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this…” he leans down to kiss you again; on the mouth, and on the neck… his tongue gliding across your collarbones, forming the shape of your mounds, one after another…

“Roo, take me to bed…”

“Or what, lose me forever?”

He grazes the outer parts of your nipple with his teeth and teasingly licks at the hardened tops, and you cry out. Such a small little thing, but you feel the sensation in your fingertips.

Bradley smiles. A soft look despite how the situation is escalating. “C’mere, baby.”

With your legs wrapped around his waist, he lifts you up off of the couch. You think it’s just to get you up on your feet, but then he’s not letting go. “You’re not seriously thinking about carrying me all the way upstairs, right?” A teasing frown sets on your face as he hauls you out of the living room.

“Are you assuming that I can’t carry my beautifully pregnant wife to our room?”

“I’m not your wife yet, you know— oh shit!” He pins you against the wall right by the stairs, one hand cradling the back of your head, ever so caring.

He mouths your neck in teasing, his breath fanning against your bare skin. “No? So I don’t have to perform my husbandly duties now, since you’re not my wife?”

It’s kind of hot… but you can’t help but make a face at his choice of words. “You need to stop watching Downton Abbey. Just say ‘fuck.’ It’s not that hard.”

He pulls away, his comeback locked and loaded and ready to go. “You can’t tell me what to do. Who are you, my wife or something?”

“Ugh!” your jaw falls open in a mock offended expression, and you smack his ass playfully.

In turn, he squeezes yours back. Tight. Possessive. There’s a shift in his gaze, a tiny sliver, a darkening—the kind that makes you feel even more naked than you already are. You look at him with unbridled lust, and he kisses you like it’s the only way he can breathe. Like he’s been holding his breath until he can get his hands on you.

And by God, you would let him have all the air you have left to give.

He carries up to the bedroom slowly, carefully, and you hold onto him tight. Reveling in how strong he’s built, all muscles and abs and everything, and how gentle he handles you as he sets you down on the edge of the bed. The epitome of a gentleman, as he kneels down between your legs.

You can feel the heat emanating from him—or is it you?— and you try to unbutton his khaki uniform. “Baby, don’t you wanna take off your…” your words die out as his chest moves out of reach. There is only his hair between your thighs.

His tongue between your folds.

“Fuuuuck…” you bite through your teeth. And once his finger joins in, you’re done for.

You make no effort to hold back your obscene moans, but the wet sounds coming from your pussy are still louder. Your face grows hot as the noise bounces through your bedroom walls.

Bradley pulls his mouth away for a moment, smirking devilishly at you from between his legs. “Well well well… What’s got you this soaking wet, honey?”

You bite your lip, trying to keep it together. But you’re teetering dangerously closer to your release, and you whine out, “You, Daddy…”

He chuckles darkly. “Daddy’s got you all worked up, huh?” The use of the moniker has significantly increased since the news of your pregnancy, but you’re hardly complaining. It does hit different now that he’s actually gonna be one. “I’ve been home for two minutes, and you’re already dripping down your legs…” he slaps the inside of your thigh and you’re keeling into it. “So fucking cute.”

He watches you fuck yourself on his fingers and it makes you dizzy. “Please…”

“Please what?” His mustache tickles your clit, and it drives you wild. “Please stop?”

You whimper in protest.

He adds another finger into you, and raises an expectant eyebrow. This fucking asshole. A snide remark sits right at the tip of your tongue, but the only thing that comes out is,

“Please fuck me.”

He stops, straightening up with an intrigued look about him. Then, being a little shit, he comes back up to you with a kiss. “Good girl. There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You taste yourself on his lips, his mustache wet from your arousal, too. In any other case, you would be more proactive, more feral in returning his sentiment—tearing off his clothes and stuffing your mouth full of his cock. But lately you’ve been feeling more… submissive. So easily drunk on climax that you just surrender your pleasure to your man, knowing he’ll take care of you.

Bradley stands up to his full height, towering over you. He toes off his shoes, unbuttoning his uniform. It’s hardly a striptease routine, but there’s something insanely hot about him undressing when he’s about to fuck you.

His shirt drops to the floor, and the white undershirt soon joins. You perk up at the sound of his belt unbuckling, pants rustling down. And as his hard cock springs free from his boxers, you swallow thickly at the sight.

“You ready?” He pumps his fist around his hard-on a few times, as he settles between your legs, still standing on the side of the bed.

A quiet little please escapes you, and then a gasp, as he pulls your hips to the edge of the bed. Lining up his cock against your entrance. He’s big, and your pussy is still aching after he edged you moments ago. It’s gonna be a tight fit.

“Honey, go slow. Please. Slowslowslowslow… ahh!” His cock slides into you in one swift movement, sending a blinding wave of pain and pleasure as it stretches you out.

He doesn’t tear his eyes off of you. He watches your face fall under his undoing, and he moans. “You feel so good, baby…” he says between heavy breaths. You’re always so strong and bold and ballsy, and it gives him a fucking power trip to see you look so… small taking on his cock.

You let out a pathetic whimper as he starts to shallowly thrust in and out of you.

“What is it, baby?” He coos, caressing your hip gently.

“Y’too big…”

“Too big?” Bradley looks down to level your gaze, a seed of a shit-eating grin plastered on his stupid face. “You want me to stop? Is that what you want?”

“No!” You buck up into him as soon as his hips halt, desperately trying to maintain the pace.

He chuckles, that cocky fuck, before he finally continues driving his dick up your inner walls again. “No? You want me to keep stretching you, then?”

You nod. Every thrust feels bigger, deeper, more than the rest, hitting that spot of pleasure just barely, and you’re willing to do anything to stay there.

“Been so needy since I got you pregnant…” he kisses your neck. “Want Daddy more now that I made you a mommy, huh?”

Fuck. The words—the exact order of the words he said sounds batshit insane. You never considered this kind of dirty talk to be hot, but Jesus…

“God, I can’t wait to see your belly all big and round… your tits too, fuck…” he groans as he squeezes your soft flesh, rubbing your nipples with his thumb. “Gonna be a mommy and show everyone who you belong to, huh?”

“Mmh…” You’ve seen Bradley being possessive, and you’ve seen him tap into his primal side, but not like this. This is a whole other beast, and it shocks you how much it turns you on.

“All mine, huh?”

“I’m all yours, Daddy. I’m—fuck. Fuck!” Your whole body is shaking. The band in your core is wound up so tight, and it’s threatening to snap.

And through it all, he doesn’t let up. Bradley keeps that rhythm, pounding into you hard and deep. “Shit, that’s it… that’s it, baby. Come on my cock. God, you’re so fucking tight…”

There’s no stopping it now… your pussy gushes and clenches around him, as shocks of pleasure wave through your system. Your mind goes blank, and for a hot second, nothing is registering in your brain. Nothing but your man, as obscenely as he is fucking your brains out right now,

“Need your cum inside me, Roo…”

“Don’t wanna come anywhere else. Just you, just your pussy…” he breathes out. He’s close, that much you can tell. His pace is erratic and his mouth runs wild. “Gonna keep pumping you full of my cum. Gonna keep fucking babies into you until you can’t anymore.”

You would laugh. You would tease him for being such a caveman about it. But as he comes deep inside you, his hips stuttering one, two, three more times as he rides out his orgasm… you don’t only surrender to the idea; you welcome it.

Maybe you’re completely fucked out. Maybe you’re going soft and mellow, but nothing—and you mean nothing— is hotter than what he wants to do to you.

What he is doing to you now.

The room falls into a pleasant silence as you come down from your high. Bradley pulls out of you, and you gush out with your own release and his. His mouth falls open in awe. “Fuck, that’s hot…”

“Huh?” You lift your head from the bed, trying to see what he’s looking at.

“Nah, it’s just…” he shakes his head with a grin. “Good thing we’re already pregnant, huh? If we weren’t, that might’ve just done the trick.”

You roll your eyes as he gives you a sweet peck on the cheek. “I think the dirty talk alone was enough to do it.”

He blushes, a deep shade of red. He absolutely can’t take it when you quote back the things he said to you during sex. “Nope! Not a single word. La-la-la-la…” he closes his ears with his fingers, waddling over to the bathroom comically.

The sound of water trickling into the toilet coincides with your laugh in the bedroom… and then it gets drowned out with the flush. It’s a mundane little snapshot of your intimate lives together.

He comes up to you and offers his hands. “Come on…” he helps you get up. “You go ahead and clean up. I’ll change the sheets.”

Leave it up to Bradley, to always take initiatives to do the small things, like changing the sheets and ushering your ass to the bathroom after sex.

As you clean up and put on some clothes in the bathroom, Bradley singing Take My Breath Away to himself in the other room, you wonder how all of this will turn out. Change is inevitable—your belly is getting bigger, this new stage of relationship is getting more real— and you’re desperate to get a grasp on these things. It’s strange to be so anxious after such a lovely evening. But it’s been so good so far… too good, maybe… and you can’t help but wonder if the other shoe might drop.

“Everything alright?” Bradley pops up by the bathroom door, already in sweatpants and a t-shirt. You must’ve been in there for a while.

You nod absently. “Yeah, just… changing.” And you’re not sure whether you’re talking about the clothes you just put on, or the body you inhabit.

“I think you look beautiful,” he says so simply. Wrapping his arms around you, feeling your small bump. He smiles into your hair and whispers, “My beautiful wife…”

“Not your wife yet…” you remind him pointedly, teasingly. It’s one of your favorite pastimes, keeping him on his toes.

He turns you around to face him, a tender look seemingly permanent on his face whenever he sees you these days. “I mean, you’re here, with me, in our house, carrying our baby…” he kisses your nose, “As far as I’m concerned, that makes you my wife, doesn’t it?”

Well, when he puts it like that… you take a deep sigh, not hating the idea. But not quite ready to concede to his argument yet. “Apart from a piece of paper.”

“Ah well. That can easily be arranged, hmm?”

Truth be told, he’s got a point. The only differentiating factor to your status right now is a little certificate, and both your signatures on the dotted lines. Not a big party or a horrendously expensive dress that everybody would have an opinion on. And to be more truthful, it was never what you wanted in the first place.

You only ever want to be together.

And you’re free to decide how you want to be together.

“Should we just do it?”

“What?”

You look up at him with a tentative smile.

His eyes light up, and his heart leaps. “I mean, sure.” He chuckles. “We can go down to the courthouse. Or, hell, I’ll drive us to Vegas right now.”

It gets a giggle out of you. Of course he would jump at the opportunity to marry you right away. “Or… we can just celebrate it with our closest friends and family? Rent a beach house somewhere, and just… make a fun weekend out of it?”

“And just… what, get a justice of the peace to marry us?”

You shrug with an easy smile. “Or we can make Mav cry and ask him to officiate.”

He chuckles, but trails off as it sinks in. It has never occurred to him that that was an option. He’s always imagined it the traditional way. A church ceremony followed by a reception in a hall somewhere. Walking under the arch of swords. Looking dapper in his dress uniform. But with his work obligations and yours, and all the nightmare logistics of guest numbers and venues and entertainment and the fucking publicity that comes with your fame, both of you are well aware that it’s a hassle.

And it’s not even the most important part.

The most important part is you. You’d be the one meeting him at the altar. You’d be the one saying your vows and making him cry happy tears.

You would be the one.

For him.

Forever.

“Let’s do it.” Bradley nods resolutely. “Just you, me, and our closest people. We can get married in our jammies, for all I care.”

“Maybe not jammies…” you roll your eyes in amusement. “I still wanna look nice for our wedding, you know.”

“You look nice in your jammies.” He glances down at your tank top.

“Roo.” You cover his line of sight indignantly.

But he tugs your hand away, eyes still glued to what is arguably one of his favorite sights in the world. Your cleavage. Plays it off really coolly as he teases you. “No, no. I’m serious. You look really nice in your jammies. I really wouldn’t object to—”

You swat his hand, only half-serious. “Bradley.”

“Alright, fine!” He raises his hands in surrender. “So long as I get to call you my wife.”

“Not your wife yet…” you saunter out of the bathroom, knowing full well he doesn’t care.

To be completely honest, you’re not even sure that you do, either.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine #rooster smut #rooster x reader #the actress & the aviator #ava writes #top gun maverick

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jamesmydeer · 1 year ago

Note

Would you do a first big fight type of thing for the marauders? I love angst to fluff stuff. I also love how you write them so...

thank you so much!! i’m a sucker for angst to fluff as well, so everyones happy :)) hope you enjoy <3

masterlist

james

(i’ve already written one for james x, but another one won’t hurt)

- this boy is so precious

- he would never consciously do something to hurt you

- ever

- but oh boy is he dumb sometimes

- you had made plans to study in the library

- and i know what you’re thinking, but HE was the one who organized the whole thing

- he picked the exact spot, time, and material you would be studying

- and all day he had been talking about it

- remus asked if you wanted to work on the potions essay together?

- james is sprinting to tell him no

- you don’t think much about it when he doesn’t show up to walk with you

- but 30 minutes in and there’s still no sign of james?

- suspicious

- you decide to stay, you still have work to get done after all

- 1 hour, no james

- hour and a half, no james

- at the two hour mark, you’re done with your work and you are PISSED

- because you could have gotten this done in one hour had you accepted remus’ offer

- you trudge back to your dorm and head straight to the shower to distress

- once you come back, you’re startled by a very regretful looking james potter on his broom outside your window

- you walk slowly towards the window

- and you can see the hope building up on his face

- only for you to close the blinds and walk back to your bed

“y/n! please let me explain! it’s cold!”

- you begrudgingly walk back to the window and open it for him

- in true james fashion he stumbles inside and is about to start laughing about it

- until he sees your face and he straightens up real quick

- explains that there were first years who needed extra help after practice

- and he was really trying to keep track of time!

- but before he knew it it was dark and you weren’t in the library anymore

- you tell him that’s not a good excuse

- and that he really hurt your feelings

- he hesitates for a moment, then grabs your hand and leads you to your bed

- he motions for you to sit down and kneels in front of you

- he’s so so sorry

- and he lets you know that

- apologizes while holding your hands and looking into your eyes

- he looks pitiful

- you know how much the thought of you being upset with him must be bothering him

- so you remove your hand from his to run it through his hair

- but the second he feels your hand leave his, he looks at you with the saddest eyes you have ever seen

- and it breaks your heart

“aww jamie!”

- you cup his cheeks and lean down to kiss his forehead

- he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you tight

“i’ll make it up to you baby”

“i know you will jamie”

- he gets up and sits beside you, pulling you into his lap

- he caresses your back as he tells you all the things he’s gonna do to make up for it

“i do still need help on that paper though”

sirius

(i also already wrote one for sirius x, this one is pretty much the same but with an alternate ending :))

- sirius is flirty by nature

- blame it on his hot shit mentality

- so if there ever were any problems between you two, his flirtatious tendencies usually played a part

- one day, when you and sirius are walking through the halls, a member of his fan club walked up to you

- and completely ignored you, as they tend to do

“hey sirius, are you free this weekend?”

- you had already had a bad day, and you just knew this would set you off

- so you just tuned out the conversation, which you expected to not last more than three seconds

- because all sirius had to say was no

- but of course he couldn’t do that

- of course he had to make a show out of it

- you were tired and just wanted to get to the common room

- so you decided to shorten the conversation yourself

“he actually has a girlfriend”

“i do?”

- and he was joking

- you knew he was joking

- but it sent you over the edge

- so you pulled your hand away from his and stormed off in the opposite direction

- he would yell after you, easily catching up and stopping in front of you

- the glare you sent him was enough for him to let you walk past him

- you stayed in the dorm during dinner

- you needed a good cry, and what better time than when no one else was in the dorm

- hours later you hear the door open and you assume it’s one of your dorm mates

- then your curtains are being pulled back

- and it is a VERY disheveled looking padfoot

- he’s holding a cute little tray of food and there’s little spills all over it and a small one on his shirt

- but he tried <3

- and you can tell by his demeanor that he knows what he did was wrong

- not very good with verbal apologies

“i’m the worst”

“yeah”

“you shouldn’t forgive me”

“i shouldn’t”

- he sets down the food and plops down beside you

- rests his head on your shoulder and looks up at you with puppy dog eyes

- when you smile he knows he is in the clear to hug you

- so he pulls you into him and rests his head on top of yours

- muttering apologies and reassuring you he’s gonna do better

- he’s so good at reassuring you

- he doesn’t need to be told it’s okay

- when you snuggle into him and kiss his neck lightly, he knows he’s forgiven

“is this a bad time to mention how hot you being all jealous was?”

remus

- if you could use one word to describe remus, it would be gentle

- the boy is the definition of "gentle giant"

- so its hard to imagine him getting angry in general, much less at you

- its common knowledge that werewolves get agitated around the full moon

- however, its not common knowledge that remus is a werewolf

- so not only are you not used to him getting angry, you're clueless as to why he is

- unlike the other two, it’s not one big thing that causes the fight

- for the past few days, remus had been short with you

- you would ask him how his day was and he would say “fine” instead of going into detail about how james and sirius did xyz

- or you would ask about his book and he would look at you over the top of it and point to the blurb on the back

- he’s so sassy y’all

- but he’s not doing it on purpose!

- and he actually really likes your company during that time of the month

- needs the quality time

- sure he gets snappy with you, but you bring him a lot of comfort that no one else does

- but you do not know that

- so you assume that he is trying to tell you he wants some space

- during class you only give him a soft smile of acknowledgement instead of your usual greeting

- in the common room you don’t sit as close to him as possible

- at dinner you decline his offer to make your tea

- and it’s hurting his feelings dammit!

- the last straw is when he sees you wearing one of your own sweaters instead of his

- he walks up to you and apologizes to whoever you’re talking to, then proceeds to drag you away

- when you’re alone he lets go if your hand and crosses his arms

“what’s wrong with you?”

“what’s wrong with me?!?”

- he explains how you’ve been distant lately

- and you look at him like 🤨

- because YOU’VE been distant lately???

- isn’t he supposed to be smart?

- and you convey these thoughts to him

- and it clicks

- his shoulders sink and he pinches the bridge of his nose

- you think he’s still mad so you turn to walk away

- but he comes up behind you and hugs you to his chest

- he nudged your neck with his nose and you relax against him

“i’ll explain everything, just let me hold you for a minute”

- you swear you hear him mutter “just in case”

- you turn around in his embrace and hug him back

“you know you can talk to me about anything mus”

- and he does

- but everything has been so good up to this point

- he doesn’t know what he would do if that came to an end

- you pull away just enough to look him in the eyes

- he knows what you’re thinking

- he always does

“i’m scared you’ll think of me differently”

“i might. but it could never be a bad different”

- you kiss his cheek and he visibly relaxes

“let’s go sit down. you’re gonna have to give me a minute to figure out how to tell you this”

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sixosix · 1 year ago

Text

IT WAS ALL BY DESIGN | KAVEH

tags second chance, angst and fluff, time-skips, DARK HUMOR, lovers to exes to lovers again, profanity

written for art @aanobrain, who i made a bloodpact with saying that if i were to write this they’d write me xiao, so here we are. hope u like it art

a/n wc 4K kaveh lore spoilers but i didn’t follow the canon timeline. kaveh meets al-haitham BEFORE the palace of alcazarzaray. also this has two parts

next part

kaveh first saw you when he was presenting his nth draft proposal to his fellow group members.

it’s stressful, it’s a mess, kaveh is lost, and so, so tired. this group is certainly the worst one he’s had yet, but he’s too far deep to back out now.

tamara sighs deeply, like a tired mother, and kaveh’s temper flares, “i understand your need to express your love for aesthetics, but don’t you think that it’s unwise to sacrifice practicality?”

kaveh’s jaw ticks. “sacrifice? i’ve already explained that i’ve thought of every detail to consider. give me something to work on, actual criticism, without just slandering my ideals.”

tamara enjoys insulting his beliefs because she is nothing like kaveh. or maybe it’s because he is nothing like her.

it always is like this. snobs treat his proposals—bursting at the seams with unique ideas yet never neglecting quality—like a joke, and they never get past getting called drafts. he never gets past calling any of his first proposals a success.

“the outside world wouldn’t be as lenient as we had been to your designs, you know,” another of them says. one of his mentors. “tamara is right. we don’t have to get too detailed. here, listen, what if you just change up the strange curve of this wall? and this pillar you…”

outside world, kaveh thinks bitterly. he had already dealt enough with the outside world, but keeping him cornered against a wall he had been building against them was far worse than that.

yet he can’t say this. he’s said enough already. if tamara’s face were to get any redder, he’d lose the opportunity for the materials collectively funded by these people.

kaveh sighs, defeated. “i know. i’m sorry i snapped. i’ll take in your suggestions. what did you say must be removed first?”

“hold on,” one of his group mates speaks up. anis leans her chair over to another table, tapping the shoulder of someone kaveh is sure he’s never damn seen before. “hey, what do you think?”

you squint at kaveh’s work, unfazed by anis interrupting your studies. kaveh doesn’t want to, but he can’t look away. “i don’t understand some of it, but it’s nice. this building would look beautiful in the jungle.”

anis returns the front of her char’s legs on the floor. “ahh, you think?” she muses, handing the paper over to you. “well, an outside perspective is just as important.”

with a pen in your grip, you point at somewhere kaveh can’t quite see, blocked off by the back of the paper. it’s blocked off your face, too. “could use a bit more ornamental flora. too little over here if you’re going to already add it. life doesn’t just come from bright colors, but other forms of life as well.”

“spoken like a true amurta darshan.”

you huff proudly, lowering the paper and revealing your smile. kaveh stares, and stares.

knowing how to appreciate beauty as he does is a trait he has always admired. he secretly takes your suggestions to heart, planning to pull another all-nighter for a few sketches. this is the beauty of the akademiya; why he never gave up as soon as he was first brought down—he learns so much every day.

his heart races just at the thought of it. it’s been days since he felt this.

kaveh wonders if he’ll see you again and doesn’t get much time to think about it again when he’s pulled back to reality, back to yet another proposal that’s been erased so many times, it looks more like a smudge of ink than something kaveh would proudly call his.

kaveh sees you again in the house of daena hunched over a book with your face pinched, sitting next to someone, and he thinks that might’ve been when he fell in love.

but no, that can’t be right. that’s not how love works. it takes time, courage, long nights, restless mornings—this is just him a few feet away from someone whose words he admired.

this must be more like passing by a picture that caught his interest. this must be more fleeting, more like what he deserves, like how the yolk is shaped perfectly on his breakfast for the first time in weeks, how the weather is perfect for smooth construction without disaster, or how his mother did not at least cry too much in a day.

he had only been trying to pass by and continue annotating the book he promised himself to get back to, which happened to be slotted on the shelf in front of your table. it’s sheer luck. and he might’ve taken advantage of it.

the student next to you is speaking. cyno, kaveh recognizes belatedly. “do you get it? because wave could refer to the motion of your hands, but it could also refer to an ocean’s wave, or what is the result of the wind blowing over the surface of—”

you clutch your head. with your eyes off the books scattered across the desk, kaveh sees this as a sign to turn away, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice. it’s pleasant, much more than the ones he hears all the time around him. “please, cyno, have some respect for your senior and have mercy on the bags under my eyes.”

“i am,” cyno says sternly. “i am cheering you up. perhaps it’s because you aren’t under-sand-ing my jokes.”

when kaveh risks a glance, you throw a crumbled paper onto cyno, which he catches with unblinking ease.

“don’t make me call tighnari here,” you threaten, holding a pen to his face.

“is he going to give me pun-ishment?”

“cyno…”

kaveh gets his wits about him again and realizes that he had been picking more books than he needed, just in time to hear more of cyno, unfortunately.

“did you not understand? you see, the word punishment has pun in it, which is what i’m—”

“that’s it.” the sound of a chair sliding across the smooth floor echoes in the quiet halls. “you sit there alone. think about your actions; i’m going to get lunch without you.”

kaveh takes a step forward, you do so backward, and you catch each other’s eyes from the synchronized movement.

somehow, meeting your eyes makes his heart jump to his throat. he can’t tell if this is better or worse than when you were just at a different table and he didn’t have the chance to speak with you.

it becomes a moment too long: kaveh gets nervous, spinning around on his heels and pretending to look for more books. this is unlike him. his head aches trying to think about it.

once you leave, kaveh approaches cyno.

“cyno,” kaveh says with a smile.

“kaveh,” cyno acknowledges. “why were you just watching us? was there something wrong?”

kaveh’s blood drains from his face. “was it that obvious? was it?”

cyno nods. “you’re terrible at acting casual.”

kaveh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ugh—whatever. cyno, hey, listen. that person you were with…”

“y/n?” he tilts his head. “did you need anything?”

“no, no.” kaveh repeats your name in his head, and files it away for later. “do you want to get lunch?” he asks, which he later realizes is an unspoken invitation for a new side of cyno he wishes he didn’t know. the puns hurt his head more than frustrating clients.

kaveh sits by himself in lambad’s tavern, lazily rocking his glass back and forth.

he’s made friends. plenty. but he’s not sure if he can confide in them if he were to go to them in this state.

he thought could consider al-haitham as one, but that blew over on his own face some time ago. it was a mess. kaveh’s not sure which hurt more: when he felt his own spite with how he trembled in spitting al-haitham’s name, or the fact that someone he almost considered a best friend seemed unfazed at all when they both knew that they wouldn’t talk to each other the next day.

al-haitham removed his name from the thesis, and kaveh tore up the copy he had of it. but unlike al-haitham, kaveh couldn’t bear the guilt and pieced them back together.

now they haven’t spoken for a while.

and he sits here, frustrated to the point of near tears.

he’s never felt as lonely as he feels right now, burdened by the stress accumulated from all those years with no one to tell him that he’s doing something right, that he’s going in the right direction. it feels childish, but when he closes his eyes, he can vividly imagine someone patting his shoulder, telling him he’s proud to call him his son, or someone pulling him close, kissing his forehead, telling him that she’d come back for him.

kaveh picks up the glass and takes a long sip.

“are you even allowed to drink?” someone says, too close to him.

kaveh inhales sharply, unfortunately breathing his drink along with it. he chokes on it, and some dribbled past his lips as he turns to the sound of the familiar voice.

you quirk an eyebrow. kaveh wants to gape.

“it’s coffee, and i’m allowed,” kaveh mutters hoarsely, flustered. how long have you been there? were you just watching him?

“but you’re pretending it is alcohol?”

kaveh looks away. he was hoping that no one would notice his dramatics.

“it’s funny,” you tell him. kaveh wasn’t really hoping to appear funny in his sorry state.

you call for lambad and tell him you want your usual. when lambad returns, he hands you a half-full glass of what kaveh could smell as alcohol. maybe he should’ve done the same, but his goal was to feel awake enough to finish his due project, not intoxicated and slurring his words together.

“well?” you turn to him, your cheek against your palm as your arm rests against the counter. “are you gonna act like it and bemoan your regrets?”

students of the akademiya have started to become familiar with the fact that kaveh is a one-of-a-kind genius. names like light of kshahrewar started to circle the halls loud enough for kaveh to hear it from rumors and to his face when they asked to collaborate with him or when they ask for too much of his time.

he was expecting you to do the same. he wouldn’t even blame you if you tried because he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. yes, yes, i want to.

there is no liquid courage here, just the presence of you and his muddled mind finding it far too comfortable.

“my mother remarried,” he says.

you blink, pausing mid-way through drinking your fill. “oh…?”

“i’m happy for her,” kaveh says, confident, firm.

“here’s to that.” you clink your glass against his.

you weren’t taking it as a happy statement. he doesn’t want sympathy, but he knows that whatever you’re thinking is the irrefutable truth. perhaps you were mourning with him because he, too, knows that there’s nothing content about him when he has to reassure himself out loud.

kaveh wants to ask so many questions. he wants to pull out the stacks of papers shoved in his briefcase, ask you what you think of it, listen to you tell him that you understand its beauty, but it’d be more beautiful if he weren’t so afraid and confined in someone else’s ideals. he needs to hear you say it because he knows you’d say the exact same thing as he wants.

instead, he sits quietly, watching you from the corner of his eyes, entranced.

and kaveh—he’s longing. or maybe he’s just starting to feel loneliness.

“so, what happened between you and al-haitham’s group project?” you ask, wearing a smile that spells out you know exactly what you’re getting into.

“oh, don’t even get me started,” kaveh groans.

the night ends with his heart a little lighter than it was before. (this is still fleeting, right?)

it seems like after that, you’re just everywhere and always by his side. kaveh loves it. especially when he’s too caught up with the world and needs someone to distract him enough to remember that the world is splendid.

despite his desperate attempt at drowning himself in coffee in hopes of being able to remodel at least three rejected drafts, he doesn’t get anything done at all.

he knows that giving in and offering to help out everyone who asks him for it isn’t healthy. he knows it, and he sees the effects on his face, the paleness of his skin, and the mess of his hair.

when kaveh stares his paper down, he can almost see himself on it. not a reflection, but a shadow. it looks like a bird’s nest. he might as well get feathers to go with his hair and complete the look.

someone taps his shoulder, and kaveh somehow doesn’t feel like reacting accordingly. “kaveh, is that you? are you kaveh?” the stranger asks, all in one breath.

it takes him a few seconds. breathing in and out deeply. he turns around, hopes the eyebags on his face aren’t as heavy as they feel, and smiles.

“yes?”

“ah!” he recognizes the student. a few years younger than him. he can’t quite come up with a name right now. “thank goodness. they told me that you could help me with this, i knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

“oh,” kaveh says, quiet.

if any of his friends were here, they’d glare him down, tell him that he’s going to bleed himself dry if he even thinks about saying anything aside from no. but they aren’t, and kaveh’s heart is bleeding out instead.

“what is it?”

“kaveh!”

you come stumbling in between him and the younger student, whose eyes bulge out of his eyes. he seems to be shaking, if kaveh were to look any closer.

without warning, you throw an arm over kaveh’s shoulder, leaning down to press your chest against his shoulder blade. kaveh’s breath hitches.

you tilt your head to appraise the cowering junior. “oh,” you say, as if not realizing he had been there all along. “daneh. did you need anything?”

“no. no, no, i don’t,” daneh splutters. “i’ll take my leave, i think— i think i should— please excuse me.”

while daneh runs off, kaveh tries to recall his breakfast and the procedure he did in his head to calm down and give himself the boldness to meet your eyes. what is happening to him?

dried fish fillet pan-fried until crispy, served in creamy, white sauce, sprinkled with mint—

“kaveh,” you say. your voice is too close to his ears, which he is sure is turning red.

—kaveh, kaveh, kaveh.

“y/n,” kaveh says, defeated, the grip on his quill faltering. “what was that about?”

he thinks he can feel a grin, and he badly wants to see what it would look like on your face. “i don’t remember telling you my name.”

curiosity wins. kaveh can’t help but smile along with you when he sees it. “you did it on purpose?” then, “cyno told me.”

“you asked around about me?”

“yes, i did,” he says, almost petulantly.

the way your mouth tips to one side more makes your beam come off more smug. “is that so?” you say, and kaveh feels like he’s bared himself to the world. “what’s this?”

kaveh follows where you’re pointing. it’s a mindless sketch he was practicing with; he doesn’t remember drawing half of it. “i was… oh, i don’t know, i just needed a break.”

“this is what you do on your break?” your fingers hover over the page as you trace the curved columns and drooping roof. “green. they look like leaves,” you tell him quietly.

kaveh’s smile turns softer at your sincere awe. “i know.” he wonders what’s going on in your head, then wonders if he’s worth knowing. “what do you think’s missing?”

“i’m no architect, but it could use a bit more of a… splash, you know? color. maybe some—”

“ornamental flora?” kaveh finishes for you. “you’re right. there’s no need to worry about this, though. i must have been on autopilot creating this.”

“straight to the bin it goes? what a shame. it’s stunning.” there’s a seat right there, yet you insist on being pressed against him, bent over, still too close to his ear. you talk about beauty, and kaveh asks himself if you’ve looked at yourself. “i suppose i don’t understand how geniuses work. you are one of a kind, light of kshahrewar.”

then he is suddenly so aware of your hand having trailed upwards, resting on his nape. as you move, your skin rubs absentmindedly on where the hair fades. he shivers.

he hates that title. he feels like he doesn’t deserve any praise he receives at all. yet when you say it—

“you blush a lot,” you point out. kaveh wants to dig a hole and lay there forever. “it’s cute. your expressiveness is charming.”

“don’t—just say that.” his face is so, so red.

al-haitham finds him alone at the same table that night, unable to focus on anything but his racing thoughts. something is wrong with him, he’s sure. he’ll have to pay tighnari a visit and retrace if he’d picked the wrong mushroom.

al-haitham—and kaveh doesn’t know how he’s managed to figure it out so easily—makes a face that would be the closest thing to a smile. “i like y/n,” al-haitham says, out of the blue.

“what,” kaveh says flatly, coiled up like a cat prepared to pounce.

“smart enough to pull you back down and smart enough to make you listen.”

“it’s—” kaveh wants to say it’s not like that, but he goes silent thinking about it. “fuck off. you wouldn’t get it.”

al-haitham tilts his head to the side. “you’re the one not ‘getting it’.”

thankfully, al-haitham leaves him be. they are still on awkward terms, after all.

“oh,” kaveh says intelligently one morning. oh, no.

tighnari’s ear twitches. “the star of the show is here, finally.”

“everyone,” kaveh starts solemnly as the door slams shut behind him. the wind blows, and kaveh’s hair flutters, looking like he came straight out of those films.

“how has dealing with your recent client been looking?” tighnari asks with a smile. cyno and al-haitham nod because they probably didn’t think of even asking that. it’s why tighnari is kaveh’s favorite.

but he is not here to talk about that.

kaveh slams his briefcase on the table, rattling their glasses. “i’m going to confess.”

al-haitham makes a face. “who are we confessing to?”

“not we, al-haitham. stay out of this,” kaveh says. al-haitham’s expression doesn’t change. “i’m going to confess, and it’s going to be so romantic. no one can say no.”

“i would say no.”

kaveh glares, snatching his glass. “al-haitham, just be quiet. the adults are talking. this isn’t about you.”

“you invited us out here,” al-haitham points out.

cyno tilts his head. “to y/n, right?”

“about time,” tighnari sighs.

“yes, to y/n. and what do you mean about—” kaveh huffs, getting red in the face, flustered. “hey, aren’t you guys going to stop me? tell me this is a bad idea and that i’m going to ruin this meaningful friendship i have with y/n?”

“everyone wants you to confess already,” al-haitham says, as if kaveh is stupid for not realizing that. maybe he is.

cyno hums thoughtfully. “if i stop you, i think y/n will murder me with bare hands.”

“oh,” kaveh says, pleased. whatever that means. “alright, then, thank you.” he downs the glass of water—it was al-haitham’s, most likely, judging by the incensed expression on his face—and grabs his briefcase again.

“where are you going— kaveh, hey, where do you think you’re—” tighnari smacks his hand on the table, yelling after kaveh, who’s already by the door.

kaveh’s confession is messy, quick, and probably not as romantic as he had hoped, stumbling over his words and feeling as brave as an infatuated schoolgirl.

“pinning me against the shelf like this is quite the move, kaveh,” you say, and kaveh snaps back to reality. “why are we hiding?”

“sorry,” he splutters, backing off a bit but not enough to have you far from touching him. “i don’t want—someone could see us.”

“now, why are you afraid of that?” you grin, sly enough to make kaveh comprehend that you know exactly what he’s called you over here for. you do the—the thing again, where you trace shapes on his nape, and he shivers helplessly.

“i like you too much,” kaveh says, his face too red to be passed off as sunburnt.

suddenly, all the confidence he thought he had when he left the tavern dissipated. “you know what i mean. can you—no, will you… ugh, i’m not doing it right—”

you meet his gaze, and you don’t look away, the long silence starting to grow distressing for kaveh.

“kaveh,” you say softly, and that’s when kaveh’s expression crumbles. it could be because of how you said it, carving his name with your mouth so tenderly, but really, it’s because he feels like you wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

“yes.”

…wait.

you cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you by his hips. “yes, yes.”

“wait,” kaveh says, “really?”

you bristle, tilting your head down. are you embarrassed? kaveh feels a thrill run down his spine. “yes. about time—we finally did something about the unbearable tension between us. so, if you’re willing to have me…”

“yes, yes,” kaveh says, to all of that. “god, yes.”

embarrassed, you bury your face on his shoulder. kaveh can’t hide how fast his heart is beating when you’re directly on top of it. when you’re in it. “but listen, kaveh, i don’t know if i can stay here in sumeru forever. and i know it will be hard. so if you aren’t—”

kaveh is too happy to think too hard about that.

“no,” kaveh says, “no, i still want to try. please, let’s try.”

“okay,” you breathe, smiling brightly. “kiss me already, will you?”

kaveh prays and prays and thanks their archon that this isn’t fleeting. don’t let it be, not when he has you, and he has already found out your lips meld perfectly with his.

lord sangemah bay commissions him.

in the first few minutes after dori told him that she could care less about what he wanted to do with the place, kaveh didn’t know what to do with himself. he wanted to do everything, but when all of it comes rushing at once, he’s frozen in place instead.

he takes a step in the direction of the house of daena, then another, and another, until he’s sprinting and his heart is racing enough to have a smile crack across his face.

he spends the night in there. he feels crazy; other students can sense madness in his eyes. they all leave him be, as if they know that once they ask, kaveh will never stop talking.

kaveh feels his wrist sore, but he can’t stop. he wouldn’t be able to if he even tried, not when he thinks of a sinking leaf for a roof, windows shaped like petals, and your words—

kaveh pauses, glancing at the clock that has definitely been spinning faster than he remembered.

it’s sunrise. he gets back to work.

“you’re grinning ear-to-ear,” you say, poking kaveh’s cheek. “you’re not telling me something.”

kaveh isn’t. but only on purpose. he takes your hand and uses it to kiss the back of your palm as he blinks up at you, the embodiment of innocence. “what are you talking about? i told you about it. dori commissioned me, and she said that i’ll be in charge of the approval of the design and the construction process…”

while kaveh explains all this, gesturing wildly with his hands, he trails off when realizing you had just been staring at him fondly. his heart skips a beat or two.

“why—why are you just staring like that?”

“it’s hard not to.”

he kisses you square on the mouth, the blueprint of the palace of alcazarzaray hidden beneath his palms, and he thinks he’s never been happier.

(and under the same stars, the withering slithers in, and everything crashes down faster than kaveh could even say please, no.)

a/n art if you’re reading this i didn’t tell you but this is actually a second chance fic cus i remember you saying it’s one of your favorite tropes 🤧 but anyway ty for reading!

#606:GENSHIN #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you

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sleepysheepiiee · 6 months ago

Note

What the lore of the streams? I missed the first and second one you had.

Okay, lore from the Cotl streams I’ve done are as follows;

“Third Time’s the charm”; a lot of the times when I got to the bishops it took me three tries to beat them, so after the fights i started saying that the third time is the charm

“Praise Be, Praise Be”; something I’d say whenever chat would say ‘Praise the Lamb’, usually when I was struggling/entering or completing a boss fight.

Eat Grass ; I unlocked the grass eater doctrine and every time before I’d leave for a crusade I’d make myself a normal meal, and then make a ton of grass gruel for the followers to eat so they wouldn’t starve while I was gone (i didn’t put on the pause time while on crusades toggle) this made the chat act ravenous about grass, demanding for me to make them grass or they’d dissent

Eat Wood ; Same fucking thing that happened with grass happened with wood, but wood is a building material and not food so I’d have chat demanding I let them eat wood or they’d dissent

The Tent ; I unlocked the sin mechanic and everyone subsequently started yelling at me to use the mating tent

LuluStan420 Jr.; so the twitch plugin glitched during a raffle and a chat member, Lulustan420 somehow got to make two cultists, both the cultists are identical purple hedgehogs with no relation to each other, once we got the mating tent, I went to it and did a raffle to see who’d be the first one, Lulustan420 won, I then went down the list, and Lulustan420 had the highest chemistry with the other Lulustan420 and I thought it was really funny so I bred them, the baby is also a purple hedgehog but is named LuluStan Jr

Juulda and Alnaar hate each other; Juulda and Alnaar are my Lamb’s wives, and when it was time for me to put them in the mating tent, they had no chemistry and it said that they were enemies. Right of Lust changed that a bit and after they left out the tent Alnaar had a thousand yard stare and I joked that she had post nut clarity

Sven the mega simp; Okay so this one is a bit more long winded, in my first ever game file for Cotl I had a white deer/stag that always proposed to my lamb, and I’d always tell them no. They didn’t get the name Sven until I asked my friend Candy if she could help me come up with names for prominent followers in my AU. Eventually Sven became a mainstay cause I loved the idea of a simp character and funnily enough every Sven I’ve had in game has tried to propose since. In the stream before last, I was about to sign off for the night, I got back to the cult and everything was in chaos, there was shit and vomit everywhere, a corpse that desperately needed to be buried asap, and in the madness Sven ran to me asking for my hand, I said no.

Sven Broke the game from beyond the grave; another Sven meme, after I had beaten the one who waits, I went back to the cult and was about go marry Narinder, only to see that Sven died (from old age) I decided to go on with the wedding, and was like, I’ll revive Sven after, I don’t want them to suffer a third wedding. Well, the moment the lamb and Narinder’s lips touched, the game froze and subsequently crashed, causing chat to joke that it was Sven enacting their revenge.

That’s the big memes and lore from the streams, thus far.

#cotl #cult of the lamb #Winter’s Cotl Stream Lore

23 notes · View notes

honeybeezgobzzzzz · 7 months ago

Text

⚡ Champagne

Champagne: Y/N is like the finest champagnes, bubbly, bright, and lively. She is a breath of fresh air in a room full of ignorant people. This is one reason why Eobard Thawne found himself drawn to her, but when his secret comes out to the team, he will have to convince Y/N that it was all real and nothing will stand in his way of making sure that she remains by his side.

Warnings: Angst, Dub-Con, Language, EoWells Gets Carried Away (AKA he’s a Horny Boi), Loss of Virginity, Explicit Material 18+ (Unprotected Sex Is A No No).

To Note: EoWells x Female!Reader.

Word Count: ~4.6k

Your eyes were probably filled with fear as you stared at Harrison standing across the room, a smirk carved into his lips. You don’t know what scared you more, the fact that he was the Reverse Flash and your enemy, or the fact that some part of you still felt hopelessly in love with the man, whatever his name was. You had been running around in circles and bending backwards trying to find him.

But he had been with you the entire time. Every plot to bring him down, every idea of who he was, every little moment of you worrying about him, and he had been there the whole time. He probably thought you were the biggest idiot in the universe after allowing you to offload your worries to him at the lab. Why had you thought it was a good idea to come over and demand answers without telling anyone?

You finally worked up the courage to air out the one burning question that had been on the tip of your tongue since your discovery of who he really was.

“Why?” He cocked his head to the side while continuing to study you.

“Strange, how you calmly ask me why, rather than shout ‘how could you’ and then jump to conclusions.” You pressed your lips together and sucked your lower lip between your teeth.

“I just want to understand.” You whispered out meekly, your eyes burning with unshed tears. This had gone on far too long, he had strung you along far too many months. You needed answers before the betrayal really hit home and you drowned. “I thought you—“

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, fear of it all being fake heavy in your heart. Subtle smiles, brushing of fingers, quiet time reading, gentle touches, was it all just a ruse? Were you the fool?

“Forget it, I shouldn’t have come,” Turning around you started heading for the front door, feeling silly for even trying to understand the man behind the mask. He was suddenly in front of you, taking your wrists and stopping you in your tracks. Jerking back slightly, your head craned back to look up at him with half filled eyes.

“Why did you come here then, Y/N?” Your eyesight went cloudy through the blur of developing tears. You were trying your best not to shed tears over him, but not even the strongest of wills could stop the hurt that ate at your heart. No matter much the truth might hurt, you had to know.

“I need to know,” You answered quietly dropping your eyes from his to stare at your hands which were twisted in front of you and still in his grasp. “I just— I need to know.”

“Know what my intentions are? If I had been planning to go home after all this time? Leave you all behind without a second thought?” He offered humorously with a snort. “I’ve planned this down to every little detail, I’ve had fifteen years to do so.”

“What any of it real!” You snapped out, your eyes flashing as they shot to glare into his eyes. “I need to know if any of it was real or if I was just a joke to you!”

Your back was shoved up against a wall a second later, air leaving your lungs from the force in which you had been pushed. Wheezing while your lungs dragged air back into your lungs, a spike of fear shot straight up your spine at the red tinged eyes angrily staring down at you.

“Was any of it real,” Harrison scoffed, his tone dangerously sharp and matching the intensity in his red lit eyes. “If there is one thing that you should know to be the absolute truth, it is that you are not a joke.”

The tone in his voice made the blood pumping in your veins drop several degrees. He sounded angry that you had questioned the validity of your relationship, questioned his intentions towards you. Well, he had shoved you up against a wall, not to mention his eyes were near that eery buzzing red color. Yes, your words had made him angry.

“Harrison—“

“My name is Eobard.” Harrison— Eobard growled, cutting you off. Your eyelashes fluttered as you went to call him by his real name.

“Eobard,” You corrected a little breathlessly, it wasn’t every day you had a six foot tall man built of solid muscle pinning you against a wall. “Why did you show interest? Why did you have to give me hope? Why did you do that when you planned on leaving!?”

“Because you are like the finest champagnes, bubbly, bright, and lively.” Eobard answered, lowering his face closer to yours. “You were the breath of fresh air I desperately needed in this stale and flat era, and I’m not letting that go. Not when you have been the only bright entity in my entire life.”

Your lips parted in retort, but whatever words you were going to throw back at him died on the tip of your tongue. Was his mouth always that close? You had no more time to contemplate just how close Eobard had managed to get before lips were on yours and for a moment it was all you could think about.

It didn’t matter what name was attached to this man, his lips, his kisses, they drove you insane. It was like nothing you had ever shared with anyone else, a deep intimacy that dove further into understanding and mutual adoration, then lust. Eobard’s kisses held far more meaning that just a simple peck on the lips or a brief brush as you hurried out the door. He kissed with intention.

But rather than maintain the passionate kisses and gentle touches, Eobard’s moments turned aggressive.

The hand closed around one of your wrists, yanked it up against the wall next to your head. Letting out a grunt from the slight pain in your wrist from his tight grip, your mind was soon distracted by Eobard’s tongue running along your lip and then pushing against yours. Your entire mouth was alight with sensation and the next sound that brewed at the back of your throat only seemed to spur on his actions.

Fingers gripped your jaw, roughly maintaining fervent contact between your lips. Gasping against his mouth when Eobard nipped at your lip, your free hand turned into a claw, your nails sinking into his shirt. One moment you were tongue tied and trying to comprehend what was happening, and the next fingers were tearing your shirt apart, leaving the tattered pieces to float to the floor. A noise of outrage emerged from your throat and was met with a dark chuckle.

“Eobard!” You hissed at the man. Your hiss was met with a burning gaze and your frustration only grew. You crossed your arm across your nearly bare chest as your cheeks blazed with warmth.“You can’t just—“

Your hissed words were cut off in a second as a hand appeared on your chin and a thumb pressed down on your tingling lips.

“I can’t?” He reiterated, a challenge sparkling dangerously in his eyes. “I can do what ever I’d like, and at the moment, I’d like to do you.”

“Barry is not going to like this.” You whispered out, your cheeks warm. Eobard chuckled at you and tapped his thumb against your lip.

“Then it is a good thing that I don’t care what Barry thinks.” His lips were back on yours, hungrily working their way across your sensitive ones until they migrated to your jaw and then your neck. A low groan slipped its way from your tingling lips, exposing exactly how you were currently feeling in this predicament. Your head dropped back against the wall, further exposing more of your neck. You raised your free hand and sank your fingers into his shirt, scraping your nails down his chest… only to figure out that Eobard held a physique much like Barry.

Oh my God.

Sharp lips carved a path across your skin until you were trembling beneath him, resisting the overwhelming urge to writhe in place and give him the satisfaction of knowing exactly what he did to you. Who were you kidding, he probably already knew.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to take you apart, piece by piece, until you are a squirming mess beneath me.” Eobard murmured into your skin before raising his piercing gaze to yours. “And that’s exactly what I am going to do to you.”

A shiver ran up your spine.

Hand pressing against your waist and wrist, you gasped out when Eobard’s mouth dove down and sealed itself over the parts of your breast not covered by your bra. Airing out pitiful gasps from the hot lips and tongue laving at your skin, you squirmed against the wall, twisting your wrist in his gasp and sinking your nails to claws. Eobard’s mouth was not light with its venture, biting and nipping periodically. While your chest was being assaulted, the hand pressing against your hip pushed into your skin and roughly slipped up your side until you could feel his touch even after his hand had moved on.

Then that hand was running back down your side and tugging on the waist band of your jeans. A nervous whimper passed through your lips at the long fingers teasing your hipbones with light vibration that made your hips twist. Eobard’s lips started to nip and suck their way up your neck, biting at the pulse that rapidly fluttered beneath the thin skin on your neck. You were hyper focused on the teeth just barely grazing the underside of your neck when the fingers that had been swirling across your hipbone, pressed flat against your skin and wormed their way downward, slipping underneath your underwear. The moment you felt fingers sliding through your folds you stiffened in place, and then let out a raspy cry when a finger sank into your body.

You jerked onto your tippy toes, desperate to get away from the uncomfortable feeling of intrusion. Well, it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but it was a strange and new feeling that you hadn’t ever experienced. Well, no one had ever touched you like this before and if you were honest, the speed at which things were progressing scared you.

“E-Eobard,” You gasped out, your feet now twisting on the floor. Eobard chuckled against your skin as his lips pressed open mouthed kisses against your jaw line, all the while his fingers never ceased their relentless pursuit sliding through your folds until you could feel yourself getting wet and had a hard time dealing with the pleasure brought forth by his vibrating fingers. “Please! I need you to slo-”

You were cut off when the finger inside your body suddenly sparked to life with vibrations that had you letting out a high pitched cry. Brilliant blue eyes met yours and staring into them with your face flushed with heat, you felt your chest heave against him as your heart raced. You twitched against, a fire burning in your body that felt more and more like liquid pooling in your gut every second that ticked by… and then that mouth was back on yours.

Never before in your entire life had someone kissed you like this, open mouthed, tongue brushing against your lips until you parted them, and when you did his tongue was finding yours and teasing you to the point where you started melting where you stood. Eobard’s mouth twirled you up in a tornado of heat and desire that left you so lightheaded you couldn’t help but comply to his ministrations.

Letting out a whining moan against those lips of his, your toes curled in your shoes as his fingers curled into a part of you that had your entire body going rigid with delight. Your wrist jolted in his grasp once more, making pain run up your arm, but you were too consumed by what you were feeling in your core to care about pain you were feeling in your wrist. You stared digging your nails into his hand when the pleasure sourcing through your body started to become to much.

Breathing heavily, your back arched off the wall, pressing your chest into his while mashing your mouths all that much closer together. Convulsive waves gripped your body and you started loosing your ability to respond to the mouth ravishing yours. Eobard knew this and separating your lips, watched in satisfaction as the tension in your body finally got too much for you to handle and you snapped. With your heart pounding and you body quivering, you saw stars and felt the scortch of fire rush through your veins as something exploded in your core.

Writhing in his strong grasp, you felt your legs give out a little. Luckily, with Eobard’s lightning reflexes, your dropping body was caught and supported as you wheezed and whimpered out. You felt your head drop back listlessly, your eyes partially dazed as you stared up at Eobard. His lips curled in satisfaction while you blinked up at him, trying to catch your breath.

“You crumble so easily, Y/N/N,” Eobard drawled, lowering his head and brushing his lips across your jaw to your lips. You felt like a rag doll, limp like a piece of cooked angel hair pasta and yet as brittle as a dry one. Fragile, you felt so fragile in his lethal arms.

“What do you want from me?” You asked in a dead whisper, still recovering from your numb state. Eobard raised a hand to run a finger over your tingling lips, his eyes still that dark shade of blue.

“Everything.” Eobard’s one worded answer was deafening and mind altering. Everything? What did he mean by everything? You didn’t have much to give and he always struck you as the type of man who already had everything he could need or want. In the second proceeding his one word answer, you only had milliseconds to compute it, because in no time the air was bending around your still limp body. The next breath of air you were sucking into your lungs was in a different setting, from a different position.

The moment you realized that you had moved you were looking around, and the second you felt a breeze on your skin you were looking down in mortification. You were completely naked. A ragged gasp slipped from your lips and you were covering your chest as quickly as you could while pinching your knees together. Eobard was quick to hover over you, pulling your arms away with unbridled strength to pin your wrists to the mattress beneath your bodies with only one hand. Your eyes were wide beneath Eobard’s predatory gaze and you felt yourself shrinking beneath him in both self-conciousness and embarrassment. Well, you had to also add that his shirt was gone and his figure was sculpted by the gods.

“Oh come now, Y/N, don’t hide from me,” He purred, his mouth curving at the side and his eyes once again glittering with darkness and desire. “You are one of the most beautiful creatures I have set my eyes on, and believe me, I have seen many beautiful things.”

You were still straining to hide yourself, your shoulders lifting to try and hide even a inch of your bared skin. But you didn’t budge, not even a millimeter, beneath his titanium grasp and you knew that no amount of squirming would allow your body to do what you wanted. You were under his control.

Eobard’s mouth dove back down, sealing over your exposed breast which made your body react instantaneously. You were thrusting your chest up into his searing mouth as your back arched. His mouth was ravenous against your nipple and when he tugged and teased it with his teeth and tongue you were letting out a sharp whine. Twisting your wrists in his grasp, you writhed in place while a hot hand slipped across your waist and migrated to your back, pulling your body further against his.

With your body pressing up against Eobard’s, your mind was quick to be overwhelmed by the sensations you were feeling. Panting for air, your eyelids fluttered shut and your neck muscles strained from how hard you were pushing your head back into the mattress. Eobard’s tongue gave your nipple one last flick before tracing its way up your chest to your neck, and when he reached your jaw, his lips pressed against your parted ones for an open mouthed kiss that literally sucked what little coherent thoughts you still had in your brain, from your body.

Your body went limp in his grasp, all thoughts hyper focused on the lips currently spiraling you up into a torrent of confusing feelings. Absorbed in the lips harshly pressing against yours and the fingers digging into your flesh so hard they would leave marks, you were numb to all other stimulations until a burn emerged from where you had once felt pleasure, the feeling of something forcing its way into your body had you airing out a breathless squeal.

This was happening way to fast.

Eyes prickling from the sting, you tensed up underneath Eobard’s body and trembled from the influx of sensations. But it didn’t stay uncomfortable, as hips started crashing against yours, that burn of pain turned into pleasure that made your body twitch. Moaning out against Eobard’s lips which were still assaulting yours, your muscles momentarily relaxed. But then you had the urge to sink your nails into something, preferably something on him, just to keep yourself grounded.

Shuddering as one particular thrust hit a spot that sent a zing of electricity up your spine, you wrenched your wrists in his grasp. Eobard’s teeth tugged on your lower lip once more before departing from yours. Your dazed eyes met his intense ones but before you could get a word out he was back at it, Eobard’s mouth hitting your neck and rendering your thoughts incoherent. Airing out a breathless moan, your back arched once more. Your bodies continued to twist together in a mess of sweaty limbs, and with one final jerk of your wrists again his steel grip, Eobard finally chuckled.

“Only if you place nice, Y/N/N,” Eobard purred against your neck, giving your tender skin a soft bite in warning. He only released one of your wrists, but that was more than enough for you. Your fingers slipped into his dark hair and you curled the chocolate strands around your fingers in a tight grip and pulled. At your harsh tug, a low moan rumbled from Eobard’s throat.

Even as Eobard kissed your neck, even as he sucked possessive marks into your skin, even as Eobard repeatedly drove his cock into your virginal body, you new that you should never have come demanding answers, especially when you knew what he was and what he was capable. But you couldn’t find the words to tell him to stop, even when it physically hurt. You were never able to say no to him.

Eobard’s hand that was still clutching your wrist, moved up to take your hand as he sped his pace up, and crying out as fire surged in your veins, you sank your nails into Eobard’s scalp. The fire that sizzled in your body was out of control and convulsing in place, you found yourself letting out a high pitch scream.

Your entire body shook while a gushing feeling ran through your body and in hurricane of overwhelming sensation, you felt both your body and mind falling apart.

You should have said no, or stop, or let me go, or had the mind to think over your not so well thought out plan on getting answers… because coming to Eobard’s house, by yourself, without your friends knowing, was a stupid idea. But the man made you stupid, simple as that, so this was partially on you. Yet the glaring question of why indulge when he was just going to leave in the end still haunted you. Or did Eobard simply like playing with everyone’s emotions? You let out a slow sigh and opened your eyes to stare at your reflection in the floor length mirror you stood in front of.

When you had woken up alone in bed this morning, you hadn’t been surprised. Dr. Wells has never seemed to sleep, so it made sense that Eobard wouldn’t hang around, well, why would he in the first place? It had been a bitter blow that you had to get over. It wasn’t like you were in a relationship and he had no obligations to act nice or caring towards you… but that didn’t mean his absence hadn’t stung. You were still at a loss about the entire situation, especially since you had never had relations such as having sex with a man now known to be your enemy. Don’t even get you started on the fact that it was your first sexual experience in the first place.

So upon maneuvering yourself into a sitting position on the side of the bed, you had soon discovered the mass amounts of marks and bruises on your body with one glance in the mirror. There was no hiding how you had gotten the bruises on your wrists, or the love bites on your inner thighs, chest, and neck. One look and you’d know how you had come to look like this.

You had grabbed the bedsheet since Eobard had shredded all your clothing the previous night and wrapped it around your naked body. There was no way you were going to give him the satisfaction of wearing his clothes to cover yourself. You weren’t going to give him that win. That was how you ended up standing in front of the mirror with confliction on your face.

You could still feel the affects of last night between your legs, and being a responsible adult, you were well aware of the fact that no protection had been used last night. The last thing you needed was to get pregnant by Team Flash’s enemy, that would present a whole other can of worms you did not want to open up. But first, you needed to find Eobard and find out what he really wanted from you because you couldn’t stay here forever, Barry and the others would come looking for you eventually.

So while you ignored the aches and pains in your body, you tightened your grasp on the sheet around your body and marched out of the room, determined to get some answers. Your bare feet were silent on the marble floor as you walked, and you probably spent a good ten minutes just wandering around and having absolutely no idea where you were. Eventually you found him in a library, and for a few moments you were distracted by the numerous books lining the bookshelves. It was still morning and the sunlight shining through the entire wall of windows made the space warm and inviting. Then your eyes settled on Eobard sitting on a couch, booking in hand, and that calm and serene feeling disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

Eobard’s striking blue eyes met yours and for a moment you just stared at each other. Then he was moving, his long limbs shifting and slithering through the air as he rose from the couch with the grace and control of a cat… or a snake. Either way you felt like a bunny being hunted down by python.

“You’re a sight I could get used to,” Eobard mused. Your eye twitch and managing to tear your eyes from the captivating blue ones, you focused them on the garden beyond the panes of glass. You moved yourself closer to the windows.

“What do you want from me, Eobard, and don’t give me a bull shit answer, I need the truth.” You asked, your voice coming out scratchy after a night of orgasms and screams.

“What don’t I want from you,” Eobard’s voice echoed behind you, indicating that he had followed you over to the window. Your eyes stared at the beautiful landscaping and flowers.

“You hate Barry, have made it your mission to make his life a living hell.” You added, chewing on your lower lip. “Where exactly do I fit into that equation?”

“You don’t,” His short, and very unhelpful, answer had you turning back around with a scowl. A smirk bit at the corner of his mouth and Eobard’s intense gaze glittered. “Consider yourself an enigma, Y/N, you’ve wormed your way into my plans and well…” He let out a small chuckle. “I’ve had to make some adjustments.”

“Adjustments?” You repeated, not amused. “My apologies for disrupting your plans.”

His amusement only seemed to grow at your sharp words as he towered over you with a smirk.

“Oh you don’t need to apologize, Y/N/N, I’ve quite enjoyed having you around. I wasn’t lying, it has been hell being stuck in this time, the incompetence that surrounds me is astounding…” Eobard answered, tilting his head. “But then you breezed in all bright and bubbly, our relationship is like champagne, Y/N. You’re all the effervesces I need in this stagnant and diminutive era.”

“Is that why you didn’t even bother—“ You couldn’t finish the sentence and ran a frustrated hand over your hair. “You’re planning on leaving, I’d really rather not be left with a mini you to take care of by myself.”

He let out a small huff of laughter.

“Yes, I plan on going home, but I don’t plan on going home alone.” That had your eyes widening. He didn’t plan on going home alone? Did that mean what you thought it meant? You felt the blood drain from your face. So was not using protect all part of the in the moment decision?

“You can’t do that,” You protested. “I— I belong here, with my friends, in my time, and I’m— I’m not ready to be a mother.”

“According to who? I’ve wasted fifteen years of my life and now that I’ve had a taste of you.” Eobard stepped up close to your body and you took a step back, right into the window behind you as he leaned down. His lips brushed against yours as your heart raced in your chest and you clutched the bedsheet. “I’m not letting you go, you’re mine, I’m going to make sure of that. You will only know me, that is something I can look forwards to.”

Eobard closed the centimeters separating your faces, connecting your lips for a few heart pounding moments. Your legs felt like they were going to give out at any second and numbness started flooding your veins. His lips seared an impression onto yours before he was abruptly pulling away and leaving you trembling against the window as he exited the library. It was only when Eobard disappeared that you felt the air rush back into your lungs.

Slumping to the floor, your lips trembled at Eobard’s words. You’re mine, I’m going to make sure of that. You will only know me. That thought didn’t bother you when it should, they way he lit up your body with his touch and his kisses… you wouldn’t mind being only his. Yet at the same time he purposely wanted to get you pregnant so everyone knew who you belonged to? That was territorial.

But this could never work.

Eobard was still planning on going home, and after your conversation and that zero protection had been used, he was still planning on taking me with him. No matter what. Squeezing your eyes shut as they once more burned with unshed tears, you tightened your grip on the sheet around your body and slipped a hand down to your stomach. Eobard likened your relationship to champagne, bubbly, bright, and lively. You were a breath of fresh air that he wanted to savor. But he had forgotten one important fact about champagne: It goes flat.

Date Published: 6/26/22

Last Edit: 6/26/22

EoWells Masterlist

The Flash Masterlist

#eowells x reader #eowells #eobard thawne x y/n #eobard thawne x reader #eobard thawne

19 notes · View notes

angeliqueiguess · 1 month ago

Text

Dear Professor… (s.jn)

''Meeting''

Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of sarcasm here and there, Johnny and reader having a kind of smart people discussion lol

Masterlist

NeoCity University/ Y/n & Sooah's Dorm / 1:30pm

The day had finally arrived. After reading her professor’s terse message, Y/n checked the time and started gathering everything she needed. For the two days, while waiting for these ´´talk'', she hadn’t left her dorm once. It had started to worry Sooah and Donghyuck, who kept urging her to take a break from her endless overthinking. Donghyuck, especially, pestered her to stop obsessing and just hang out, but Y/n found an excuse to cancel plans and stay locked inside even though it was olny a meeting.

Nerves gnawed at her, but determination burned brighter. She was ready to have this talk about the subject and some sessions to get it over with so she could start studying her ass off.

But before anything else, there was one thing she wanted more than anything.

She wanted to know why he treated her the way he did.

NeoCity University / Study Room C-12 / 13:58 PM

Y/N pushed the door open, her stride quite nervous, though her eyes were sharp and assessing. She didn’t like needing help—least of all from him. John Suh, her chemistry professor, had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t a fan of hers. Every interaction with him felt like navigating a maze of quiet disdain, as if her intelligence was a personal inconvenience to him.

John was already there, slouched in his chair with one hand scrolling through his phone. He didn’t even glance up when she entered, the picture of casual indifference.

“Professor Suh,” she greeted coolly, setting her notebook and textbook on the table.

His gaze finally lifted, meeting hers with the same detached expression she was used to. “John,” he corrected flatly, like it was some kind of running joke she didn’t find funny.

She arched a brow but didn’t argue. “Thanks for making time,” she said, sliding into the chair across from him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how irritating his attitude was.

He shrugged, slipping his phone into his pocket. “What do you need help with?”

“Equilibrium constants and reaction rates,” she answered smoothly. “I’ve been through the lectures and problem sets, but some of the concepts in your notes contradict the textbook.” Her pen hovered in her hand, poised for him to respond. “And I wanted clarification.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. -“If you’ve already done the work, you should’ve figured it out by now.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. There it is. She could tell he didn’t like the fact that she’d already put in the effort—because it left him with fewer excuses to dismiss her.

“Maybe,” she said, tilting her head, “But I thought you’d want to only talk about the subject the tutoring sessions are supposed to start in a month I-”

His jaw flexed for half a second, and without hesitation he interrupted her. ´´Let's get it over with L/n, page 214,” he muttered, sliding the textbook toward her. “Work through the problems. I’ll tell you where you’re wrong.”

Y/n suppressed a frustrated sigh. Of course. He couldn’t just answer her questions directly—he had to make everything feel like a test.

She flipped to the page, uncapped her pen, and began solving the equations with sharp, precise movements. Her handwriting was neat and efficient, every line showing just how thoroughly she understood the material.

John sat back, arms crossed over his chest, watching her work with that same infuriating detachment. It was as if he was waiting for her to mess up—to confirm whatever low opinion he held of her.

Except she wouldn’t. Not today.

Why does she get under my skin like this?

John leaned back in his chair, arms still folded as Y/n worked with cool precision. She was good—too good. Every line she wrote, every number she calculated was evidence that she belonged in his class, despite how much he wanted to convince himself otherwise.

It was easier when students stumbled. When they coasted or gave up, it confirmed his expectations, made it simpler to keep them at arm’s length. But Y/n? She refused to make things easy. She didn’t just ask questions—she asked the right questions, and she always came back, no matter how many obstacles he threw in her way.

And the worst part? She was good enough to make him question his own methods.

His thumb tapped absently against the table as he studied her, frustration simmering beneath the surface. He hadn’t meant to single her out, at least not at first. But every time she challenged him or called out an inconsistency, it felt personal. Like she was holding up a mirror to all the ways he fell short.

He exhaled quietly. It’s not that I hate her. He knew that now, though it had taken him far too long to admit it. But if it wasn’t hate, then what was it?

Y/N finished the final equation and slid the notebook toward him without a word, her gaze steady.

John scanned her work quickly, searching for an error he could point out. But of course, there wasn’t one. It was flawless.

“Anything wrong?” she asked, her tone polite but edged with challenge.

His mouth twitched, though he covered it with a faint sigh. “No.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Good to know.”

Minutes passed in silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. Y/n gathered her things, every movement graceful and deliberate, as if to remind him that she had better things to do.

“Anything else?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. Or maybe not.

Y/n zipped her bag, ready to leave, but something nagged at her. With a brief glance at John, she stopped herself.

“Actually, yeah. Just one thing.”

John arched a brow, his expression cool, waiting.

She paused, choosing her words with care. “Why do you treat me like this?”

His face didn’t change, but there was the slightest flicker of something—surprise? Annoyance? Discomfort?

“Like what?” he asked, his tone flat and unbothered.

Y/n held his gaze, unflinching. “Like I’m an inconvenience. Like every time I ask a question, you’re just waiting for me to screw up.”

John’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing. She wasn’t done.

“If I annoy you, fine. If you don’t like being proved wrong, just say so.” Her voice was steady, razor-sharp. “But what I don’t get is why it bothers you so much that I try.”

John leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose, fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of the table. She was too good at this—getting under his skin, poking at things he didn’t even realize were there.

“It’s not personal,” he muttered, though it sounded unconvincing, even to him.

Y/N let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Bullshit.”

His hands stilled on the table, and for the first time, he looked genuinely frustrated—not with her, but with himself.

“I push you because you can handle it,” he said, each word measured and deliberate.

She blinked, caught off guard. That wasn’t the answer she’d expected. “That’s... a terrible excuse.”

John shrugged, his gaze steady, like he wasn’t about to apologize. “Maybe. But it’s the truth.”

“So, you treat me like shit because you think I can take it?” Y/N asked, skeptical.

“I don’t think you need hand-holding,” John said plainly, his voice edged with cold honesty. “You’re smart enough to figure things out on your own. Better than most.”

The room was heavy with tension, the kind that made it hard to tell where the line between resentment and respect blurred.

Y/n studied him, trying to process the swirl of emotions: irritation, satisfaction, and—annoyingly—a strange sense of validation she hadn’t expected.

“So, that’s it?” she pressed, softer this time. “That’s why you act like this?”

John’s expression didn’t shift. “That’s part of it.”

“And the other part?”

He hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough for her to notice.

“It’s complicated,” he finally said, voice low.

Y/N arched a brow, her eyes gleaming with challenge. “Try me.”

John’s lips twitched—a faint, sarcastic almost-smile. “Not today.”

She exhaled sharply, somewhere between frustration and amusement. “You really are impossible.”

“Probably,” John admitted with a slight tilt of his head, his expression unreadable. “But if I’d told you all this earlier, you wouldn’t have worked as hard.”

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. “You seriously think that’s the reason?”

“Works, doesn’t it?” he said with a cool shrug, standing from his chair.

She shook her head, lips curling into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible, Professor Suh.”

“John,” he corrected again, his voice softer now, but still edged with sarcasm.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and gave him a lingering look—curious, intrigued, and slightly amused.

“See you at the actual session,” she said as she headed for the door.

“Don’t be late,” John called after her, a trace of sarcasm still in his voice, but something warmer beneath it—something he hadn’t noticed before.

Y/N glanced back over her shoulder, fake grinning and with a sarcastic tone to it. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And with that, she walked out, leaving him alone in the quiet room—annoyed, confused, and unaware that maybe, just maybe, something between them had already shifted.

prev//next Frustration

Angelique´s note: Oh my God, you guys! I had way too much fun writing this chapter. I promised you tension and drama, and here it is, lol. Hope you enjoyed it! You know your interactions keep me motivated to keep creating, so don’t be shy—leave a like and follow me if you want to. 😄

Stay hydrated, and enjoy your morning, afternoon, or night. Love you all! 💕

Taglist: @addyanm (lmk if you´d like to be tagged)

#nct #nct127 #nct 127 #nct masterlist #johnny suh #johnny nct #johnnynct #johnny

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justiceleaque · 1 year ago

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i've been meaning to comment on the DCEU for a long time now but always held back in hopes i wouldn't need to because something might change. for full transparency, this comes from someone who hasn't been able to fully involve myself with anything relating to comics for quite a few years now so what i say isn't worth taking to heart. but i was here when they launched the first movie, i was here when people were losing their minds at the hints of something more in the second movie, i was front row and center making content for the following few movies when everything came together and we finally got the big three on the screen

here's the thing and i'll keep it short: i loved snyder's vision and there were many who didn't. and from day one, i was fine with people not enjoying the movies because everyone has a different experience with the source material. i had made the prediction that after justice league, people would return to batman v. superman, to man of steel, and suddenly find it an enjoyable, full-circle trilogy; i made jokes when the exact thing happened because it was stupid and ridiculous and, at the end of the day, predictably funny. it didn’t ultimately matter to me because i genuinely enjoyed what i got and was happy to have more people on board. the bigger the party the bigger the snacks, baebey!!!!!!!!!!!

and then, i started losing steam. WB didn’t know what they wanted to do. they chose to listen to the part of the audience that was dissatisfied and often asked for more marvel-like works, which is not something i agreed with ✨but!✨ had they decided to actually change sails completely, to move towards that particular horizon wholly, i would’ve had more respect for the overall direction of the universe and likely stuck with it

the chopping and restitching and smashing of everything together until something hopefully comes out and then groaning when it doesn’t but maybe it did but oh boy who cooked it this way oopsie oh well hehe hihi was, and is to this day, nauseating to see. in its literal definition. it gives me vertigo every time i see another article about WB moving to a different direction with its DC movies. the enjoyable films that have come out since lose their charm the moment i realize they’ll either be ignored, retconned, or straight up misremembered in their own future material because there’s no unified vision. the big boss doesn’t know where he’s going so we’re forced to make multiple pit stops for gas without being allowed any coke zero, a bottle of pepsi max, a single bubblegum packet. spare some change, you little bitch

not even touching certain, uh, problems with actors involved because even with an immaculate roster none of this could’ve prevented me from silently dropping out when, at the end of the pitiful day, there’s no DCEU. what’s extended about this universe? my patience is

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theealluringstoryteller · 9 months ago

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Against The World Around Us

The rewrite

Chapter 4

(This picture reminds me of how I envisioned Omorose’s eye color to look like. If that makes sense)

It’s been weeks since the Baroness accepted the low effort proposal and since then the planning of the wedding has commenced! King Rhett had hired planners, cooks,bakers, florists, tailors and dress makers for the occasion. Omorose signed off on the colors, the flowers, the cake and the design of her wedding gown! Any other notes and thoughts the planner thought were needed was addressed by either Aurelia or Nina when the Baroness was simply to busy with matters she actually cared for.

With her proposal and notes stored away in a leather folder tucked safely under her arm Omorose navigated her way towards Rhett’s office. She had already run her idea through Aurelia who encouraged her to take it to Rhett, seeming hopeful of the idea working. Heels ‘clicking!’ Echoing through the halls as she got closer to the office door alerting those who lounged and waited outside of Rhett’s door . All focus going to her as she gracefully maneuvered her way between the crowded makeshift waiting room.

A soft “Excuse me.” And a polite smile making it’s way to her lips.

“If it isn’t the Commander’s Bride!” A gruff voice hummed to close in the Baroness’s ear. Cringing Omorose took a step back “Please refer to me as The Baroness-”

“We don’t do titles here, Imperial!” Another spoke up in disgust.

Biting her tongue The Baroness nods in understanding. “Then refer to me by my name.”

“Omorose…Rolls off the tongue real nice and sweet.” The gruff voice snickers leaning against the wall beside King Rhett’s office door.

“Our commander is a lucky man! Am I right?!”

A Symphony of voices agreed sizing Omorose up in the wine colored dress she wore. She rolled her eyes feeling their gaze study the way the material hugged her body like a glove.

“Never seen a beautiful woman before?” She teased hiding her annoyance as she knocked on the King’s door.

“We have! They just don’t look like you.” The man with the gruff voice smirked flirtatiously.

“I’m flattered!” Omorose sarcastically replied just as Castin opened the door.

“Sweetheart,” he greeted peering down at her, copying what his soldiers were just doing “Looking stunning as always.” He compliments blocking the entry way. His charming smile would’ve had others cheering and turning red but Omorose ill feelings towards Castin blocked those cues.

“I’m flattered.” Omorose repeated in a tone that lacked any emotion, avoiding all eye contact with the Commander. Since that day where she tried to play that game Rhett suggested to her to get to know Castin better she felt it was useless to waste any energy and time on Castin. He made attempts at conversation and trying to have lunch or dinner with her but she coldly shut down each not in the mood for any crude jokes and sexual advances she was sure he would make.

“Excuse me. I’ve requested King Rhett’s audience.” She states standing patiently until Castin moved aside after studying her face for a few seconds.

“Right this way Sweetheart,” Castin ushered her in dramatically “It’ll just be a few more minutes and then we’ll head out to breakfast,” Castin told his soldiers closing the door.

Rhett stood up welcoming Omorose into his office. “Please take a seat!” He encourage pointing to the empty one next to the one Castin took occupancy in.

“I rather stand-”

Castin couldn’t help but, to snort at the refusal, feeling anything but insulted. “Think I have cooties?” He asked snickering. His eyes never leaving her standing form, obnoxiously admiring her curves, something Rhett glared at him for.

“Here is my the proposal of the program I’m sure Queen Aurelia has told you about.” Omorose continued ignoring Castin as if he wasn’t a short step away.

“Oh yes! I’ve been intrigued since she told me a bit about it. Children are more Capable than adults in certain situations and I believe this is a situation where they will succeed better than us,” Rhett held out his hand for the folder.

“What program?” Castin demanded finally taking his gaze off Omorose to set it on Rhett.

“The Baroness thinks it’s best if both Imperial and Intacian children have a space to learn both of our cultures and histories-”

“With out sugar coating any of it! It’s important not to hide anything or coddle anyone.” Omorose stressed to Rhett.

“If we get the right teachers and willing parents and children we can ensure that the future you’re trying to secure between Intacia and the Empire can happen. The only way we can move forward is to learn and be open minded. If the adults can’t do it maybe the children can inspire them.”

Castin sat silently watching and listening to Rhett and Omorose go over the Program she wanted to start. It was clear she was very intelligent and not blind to the history between their countries. Her actively wanting to be hands on in the process of change was a side he never really expected to witness. Sure Aurelia mentioned Omorose funding aid but he thought she did it as a lazy attempt to look like a good person.

‘She’s serious about this.’ He thought taking in the determination and passion she had in her eyes. The raw emotion behind her eyes stirred something in him yet again.Something he has yet to understand but it keeps gnawing at him. It was like air was knocked out of him but at the same time he felt like air was filling him and making him weightless. It was too weird for him to put in words.

‘There’s no way Rhett could say no.’ He thought casting an admiring gaze at her proud smile.

“Commander!” A following knock made a frown appear on the Baroness’s lips the words she was in the middle of saying getting cut off rudely.

“Right! Breakfast. I have to go before they decide to break down your door next Rhett,” Castin joked standing from his seat. His muscles stretching aching from pushing his soldiers and himself more this morning.

Rhett waved him off dismissively knowing he would see the man later that day“Enjoy breakfast.” He tells him reading over the budget Omorose had set.

Before leaving he bids a farewell to Omorose which fell on deaf ears. Rolling his eyes Castin opened the door leaving without another word. Normally Castin wouldn’t bother after being ignored once by a woman but there was just something about Omorose. Despite her treating him as if he wasn’t there in her presence he still wanted her attention

“Y’all are like hangry ducks!” Castin huffs leading the group off towards where the carriages were.

“You said you were paying! It’s not our fault you were trying to skip out on us to hang out with your fiancée.”

Appalled at what was said Castin scoffs “Trust me she’s no fun! Girls like her are too reserved and a tight ass-”

“Oh but I thought the Commander enjoyed a tight ass.” Joked a female soldier in the group.

“Ha ha! Raven!” Castin sarcastically replied with a laugh at the clever input.

“I don’t know Castin, if my woman looked anything like yours I would be canceling at the drop of a hat.”admitted Dutton biting his lips as he relieved the moment he saw Omorose in the red dress she wore.

“The way that dress was hugging her I would’ve been stuck to her like flies are stuck in honey- and those eyes!” Dutton whistled. Castin stopped turning to Dutton as the rest of the group looked on waiting to see their Comander’s reaction.

“Could make a man-”

“And woman!” Raven cuts in leading to Dutton to tilt his head in acknowledgment

“Could make us fall to our knees!” He finish. The rest of the group mumbled in agreement making Castin raise an eyebrow.

The group felt mighty free to just causally explain their attraction to the Baroness. Sure Castin was nice and saw them as friends but was boundaries not common like sense.

“She’s got y’all under her spell, huh?” He asked crossing his arms over his chest.

“Those lips!-”

“Don’t push it, Kayce.” Castin warned pointing a stern finger his way. Kayce smirked at the fact he easily gotten his Commander riled up. He held up his hands in mock defense. “I’m just saying! I would yeet myself into a body of water if it meant she would have to be the one to give me CPR.” Kayce laughs

“I get it guys she’s beautiful!” Castin says as he starts to lead the group to the transportation he requested. “But telling me-her soon to be Husband might I remind you- all of this is level 9 audacity.” Castin laughs.

“Apologies-”

“No need! I can’t blame you,” Castin began nudging Dutton playfully “She’s been blessed by the Goddess.”

The bright midday sun made the sea of colorful flowers look more vibrant. So perfect it was almost like someone took time to paint each flower petal perfectly. The gorgeous garden quickly came to be Omorose’s favorite place to get a moment’s peace of fresh air as she read her book. She enjoyed the gentle fragrance of the combining scents each plant contributed but, her favorite by far was the Peonies. Their beauty was something she had admired since she was little.

With the program approved by King Rhett and Aurelia and Nina handling the little things for the upcoming wedding Omorose found the opportunity to sneak off when no one needed her.

Her current book ‘Myths and Legends of Greece’ in her hands as she fawned over each word of the story ‘Perseus and Andromeda’ her mind painted a picture of a winged horse, a woman with snakes for hair and a hunting deadly gaze, a beautiful princess being sacrificed to a sea monster and a Demi god coming to rescue her after falling in love with her instantly. Her vivid imagination creating a whole new world around her she could’ve sworn she could hear the sea monsters body turn to stone. The squeals and crackling is settling stone so clear she didn’t notice she was being watched from a far. The words Rhett were saying floated in the air as Castin starred at the Baroness reading her book.He snorts a smile grazing his lips. He found it cute how she found joy in something so simple as books. From what he noticed from afar, from all of his attempts at trying to get to know her is that he could tell when she got to the good parts of the book. The way her eyes light up and her lips curl into a tiny almost nonexistent smile you could only catch if you truly paid attention was a dead giveaway each time. Something he also noticed was that she go through books quickly. He’s seen her with like 3 different books in a span of 2 weeks.

“Do you understand me, Brother?” Rhett demands noticing how Castin turned his attention towards his intended.

Rhett slouched his shoulders a sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head “It’s a shame.” The older man begin ‘tsking’ knocking his left shoulder against Castin’s right.

“Huh?”

“I think this is your first crush you had since you were that 17 year old new recruit.” Rhett hummed amused no longer caring about the topic he brought up prior.

“Crush? Rhett I’m a 27 year old man. I don’t do crushes.”

“So why are you starring down the Baroness?”

“She’s intriguing? Whenever you see her there’s a book in her hand! I can’t imagine anyone enjoying reading that much.”

“I once knew of a little boy who spent his days reading-”

“I was a child.” Castin huffed annoyed instantly when Rhett brought up the past.

“Maybe you need to rekindle your childhood love for reading. Maybe then you and the Baroness can be cordial-”

“I’m making the effort! It’s not my fault she’s ignoring me-”

“I too would ignore the person that humiliated and disrespected me twice. Have you even genuinely apologized for the lingerie and your inappropriate advances?”

Castin looked down remembering the time he apologized to the Baroness. It was just before the sunset. He was making his way towards the kitchen to see what the cooks were preparing for dinner when he felt a strong yank of his ear. He lost his footing before he easily removed the hand of who ever was bold enough to grab him like that. That’s when he met Nina’s cold gaze. His mouth screwed shut, the look in Nina’s eyes reminding him of his mother’s when she was furious at him.

Foul words and insults that would’ve made a sailor blush flew from Nina’s mouth so eloquently Castin thought she was a poet. The tongue lashing he received over the whole lingerie gift was brutal and had Castin feeling like a little boy who couldn’t do anything but listen and sulk. “You’re going to apologize to Omorose, or so help me, Goddess! I’ll make you wish you could climb back into your mother’s womb.”

“Oh I apologized! Nina made sure of it!” Castin grimaced.

“Rosie!”

The sound of two children caught the adult’s attention. A 10 year old boy and his 6 year old sister following just behind with a bundle of wild flowers heading straight towards the Baroness. Castin raised an eyebrow silently wondering why Intacian children were so eager to see his fiancée.

The scene before him made his heart melt. Omorose closed her book with a gentle smile as bright as the sun as she welcomed the two to join her. She accepted their hugs and gushed over their gift. Her reaction making the two Intacian children ecstatic. He couldn’t hear what was being said but he could tell it was kind words the way the children smiled at her. And then the boy curiously picked up the book Omorose was reading his head tilting in wonder. The way Omorose looked at him keenly before she encouraged him to take a seat next to her.

“See Brother! She’s nothing like the other Imperials.” Rhett pointed out as he too watched as Omorose plopped the little girl on the other side of her. With an excited smile Omorose opened her book and began reading to them happily. Glad she could encourage their love for books.

“So you were right!” Castin admitted, taking in the boy’s look of fascination. It reminded Castin of when he was that age, head stuck in a book as the words morphed into live scenes. It made him long for it back.

“Maybe now you’ll actually try to get to know her instead of getting under her dress.”

A few more months had passed and the days were spent with Castin trying to get in Omorose’s circle.

Under the guise of ‘to keep an appearance up’ he sat through lunches and little social gatherings where he tried to join in the conversation but was ignored and silenced. A mighty warrior suddenly felt small like the little boy he used to be who couldn’t fit in outside of his own small circle.

He had to admit Omorose was more than he thought her to be. Not only was she beautiful and intelligent she was also kind, and warm and he wanted so badly to experience her kindness and warmth. Something he hasn’t received from a woman in a long time other than Lilia. Because of his reputation women automatically try and succeeded in getting him physically but, as the wedding neared closer he realized he didn’t want just sex. Nina’s lashing words finally made sense to him. “Do you think it’s an honor to only be wanted for your body when you have so much more to offer? She’s seen people countlessly lusting after her! Be kind enough to show her something other than lust.”

He wanted more than just sex and he wanted it with the only woman who wasn’t swayed by his looks and Charm but luck seemed to passed him by because she keeps shutting him out.

He craved her attention, everytime he saw her looking so vibrantly beautiful he wanted to embrace her. He wanted to be let in like a lonely stray who longed for a home.

Castin didn’t know what he could do. He apologized months ago she couldn’t still be angry over that. Could she? And in his own way he has been kind. It was like Omorose was determined to be the object of his desires, desires he could never obtain because of how far away they were.

In mere hours he was going to be her husband and he has yet to even get her to smile at him. It was crazy how he has women falling to his feet and now he was pining for the Baroness so much so he was so close to falling on his knees at her feet.

Nina stepped back her tear filled eyes in awe as she gazed at Omorose in her wedding dress.

“We’ve talked about this moment and now it’s finally happening. You look stunning.” She gushed guiding Omorose to a mirror.

The Baroness’s breath was caught in her own throat at the sight of herself.

“It’s really happening…” she spoke to herself. “You’re going to be a wife.”

Silence fell over the room for a short moment and then with tears welled up in her eyes the Baroness cried “This is a mistake! I can’t do this! I’m going to end up just like them-”

“The bride is getting cold feet!” Aurelia announced rushing over to her friend with a tissue.

“If you want to run I’ll be right by your side-”

“I doubt there would be any running! All those Intacian Soldiers out there look very ready for anything.” Anree cuts Nina off rolling her eyes. “But if we have to fight our way out of here I’m all in.” She grins downing the Champagne Rhett bad gifted to the Bridal Party.

“End up like who?” Lilia questioned from the vanity she sat behind.

“Like her parents! They were the worse with and without each other.” Anree stated casually causing Lana to harshly nudge her “Not helping”she hissed.

“I was so blinded by wanting to help change things I didn’t realize I offered myself up to my worse fear to do it.”

“No! Don’t cry.” Nina cooed soaking the end of a tissue with Omorose’s tears that gathered at her waterline.

Frowning Lilia states “I know you and Castin got off on a bad start but once you get to know him he’s very kind-”

“Sure-”

“He is!” Lilia glared at Anree who snorted in return.

“Sure whatever you say…”

“Look Baroness, I don’t know how your parents marriage was and how they treated each other but, if you were to give Castin another chance I promise you won’t regret it.” Lilia urged. She noticed the change Castin had over the months when it came to the Baroness. She could tell that the man she grew up with was in love.

“I understand that you’re scared but it’s a little too late to back out now! Both kingdoms are relying on this marriage.” Aurelia reminded frowning at the wild look of panic in Omorose’s eyes.

“We need unite our kingdoms before another war breaks out.”

“Okay.” The Baroness breathes out.

“Okay?” Aurelia asked wanting a confrontation. Omorose nodded “yes! For the kingdoms!”

#black!reader #asmr boyfriend #castinxbaroness #desmond asmr #against the world around us #fanfic #asmr roleplay #asmr #black oc #castin #baroness #black!fem!reader #fantasy

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scorching-earth · 5 months ago

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Silent ticking

Tw: swearing.

Grim Pov:

Grim grumbled. "Meh now that I've gotten in I have to take one of the robes." The small dire beast said to himself. Looking around Grim looked for an easy coffin to open. All of them looked locked tight. Then Grim spotted one that looked a bit smaller. Most of the coffins had the same engravings on them, but this one was a bit different. Some of the engravings looked sort of like a fire. This piqued Grim's interest as such Grim chose to open this one. Grim pulled at the coffin's lid. "Meh it won't budge!" Grim pulled at once again, this time Grim pulled at it harder. "Ugh the great Grim won't be defeated by some stupid coffin! I guess I'll just have to bust out my secret move!" Grim announced. After which Grim spat out fire to burn the lid off the coffin. "Ahh!" That's when whoever was in the coffin screamed.

"Woah! You're not meant to be awake!" Grim said, crossing his arms. "Shit, I mean uhhh where am I? I'm not in some lunatic's hideout am I?" The person asked. "Hay don't ignore the Great Grim! Or I’ll torch yah!” Grim demanded. “Torch me!” the person said. Grim guessed they were surprised, their voice was hard to understand, and the fact that their face was fully covered by their hood didn't help. “Now gimme-” Grim was cut off. “I’m talking to a cat! I must be going crazy.” the person said. “Hey I am not a cat now gimme those robes! Or I’ll-” Grim was cut off again. “You’ll torch me, I get it. You don't have to make such a big fuss over it. Get better material. It worked the first time, it won’t the second.” the person said. Grim then huffed. “I’m not joking, you saw how I blew the lid off your coffin!” Grim said. “Sure I did, it got me out.” the person said, walking to the closet door.

“Hey I said give me those robes or I’ll-” “Torch me, I said get better material.” the person cut Grim off again. “Grrrr! I-” the person looked back. “Go find your robe somewhere else. This one won't fit you. It doesn't fit me.” the person said showing how they rolled up the sleeves. “Huh! What do you mean by that! Not fitting I thought they were meant to fit anyone who wore them.” Grim said, confused. Grimm jumped up on a nearby wall. “They don't fit me. The hood is blocking my sight… not that it matters much.” the person said. “... well then who- who are you! You stood up to me, you must have a name. The Great Grim will permit you to tell him your name!” Grim said. “Dante. My name is Dante.” Dante said. “Dante huh that's a weird name.” Grim says. Dante shrugged, “not the first time I’ve gotten that.” Dante said. The two stopped for a moment on their walk.

“... or at least that was the name I was told was my name. Now that I think about it… is Dante my real name?” Dante seemed lost in thought. “Hay how do you-” Dante was cut off. *thawack* “MEH! What is this!” Grim yelled as a pink wip warped around Grim. “You're impatient, couldn't wait for a minute to make your grand entrance.” a deep male voice said. “Huh entrance?” Dante asked. “Do you really have nothing to say for yourself young man? Letting an untrained familiar run amuck. Both you and it need proper discipline later.” the man came into Grim’s view. The man linked a lot like a crow. Which made this all the more humiliating for Grim.

“He's not my familiar, I don't have any familiars.” Dante said. “That's right, I am not their familiar!” Grim said. “That's what all the rebellious familiars say. Ah but you may keep it for I am gracious” the man said. “Who are you, where are you taking Grim!” Dante asked. Only to receive no reply from the man. “Hey! Hello, can you hear me!” Dante kept asking. “Now where's that sound coming from?” the man asked. Dante’s shoulders slumped. The three walked in silence after that comment. “Anyways you may have not made a big ruckus not being in your coffin, but that doesnt discount the severity of your crime.” the man said. Dante didn't say anything, from what little Grim knew about the other person they seemed to be a bit snarky. Yet there was no attempt at a comeback, at least not from Dante.

Grim took it upon himself to get back at this person. “What crime! I’m not Dante’s familiar!” Grim yelled. “Dante?...” the man questioned. “That's their name! And I am not there familiar! I only just let them tell me their name!” Grim continued. The man sighed at Grim’s struggle. The three then approached the door. Conversation happening on the other side. Grim didn't catch a lick of it, yet the man apparently did. “I do not! While you all were here I went out to find the missing student.” the man said. “Student! What do you mean by student!” Dante asked as Grim looked around the room. Several students' ears twitched. “Now you there. Step up to the dark mirror and state thy name. I will look after your furball for you.” the man said. “It’s not mine!” Dante said louder.

“Come on now we don't have all day.” the man said. “Fine after this though we're having a talk.” Dante said, crossing their arms. Dante stepped up to the mirror. “State thy name.” the mirror spoke. “Dante.” Dante replied. “....... state thy name.” the mirror repeated. “Dante! My name is Dante” Dante yelled. Several students covered their ears. “Well nameless one. The shape of thy soul is… odd.” the mirror spoke. “Pardon?” the crow man asked. “Their soul is a dark fire hiding a seed of light, a seed of mutual agreement. A lot is lost in this soul, even memories are lost. Even so this soul is directionless, lifeless even. There is no rhyme or reason, there just is. For this reason they are not suited for any dorm” the mirror spoke. “Dorm? rhyme? reason? None of this makes any sense! Most of all I said my name! Why is everyone ignoring my work? If Grim can understand me can't you guys?” Dante asked, turning to the Crow man. “If they are not able to be enrolled I’ll take their place!” Grim yelled, wiggling out of the pink wip. “I’ll show you all! My magic is the cat’s meow!” Grim yelled.

Dante pov:

As Grim blew hot blue fire everywhere. Dante started to panic looking around to see other students. Panicking as well. One caught Dante’s sight. Dante ran over and put the fire out from a panicking student's butt. “Thank you so much you're a lifesaver!” a boy with red eyes said. They weren't as drinking as Vergilius’s red eyes. “Oh uh you're welcome…” Dante said. “You don't say a lot huh?” the boy with red eyes asked. “But I just…” Dante stopped mid way since someone ran over to the two. “Kailm! What happened!” a boy with calculating eyes said. “Oh! My butt was on fire but this person put it out!” Kailm said, ponting at Dante. Dante waved. “Thank you, from both of us.” the boy with calculating eyes said. Dante looked back to see two students caught Grim. They gave Grim to the crow man. Dante watched as the crow man walked to them. Dante panicked for a moment. “Get you familiar in line!” the crow man yelled at Dante. Dante was sick of this. “I am Not the owner of this animal! I never owned it! Stop putting words in my mouth!” Dante yelled.

Crowley Pov:

“Bringing an untrained familiar is how you get accidents like these! Someone could have gotten seriously hurt! I won't expel you for I am gracious” Crowley continued scolding. *tick tock. tick tock* the sound of that blasted clock got louder. When did they even get a clock in here? “Uh can someone shut that clock up!” Crowley demanded. After that it was only a moment, just one moment, one moment Crowley wasn't prepared for. *SLAP* Crowley felt as his cheek got warm. Then it started to sting, Dante had his hand up slightly. Crowley was about to go on about how Dante was ungrateful and how he assaulted a member of faculty. How Dante was about to receive a worse punishment than before. Yet Crowley stopped in his tracks...

After Crowley saw Dante’s face. Dante’s hood fell down. Dante’s head was… it was a clock! “How could you be so stupid they're literally yelling about how I’m not there familiar. You def!” Grim yelled. It dawned on Crowley that the ticking was Dante. That Crowley had told Dante to shut up. That he ignored and was muttering about how annoying it was to hear Dante’s voice. Not that slapping Crowley was the right thing. “There they just said it! I’m not theirs.” the little cat monster said. “You can understand them?” Crowley asked. “They're yelling how hard it is not to hear them. Also what does “bastard son of a bitch” mean?” Grim asked. Dante stopped… There was a small chime. Crowley gasped, he wasn't the only one. A few students actually fainted. “Such profanity would not be tolerated.” Crowley said, looking at Grim. “they said it.” Grim pointed at Dante. Dante’s arms were crossed and Crowley could understand what Dante was saying. ‘What are you going to do about it? You have no evidence that that is what I said.’ Crowley had a feeling that this year's entice ceremony would go horribly wrong. Yet he never knew the magnitude.

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orangepanic · 11 months ago

Text

Baatar Sr. adopts Asami AU for @thatoneguy56fanfic

In spite of their chef’s best efforts the girl—young woman, he supposed—only picked at her food. A small bite of fish here. A single sliver of purple sea onion. She tucked each one into her red-lipped mouth as if putting marbles back in a sack after playtime. Not an ounce of pleasure on her face. Baatar found his eyes drawn to her again and again in the same way one might watch the aftermath of a head-on collision. Asami Sato, both body and ambulance.

“She’s your daughter’s age,” Suyin teased as soon as they were alone.

“It’s not funny,” he replied. An uncharacteristic disagreement. “Spirits, Su, can you imagine? Opal said they’d only just reconciled.”

The laughter in his wife’s face faded as she turned away. “No, I can’t,” she said. “But I do know something about not having a father.”

Baatar sucked in a breath. He’d walked right into that one. “I’m sorry, darling,” he said, pulling her close. Suyin slotted against him, so warm and familiar. Her delicate breath tickled his neck. “It’s not a comparison. I only wish we could do more than give her somewhere to visit.”

“Because we don’t have our hands full with Baatar and Kuvira right now?”

“Because Baatar and Kuvira are the reason Asami doesn’t have a father.”

Su had nothing to say to that.

The next day Baatar began his project. “Excuse me, Asami?” he asked after breakfast. “I wonder if you could lend me a hand?”

Her eyes met his, hollow. “What do you need?”

What Baatar needed took most of the morning. He hadn’t really required a second person to help him move his chalkboard from one side of his workshop to another where the light might be better, but in the end it was nice to have a capable set of hands to balance and measure and mark on the wall. Asami proved swift and efficient. Once the final screws were screwed and they were both thoroughly covered in white chalk dust Baatar asked her if she might review his plans for an expansion of Zaofu’s opera house later on. As a favor. Asami said yes.

They continued like that the rest of the week. Every day Baatar created a project for which he might need the assistance of a fellow engineer. Some were items on his long to-do list; many he simply made up. And every day Asami agreed to help, and spent anywhere from an hour to half the day working on whatever it was he’d decided needed doing. At first Asami mostly took instruction. But as time passed Baatar started to press her for her own ideas. Did she think the lift should be hydraulic or not? Which way should the road cut? Had she come across a better material for the coating in her own work? To these questions he also started adding the odd bit of fatherly advice or occasional terrible pun. It took three days for Asami to laugh at one of his jokes, but eventually she did. And Baatar found that not only were her ideas often good and not at all what he would have done, but that he got more done that week than he had in the whole two months prior.

“I’ve missed this,” he said one afternoon as Asami tightened the lug nuts on the last tire of the new heavy duty motorized garden wagon he’d decided the estate somehow needed. Hu Meng was getting old, and while they could simply hire another gardener he’d never much liked changes in staff.

For a long time Asami didn’t say anything. Sweat dripped down from her hairline into her tank top as she strained against the wrench. But finally Baatar heard it, just a whisper. “Me, too.”

That night he talked to Suyin again. What was one more child after all? With Opal moving in with Bolin they even had a spare bedroom.

“It doesn’t have to be forever,” he said. “Just until she finds her feet again.”

Su gave him a knowing smile. “Sure, Dad,” she said.

#asami sato #baatar sr #tlok #legend of korra #fanfic #drabble

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pavardscherie · 2 years ago

Note

That Julian smut drove me insane! That was literally the best Julian Brandt smut I’ve ever read.

All I can think about is smut with him in the locker room after he loses a match.

── the aftermath of a loss, julian brandt

⤷ pairing ;; julian brandt & female reader ⤷ summary ;; after a loss against bayern münchen & losing the first place as well, julian needs to take out his anger somewhere. or better with someone. ⤷ warnings ;; p in v, explicit sex scenes, touching genitals ⤷ minors ;; do not interact, thank you. ⤷ izzy's rambling on ;; i don't know if i can say it like that but i'm in love with this piece, like really in love in love.

⤷ word count ;; 2653.

borussia dortmund was on a winning streak for weeks. no one was able to stop the yellow-blacks from reaching the top of the bundesliga chart until the archenemy visited the signal iduna park. the first place was owned by bayern münchen, they reserved it for years and kept getting stronger and stronger.

this time, the team of borussia dortmund was prepared for such an intense game. at least, it was exactly what the coach and his players thought before the referee blew the whistle to start the first half. everything they‘ve shown on the pitch those past weeks vanished. dortmund stood against the great bayern münchen like a team who just joined the higher ranks of the bundesliga and couldn’t focus at all.

it was a disaster, starting with kobel missing the ball in euphoria, and granting bayern an easy lead goal. what followed, could have been suicide. three goals, outplayed by the team, and not even being able to defend the slightest from an incoming attack. and to say julian was furious about the embarrassing match was a ridiculous understatement.

it should not have been possible to feel this kind of degradation after dominating the chart most of the time.

when the dortmund players left the building one after one, you started to feel the concern gnaw on your heart when julian's handsome, cherry blossom-pink-tinted face did not appear in your sight. the jersey, colored in bumblebee golden and deep black, draped over your crossed arms, you decided to await the next appearing figure from the tunnels before going inside.

but instead of the handsome face, you admired so much at each hour of the day, his captain stepped outside. dressed in the bright sunflower-yellow jacket with the dortmund emblem sewn on the front left, marco raised an arm to wave goodbye to you before disappearing towards the waiting car.

shaking your head, you felt the frustration building up, and mixing with the formerly felt feeling. concerned about julian‘s well-being and him, beating himself up, for a lost match, you entered the tunnels. your face was a known one to the guards, julian has taken you to the vip section more than once in the past.

greeting them nicely with a nod of your head, you strolled down the corridor until the locker room sign caught your eye. most players already left the building, desiring to be with their loved ones after such a devastating outcome, yet, julian still stayed in the arena.

knocking against the door with your knuckles, you waited of couple of seconds for an answer. but the silence from the other side frightened you. pushing the door open carefully, you glanced inside. dim, yellow light from the ceiling illuminated the changing room, the small corridor to the shower was completely dark. in the right corner, you recognize the large, yellow bag with number nineteen written on the thick material.

„jule?“ your soft voice echoed through the locker room, reminding you that you should not be in this place, not julian seemed to be. walking further inside, the heavy door closed behind you. the surprising sound almost made you jump, as sudden shivers covered your skin. „jule?“ you questioned again, hoping that he would just sit somewhere around the corner, trying to play a very unfunny joke on you.

but there was no answer again. instead, footsteps boomed off the walls, the loud sound of soles hitting the tiles on the floor made it difficult to determine the source. looking from left to right, you suddenly felt trapped in the middle of a locker room. and when you finally decided to explore the darkened room where the showers were, a hand wrapped tightly around your wirst and effortlessly pulled you backward. your chest collided with the cold door, the heated cheek pressed against the material. an arm twisted behind your back, holding you perfectly in the position.

an attempt to wiggle yourself out of the contact fired the wrong way. instead of being able to run away from whatever was happening at the moment, you were pushed stronger against the door. exhaling hasty, and quick breaths as the sudden fear overshadowed any previous feeling you had, your ears were blessed with an all too familiar chuckle. „calm down, love. it’s just me.“ julian cooed, pressing himself against your back to blow a gentle kiss on the crown of your hair.

the increased heartbeat finally slowed down when julian confessed that the presence you felt, was him. „you fucking scared me, you idiot.“ you remarked, rolling the eyes to the back of your head in annoyance. “come on, babe. don’t do that, it only ends in punishment.” julian teased, reminding you of the list of rules he made months ago. rolling the eyes, and unnecessary insults were truly against what he demanded.

“can you let go of me now? i’m pretty sure, you’re leaving bruises again.” you let your head lean against the cold door, feeling your mind drifting into a different world. the position you were in, pressed up against the door, with your back slightly arched and exposing your ass to him. perfectly, rounded cheeks which became the greatest occupation for his rough palms.

“why? don’t you like it?” julian muttered, a hand wandering over your left side, and dug into the skin around your hipbone. “i like it, the way your body already reacts to my touch in this position.”

“jule.” you spoke, a warning, low tone overtaking your usual, gentle voice. “we can work further on your growing problem at home.”

“don’t think i can actually keep the anger inside of me for longer.” you tried to wiggle out of his tight grip, but with one of your arms held tightly on the curve of your back, your empty one was completely useless. even with two, it would be difficult to overpower the blonde man. “let me fuck my rage into you, baby.”

you wished for your head to stop working for once, or at least, having your body under control when julian was around. but your legs betrayed you, clutching together tightly and attempting to stop the wetness from pooling. “see, don’t tell me you don’t want me.” julian’s deep chuckle vibrated in his chest, and sent shiver straight down your spine.

ignoring him was easy, resisting his attempts of having his way with you, was impossible in each situation. “i will make it quick, i promise.” his lips pressed a quick kiss to the side of your neck, the wetness reminding you of the times, his skilled tongue trailed over the veins on the sides of your throat after multiple orgasm denials.

how lucky for the midfielder that you picked out a denim skirt for today's match as the sun settled deeply in the sky, between the small clouds that traveled alone through the endless blue. "I'm not convinced about this, jule. i don't want you to get ― "

the second you ranted again about the consequences that waited behind the same door, you were pressed against, if a coach or guard decided to check if the changing rooms were empty; julian decided for himself to interrupt you. fleshy fingers brushed over the velvet, lace underwear, tapping the rough pads against the damp spot right between your thighs. "you've always been too intrigued by a little aggressiveness, my love."

julian knew exactly which buttons he had to press, or which words had to roll off his tongue to coax out the needy whimpers, and sharp hisses from your dry throat. it happened often enough to become a daily habit for the football player. letting the tips of his fingers trace over the lace material of your panties, drawing each ornament painfully slow, the lightest but most skillful touch already blessed you with enough bliss to let a simple moan slip past your lips. "so easily convincible."

his vocals were teasing you, a reminder of how quickly your demeanor faltered once his skilled fingers found the right places to touch. mostly the wetness pooling between your thighs, on other days, his meaty palm against the silken skin of your waist. on other days, it should not be this unchallenging for julian and yet, resisting him turned out to be hopeless. "so beautiful, so wet."

fingertips dipped underneath the thin layer of lace material, pulling the fabric to the side to reveal your dripping pussy. "what a pity, i can't feel your sweet taste on my tongue." the confession made you clench your thighs together, the desire increasing to a level, you did not know existed. but julian reacted quicker than your body, using his knee to keep your legs open enough for his hand to fit between them.

he tsked, "come on baby, don't be like that. we have to be quick." the explanations he gave you, were backed up by many reasons. solely a handful involved the appearance of a teammate, who had a hard time keeping a secret to himself. by midnight, anyone at borussia dortmund would be informed about the extraordinary happenings in the changing room.

you winced as he smeared the pre-cum over your pussy, coating his dick in a mixture of your juices, and partly his. "don't worry, princess. i will just hurt for a couple of seconds." julian informed you, preparing your mindset for the intentions he had. before processing, that the little play of his hands was solely to demonstrate how much power he had over your body; and not because he felt the need to stretch you before entering, he already pushed his tip between your labia and into your wet hole.

the warmth immediately greeted him, your walls stretched out for his dick and the wetness still pooling between your thighs, made it easier for julian to slip in. he always loved how damp a spot on your lacey underwear was; after simply touching your party in general places. pads digging into your waist, fingers dancing to an inaudible melody over your exposed thigh. the little things caused sparks in your stomach, the thought of not knowing what julian was up to next.

for now, you knew, he wasn't going to be easy with you. time ticked away, the cleaning staff should shortly arrive to eradicate the mess, the team left behind in the tunnels and rooms. your sole free hand clenched, trying to hold on to something. but pressed against the door did not give her many options. nails scratched over the solid metal of the door, not strong enough to fill the room with squeaks. "fuck, you always feel so good, always welcoming my cock."

the words coaxed a slight moan out of your throat, needing to feel more of him before the time ran out. hues of cherry red and watermelon pink mixed on the span of your cheeks, the soft skin of your right face pressed against the metal door while one of your arms was still trapped on your back; and julian's tight grip.

his free hand stroked over the left cheek of your ass, slapping his finger multiple times against the wiggling flesh while starting to pull his dick, and thrust himself back in. easy wasn't an option tonight, julian needed to make the most of the minutes that were left. and going home with him would be so much easier if the rage vanished into thin air, and the rants weren't as horrible to listen to.

skin slapping on skin echoed through the formerly dead silent changing rooms, the rough-skinned palm pressed against the lush skin around the length of your waist. lids fluttered closed from the bliss of his deep thrusts, the reddened tip stroking the sweet spot inside of you. pushed in the pleasure-filled haze, and the sensation of being trapped between the cold door, and his warm body, were almost enough to tip you over the edge.

you let him set the pace, feeling his hips snap against your ass quicker and harsher than the past times, you were sprawled out on the bed, julian hovering above you. while the time was short, the midfielder had a harder time concentrating on his relentless movements with the pretty noises that fell out of your mouth. melodious moans, and soft whines, combined.

"why don't you cum for me, love?" julian's voice was closer to you, his chin resting on your back, the mouth pressing soft kisses over your shoulder blade. "or do you want the cleaning staff to find us? maybe even watch us without letting us know they even found us?"

his voice was a mess of raspy but persuasive words, luring you into another world filled with much more than quiet whines. slowly, you forced yourself to open your eyelids. a sudden desire to at least have a glimpse of what julian looked like at this exact moment overcame your pleasure-filled body. blonde strands turned into an inevitable mess. beads of sweat covered his forehead, the thin hairs stuck against the sticky skin as he solely focused on the moment, how his thick length disappeared in your stretched-out pussy.

eyebrows deeply furrowed, thick lines of wrinkles appearing between his eyes and the hairline as the concentration twisted his features. it was always julian's priority to make you cum before him, and he always succeeded. his entire being, his presence, has been addictive and intoxicating for you since the first day, he laid his eyes on you

and the image of julian behind you, so entirely focused on sending you into a deep bliss-filled haze, and it was right there. the pleasure overcame you faster than expected, the low groans coaxed out of his dry mouth pulled the last strings to untie the knot. quivering limbs, nails trying so miserably to leave marks all over the door and your walls clenching around julian's length, holding him tightly inside of you while his thrusts became a sloppy rhythm. moans left your dry mouth in a mess, his name mixed with oh's and multiple curse words.

large hands grabbed at your hips desperately until he's emptied himself inside of you. pressing his body against yours tightly, julian's hips stuttered as last the white spurts covered the insides of your pussy. instead of pulling out of you, you felt the bruising grip of his fingers release the arm behind your back, and press the palms of his sweaty hands against the cold metal door. heavy-breathing chest lifted with the deep inhales of oxygen, and you felt every movement; trapped further between the solid exit and your boyfriend. "told you, you would like it." julian breathed against the side of your head, the warm breath fanning mildly across your ear as he slowly, and very carefully pulled out of your pussy.

the soreness settled in quickly, as your wetness and his semen dribbled down the inside of your thighs. "never said i would not like it. just a very inappropriate location." you chuckled, forcing your exhausted, and heavy limbs to turn around and face julian. delicate fingertips reached out for his face, trailing along his temples and over his right, red-tinted cheek.

"you look like you just came off the pitch." and the confession made him chuckle, even after losing the game after having such an advantage. "nah, they don't make me this whacked. only you do." he tugged his limp dick back into the jogging pants, before his calloused fingers helped you to place your lace, still damp, panties over your pussy again. your face twisted in disgust, the feeling a rather uncomfortable one.

"just till we're home." julian muttered, letting you pull down the denim skirt before taking a step forward, his chewed-up lips placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. and just as he turned around to grab the yellow bag from the wooden benches, the squeaking sounds of the cleaning staff's old trolly echoed through the catacombs.

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