#and if you are good at figuring out plot!!

[maskedbyghost]

Simon knew marriage came with adjustments, but nothing could have prepared him for life with a writer.

It wasn’t just the weird questions—though there were plenty of those—it was the way your mind never seemed to slow down. You’d be doing something completely normal, like folding laundry, and suddenly stop, eyes going distant.

He’d barely have time to ask what was wrong before you’d rush off to scribble something down, muttering about plot twists and character arcs.

Sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night to find you sitting up in bed, phone screen lighting up your face as you frantically typed notes because “this idea can’t wait until morning.”

It meant half-finished coffee cups scattered around the house, abandoned when inspiration hit.

It meant narrating your own actions under your breath, like “she sighed, stretching her arms above her head” while actually doing it, which always made him raise an eyebrow.

And then there were the moments that made him question everything, like when you casually asked if he thought someone could realistically survive being shot twice in the chest or how long a body would take to decompose in a swamp. He used to answer with concern. Now, he barely looked up. “For a book?” “For a book.”

At first, he thought the strangest part was the research, but then he realized it was how easily you pulled him into it. You used him for everything—testing out fight scenes by making him grab your wrist so you could figure out how a character would escape, running your hands over his shoulders and down his arms as you mumbled about muscle structure and “what kind of build do you think my main guy should have?”

You studied him constantly, stealing phrases he said, describing his expressions in your notes, even admitting once that a few of your male characters had a bit of his attitude.

And then there was the way you used him for other inspiration. He figured it out one evening when he saw you sitting on the couch, staring at him with that look—one that usually meant you had something on your mind, but this time, you weren’t saying anything. Just watching.

He glanced over from where he was cleaning his gun. “What?”

You didn’t answer right away, just tilted your head slightly. “I think I want to write a new scene.”

He raised his brow, setting his things aside. “What kind of scene?”

A small smile played on your lips as you stood, walking toward him. “Something a bit messy.”

Simon leaned back, arms resting lazily on the couch as he looked you up and down. “You need details, then?”

“Mhm.” You straddled his lap, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. “Need to get it just right.”

He smirked, his hands settling on your waist. “That why you’re lookin’ at me like I’m about to be put to work?”

“You don’t mind a little hard work, do you?” you teased, nails scraping lightly against his skin.

His grip tightened, voice low. “Not if you’re gonna make it worth my while.”

Much later, when you were tangled in the sheets, catching your breath, you rolled over and reached for your phone. Before you could even unlock it, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against Simon’s chest. “Nope,” he muttered against your shoulder.

You laughed. “I just had a thought—”

“Don’t care.” His voice was warm and heavy with sleep. “Whatever you’re about to write down, you can remember it in the morning.”

“But—”

A hand slid down your hip, fingers pressing into your skin in a way that made you shiver. “I said, in the morning,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. Then, just to make sure you listened, he added, “Be a good girl and go to sleep.”

Your entire body heated at the words, your brain short-circuiting for a second before snapping into overdrive. Without a word, you bolted upright, nearly diving for your phone as you started typing furiously.

Simon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are you serious?”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, fingers flying across the screen. “This is really good.”

-------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah

[aurorawritestoescape]

GIVE ME HELL

Stepdad Joel Miller x f!reader || 1,9 k

part 4 of A Step Into Hell || can be read alone

Summary: you come home drunk and Joel isn’t happy. He decides to teach you a lesson.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel's POV, dub con (alcohol intoxication) but reader's very into it, big legal age gap, dark!Joel, mean!Joel, possessive!joel, jealous!Joel, pussy/cock pronouns, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, degradation, slut shaming, a lil bit of praise kink, daddy kink, spanking (1), cum eating, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of unplanned pregnancy, swearing. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions but wears a skirt.

A/n: huge thank you to 🎯 anon for the hottest thots😘 I used the schoolgirl skirt idea in this story, it suited the plot perfectly! Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and for loving the mf💋I hope you all will enjoy this part! Love you!💞

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

Here you were. Miss ‘I need daddy’s cock to sleep’ came back from a party, looking like a whore. Who was surprised? Not Joel. A tight top was showcasing your gorgeous tits perfectly, a schoolgirl skirt was so short it was barely covering your ass. But what grabbed Joel’s attention immediately was your slightly smudged make up and your glossy eyes. Even in the dim light of the tv illuminating the dark living room Joel could see that you were drunk.

Probably trying not to sway, you purposefully leaned against the doorframe to say hi to your mother, your voice slightly higher than usual.

Joel wasn’t fooled by your act. A mix of rage and arousal set his body and mind on fire.

Drunk slut! Probably dragged your ass home after being groped and rubbed against all night. What if some horny frat boy fucked you?

Joel’s blood started boiling and your mother’s nonchalant attitude to the sight of you made him clench his fists even harder.

You needed to be punished. What wouldn’t he give to bend the whore over his lap and spank your juicy ass and slutty pussy. Fuck! His wife was next to him on the couch.

“How was the party?” she asked you with a smile.

“ ‘s ok. Going to bed. Good night.”

And you turned around and went upstairs. No! Not gonna happen. You weren’t getting out of it so easily.

Joel turned to his wife with his brows furrowed, having put a mask of virtuous concern on his face and hiding his semi with a throw blanket.

“Aren’t you gonna talk to her?”

”What about?”

“Her state? You ok with it?”

Your mother gave him a shrug.

“Yeah, she’s a little drunk but .. she’s been at a party. And she’s old enough to decide for herself whether to drink or not.”

Joel clenched his jaws but then took a deep breath, calming his nerves, and returned his eyes to the tv. Then he mumbled matter-of-factly, feigning his interest in the show,

“Hope ya ready to become a grandma then.”

He saw his wife fidget on the couch. Yeah, now someone was concerned!

“Why? What do you mean?”

“I mean that if you let her behave like that, then wait for her to get knocked up by some blogger or any other unemployed fucker. No college, no career. Doubt your ex’s gonna be happy that she ruined her future right under your nose.”

Joel glanced at his wife and shrugged like she’d done earlier. The naive bitch looked really worried.

Daddy Joel to the rescue!

“Honey, don’t panic. I’ll handle it. Let me talk to her. As a father figure.”

“Really? You’ll do that?” his wife asked with hope in her voice. Joel took her hand and looked into her eyes.

“Of course. I care about her. Very much.”

He wasn’t lying. You were his perfect fucktoy and he took care of the things that belonged to him.

“Don’t be too harsh on her,” his wife said as Joel got up and quickly adjusted his perked up cock.

“I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”

Of course that was a lie. When Joel came up to your bedroom, he unceremoniously stormed in and locked the door behind him.

You were standing at your desk, smiling at your phone, probably sending out 1000000 slutty selfies from the party all over the internet.

“Hey! You can’t just barge in like that?” you exclaimed, pouting your pretty lips.

Joel placed his hands on his hips and grumbled with a glare,

“Wrong! It’s my house and I can do whatever the fuck I want. You on the other hand —,” he pointed his thick index finger in your direction and barked, ”— can’t!”

“What?” You seemed confused and tired but all Joel cared about at that moment were his heavy balls and stiffening cock, locked and loaded to ruin his stepdaughter’s hole.

” ’m here to have a talk with you.”

You giggled, “What talk? The birds and the bees?”

“Somethin like that,” Joel grunted, taking a step to you, and then pushed you to your desk.

“Joel!” you half whispered, half exclaimed, trying to stop him with your little palms on his chest, but Hurricane Joel couldn’t be stopped. He roughly grabbed your hips and made you sit on the edge of the desk.

“No… Mom’s downstairs…,” you mumbled softly, already melting when he settled between your spread thighs.

”Then be quiet. You can cry a lil. She’ll think you’re really sorry,” Joel sneered, looking down at you. His chest swelled with pride and dominance - he was big and strong and you were just a silly girl, who foolishly thought that she could do whatever she wanted. Hell no!

“Ya think you can come to my house drunk? Lookin like a whore who’s been passed around?”

You averted your eyes in shame, murmuring,

“Mm.. no. Jus’ had a few beers.”

“Did ya have a few cocks too?”

You shook your head before Joel grabbed your chin with two fingers and tilted your face up to look into your dopey eyes.

”You let anyone use you? Which hole? Bet your sexy schoolgirl skirt is soaked with cum.”

“No-no, daddy, I didn’t…”

He slowly glided his palms down over the fabric covering your hips and then pulled your skirt up, exposing your bare cunt.

A deep growl rose from Joel’s chest before he gruffed, his voice ringing with rage,

“Ya went to the fucking party with your cunt out in the open like that? Ready to serve any cock close enough to her?”

Joel's nostrils were flaring, his fists were clenching your skirt, as he was glaring down at you. He must have looked really scary because you widened your eyes and grabbed his thick forearms.

“Oh no-no-no, Joel! I took ’em off just before stepping inside. Like you told me, remember? No panties in the house.”

His dark eyes were darting between yours, searching for any sign of deceit.

“Hope you ain’t lyin to me,” he grunted, burning you with his fiery gaze.

“I swear, daddy.”

That ‘daddy’ really helped your case. Joel got more horny than mad and looked down at your pussy. Without a word he pushed a finger into your hole and you gasped.

“Did ya wet yourself? Or just that needy?” he asked, keeping the finger inside your sopping cunt. ”Who’s all this slick for? Someone at the party caught your eye?”

“No, I… I kept thinking about you, daddy.”

Joel smirked, “Yeah? What were you thinkin?”

“You… you doing things to me.”

“Hnggg,” Joel pulled his finger out of your hole and licked his skin clean with a lopsided grin on his glistening lips.

“You got horny-drunk, yeah, babydoll? Could’ve called daddy. I woulda come down there, dragged you to the bathroom and pumped ya little cunt full.”

“Really?” you asked with a drunk smile, your heart eyes set on Joel’s face.

“Course not, dumb slut. I ain’t drivin god knows where on a Friday night to fuck you. Especially when I know that the pussy is gonna come to me.”

You scrunched your nose and pouted.

“You’re so mean.”

“Ouch, you hurt my feelings!” Joel barked a laugh and roughly grabbed your pussy, making you moan. Then he leaned down to your face, so close your lips were almost touching, and you reached up to him, initiating a kiss, but Joel pulled away and instead squeezed your cheeks with his hand.

“I ain’t kissin your beer hole. And here’s the talk I promised you.”

You pushed his hand away and glared up at him. Your stepdad grabbed the back of your neck with one hand, your pussy with the other and continued,

”Ya got drunk. And drunk girls are always in danger of bein used. I reckon you better learn this lesson at home than at a party full of strangers, uh, sweetie?”

He shook his hand full of your cunt and you whimpered a needy “yeah”.

Then Joel pulled you off the desk and roughly spun you around. You squeaked but didn’t protest. Manhandling you was always easy, like dealing with a rag doll, especially now when you were drunk.

“We don’t have much time so let’s start,” he spit and pushed you down on the desk. In a second your hands were clasped by his hand behind your back, his huge cock bulge pressed to your naked ass, your holes ready for him to use.

“Daddy, fuck me,” you whined needily, wiggling your naked ass, brushing it against his hard-on.

Joel titled his head and grinned. The bitch was really desperate. You’d always been a slut for his dick but the alcohol seemed to have made you extra horny.

“You don’t deserve my cock today, slut, but all this slick can't go to waste”.

Joel let go of your wrists, tugged his sweatpants down and freed his leaking stallion. Then he roughly stabbed you with his length and shoved it to the hilt in one go. You took him easily, your pussy dripping with need for his giant schlong, and moaned into your palm, already fluttering around him. Suddenly, Joel froze.

“Wanna come on daddy’s cock?”

“Yeahhhh.”

“Yeah? Then work for it, baby,” he ordered through gritted teeth, keeping himself from bursting inside you — your cunt felt fucking fantastic as always.

“Daddyyyy…”

Your whine only made Joel laugh. He slapped your asscheek, and growled,

“Move! If your pussy wants the fireworks, ya better ride my horse cock. I ain’t doin shit for you tonight.”

He stood still with his hands holding your hips, his throbbing cock deep to the base inside you, while watching you squirm and almost cry with frustration. You begged him again but Joel didn’t move an inch while all his inches were being soaked by your crying pussy.

Probably having realized that he was serious, clumsily and slowly, on trembling legs, you started moving your body back and forth, exposing Joel’s shaft to his eyes and then swallowing it back with the greedy mouth of your cunt.

“Yeah, sweetie. You doin it, look at ya. Take what you need. Milk him dry, babydoll.”

Joel’s praise seemed to entice you, to inject some energy into your body, and you started fucking yourself with his cock faster and harder. Slapping noises filled the room as your ass was banging against Joel rougher and rougher. Your stepdad dug his fingers into your soft hips, watching you pleasure yourself with his hard cock.

“She’s so thirsty— wants to get drunk on daddy’s hot sperm, uh? — ’ll make her swallow it all to the drop.”

Panting heavily, Joel sounded intoxicated himself while talking about your wet cunt, seeing her rhythmically sucking in his fat length and spitting it out.

“Yeah, daddy. Please.”

“Good girl—,” Joel croaked and began emptying his balls inside you, pouring all his rage and jealousy into your pulsating cunt.

You came right after, almost crying on his exploding cock, pushing your face into your palms to muffle your ecstatic moans.

When Joel filled you full of his cum, he pulled out and stood over you splayed on the desk like a used fuckdoll. He was catching his breath, watching your winking hole drip his creamy jizz, then wiped his cock with your skirt and helped you up.

”If I see you drunk again in my house, I won’t let you come for a month, ya hear me?” Joel roared and you hastily nodded. Then his lips curved into a satisfied smile.

“I’m glad we had this talk.”

He looked you up and down again, shook his head and left the room.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!<3

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

People who were interested in pt 4, no pressure to read bbs: @sunshineispunk @bonezone44 @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @tateypots

[mingi-s-dimples]

Accidentally Roommates - Yunho

~"Best friend's brother with yunho × reader- where reader has intense crush on her besties brother. She's so flustered whenever around him but never dreams of making it obvious, it would be mortifying. Especially because she's insecure about her appearance and thinks he's way out of her league. You could say shes the nerdy type while hes the this popular, attractive athlete. Not cliche in any way, slow, gut wrenching build. I want just the right amount of angst especially because she sees him with other girls a lot. And then it dips into fluff and sweet smut. Plot twist he ends up living with them for a few months which complicates things and her feelings as she tries to avoid him and not make her crush obvious."

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

genre, 18+, college au

summary: your roommate ends up being no one but your absolutely handsome crush.. and this switch is caused by your bestie, which does you good in the end.

wc: 4.6k

warnings: college au, sweet smut, making love, slight bulge kink, slight size kink, a lot of kissing and making out, reader is kinda insecure about herself, athlete x need typa shit, protected (we cheer in unison), forced proximity, friends to lovers, sweet love, lots of praising, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: heyy sooo this came oit sweeter than expected wusjsujs but my reader wanted it to be sweet smut so I guess it works 🤞🏻 i've never been this gentle in my fics ngl 💀😂 but hey it's a fresh breath of air (an absolute menace and filthy fic with jongho coming next week stay tuned), i hope you like it ml! 💖💖💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way!

You knew moving into the dorms for your second year of university would be an adjustment. What you didn’t expect was walking into your new room, suitcase in hand, only to find Yunho standing there, shirtless, with a towel slung over his shoulder.

Your best friend’s brother.

Your secret crush since forever.

And, apparently, your new roommate.

“Oh, hey,” Yunho grinned, running a hand through his damp hair as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Took you long enough.”

You just stood there, staring, struggling to breathe, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of him in your shared space. “W-What are you doing here?” you finally managed to stammer.

Yunho cocked his head, amused. “You mean in my room?”

His room?

Your stomach dropped. There had to be a mistake.

But before you could process, your phone buzzed.

**[Bestie]: Okay, don’t freak out.

[Bestie]: Sooo... I *might* have switched rooms with you.

[Bestie]: I really wanted to live with Alex [her bf] aaaand Yunho didn’t care so—surprise… I guess?**

Surprise.

You wanted to scream.

Your best friend had traded you like a deck of playing cards, leaving you to share a room with her ridiculously hot, athletic, popular older brother—the same one who made your heart race every time he looked at you.

You could barely function around Yunho in casual group settings. How the hell were you supposed to live with him?

“Oh,” you mumbled, still gripping your phone, voice embarrassingly small. “I—uh. I didn’t know.”

Yunho just smiled, so effortlessly relaxed. “Yeah, I figured. She was too scared to tell you in person.”

Of course she was.

He nodded toward your suitcase. “Well, since you’re here, might as well unpack. I don’t bite.”

That was debatable.

Because being near Yunho always felt like standing too close to a flame.

And now, there was no escape.

—

Days turned into weeks, and you slowly fell into a routine. Yunho was surprisingly easy to live with—clean, respectful, easygoing.

But the problem wasn’t Yunho.

The problem was you.

Because you were hopelessly in love with him.

And every single day in this room was pure torture.

You’d sit at your desk, desperately pretending to study, while Yunho lounged on his bed, scrolling through his phone or tossing a baseball between his hands, his stupidly muscular forearms on full display.

Some nights, he’d come back from practice, sweaty and breathless, shaking his damp hair out before stripping off his hoodie like it was nothing.

Like he wasn’t ruining your life.

And then there were the girls.

Because, of course, girls flocked to Yunho.

And why wouldn’t they? He was tall, insanely attractive, the star athlete everyone adored.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t yours to be jealous over.

But it still stung.

Every time you overheard a flirtatious giggle over the phone. Every time you saw him talking to some gorgeous girl in the cafeteria. Every time he left the dorm late at night and came back with his hair messy, lips bitten.

You hated it.

You hated how much you cared.

And worst of all? Yunho noticed.

Yunho wasn’t stupid.

He noticed everything.

How your fingers tensed when he stood too close. How you bit your lip whenever he walked around shirtless after practice. How you refused to meet his gaze whenever another girl’s name popped up on his phone screen.

And Yunho, being Yunho, decided to have fun with it.

"You’re bad at hiding things, you know," he mused one evening, leaning lazily against your desk while you pretended to focus on your laptop.

Your fingers froze on the keyboard. “Hiding what?”

He tilted his head, grinning like he knew a secret.

“You tell me.”

You swallowed, refusing to take the bait. “Go away, Yunho.”

“Why?” he asked, all mock innocence. “Am I distracting you?”

Yes. Painfully.

But you weren’t about to admit that.

So, instead, you rolled your eyes, keeping your attention firmly on your screen. “I have an exam.”

“Right, right,” Yunho nodded, before casually hooking a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

Your breath hitched.

His eyes burned into yours,

amusement flickering beneath something darker.

“Then why do you always get so nervous when I’m near?” he murmured.

You opened your mouth—nothing came out.

Because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?*

Yunho let out a low chuckle, thumb barely grazing your skin before he pulled away, pleased with himself.

“See?” he smirked, walking off like it was nothing.

Like he hadn’t just set your entire body on fire.

And that’s when you knew.

He wasn’t just teasing you.

He was waiting.

Waiting for you to finally break.

—

It started as a normal evening.

You sat at your desk, typing away, lost in your usual routine. Glasses perched on your nose, a silk blouse draped over your frame, tiny silk shorts barely covering your thighs. Hair tied in a messy bun.

You didn’t think much of it.

But Yunho did.

Because when you glanced up, you caught him staring.

Not his usual teasing glance.

A real, lingering, dark stare.

Something in his expression shifted.

“Yunho?” you asked cautiously.

He blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Huh?”

“You’re staring.”

His lips curled into something wicked.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, voice lower, rougher.

Your breath hitched.

“What?”

Yunho leaned forward, resting his hands on your desk, invading your space.

“You look good,” he said, tone slow, deliberate.

Your stomach flipped.

His eyes dragged over your frame, slowly, like he was committing every inch to memory.

“I—uh—” You swallowed hard, completely losing your train of thought.

Yunho exhaled sharply, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

And then—he kissed you.

Not a hesitant, testing-the-waters kiss.

A deep, slow, searing kiss.

Like he’d been holding back for too damn long.

Your mind short-circuited. Your body froze before melting into him, his lips coaxing yours apart, the warmth of his hands branding your skin.

Every suppressed feeling, every stolen glance, every bottled-up longing between you—

It all unraveled at once.

And you were helpless to stop it.

The moment Yunho kissed you, the world seemed to tilt.

His lips crashed into yours, warm and desperate, like he had been holding himself back for too long and couldn’t stand it anymore. His hands found your waist first, fingers pressing into the silk of your blouse like he wanted to memorize the shape of you. Then, his palms roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left between your bodies.

You gasped.

He took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, gripping your bare thigh.

You shivered.

It was too much.

Too good.

Your heart pounded so violently it hurt. His scent—clean, warm, intoxicating—filled your senses, making your mind foggy as his lips moved against yours, slow but needy, like he was savoring every second.

Like he was starving for you.

But then—the doubt crept in.

Why you?

He could have any girl he wanted. He did have any girl he wanted.

And yet, here he was. With you.

It didn’t make sense.

What if this was just another conquest for him?

What if you were just another girl he’d grow bored of the next morning?

Panic surged through you, and suddenly, you were pulling away.

"Yunho, wait," you gasped, pushing against his chest.

He stilled instantly, panting, eyes dark and glazed over with something deep—but he let you go.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, voice hoarse.

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for what you were about to say.

“This—” You gestured between you two, still breathless. “I just… I don’t know if this is—if I’m—”

Yunho’s brows furrowed. "If you’re what?"

You took a deep breath, looking anywhere but his face.

"I don’t want to be just some girl to you."

Silence.

Yunho’s jaw tensed.

“You think that’s all you are?”

You let out a bitter chuckle, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Come on, Yunho. Look at me." You motioned to yourself—small, shy, nothing like the girls that usually clung to him. "And then look at you."

His lips parted slightly, as if in disbelief.

"You’re…" You hesitated, then sighed. "You’re too handsome. Too popular. Too out of my league."

A muscle in Yunho’s jaw ticked.

He hated that.

Hated that you thought so little of yourself.

Hated that you saw him as something unreachable, when all he had ever wanted was you.

"That’s bullshit." His voice was lower now, tinged with something raw, something that made your stomach twist.

Your breath caught when he stepped closer, his fingers brushing along your jaw, gentle but firm.

“You think I want just anyone?” he murmured. “You think I’d do this with just anyone?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

His thumb traced your cheek, eyes locked onto yours with something so deep, so intense that your knees almost gave out.

“You don’t even realize how fucking beautiful you are, do you?” His voice was soft, yet aching.

Your stomach flipped.

“Yunho—”

He cut you off, tilting your chin up, kissing you again.

And this time, you didn’t resist.

Because you believed him.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had wanted you all along.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Yunho’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. His eyes burned with something deep, something that made your chest feel too tight.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice was softer now, but still rough with restraint.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

"You think you’re out of my league?" He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "God, if only you knew."

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his touch delicate, reverent.

"I’ve spent so long trying to keep my distance," he admitted. "Telling myself you were off-limits. That I had no right to want you the way I do." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "But it didn’t matter. I still wanted you."

You blinked up at him, heart racing.

His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper.

"I still want you."

A shiver ran down your spine.

"You don’t even see yourself, do you?" Yunho’s fingers slid into your hair, cupping the back of your head. "You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Every damn time you look at me, I feel like I’m coming apart."

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck.

"Every guy on campus watches you, you know that?" His grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "But they don’t get to have you. They never will. Because I’m the one who’s going to have you."

Your breath hitched.

"I don’t want anyone else, sweetheart." His lips brushed against yours, not quite a kiss, but almost. "I only want you."

And this time, when he kissed you, you didn’t pull away.

Because how could you?

The kiss deepened, and this time, you met him with just as much eagerness, fingers threading through his hair as you pressed yourself closer, needing more. His lips molded to yours with a gentle hunger, the kind that made your heart race and your body tremble.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, and there was a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes were dark, filled with longing, and for the first time, you could feel it—how deeply he desired you.

"God," Yunho murmured, his voice hushed and thick with emotion. "You’re so beautiful… I can’t even begin to describe how much you’ve been driving me crazy." His hands moved to your waist, holding you close, eyes roving over your face, drinking you in.

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing softly over your skin, before he spoke again, voice low and sincere. "I…I want to make love to you," he said, his gaze searching for yours, his words carrying an intensity that made your breath catch. "But not just because of how you look… it’s because I want to show you how much I love everything about you. Your heart, your mind, your body…"

You felt your cheeks flush, heart beating wildly in your chest. Was he serious? Did he really want that with you?

Yunho smiled softly when he saw the nervousness in your eyes, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently, almost reverently. "I’ve loved your personality from the very first moment I met you," he continued, voice tinged with admiration and something deeper, more possessive. "But when I saw you tonight, with your glasses on, hair in that bun, and wearing that silk set… I swear I’ve never wanted anything more." He ran his thumb along your lip, his touch like fire. "You were so sexy, so… effortlessly beautiful. It’s been driving me wild, wondering if you even realized how incredible you are."

You swallowed hard, the mix of his words and touch leaving you dizzy, your shyness making you hesitant but the desire inside you growing stronger with every second. You knew how vulnerable you were right now, but with him looking at you like that, you couldn’t help but feel desirable in ways you never had before.

"Yes," you whispered shyly, voice barely audible but full of desire, a blush creeping across your cheeks. "I want you, Yunho."

His eyes softened, and a low, appreciative hum left him as he leaned in again, kissing you with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. When he pulled back, he slowly reached up and took the glasses off your face, his gaze lingering on you as though he were savoring every detail.

With a quiet, almost reverent smile, Yunho gently lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

He paused for a moment, forehead resting against yours as he breathed deeply. "You’re mine now," he whispered softly, his hands trailing down your back. "And I’m going to show you just how much I need you."

The soft smile on his lips was gentle but possessive, the way he held you close spoke volumes, and you melted against him, unable to resist. Yunho was everything you had imagined and more—strong, protective, tender—and now, he was yours.

Yunho’s patience had been tested enough. The second he closed the door behind him, he knew he was done. No more restraint. No more slow, teasing build-up. His control was shattered—he wanted you. Now.

He pulled you onto the bed with a swift motion, his hands grasping your waist and lifting you gently, his lips pressing against your neck, murmuring low praises. But as soon as he stood up, his gaze was unwavering as he looked at you, consuming you with his eyes.

You felt small, almost overwhelmed under his intense stare, the hunger in his eyes so palpable that it made your chest tighten. Yunho was towering over you, all power and confidence. His shirt was the first thing to go, discarded carelessly onto the floor as his muscular chest was revealed in the dim golden light of the bedroom.

You were breathless. His presence was intoxicating—his eyes never leaving yours as he took in your every detail. You felt so vulnerable, yet so incredibly desired. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you, almost like he was taking his time, savoring the moment before he finally spoke.

"Can I continue?" Yunho’s voice was a low, husky growl, the kind that made your legs weak and your pulse quicken.

"Y-Yes," you whispered, the simple word barely escaping your lips as you stared up at him, feeling smaller under his gaze.

His smile was feral. "I can’t hold back anymore."

With that, his hands moved with unrestrained urgency, undoing the buttons of your blouse. He pulled the fabric off you, exposing your smooth, glowing skin to him under the dim light. His eyes darkened as they traced every curve of your body, mesmerized by the sight of you.

You shivered at the intensity of his stare, feeling completely exposed in front of him. Yunho leaned down slightly, brushing his lips over your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re so fucking beautiful," he murmured, cursing under his breath as he took in the sight of you.

The silk blouse was discarded, leaving you in nothing but your delicate silk shorts. Yunho’s eyes locked on your lower half, and with a low growl, he removed the shorts, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled them off your legs, revealing your bare skin.

His gaze flicked back to your face, his breath hitching as he took in how vulnerable and perfect you looked, completely at his mercy. His chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took, fighting to maintain control, but it was clear he was already losing the battle.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "You’re killing me."

Yunho quickly discarded his pants, and as he stood there, you saw the bulge in his briefs, straining and growing more impatient by the second. You swallowed hard, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You knew what was coming, and the anticipation made your heart race.

He took a step closer, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in the bed, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "Hey," he said softly, his voice oddly tender despite the urgency in the air, "it’s okay. I’ll take care of you."

And you knew, deep down, that he meant it. Yunho was here to make you feel everything. And more. He wasn’t going to let you go until he had shown you just how much he wanted you.

He climbed over you in the bed and his lips trailed down your neck again, each kiss deliberate, deep, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands moved with purpose, exploring your skin with a tenderness that contrasted the desperate hunger in his touch. As he kissed you, his hands slid from your waist to your thighs, drawing slow circles that made you gasp softly.

The praise he had showered on you earlier filled your mind, emboldening you, making you feel seen, making you feel wanted. It was a new sensation, the weight of his words settling into your chest, making you feel lighter yet more grounded at the same time. Slowly, your hand moved from his hair to the smooth expanse of his back. The muscles beneath your fingers rippled with each shift he made, making your heart race.

His body felt so close, so perfect against yours, and with newfound boldness, your other hand drifted down, feeling the tautness of his abs as they contracted beneath your touch. Your fingers hovered near his waistband, just over the bulge that was still pressed tightly against the fabric of his briefs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and before you even realized it, your fingers brushed over his hard cock.

Yunho’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes darkening as he met your gaze. “Mh?” he murmured, curiosity and desire mixed in his voice.

You hesitated for only a moment, but the way he looked at you, with all that intensity, made you forget your doubts. You felt a momentary surge of confidence. Slowly, you moved your hand away and met his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest as you realized the effect you had on him.

Yunho chuckled softly, a knowing smile curving his lips as he looked down at the way your hand lingered. His fingers moved to your waistband, gently peeling your panties away, his touch reverent. His hands were steady, each movement laced with affection and desire.

Then, with equal care, you slid his briefs off, your breath catching as you glimpsed him fully for the first time. The sight made your pulse race, but his touch was always gentle, always considerate. He reached out, his hand brushing your hair away from your face, a soft smile on his lips as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

Every word felt like a balm to your soul, washing away any doubts, any insecurities. The connection between you both was undeniable, and the tenderness in his voice only made it feel deeper. Yunho leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against yours, eyes closing as he exhaled softly.

“I want to take care of you, to show you just how much you mean to me,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with emotion.

You smiled softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you nodded, feeling his love surrounding you in ways words could never fully express. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, savoring the moment as if he never wanted it to end.

Yunho’s hands traced the curve of your hips, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body. His lips brushed against yours, soft and lingering, as if he were memorizing the feel of you. When he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice rough yet tender, “if you want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

The word seemed to unravel something in him. His hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist, and he pressed his forehead to yours again, his breath mingling with yours. He murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll always cherish you.”

With deliberate care, Yunho shifted and took a condom out of his private nightstand. Your eyes widened at the sight of the unopened box of condoms, making you think he'd gotten them just for you. His body aligned with yours right afger he slid it on. His hands guided you gently, his touch reverent as he positioned his cock right between your wet folds. The first brush of contact drew a soft, involuntary moan from your lips, the sound escaping like a secret you hadn’t meant to share. His eyes darkened at the sound, his gaze locking onto yours as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect.”

The air between you was electric, charged with a longing that had been building for what felt like an eternity. Yunho’s movements were deliberate, each touch designed to make you feel cherished, adored. He thrusted in slowly, his hands steady and reassuring, as if he were handling something infinitely precious.

Yunho’s movements began with a slow rhythm, each thrust measured and tender, as if he were savoring every second of this connection. His hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, before settling on your hips to guide you gently against him. Your own hands explored the expanse of his back, fingers skimming over the taut muscles that flexed with every movement. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer until his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His breath grew ragged, his voice roughening with each passing moment. “You feel… incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his words breaking into a low groan as he deepened the kiss. The sound of his voice, coarse and filled with need, sent a shiver through you, your body responding with a surge of warmth that made your breath catch.

Your whines escaped in soft, breathy gasps, rising from your chest as the pleasure built within you. Each thrust of his hips sent sparks coursing through your veins, the intensity of the moment overwhelming yet perfect. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he answered with a kiss, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your hips.

The rhythm between you grew more urgent, yet Yunho never lost that tenderness, his movements still filled with reverence. You could feel the tension coiling within you, your body trembling as you neared the edge. “Yunho,” you whispered shyly, your voice trembling, “I’m… I’m close.”

He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he nodded. “Me too,” he admitted, his voice strained but gentle. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

His words were all the encouragement you needed. The pleasure crested, crashing over you in waves as your body shuddered beneath his. Your walls clenched around him, drawing a low, guttural curse from his lips. He stilled for a moment, his breath hitching as he fought to hold on, but the sensation was too much. With a final, shuddering thrust, he followed you over the edge, his body trembling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and his cock deep down your cunt.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the shared rhythm of your breathing. Yunho’s hands gently caressed your back, his touch soothing as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice still rough but filled with warmth. “So amazing.”

Yunho stayed close, his body still draped over yours as his breathing slowly steadied. His hands moved gently, brushing strands of hair from your face before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice warm and tender, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his shoulder. “That was… perfect.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and content, before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. His touch was soothing, his fingers trailing lightly up and down your back as he held you close. “You’re perfect,” he corrected, his voice filled with affection. “I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

You nestled into his chest, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The world felt quiet, peaceful, as if nothing else mattered but the two of you in this moment. But then, the sharp buzz of your phone on the nightstand shattered the silence.

You groaned, reluctantly reaching for it. “Who could that be?” you muttered, squinting at the screen. It was a text from your best friend, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, what does she want now?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Your bestie?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Or whatever she is, she did the best thing by moving in with her boyfriend.”

You blinked, turning to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Because now I finally get to show you how much I love you without any interruptions.” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “And trust me, I plan on doing that a lot.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you set your phone back down. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, though the warmth in your chest betrayed how much his words meant to you.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling you back into his arms. “But I’m yours.”

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against his chest once more. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was the man holding you, the love in his touch, and the promise of countless moments like this to come.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[blubunz]

JUST TONIGHT

— bodyguard! leon s. kennedy x f! model! reader

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: porn with plot, maybe slowburn? slight slowburn, pet names, fingering, masturbation.

A/N: a real sucker for this AU i just want myself a man like this tbh. anyways I write this when I can't sleep even though I clearly have to wake up early tomorrow. (Okay it's afternoon now um WHY IS THIS SO LONG😭 I DID NOT EXPECT IT TO BE LONG)

Throughout your career, you weren't in need for a strong, brooding figure to protect yourself, you weren't fond of having anyone watching over you — it made you feel like you're just a weak girl, a damsel in distress who always needs a knight by her side.

And you are, you need someone to be by your side and protecting you from harm. Sometimes you do reckless things, and not to mention those times where you made stupid decisions that almost cost you your life if not for Lady Luck. But Lady Luck can't stay with you forever, and you don't want to be living on edge so constantly. It makes you look like a madman and, most of all, losing sleep, bad schedule and then it escalated to affecting your career and hard work.

And that's why he's here.

You've heard of him before, not on the news, but through whispers and rumors. Of all the things you've heard from them, you're surprised how Leon isn't on the news as much, maybe he's laying low, or maybe he's working for the government, all private and redacted matters.

So then, how exactly did you manage to hire him?

For one, you're curious enough to search him up. His name isn't hard to find, and you admit he looks good, perfect for modeling. The problem is that he hardly uses social media. If he does, then maybe he goes by some other names, or he doesn't post a lot. You found out about Claire Redfield though, at first, she doesn't leave much impression to you, but the pictures she posted have that same familiar face, albeit Leon is looking like a grumpy uncle who would give bad advice to his nieces in each photo.

Once you've decided that it was enough to go stalking people's profiles, you go and make a call using your fame and broad connections in and out of your industry. You got his number in your contact within two days, and your hands are shaking as you try to call him.

It's not that you're scared of socializing, it's just that you're hesitant of making this decision, of finally have someone to protect your life, of admitting that you seek help and reassurance.

But, the possibilities of death and dark thoughts fill your mind quickly enough, and you convince yourself you need this, for your own sake.

“Hello?”

“Is this... Leon Kennedy?”

It's been a month since Leon's been here. Truth be told, he doesn't care much about how people are falling in love with you, mainly just your looks and charisma. He's heard of you many times, so many times, you keep appearing on magazines, billboards, the news, advertisements and more. God, there was this one prime time of your life where your face was practically everywhere! Not that you're no longer famous, but that was the time where your life was endangered the most by how crazy your fans were — another reason why Leon is here.

Upon interacting with you during your own time, Leon found out you're not like how the media portrays you to be. He isn't a stranger to it, seeing famous people and important figures always having to smile and maintain a certain persona for the sake of the community. Sure, you have that bit of yourself in it, but when he escorts you hone, it's when he sees your fatigue.

Your shoulders slump as you sigh, putting your bag on the coffee table as the TV is playing some shows for white noise, you're scared of the quietness — having thoughts that might hurt yourself. Leon closes the door and locks it safely, carrying your bag up to your room.

He doesn't need to do that, Leon's aware his job is to protect your life, not servicing you like a maid ir servant, but he keeps doing so, helping you with the small things like carrying your belonging, to making meals for you.

“You can't sleep now.” Leon sighs, seeing you lying on the couch, eyes closing. He doesn't want to startle you, so he picks you up and carries you into your bedroom, seating you by the make up table.

This is a change of pace for Leon, everything he does has to be careful for you. No longer picking up guns to shoot bio organism weapons or anything of the sort, instead he's now attending to a young model. Two different lives, and Leon finds himself hard to adjust, remembering the times you joke about him acting awkward sometimes when you tried to talk to him normally.

Your name comes out of his lips, sounding sweet and calm. And your eyes open, lazily rubbing off your make up while Leon prepares the bath for you.

“You don't have to do that.” You say once he steps out again, smelling a bit of the bath bomb he put in.

“I know. But, protecting your life is my job, and caring for your bare minimum needs is included.” He explains, and you just nod, not quite sure if they're connected in your mind.

Still, you let him undress you. Your cheeks flush at the way his fingers hook under your top to remove it, oh the slight contact when his hand brushes over your tits or ass. And sometimes you find it crazy how it's you that's the one being attracted to someone, and not Leon, who never advances himself on you, he doesn't even react when seeing your body, you find it weird, but intriguing too when your looks being the most important aspect of your industry, you've gotten used to the attention and the reactions.

In reality, Leon is still human, he admits your body is attractive, he wishes to lay his hands on your body with a more intimate intent, with more sensuality rather than just helping you with undressing or carrying you, his eyes linger on your skin, seeing that your body isn't that perfect as they claim to be, and he imagines himself kissing your flaws, to be the only one seeing your most intimate areas. But he's worked long enough not to let his feelings get involved, he can't bare it not after—

“You can... let me go.” Your voice cut through his thoughts, and Leon lets you go, he didn't even notice he was holding you still, zoning out and staring at the back of your neck.

“Right, sorry.” He clears his voice a little, sitting by your bed to wait for you to finish shower. He brushes a hand through his hair, finding himself longing for some alcohol to drown out this feeling. And that's also a problem. You've said you don't like the smell that lingers when he drinks, making excuses on how it affects your own scent, and people won't find you as attractive. He just stops drinking when he knows he'd have to see you later, not quitting for good, just pausing to prioritize his job — and in within case, his job means you.

Stepping in the shower, you can't help but fantasize about Leon, you can't believe that you fell for him first, and now you're imagining his hand cupping your mound, squeezing you and rubbing your clit. You gasp, eyebrows furrowed with clear displeasure on your face — your fingers aren't enough, you need a hand big like Leon's, to feel those rough pads of skin trailing down your body.

Grumbling in frustration, you go ahead and finish showering.

Leon finishes checking over the securities and ensuring that no one was lurking near your home, he get back to the living room only to see you in your robe, making some tea for yourself.

“Tea?” You ask, passing him the cup before he could say anything.

“Thanks.” He swallows, eyes flickering to your form hidden under the thin silk robe painted by your favorite color, somehow seeing your body like this is much more arousing than when you strip down naked, it teases his desire, and it leaves him chasing that tantalizing image. You catch his lingering gaze, and your eyes twinkle with a hopeful glea. Maybe he likes you too? Even if he's attracted to your looks, you can work your way with making him love you fully. After all, he's the only one who sees you in your most vulnerable moments. He's special, and you let him know of that privilege.

You head off to your room, with him following behind. Leon helps you with closing the curtains and removing your robe, palms firmly rubbing your shoulders. You shiver, letting the garment pool at your feet before seating on your bed in just your lingerie.

Leon tucks you in, and every time he does things like this, he gives you that flutter in your stomach, god, it's always the little things that get to you.

“Goodnight—”

“Leon, wait.” You reach up, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt, and he looks at you with an unchanged expression.

“Yes?”

“Um...” You hesitate, will Leon find this weird? No, no, maybe you can make an excuse, saying that you're too paranoid. “Can you... stay in my room? Just tonight?”

Leon nods without hesitation or any questions. He sits by the chair near your makeup table and plans to just read something to pass the time.

“No, not there.” You say, your voice sounding abrupt as you try your best not to appear so needy. But you can't. You're just naturally so. “In my bed, please?”

Leon bites the inside of his cheeks to hold back his smile, you sound so cute with the little "please" as a cherry on top. He complies, sitting at the edge of your bed, a hand on your ankle.

“Is this good enough for you, princess?” He smirks, and you feel your cheeks flush. “Or do you want me to hold you close, hm? Protect you from the monsters, yeah?”

“That... That wouldn't be a bother.” You murmur, and Leon takes it to heart, taking off his jacket and crawling up to your side. Leon gets you on his lap, pushing your head against his shoulder.

“Better?” He asks, voice muffled from his lips pressed against your hair, smelling your shampoo.

You nod, hiding your flustered face in Leon's shoulder, that elicits a laugh from him and he brushes your hair. He rubs your back soothingly, feeling your body relaxes under his grip.

Leon traces his hand down to your lower back, kneeding your soft buttocks. You take a sharp inhale, subtly pushing up against his palm.

His eyebrow raises, smirking against your hair before rubbing your thighs, and you spread your legs open for him. Leon doesn't say anything and just watches your reaction. He can feel you breathing down his neck. Your heart picks up its pace in excitement.

“Do you like this?” He keeps the pace slow, rubbing up to the waistband of your panties.

“Mhm...” You nod.

“Want more?”

“Mhm.” You nod again.

He hooks his finger under the band, and pulls the garment down, enough to let his hand slide in, brushing just over the top near your aching clit.

The moment his middle finger presses against your bud, you moan, hips twitching against his palm.

“Have you been dreaming about this?” Leon asks, and you only whimper in response. His finger moves down, collecting your juices and pulling out, tasting your essence on his finger.

“Me too.” Leon admits, and he shoves his hand back to your cunt, pushing a finger through your entrance.

“I've been wanting this too. Even more, wanna feel this tight cunt around my dick instead.” He groans, the way your walls tighten around his finger is enough to make his cock leaking pre-cum. “Fuck— you're so tight already, hm? I bet you cum with just my fingers.”

You mewl, hips rutting against his palm, and Leon pushes another finger in, spreading your pussy open so that you can fit his cock.

“Oh, god, Leonnnnn!” Your eyes roll up as he pumps his fingers in and out of your cunt, juices drooling down his hand. “Mngh, f-fuck—”

“Good girl.” Leon whispers, kissing down your neck whilst your body trembles, shaking high in pleasure. “That's it.”

His thumb rubbing harshly against your clit, making your whines higher and higher, you sound so needy and desperate, an side of you that you don't want anyone to see — anyone but Leon.

Leon grunts, feeling your juices dampening his pants, right against his bulge. His cock throbbing in his pants, just aching to pound that tight pussy of yours. But he puts you first, making you cum and high in ecstasy.

“Mm, gonna cum, baby?” He coos, feeling your cunt clamping down his fingers. “Cum, baby, be a good girl and cum f' me.” He increases the pace and intensity of his thrusts, dreaming of them being his cock instead.

You moan loudly as you squirt against his palm, and your knees buckle, legs shaking and body trembling as you collapse on his body.

“Gooood girl.” Leon kisses your forehead, rubbing your back with a free hand while he sucks off your juices from his fingers. “Now, ready for the main event?”

You feel his cock twitches under you, and you can feel yourself heating up again. You gulp, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinding against his bulge.

“Yeah.”

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Good Luck, Babe!- Epilogue (1)

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan

Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 9- 10.1k Words- This chapter contains 18+ Smut

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 8

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Plot (with brief reference to homophobic parents) before eventual 18+ Smut, Thigh Riding, Fingering, Oral sex, Soft smut, Insecurities about body image, Reference to poor previous relationships, Aftercare. 

---

The sound of a knock at your door drew your attention away from your task at hand, hand pausing with the wooden spoon still in the pot of boiling water, the pasta still swirling around in the water as you halted, eyes flickering over to the clock and brows furrowing at who could possibly be knocking on your door so late. Swiftly, you lowered the heat on the pan before wiping your hands with a cloth, carrying it mindlessly with you to the door to answer, the questions arising in your mind answered as you opened the door, revealing auburn hair that you failed to stop being in awe of.

The warmth that escaped you in your past resurfaced as you made eye contact with the green of Wanda’s eyes, the sight alone of the mesmerising shade wrapping tendrils of love around your heart as you offered her a gentle smile, your eyes instantly taking the hint of apprehension and hesitancy written across her angelic features, gripping your attention as your brows furrowed once more. Wanda shuffled slightly under your enamoured gaze, still not quite used to the sheer amount of emotion you could express with a look before returning your tender expression, the uneasy feeling within her diminishing slightly as she took note of the tea towel in your hand, oblivious to Lucky who was now by your side trying to steal the item.

“Hey,” you softly murmur as you eventually feel the item slipping out of your hand, your gaze only briefly flickering away from the other woman before naturally being drawn back, still unable to stop the longing inside you to appreciate every moment you spent with her. “Is everything ok?” Your tone is laced with concern to match with the look on your face, Wanda’s chest blooming with warmth at your care, her eyes drifting away from you as she contemplated her answer, still trying to adjust to the change in your relationship.

It had only been a couple weeks since the two of you confessed to each other, two weeks since she had finally muttered the words ‘I love you’ and learnt to accept herself, two weeks since she discovered that there was nothing else in the world other than you she wanted as she somehow managed to fall even more in love with you. It was overwhelming, the innate desire within her to be with you, the yearning of the last twelve years almost nothing in comparison to the affection and warmth she’d feel in your presence, her soul desperate for you. The two of you were taking things slow, not wanting to overstep a boundary or rush into anything as you were both mature enough to realise there was more pressing matters in your lives to attend to, Wanda spending most of her time trying to have a civil conversation with Vision about the divorce or with Jennifer to figure out the logistics whilst you had been annoyingly busy with work. The reason and logic however didn’t seem to agree with Wanda’s heart though as she wanted more than rushed moments with you due to life, she wanted to be with you, to feel the comfort you provided but she was still unsure of how to do so, her relationship with Vision making it hard for her to ask for things she wanted. She knew you were different but she was still scared of the rejection she had grown used to.

“Yeah I just- I had a long day and I...” She starts, trailing off as she lifts her gaze to meet yours, hoping her green conveyed what she wanted to say. I’ve missed you.

Just as you always had been able to, you were able to read her like a book, catching the look in her eye and smiling at her comfortingly, stepping to the side and motioning with your head for her to come in as you could tell she just wanted to be with you. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want the same, shutting the door behind her and encouraging her to make herself at home as you wandered back to the kitchen to check on the food you were making, checking to see if you had made enough to feed her as well.

The last two weeks had be the same kind of torture for you, your body and mind unable to stop thinking about her, something you were fond of but also a little embarrassed about, feeling as though you were a teenager once again, infatuated with the girl next door and crushing hard. You were hopelessly in love with her and it proved to be harder than you thought not being with her, even if she was only next door. You also longed to spend time with her, to learn about her day, to ease her worries, to reminisce on the past and form new memories together, yet time hadn’t been on your side at the moment but hopefully tonight would be different and the start of something new.

“Have you eaten yet?” You ask in a soft questioning voice, your back to Wanda as she took residence at the kitchen island, perching on a stool and taking in your house once more, never properly appreciating all the little décor that just made it so you. A genuine smile graced her lips at your question, the natural care you showed her making her realise how little she was shown any sort of affection as you looked over your shoulder at her, taking in the sight of her.

“Not yet,” she answers, resting her head against her hand as she gets comfortable, leaning against the countertop and watching the back of you as you moved about, part of her a little excited at the fact that someone else would be cooking her dinner for once, a privilege she wasn’t presented with much. “I just got back from dropping the twins off at my parents,” she explains, a sour tone hinted in her voice making your brow raise, gathering that must have been one of the issues that stressed her out, waiting a moment to see if she wanted to talk about it and get it off her chest.

“I told them everything,” she whispers after a moment, her fingers mindlessly rubbing against her finger, so used to spinning the wedding ring that used to be there when she was anxious, a habit she never seemed to grow out of. Your eyes widened at her words, not wanting to jump to complete conclusions as you turned to face her, your face nothing but reassuring to her as her fingers continued to trace one another. The fact that a simple look from you could ease the storm raging on inside Wanda’s head calmed her, the fact that you were willing to just listen to her, to soothe her making her appreciate you all the more as you patiently stood opposite her, pulling her out of her insecure and doubtful thoughts.

“How did they take it?” You gently ask, checking on the ravioli before pushing yourself away from the stove, slowly making your way over to her till you were stood by her side, fingers brushing back her auburn locks. It felt natural to touch her lovingly, intimately as your hand instinctively moved to cup her jaw, letting her lean into your soothing touch, her eyes fluttering shut as her hand placed itself above yours, revelling in the warmth of your skin.

“They took the divorce better than I expected,” she huffs out, pressing her cheek a little more into your palm as her mind recalls the events of the last few hours, the plan simply being to drop the twins off for a sleepover and inform her parents of the upcoming changes. She remembers vividly the surprise that washed through her at the lack of animosity or irritation from her parents after telling them, the way her mother seemed to share a look of mutual understanding with her before letting her gaze drift to her husband, the sight stirring something uneasy in Wanda before she continued, suddenly building up the courage to confess more, naively thinking she was having a good moment with them.

Your thumb comfortingly brushed against her impossibly soft skin as she spoke, knowing it must have been hard to talk to her family about the situation, knowing that she had always felt such an immense pressure from them. You wished she didn’t try to carry the weight of her world on her shoulders alone, wanting to offer her support when others should have, to let her know that there was nothing ever wrong with her, she wasn’t a failure. She never would be to you.

“They didn’t react so well to you… to us,” Wanda manages out after a moment, a deep and heavy sigh escaping her lips as your face pulls into a look of shock that she had actually told them but also a saddened smile, knowing that it must have been a horrible experience for her.

Wanda had to block out the sudden outburst from her parents as they reacted to her words, the twins playing elsewhere and leaving her vulnerable to the words her father and mother spat at her, the words familiar as they had been thoughts that haunted her mind throughout the entirety of her life. She refused to believe them anymore, the cruel manner in which they were spoken to her still tugging painfully on her heart though, the other woman just wishing her parents could see that she was happy with you. Surely all they should want is her to be happy?

“Pietro said he would talk to them but I just-” She cuts herself off with an exasperated sigh, your lips instinctively pressing to her temple, taking in the brief scent of her sweet shampoo before pulling back, wanting to look her in the eye as you spoke.

“I know,” you murmur in understanding, her form instantly relaxing at not having to try and verbalise her thoughts, her green eyes flickering between your lips and eyes as she savours your touch, fuelling the fire in her heart. “Just so you know, I am so proud of you for everything,” you whisper in an honest and adoring tone, gaze overflowing with so much love it makes Wanda’s breath hitch, the words, the affirmation meaning the world to her as she feels herself finally being cared for. “For admitting it to yourself, for telling them. I know it’s hard but I promise you, I’ll be with you the entire way,” Wanda can’t stop the appreciative smile that tugs at her lips as she peers up at you in a look that can only be described as enamoured, her face turning slightly to press a kiss to your hand before she moves to stand, encouraging you to take a small step back as she lets her body sink into your embrace.

Her arms snake around your waist and as she holds onto you tight, simply needing to be close to you, to bask in your warmth and safety as your words resonate with her, dissipating the doubts that threatened to pick away at her mind as she focussed on you, on the way your hands delicately ran up and down her back, your body gently swaying hers.

“That’s all I could ever want,” she whispers against your shoulder, voice barely audible but loud enough for you to hear as you both relish in the lovers embrace, savouring the feeling of your bodies perfectly slotted against each other like the final piece of a puzzle.

***

A little while later, empty plates fill the sink as yours and Wanda’s laughter echoes around the room, love and warmth bubbling inside you both at the domesticity of the moment as you tidy up after dinner, green eyes trained on you as you move around the kitchen. Wanda couldn’t help but stare at you, constantly amazed at how she could feel something so passionate and powerful inside her towards you, her heart fluttering in her chest as you looked over your shoulder at her once more, casual smile tugging at your lips. It was intoxicating, the sheer amount of comfort you provided, her eyes settling on your lips, watching as they moved but not quite taking the words in as Wanda admired the plumpness of them, the way the corner of your lips tugged up at her oblivious state, her mind replaying the many times they had brushed hers.

Only once her gaze eventually drifted higher did she meet the expectant and playful look in your eyes, each swirl glimmering with a teasing glint as her cheeks flushed red, your hands motioning for her to pick between the two bottles of wine you had picked up. Her brow raised at your fine taste as she subconsciously bit down on her lip, trying to decide and unknowingly setting your body alight at the action, your gaze mirroring her earlier one and zoning in on her lips, memories of them ghosting yours cruelly filling your mind as heat settled within you. God she was beautiful, her auburn locks perfectly framing her face, eyes filled with concentration as she analysed the two bottles, her teeth pressing against her lower lip subtly, it was too much. You craved to feel her lips pressing against yours, to thread your fingers through her hair but you knew better than to rush anything, wanting to take it at her pace.

Instead of walking up to her and kissing her with all the emotions swirling inside you, you poured her a glass of wine as she requested, encouraging her to go into the living room and make herself comfortable whilst you brought them in, moving to sit next to her on the sofa. Wanda seemed to appreciate the action as she naturally moved closer to you, your fingers brushing as you handed her the glass, the delicate touch enough to send sparks throughout you both as your gazes meet, conveying more than words ever could.

Part of you didn’t want to break the longing look as you took in every shade of green but you decided to at the sudden tension building in the room as Wanda let her gaze drift to your lips again, her eyes darkening a little in desire and making it hard for you to keep your composure. You focussed on putting on an old sitcom you knew she loved to distract yourself, your eyes scanning the screen of the Tv to find the show whilst also noticing her in the corner of your eyes, her gaze still firmly locked on you as she sipped from her wine, seemingly contemplating something in her mind.

“You’re staring again,” you murmur in a gentle tease, turning your head slightly to meet her flustered expression at having been caught again, mirth evident in your features as her cheeks tinted pink, one of her fingers tracing the rim of the glass as she held it with the other, slender digits wrapping around the item.

“Admiring,” she corrects, “I was admiring you,” her teasing smile a sign of her amusement as she leans back against the sofa, keeping her gaze on you before briefly looking over at the Tv as to what you were doing. “I didn’t think you’d remember,” she whispers almost in a confession and slightly confused tone at the fact you had memorised her favourite show, her heart skipping a beat at the fact you had paid so much attention to her that even after years, you still knew the subtle things she enjoyed.

“It would be hard to forget as it was the only thing you ever talked about,” you taunted, recalling the many nights where she’d simply tell you the plot of her favourite episodes as you enjoyed hearing her rave on about the show, the enthusiasm and passion adorable to you as you would watch her with a loving look, wanting to hear her talk forever.

“It wasn’t the only thing,” she mumbled back in response, taking another sip of her wine as your smile grew, your body moving momentarily to place your glass down on the table and out of the way.

“Oh yeah?” Your tone is full of humour as you turn your body slightly to face her better, taking in the way her brow raises at your challenging tone, “What else did you talk about?”

“How insufferable you were,” she teases back, a glimmer of triumph clear in her eyes as you simply chuckle back in response, the sound blessing her ears as she had missed this, the playful conversations you would share, teasing one another until the other would break, most likely kissing the other to shut them up. “You were pretty annoying,” she whispers light-heartedly, the teasing expression on her face faltering at the way your hand naturally moves to her thigh, squeezing softly as you laugh with her, eyes meeting hers with an entertained look.

“You secretly loved it,” you murmur back, unaware at how the two of you had both leaned in slightly, Wanda however realising and moving to lean back so she could also place her glass down, wanting to move them out of the way as warmth settled deep within the pit of her stomach. The feeling of your fingers against her thigh sent a shiver down her spine, a sudden heat and desire consuming her as she licked her lips subconsciously to wet them, tasting the remnants of the wine on them as her gaze met yours, noticing how your pupils dilated as you looked at her.

“I did,” she whispers and neither of you seem to be able to stop the way you both gravitated towards one another, both of your gazes drifting lower.

Wanda wanted you, she needed you, she needed to feel wanted, to feel desired and be looked at in that loving way. Her heart longed to feel appreciated, to feel as though she was the most important thing in the world, to feel cared for, to lose herself in something, in you. Her body longed to feel your touch, to feel your hands caress her cheeks, her hips, her inner thighs as all she could remember was the ghost of your touch, haunting her in all the right and wrong ways. She needed to replace the feeling of larger hands that were only selfish, she wanted to be touched in a way that screamed I loved you, a touch that you were only ever able to satisfy her with.

“Wanda,” you sighed out as you noticed the distance between you close, an intimate atmosphere wrapping around the two of you as you leaned in, waiting to let years of passion consume you both. You craved her in a way that you didn’t think was possible, you were addicted to her, to her lips, to the sinful yet sweet sounds that’d spill from her, the taste of her as she would come undone in your mouth. She was like a drug, one you had been deprived of for too long and desperate for, trying to hold on to the last part of your restraint before you’d relapse into the desire you had for her.

“Y/n,” she whispers out and the sound of your name falling so gracefully from her lips set your entire body ablaze, your hand reaching up to her cheek, cupping it gently as your lips ghosted one another in a tantalising manner, not quite brushing just yet. It was teasing for both of you, waiting for the other to make the first move, not wanting to rush anything yet but your bodies had their demands, desire getting the better of you both as you had waited long enough. You needed each other.

“If we kiss, I… I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” you confess, your mouths so close Wanda can feel your lips move as you murmur to her, her heart beating wildly in her chest as anticipation gets the better of her, her hand moving to your hair, slowly threading her fingers in an making you flutter your eyes shut at the pleasant feeling.

“Who said I’d want to stop?” Wanda sighs out after what feels like an eternity when it was realistically seconds, the words enough to break your restraint as you tilt your head to crash your lips to hers, the world around you fading away.

The two of you both moaned into the kiss at the sheer intensity of it, the love and passion that your lips moved with against one another as you stole each other's breath away, both literally and figuratively as you refused to part your lips from hers. It was relentless, the way fervent lips moulded against one another, her fingers tightening their grip in your hair as your fingers moved to cup her jaw, splaying against her burning skin as you pulled her face back to yours, feeling as though the world would end if you stopped touching each other.

Wanda moaned softly into your mouth when you deepened the kiss, sliding your tongue against hers in a lewd yet sensual manner as you explored each others mouths, your free hand moving to her waist, caressing the skin in that intoxicating manner she adored, a sigh spilling from her lips in between heated kisses. Her body moved on its own as she manoeuvred to straddle you, the desire and craving inside her overpowering her as she settles on your lap, the action dragging out a deep groan from you as her thighs squeeze around your body, her back arching her chest further into yours.

“Fuck,” the word leaves you breathlessly as the two of you briefly part, your mind fogged with arousal as you take in the sight of her straddling you, her lips kiss swollen and hair a little ruffled, her green overflowing with want as she panted above you, scanning your features. You watched her curiously as she took in your equally dishevelled state, the passion of the moment dwindling slightly into a softer and slower tone, the urgency and desire still prevalent in all your touches though as her hand cups your jaw, tilting your head up to meet her lowering mouth.

It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her other hand move to your shoulder, drifting down over your collarbone and back up in a soft manner, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.

When she feels like she's savoured the moment enough, Wanda kisses you. She kisses you in a manner that shows she's been starved of your lips forever; it's hot, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you wanted it to be. You can't do anything but melt into her touch, hand clutching at her waist to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her. You wanted to worship her, to show her all the love in the world, to show her how your heart only beats for her. She was all you ever needed.

A soft moan leaves you at the intensity of the kiss, heat immediately taking over your body, her touch burning into your skin as arousal pools between your legs at the feeling of her lips moving against yours, a sensual sigh escaping her as you pull back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green. Your lips peck hers in between laboured breaths, her hands moving to your shoulders, gliding them down your back and earning another sinful noise out of you, your lips tugging into a smirk as her breath hitches at the feeling of your hands at the bottom of her shirt, cold fingertips brushing the bare skin of her stomach. However, the action doesn’t quite yet the reaction you hoped it would as she tenses above you, pulling back from the kiss and worrying you, scared you had crossed a line.

“I’m sorry,” you pant out, still breathless and dazed at the intense amount of arousal that clouds your mind, concern evident in your features and touch as your hands move to her thighs, softly brushing over the fabric of her jeans as she avoids your gaze momentarily. “We don’t have to-” you start, wanting to express to her that there was never any pressure between you, but she cuts you off, her gaze finally meeting yours.

Your brows furrowed at the look of insecurity in her eyes, your face softening as you let her speak, her fingers mindlessly playing with the loose strands at the back of your neck, eyes drifting over your features as she airs her worries.

“I want to,” she quickly reassures, leaving her green on your lips to emphasise her point before she looks into your eyes, basking in the safety your longing look offers her. “I just… I need you to know that I’m not the same as I was,” she whispers, anxiety and nervousness lacing her words as she lifts her hands to motion towards her body, avoiding your gaze once more as her mind casts back to the few comments Vision had made about her body post giving birth to the twins, the words sticking with her. She didn’t feel as though she was beautiful anymore and she didn’t want you to be disappointed.

Upon seeing her shaky hands and hearing her words, you sit up straighter to look into her timid green, fingers naturally moving to interlock with hers, encouraging her to look at you as your eyes fill with nothing but love, needing her to hear you.

“Wanda,” you murmur when she still doesn't meet your gaze, the insecurities gnawing away at her mind until your finger gently tips her chin up, her green instantly meeting yours and dissipating the worry. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” you confess, holding the intimate gaze and expressing the honesty in your words, the overwhelming amount of care in your voice stirring something deep inside her as she feels her emotions wracking through her, your words healing wounds she never realised cut so deep. “I love everything about you,” you murmur as you lean forwards, noticing how the worry slowly drains from her face, your noses brushing as you tease her with your lips, wanting her to hear you. “Your smile, your laughter, your heart. I love everything because they are a part of you. I love your body, even after all these years, because I know the amazing things it has done, the things you have done,” your words are laced with a delicate and loving tone as your fingers stay interlocked with hers, your hand squeezing hers as you peck her lips, smiling into the brief kiss as you feel her let out a relieved sigh, her body pushing hers closer to you as she kisses you again, wanting to drown herself in your love. “I also love that it’s still so sensitive to my touch,” you add in a gentle tease to ease the atmosphere, earning a soft chuckle from her as she kisses you with a little more purpose this time, the heat that had settled between her thighs making its presence known again.

“I’ve missed your touch,” she murmurs into a kiss, widening the smile on your lips as your hands move to her waist, caressing her soft curves as she grows more comfortable and confident, her hips slowly grinding down against you, sparks of pleasure filtering through her.

“Yeah?” you sigh out a little coyly into another slow and sensual kiss, your teeth biting down on her lower lip gently and dragging it down before releasing it, letting your tongue soothe over the dull pain you caused, relishing in the groan that escapes her.

“I’ve missed feeling so… so wanted,” she sighs out, letting you kiss along her jaw, peppering it in hot open-mouthed kisses as you trail her sharp jawline, dipping lower to her neck and kissing along her throat, teeth teasingly scraping over the searing skin.

“I’ll always want you, Wanda,” you whisper back without any hesitation, pressing a lewd kiss to the juncture of her neck, knowing she was sensitive there before pulling away from the skin before you’d start to cover it in marks, not sure how she’d feel about them. “I never want you to forget what you mean to me,” you husk out as your mouth ghosts her ear, hands guiding her hips with more purpose in your lap, her breath hitching in a sinful manner when her hips roll at just the right angle against you, a bolt of arousal shooting through her. “I want to worship you,” your tone makes Wanda moan at the sheer desire lacing your words, the way your teeth gently nibble on her ear lobe adding to the arousal coursing through her, her body drunk on your touch, on you.

“Please,” she practically whimpers out and fuck you’ve missed the sound of her begging you, a groan leaving your lips as you move your mouth back to hers, crashing your lips together. The love and care underlies the kiss but you both once again are taken over by lust, your actions fuelling one another as your hands drift to her hips, slowing her hips against your lap whilst her fingers tangle in your locks, tugging your head closer and never wanting to part from you until you motion for the two of you to move.

The journey to your room was a blur, hands roaming each other's bodies until the back of Wanda’s knees hit the bed, her body gently falling back against the mattress, her hair splaying across the sheets. You’re quick to climb over her body, pressing her further into the mattress, your lips moulding to hers as you claim her lips over and over again, only pulling back to admire the woman beneath you as your knee slots between her legs, earning a sinful sound. Your gaze is nothing but awestruck as you look down at her angelic form, Wanda shying a little at how in love you seemed, her hands grabbing the fabric of your shirt and pulling you back down to her, needing to feel you do something, anything to her at this point.

You take the hint and press your lips back to hers for a bruising kiss, your hand moving from the back of her thigh up her body, reaching the hem of your shirt and pausing, wanting permission this time as your eyes search hers, asking the silent question. Only when she nods confidently do you continue, your fingers sliding under the fabric and feeling the smooth and soft skin of her stomach, a sigh leaving her at the feeling of your fingers against her bare skin, the touch no longer just a memory.

“Y/n,” Wanda moans out as your hands trace over her ribcage, exploring the skin you longed to feel again, a hum leaving your lips as you refuse to part, your fingers pausing at the fabric of her bra, hands sliding out from under her shirt.

“Is this ok?” You whisper as your fingers wrap around the hem of her shirt, your intentions clear as she mutters a quick ‘yes’ in response before you swiftly remove the item from her, your gaze remaining on hers, catching the brief anxious glint again. You soothe her worries with loving and passionate kiss, your hands copying the actions you previously did but ghosting over her bra, teasing her in a torturous manner as her back arches to chase your touch, your name falling from her lips in a desperate plea, the sound going straight to your head and core.

Once your lips part, you pull slightly to take in the sight of her, your mouth parting at the sheer beauty of her, her body sculpted by the gods, her soft curves enticing, your fingers brushing lovingly over the marks you knew she was anxious about, the touch filled with awe and adoration. Your hands then slide up her body and around to her back, unclasping her bra after another nod of approval and eagerly taking the item off her, a sudden nostalgic feeling bubbling inside you as you remember the first time you spent together, the awkwardness as you both fumbled to undress, simply wanting to lose yourselves to the lustful moment.

“Fuck,” Wanda sighs out and its sinful when your hands gently cup her breasts, her body sensitive to your touch as her hips start to grind against your leg, begging for more friction to ease the incessant throb between her thighs. “Please,” she whimpers as your lips press against her jaw, letting her breathe for a moment as your fingers brush over her nipples, dragging out sensual sighs from her as you toy with her body, pressing your knee further against her and feeling her hips buck up hard against you, a broken moan being ripped from the back of her throat.

“Please what?” You rasp out in a tease, “You have to tell me what you want, love.” The term of endearment only adds to the arousal flooding through Wanda as the dominant tone to your voice goes straight to her core, her hips grinding against your thigh at a steady pace, pleasure swiftly building at the pit of her stomach whilst her hands clutch at your shoulders, nails grasping at the fabric of your shirt, wanting to pull it off.

“You, I want you,” she sighs out, pulling the shirt over your head and moaning into the kiss at the feeling of your bare bodies pressed against one another, one of her hands sliding up into your hair whilst the other scratches down your back, earning a pleased groan from you. “I need you,” she adds in a desperate tone, her voice and hips wavering, signalling to you how close she was as her hips rolled and rocked against you, the fabric of her jeans brushing perfectly against her clit.

“You have me,” you tease, one of your hands moving to her ass, guiding her against your leg and deliberately slowing her pace down, her frantic rhythm pushing her closer to her release. “Use my thigh first, love, then I’ll give you what you want,” your tone lowers an octave as you murmur to her, a moan leaving her at your words and the promise behind them, her mind running wild with fantasies as the memory of your fingers buried deep inside her and your tongue fucking her fills her mind.

“Shit, I’m so close,” Wanda sighs out, her head lolling back against the mattress, her neck exposed for you to kiss down, to mark as you suck a faint bruise at the base of her neck where she could easily hide, the action earning a desperate whine and encouraging the action.

“That’s it, good girl,” you praise as her nails dig into your back, her hips grinding relentlessly against you as she chases her high, the praise making her hips buck hard against you, a broken noise escaping her.

“Say it again, please say it again,” she pants out, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure threatens to crash through her, her fingers tightening their grip on your hair as she softly tugs you away from her collar bone, needing to feel your tongue sliding against hers.

“My good girl,” you husk out against her lips, a pitiful whine escaping her as she feels the coil at the pit of her stomach about to snap, her eyes fluttering open to ask you the silent question. Warmth and arousal instantly floods through you at the begging look in her green, the sheer amount of desperation and submission evident in her gaze enough to make you give in, your lips brushing hers as you mutter the words, “Come for me Wanda.”

With a final roll of her hips, Wanda’s body tensed against yours, a string of moans being muffled by your incessant mouth while pleasure consumed her entirely, her hands holding you close. Your hands slowed her movements against your thigh, letting her buck against you as she rode out the last waves of her orgasm, body melting against yours as she panted for breath.

Your gentle breath caressed her lips as she eventually opened her eyes in response to the soft praise you whispered, a blissed smile creeping onto her lips as your foreheads pressed against each other, her hips gradually coming to a stop against you as you kissed her one last time before starting to move down her body, ready to worship her as you promised.

“You’re so…” you trail off as your lips pepper hot open-mouthed kisses along her collar bones, hands drifting down her sides, caressing her beautiful curves and massaging her soft skin, feeling the way her body twitched at your touch in anticipation, her breath hitching when your mouth ghosted over one of her sensitive nipples.

“So?” She pants out, brushing back your hair so she could meet your seductive gaze as you took her nipple into your mouth, tongue swirling over the sensitive bud in a manner that drove her crazy, dragging moans out of her freely.

“Perfect. Beautiful. Mesmerising,” you punctate each word with a kiss down her body after you lavished her chest with kisses, your lips burning into her skin at each intoxicating touch, your words causing a deep blush to cover her cheeks and even the top of her chest, your lips tugging up into an amused smile at the reaction. “You’re everything to me,” you whisper against her stomach, pressing lingering kisses against the stretch marks that littered her skin from when she was pregnant with the twins, showing her your appreciation for her beauty and how the marks didn’t disgust you. You loved each and every single one as they told part of her story, your lips and hands brushing over the tender skin as your face practically nuzzled against her, worshipping her.

When your lips met the waistband of her jeans, you cast your eyes up her body, a moan escaping you at the sight of her flushed face staring down at you, your compliments flustering her and clouding her mind with want as she stared down at you settling between her thighs, her nails scratching at your scalp softly.

“Please,” she whispered with an overwhelming amount of want, your lips pressing a teasing kiss to the waistband of her jeans before moving to take the item off her, purposely taking your time. Your fingers move slowly and deliberately as you hold her intense gaze, languidly unfastening them before slowly unzipping them, watching in amusement as you see her chest start to rise and fall with ragged breaths, the teasing torturing her. “Detka, please,” she begs again and the use of her native tongue almost makes you cave, almost, an affected sigh escaping you at how her accent beautifully laced her words.

“Be patient,” you murmur back, her hips lifting to help you slide the fabric down her long, slender legs, leaving her just in her panties, a visible wet spot there for you to admire. “I’ll give you what you want soon,” you promise, merely earning a whine from her as she knew you intended on dragging this out, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “So needy,” you tease as your fingers brush over her clit through the soaked fabric, her hips immediately twitching at the teasing action, her hand in your hair tightening once more, pleading with you to hurry up.

“You’ve waited twelve years for this, can’t you wait a little longer,” you amusingly murmur as you kiss her hip bone, smiling against her skin as you hear her groan in frustration, her free hand gripping the sheets to help control herself.

“I think I’ve waited long enough,” she mutters back, earning a chuckle from you as your fingers drag over the wet fabric, slowly circling her clit in a way that’d only drive her insane with desire, her mouth parting to let a low moan spill from her lips. “Please… Please just fuck me,” she begs and all you can do is curse against her skin as you kiss her inner thigh, your hand spreading her legs out for you, eyes hazy with desire.

You give in partially to her, unable to take the teasing yourself as you press a sinful kiss against her clit through her panties, her body trembling already at your touch as the action pulls out a desperate whine from her, the noise turning into a pleased moan when you start to pull the wet fabric off of her. A gasp leaves her lip at the feeling of her core meeting the cold air in the room, your fingers inching closer towards where she desperately needed you, your eyes drinking in the sight of her dripping for you, arousal glistening in the gentle light from the room.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” you whisper as you kiss around her core, not giving her the satisfaction of your mouth just yet, the frustrated moan breaking into a relieved sigh at the feeling of your finger finally meeting her core. You move your finger through the abundance of arousal that’s pooled between her thighs, sliding your finger to her clit and slowly circling it to begin with, your mouth addicted to her soft skin as you mark her inner thighs, wanting her to remember everything from tonight, to see them tomorrow and think back to the sight of you between her thighs, her hands buried in your hair, keeping you as close as possible.

As you touch grows more confident and firmer, moans spilling from her lips, her hips start to roll against your hand, your free hand reaching up to interlock with her fingers at the sheets, letting her grasp onto you instead as you slide your finger down to her entrance, teasingly thrusting it in before sliding it out, coaxing her to chase your finger with her hips as she bucks against you, Wanda able to feel you smirking against her skin.

“Please stop teasing,” she pleas at the feeling of your fingers still teasing her entrance, too busy savouring the sight of her body completely melting at your touch. “I can’t take it anymore,” she whimpers, your composure cracking at her tone, your eyes taking in the sight of her sharp jawline on display as her head lolled back, an idea entering your mind.

“Look at me Wanda,” your tone is dominant but also desperate, the sound making the woman beneath you realise how turned on you were, a shaky breath escaping her. When her green eyes finally find the courage to look down at you, her breath hitches at the hungry yet soft look in your eyes, a moan of your name spilling from her lips as you keep your gaze on her whilst finally sinking your finger into her. “That’s it, keep your pretty eyes on me or I’ll stop, I want you to watch,” you husk out as she watches in awe at the way you thrust your finger into her, the room filling with the wet sounds of your finger pumping into her and her sinful sighs.

“Please Detka, fuck,” she groans when you slide your finger back in slowly and add another, purposely taking your time with her as you intended to drive her mad with your touch, her eyes staying trained on your enamoured gaze as you curl your digits inside her, Wanda’s mouth parting at the feeling. “Shit, just like that, please do that again,” she practically begged as you thrust your finger back in, hitting her sweet spot perfectly while heat floods through you at the sound of her desperate voice, pleasure sparking through her and coursing through her veins.

“Do you need more, love?” You mumble against her skin as your mouth hovers over her intoxicating core, wanting to hear how desperate she is for you, your fingers persisting with your deliberately slow pace, gradually building the pleasure within her as her hips gently rock against your hand, pleasure building at the pit of her stomach and making her clench desperately around you.

“Please,” is all she moans back in response, your resolve crumbling, unable to resist her anymore as your mouth licks a stripe up her core, moans escaping you both at the feeling.

Your wet and warm mouth sparks pleasure and delirium within her, her hips bucking up against you as you nuzzle your face closer, desperate to get a better taste of her heavenly arousal on your tongue, intending to show her exactly how much you love her.

The sound of her lewd moans and the taste of her on your tongue makes you lightheaded with the thought of her, addicted and constantly craving more of her as your tongue swipes through her folds, pleasure flooding through her body as you thrust your fingers into her faster, forgoing with anymore teasing as you couldn’t handle it anymore, never mind her.

“Fuck you taste so good,” you moan into her core, almost forgetting the sweet yet salty taste of her as your lips wrap around her clit, sucking gently whilst you peer up into her lust-filled green, her mouth parting in euphoria as pleasure buzzed through her, hips rocking to meet your hungry mouth.

Her fingers tightened once again in your hair, nails scratching your scalp to create a dull pain whilst you part your interlocked fingers to wrap your hand around her thigh, pulling her impossibly closer and spreading her legs a little more as you get lost within her, tongue swirling over her clit before wrapping around it, sucking firmly as you focussed on every little reaction she offered you. You longed to forever remember the desperate moan that was ripped from the back of her throat at the way your fingers curled and mouth sucked on her at the same time, the hitch of her breath as your tongue swirled around her clit, the way her body twitched as pleasure took over her, swiftly pushing her towards her release. You needed to remember it all.

Her hips soon started to roll against your mouth, coating your chin in her slick as your tongue lapped at her clit, alternating between sucking firmly and swirling your tongue around her, sinful sounds spilling from her lips as her body started to tremble in your grasp, her moans growing louder when you curl them at just the right spot once again.

“Detka, I- Please,” are the only words that she can manage as one of her hands shoot down to grip the sheet beneath her, knuckles bleeding white whilst her other one persists in keeping your head between her thighs, needing you to push her over the edge. “Please don’t stop,” she groans as you curl both of your fingers against her sweet spot, her vision almost blurring at the overwhelming feeling of love and pleasure coursing through her body, your body desperate to watch her fall apart at your touch. “I’m going to come-” Wanda manages in a broken moan, an equally desperate noise escaping you, the vibrations making her buck against your fingers, a whimper leaving her when her enticing green meets your soft and dominant gaze, giving her permission to fall over the edge.

“Come for me,” you murmur against her, keeping your eyes on hers as you watch them roll to the back of her head momentarily, her head lolling back and showing off her defined jawline as her hips stutter against your face, body tensing. A guttural moan escapes her at the amount of pleasure that floods through her, her fingers almost tearing through the sheet as she lifts it to her mouth, trying to muffle the small scream of your name as her release crashes through her, ecstasy and euphoria merging into one.

Your lips pepper soft kisses against her inner thighs as she attempts to recover, your fingers tracing random patterns against her skin as you wait for her to look back down at you, your eyes admiring her, in awe of her beauty as she lays beneath you, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Soft pants spill from her lips as she moves her fingers in your hair, her hand tugging your head away from her sensitive core, her hips still gently rolling against your hand as she rides out the last waves of her intense high, her body soon slumping against the sheets after you slide your fingers out, a sudden emptiness filling her. Your lips climb back up her body, ensuring every inch of her body was showered in affection whilst you whispered more praise before you met her lips, only brushing them briefly and intimately before you pulled back, offering her one of your digits covered in her cum and arousal.

A low groan escaped you when she obediently and willingly parted her lips for you to slide the digit in, her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure and submission at the action as her tongue swirled around your finger, your mind recalling the way her tongue felt on your core, only adding to the heat that still bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Only once she had cleaned your finger did you copy the action with your other one, keeping your gaze on her as you licked her cum off your finger, offering her a teasing smile as her cheeks flushed at the action, eyes darkening in desire again as she pulled your down against her body, kissing you passionately and moaning softly at the taste of herself on your tongue.

Your body moves to lay next to her when the kiss slowly dwindles, your breaths ragged as you fall onto your back, Wanda’s heart dropping momentarily as she fears you were going to leave, to simply roll over and go to sleep like he did after they’d be together, but the worry is swiftly eased when she feels your arm wrap around her body, encouraging her to lay into your side, her face moving to the crook of your neck. You expected her to simply sink into your embrace, to let her exhaustion take over her but you were pleasantly surprised by the feeling of her hand moving to your bare chest, the tip of her nail dragging down between the valley of your breasts and lower, her lips pressing an innocent kiss to your neck, a satisfied hum leaving her at the soft and desperate sigh that left you.

“You don’t have to,” you whisper softly, the want in your voice still lingering as her hand teasingly brushes over your body, her lips kissing up along the side of your neck as you tilt your head to the side, letting her place teasing kisses against your burning skin and engraving the feeling of them into your mind. You can feel her smile against your skin at the care in your words, not wanting her to feel pressured into giving you anything back, her lips eventually meeting the shell of your ear as her hand reaches the waistband of your jeans, fingers deftly unfastening them.

“I want to,” she rasps out at the shell of your ear, her low tone and the way her accent seeps into her words making you let out a shaky breath, your hands swiftly moving down your body to help her rid you of the last of your clothes, her hand quickly returning to your hip. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Wanda whispers into your ear, her touch the opposite of your teasing one as her fingers waste no time in sliding through your folds, needing to touch you, to please you, a gasp leaving you at the feeling of her nimble fingers effortlessly sliding through your slick, covered in your arousal. “I’ve wanted to love you like you were mine,” she continues, her thigh moving to rest over yours, keeping your legs spread and hips still as you try to grind up against her fingers, your jaw clenched slightly as you try to muffle the already desperate sounds that threaten to spill from you at the feeling of your bare skin pressed together.

“All yours,” you managed back, your body overwhelmed by pleasure and arousal as she circles your clit a few more times before dipping her finger lower, effortlessly sinking into you and earning a small groan.

“Mine,” she mutters as she kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth as you stifle another moan, a little embarrassed at how quickly the pleasure built in the pit of your stomach, her fingers curling beautifully inside you, her palm brushing over your clit. “I want to hear you, don’t hide,” she murmurs, desperate to hear the effect she had on you, her body longing to feel you spasming around her fingers, to hear you moaning her name freely.

“Shit, Wanda,” you instantly sigh out, trying to buck your hips up but her thigh keeping you down, one of your hands gripping the sheets by your side whilst your other shoots down to her thigh, gripping onto her as her fingers slide in and out of you lewdly. “You feel so good, I- God, you're such a good girl,” you rasp out, the praise making her groan against your skin as she kisses your cheek, encouraging you to tilt your face and meet her lips, her fingers relentless as they curl at the perfect spot, bolts of pleasure sparking through you. You simply pant into her mouth as she thrusts her fingers into you a little faster, her fingers hitting your sweet spot at a different angle and having you moan abruptly into her mouth, your body teetering on the edge.

At the way you clench desperately around her, your mouth struggling to kiss her back, Wanda can tell that your close, her lips swallowing every sound she could as you sighed and moaned against her, her lips ghosting yours as she felt your hips grinding as best they could against her hand, her palm perfectly rubbing against your clit.

“Are you close?” She whispers in a slight tease, already knowing the answer as you simply nod in response, your eyes squeezed shut as you focussed on the euphoria and delirium of her touch, Wanda’s gaze memorising every reaction you offered her. “Please come for me,” Wanda mutters in a soft tone, a desperate tone and it’s enough to make the coil inside you snap, your nails digging into her thigh as your body crashes into its release, the pleasure and intimacy of the moment blurring your vision as you ride out your intense high. You clench desperately around her fingers, walls spasming around her as you rut against her hand, your forehead resting against hers whilst you pant, experiencing the last of your release before you melt against the sheets, relaxation and euphoria coursing through you at the feeling of your bodies sinking into one another.

Her lips pepper soft and loving kisses against your face as you smile at her, fluttering your eyes open to search the green eyes you’d fallen so hard for, conveying all your love for her in the gentle and lingering stare. You lift your hand to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, watching her gaze soften as she savours your caring and affection touch, her heart fluttering in her chest at every tender action.

Wanda hated how, despite the moment being perfect, she still had a gnawing doubt in the back of her mind that you were going to leave her alone as she had grown used to being left to clean and tend to herself, her body simply craving your comfort after such an intimate moment. The worry seemed to express itself subtly within her gaze, your eyes noticing the small glint of fear in her expressive green and silently asking her to explain what was bothering her, the back of your fingers brushing her cheek in a soothing manner.

“Please don’t leave,” is all she whispers, her voice wavering with emotion as your features soften at her tone, your mind grasping a vague idea at the unfair treatment she had received and motivating you to take even more care of her, simply wanting to give her the world.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur with conviction, reassuring her as your hand moves to her free one, lifting it to your lips to kiss before you interlock your fingers, knowing she liked to play with your hand when she felt nervous or simply wanted to be calmed down. “But we need to go to the bathroom to clean up,” you whisper after you feel as though she’s savoured the moment enough, catching the way her body seemed to be relaxing a little too much as sleep threatened to overtake her, her body melting at the warmth and love your presence provided her.

Begrudgingly, Wanda took your hand as you coaxed her out of your bed, your hands snaking around her waist naturally as you guided her to your ensuite to clean the two of you up, gently using a cloth to wipe her down whilst pressing loving kisses to her forehead, showering her with love as you noticed the blush and smile that crept onto her lips at being cared for. You simply gave her everything she had craved for years, the praise, the gentle murmurs, your hands treating her with nothing but tenderness as they caressed her body and tended to her. You also made sure the two of you drank enough water before leaving the bathroom, offering her one of your sleep shirts to which she declined, softly murmuring how she wanted to sleep with you naked, yearning for the intimacy of the cuddles of your bare skin pressed so comfortably against hers.

Your lips pulled up into a smile at her delicate and adorable tone as you indulged in her wants, eventually getting back into bed with her and pulling her impossibly closer to you, your limbs getting tangled under the duvet as she snuggled further against you, sighing against your skin. Her hands slid around your waist, fingers mindlessly tracing random patterns against your back as your fingers threaded through her auburn locks, gently scratching her scalp and smiling at the pleased groan that left her at the relaxing sensation, her body shuffling closer to you.

“I love you,” Wanda whispered after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence that had enveloped the two of you, her breath tickling your skin as she nuzzled closer to the crook of your neck, basking in the warmth of your body as she placed another delicate kiss to your skin, trying to express the overwhelming emotions she had for you. It was impossible for her to describe, the world around her fading away when she was with you, the wounds inside her healing when she felt your loving touch or lingering stare, her heart longing to remember this moment forever as the love swirling inside her was undeniable and all consuming, cementing the fact that this was where she belonged. She belonged with you.

“I love you too,” you murmur with as much care as you could muster, your lips pressing to the top of her hair as you melt into the embrace, your heart wrapped in love and joy as you savoured the moment with her, finally living a moment you had dreamed of for so many years. “I’ll be here when you wake up, go to sleep love,” you coo as you can feel her body fighting the tiredness that washed over her, a drowsy noise escaping her which only filled your chest with more warmth, a tenderness wrapping around the two.

Soon enough, the two of you drifted off to a peaceful sleep, your silent embrace conveying more than words could ever describe as you sank further into one another, reflecting the endless love you shared as your souls reconnected, finding a sense of safety in each other's arms and finally feeling as though you had found your home.  

---

I absolutely spoiled you guys with this🤭

 As heavily requested, I'll be writing both epilogue smut scenes and I hope you enjoyed the first one! You better have paced yourselves with this as I have no idea when the next one will be written, so savour these 10k words pls😭 

Also in case anyone is an Arcane fan, I have briefly started a Caitvi oneshot collection if you want to check it out on Ao3! <3 

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes/kudos <3 I really appreciate all of your support!

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Wattpad- LovePersevering2

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[enzosbabyangel]

ᥫ᭡ Day 2 . . . party sex with Theo

cw: 18+!, mdni, porn with very very minimal plot, public-ish sex, i honestly didn’t know what to do for this, mean!Theo, protected sex, degradation, suddenly obsessive/possessive Theo afterwards, Theo lowk getting an obsession on reader, light dark!Theo and content? If toxic and obsessive behaviour bothers you DON’T READ !! I don’t know how this of changed to a super mini story with the premise of party sex but uh yeah.

You scratched at the back of the man who had you held up and pinned to the dirty stall door of the club you were at.

How you got here was simple. You and your friends came to the club for valentines figuring none of you had dates. Spotted a cute guy who seemed to be here with his own friends. The man looked like he’d be such a softdom ‘n gentle fuck, but one of your friends didn’t agree, thought he’d be controlling and demanding. So what better thing then make a bet? you get a fuck and possibly money.

So you flirted the best way you could. Writing ‘Be my valentine’ on a condom and giving it to him with fuck me eyes. And now that you’re here it’s easy to say neither you nor your friend will be getting that cash.

You let out a choked moan as Theo’s hand made way up to your neck and roughly banged your head on the stall door. His thrusts fast and seemingly effortless as they managed to reach that special spot in you without fail each thrust.

“Is this what you do? give any half decent guy you see a condom and fuck me eyes then let them take you in the bathroom like some cock desperate slut?” He degraded. The occasional grunts from his own pleasure just making his words even hotter. It was confusing, he seemed so disgusted in you with one sentence but then the complete opposite the next. “But i doubt it, pussy to good ‘n tight for someone who whores around. Already addicted to your pretty ass pussy.”

He was being so mean and rough. Not even controlling, it was like you were a doll to him. He didn’t care about what you did, like it had no effect on him. Even when your legs around his waist kicked at his back from overstimulation or simply being too much. Or your nails scratching at the fabric of his sweater ‘n pulling some of the threads loose. Your hips banged into the door with each one of thrusts, hard enough to leave bruises.

Theo’s thumb made its way up to your mouth, pushing past the barrier of your lips. “Like this? Practically being used like a doll.”

You could only desperately nod. Your senses completely overwhelmed in such a delicious way.

Your simple and desperate obedience got Theo completely coming undone. Groans leaving his lips while his thrusts grew sloppy. He forced his thumb deeper into your mouth, pressing it against the back of your tongue as a rather sadistic grin formed on his unfairly handsome face.

“God.. you’re fucking mine now alright? Already so obsessed with you..” He’d say through pants before hiding his face into your neck. Sucking hickeys onto the soft skin where anyone would be able to see it before biting roughly into your neck to stifle his groans ‘n moans as he came, his hips stilling in you. Thank lord for a condom.

Your poor little fucked out brain didn’t really process his words, thinking they were said out of nothing but lust so you just babbled agreements. But after all was all said and done and he practically forced you to introduce him to your friends and immediately started acting like you two were officially together, not even allowing you to go home by yourself.

At first you found it hot, most likely due to the alcohol in both yours and his system. But when it continued even after that night it got worrisome, his behaviour getting more and more possessive, even more so after you confronted him about it. And got you hated how your panties got absolutely soaked at the clear red flags.

“No no. I don’t think you get it. I practically own you now, you agreed to that remember? Trust me, no guy would care about you like i do.”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . written by enzosbabyangel, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

tags: @mattheoriddles-sluttt @weirdogirl888 @jennieonline @bella-713 @txzii @couch-potato69 @chalametlover444

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello!! I hope you're doing well! Do you have any recs for books about twisted/problematic relationships but with woc? Obviously there's our queen octavia butler but unfortunately for me i've finished reading all her books so i'm desperately craving for books that scratch this itch. Thank you for this blog btw i really love reading all your thoughts & reviews ♥️

goddd okay this list is not going to be nearly as long as I wish it was but it is extreeeeemely varied, so at least we have that going for us lmao. and hopefully you find something interesting in here:

right out of the gate if you're chasing that Octavia high, Rivers Solomon's novel Sorrowland feels very very in that vein. it starts with a teenage girl escaping from a Black separatist fundie cult while heavily pregnant with the cult leader's twins, deciding to give birth to the babies in the woods and raise them there. and boy, does it get crazier from there! there are some eventual transformative body horror sci-fi elements that I shan't spoil, but it's a time. the relationships are pretty secondary and genuinely not the most fucked up thing here, but our main girlie Vern is very much into girls and trying to figure that out on top of all the other horrors.

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is the first book in a fantasy trilogy by specfic queen NK Jemisin, and the first book in particular is really like. problematic relationship city. the protagonist is called to be an heir to a dying emperor and IMMEDIATELY gets embroiled in a love triangle with two of the gods that her family enslaves for power??? crazy shit.

I just kicked off this year reading a book called Darknesses by Lachelle Seville, which ALSO features a young Black woman fresh out of a cult (this one loves self harm and anorexia). and then she meets another Black girl who casually drops that she's Dracula, and oh boy do things get weirder from there. this book is like kind of Not Good but it is very entertaining; at a certain point you just have to turn off your brain and go with the vibes. it's sweeter than a lot of examples but listen, obsession and bloodlust are obsession and bloodust no matter how much your gf Dracula respects consent. there's a lot of murder!

this one doesn't have any supernatural bullshit afoot and is instead just regular degular #problematic, but Raven Leilani's Luster was one of my favorite books last year and follows an absolute shitshow of a young Black woman's extremely loaded and weird relationship with her older white boyfriend and his insane wife, as well as their adopted Black daughter.

anther no magic entry: I really love Oyinkan Braithwaite's My Sister, The Serial Killer, which is about exactly what you think it's about! the narrator is a put-upon Nigerian woman whose beautiful, beloved sister has murdered her last several boyfriends and has come crying to her dutiful sister to help her clean it up each time; the plot kicks in when the murdery sister sets her sights on the narrator's boss, a doctor to whom the narrator is also attracted. I know it's a sibling relationship instead of a romantic one but you didn't specify so! I am counting it!

this one is like very very very niceys compared to everything else I'm going to put on this list but it's also pretty hot so I have to mention it: Little Rabbit by Alyssa Songsiridej is about a young, bisexual Asian-American woman struggling to get a writing career off the ground falling in love with a Notably Older and wealthier white man and figuring out how to navigate the subsequent problems both within their own interpersonal dynamic and in how their relationship is received by others.

honorary mentions: books about fucked up white women that are written by women of color who Know!!

Under the Pendulum Sun by Jeannette Ng is a Victorian alternate history in which the English discovered the fairy realm and promptly did what the English did, ie, sending missionaries to teach the fairies about Jesus. the novel follows a woman traveling to the fairy kingdom to look for her missing missionary brother and promptly going insane as fairies gaslight gatekeep girlboss from all sides, complete with a side of everyone's favorite gothic horror trope: repressed sibling incest!

My Nemesis by Charmaine Craig is another very lowkey and grounded example, comparatively, but I thought it was neat and worth a mention! it's told from the POV of truly insufferable white woman writer whose emotional affair with a philosopher gets thrown for a fucking loop by the philosopher's wife, an enigmatic Chinese woman whose motivation the MC cannot guess literally at all. it's not the most exciting read in the world but the reveals hit hard and the reveals at the end made me YELL.

also for short story collections by WOC that can bring the #yikes factor in big ways I heartily endorse Roxane Gay's Difficult Women and Carmen Maria Machado's Her Body and Other Parties.

I wish I had more to throw you here; please if anyone has something to add to this list I am LISTENING

[corseque]

I honestly just wanted one single plot step that I could not predict given the 10 year wait. More behind the cut, I talk about Emet too, and I'm comparing his writing favorably to Solas' writing and why it worked better for me personally, but I am just talking about the writing skill that went into the games and not the dudes themselves, I love them both dearly of course. idk this is a mess and I am not going to edit it for clarity

For me, the game was a series of me saying

"ok I knew that. cool."

"oh yeah, I knew that. I guess it's good that the larger fandom knows about that now."

"nice, but yeah I already knew that too"

"that was something we've been talking about a lot for years"

"this thing they are acting like is a huge enormous reveal that the characters could not possibly have deduced through simply thinking about it in depth over the 10 years... the fans easily figured out by thinking about it in depth 10 years ago. So you would think his girlfriend would be able to figure it out more easily than we did. Like, why couldn't the game have been like 'oh lavellan already figured that out a while ago' it would have cost them nothing"

"this is something I've been thinking about for years, and now that it's being revealed, the companions' reactions to it are very irritating and jarring and unnecessary and I really dislike the experience I'm having right now, in this, the hour of my greatest triumph"

"this thing that is happening on my screen right now is something that I wrote an essay about 2 years ago describing how it would be a letdown if it happened without the correct setup"

"this way that they're characterizing Solas makes him less likable and less interesting than I have been finding him for all these years, and I have had people tell me 'no, he's simpler than you think' for years but I guess I was wrong, he really is simpler than I thought, so that fucking sucks. I wish I could take that information out of my brain."

"this thing is a retcon of information I have been thinking about for 10 years, and so I don't know how to follow along with this new direction, and I'm not sure if I even want to because it's not particularly interesting anyway"

"aw that was sweet"

"why is it like, so very impossible to have an honest back-and-forth with my favorite character about the dilemma that was most interesting to me about the previous game"

and then, as soon as, like, the other fans had caught up to the Solas lore that was really obvious from the other games, the game was.... over without anything surprising happening, or introducing a new element or plot point or perspective, or a real true twist (or two, or three) for those of us who have thought about it too hard for too long. It was very simple and easy, much, much, much, much easier than I was imagining. It all felt sort of like that Nicholson quote:

The thing was, the whole story was so interesting to think about because in 10 years, I couldn't figure out a good solution to it!!!!! It's why I was never able to write post-game fanfic about it. So I was stoked to find out some reveal we never knew about, some new information, in maybe a SERIES of steps of new information, that made the situation more complicated but also something that could be navigated by everyone involved. I know it was asking for a lot, but they had TEN YEARS, and they seemingly had set up the things they did in DAI on purpose, so surely they had some idea of a complex and satisfying narrative that would reconcile everyone.

The reason why I was expecting this is because FFXIV did a very similar story arc, which was started AND concluded WITHIN those 10 years (so it took the FFXIV team far less time to deliver as well). And the conclusion to the story in FFXIV did what I was expecting Dragon Age to do. So I thought, "holy shit, if this is the FFXIV version of this plot, how much more complicated is DA4 going to be!?!?" The DA devs also PLAYED FFXIV so they were completely aware, several years ago, of a satisfying story ending that was pretty darn similar.

People are probably going to think "oh, well Chelsea was disappointed because she spent too much time building it up in her head" but that's exactly it - I actually speculated and thought about FFXIV's story IN DEPTH NONSTOP for a year+ before its ending came out, and the ending absolutely blew me away. FFXIV Endwalker managed to introduce information and new story elements that I was not able to figure out in the YEAR I spent speculating on the ending of FFXIV's story. It took a complicated situation and revealed several several more facets to it that I was not able to predict, but were very interesting and thematically compelling, and took us all to surprising and climactic places that we could not have predicted.

Endwalker ("end" is in the title on purpose) too, was written to be THE ULTIMATE SATISFYING ENDING for a very long-running story in the exactly way that Veilguard SHOULD HAVE for Dragon Age, so while this complexity is being explored, FFXIV also gave catharsis to many different plot threads that have been built up through the previous expansions, until finally it ends with a bang. The story is desperately good to me, I loved it, it gave me closure for Dragon Age long before Veilguard was even revealed, and going back and looking at its story has made this whole thing far less painful for me.

So, I actually did not have a picture in my mind for how things SHOULD go. I just had the thought "I hope it's complicated and there are points of view or facts that we haven't before been exposed to, and the situation is resolved respectfully for Solas, not making him look like a fucking idiot (lol, the only thing I asked for). I don't even care what happens to Solas and Lavellan, I just need the story to be complicated and interesting to think about. Please, god, don't let it be "solas is wrong and he just needs to be convinced" because that's like the simplest story you could tell with this setup"

(btw they managed to tell Emet-Selch's story without making him seem like he's being an idiot on purpose or can never get anything right, and in fact the more the story goes on, the more you think of him as smart and capable and cool, so it is possible to write.... I wasn't asking for the entire moon)

And I played it and... yeah. Most of the story beats were more simple than I wanted them to be, a lot of them didn't make sense in my heart given the writing from Inquisition. (This is another essay, but if Solas' thematic story arc was always about him needing to let go of regrets, why was his personal quest the way it was? After that quest, doesn't he end up regretting not doing more....? Why did he never really talk about regret during Inquisition? If he was so trapped by regret, why was he able to do so many actions? It doesn't mesh well to me. The whole regret thing was very quarter-baked to me, I don't even like thinking about it.) His story never seemed like one that was as simple as being about one man's regrets, but then, I guess, it was always just about one man's regrets.

Emet-Selch's personal storyline (and the way it interacts with and affects the larger story) is very similar but much more cohesive and satisfying to me. It would be difficult to explain why without the aforementioned 5-hour essay. Emet-Selch's story IS about grief and anguish on a world-shaping scale in a similar way that Solas' was apparently always about letting go of regret, but Emet's story was also very pointedly and beautifully about that one theme for the entirety of his story from every tiny detail, from beginning to end - meanwhile, it seemed to me that they tried to introduce 'regret' as the main thrust of Solas' story only in the short story with the Regret demon onward.

From Inquisition just by itself, the closest I personally could get to a story theme for Solas was his inability to trust others hurting him and the world, but his trusting others in DA4 wasn't really addressed to my satisfaction. He is never required to trust anyone before the ending, he never opens up or makes himself vulnerable at all. People find out information about him, he never really dynamically opens himself. So the personal story I thought he had was never addressed at all, while a new one about regret was introduced that never made a ton of sense to me. And I don't think this is just because of my expectations - my reaction to FFXIV proves that I am able to meet good writing where it goes in surprising directions, as long as it's interesting and thoughtful and clear.

And I think this might be part of what people felt was off about the ending - Solas is sort of uninvolved in the revelations that are about him, and doesn't do much to be part of his own ending. Part of what I loved about Solas in Inquisition is that he is not controlled by you in any way, and so he feels like his own person with a very strong sense of character.

Anyway, Emet-Selch, in a very comparable and arguably more extreme plot position, is very involved in the revelations about himself, he always feels like a very strong character who cannot be affected by the player, and the whole situation is handled with deft emotion and care and delicacy. The story is comparatively very uninterested in litigating Emet-Selch or putting him on trial - the story allows you to simply feel the way that you feel in an organic way, and Emet's story spends that energy instead actually exploring his thematic material about grief and legacy, and the larger story theme of existentialism instead, in a way that is very refreshing and interesting. I've seen a lot of western stories tie themselves in knots over "redemption" and frankly it's almost never been interesting at all. Who cares about any of that. lol

(Now, I guess this is a matter of preference, because some people really like being able to shape a character's story, but idk I rewatched the ending of FFXIV and even though there wasn't a choice with Emet, because it isn't a branching story, his story felt more satisfying to me, maybe because there isn't a patronizing choice to be made for him. He is who he is, and he fulfills a very beautiful narrative role and purpose that no other character could in the story.)

I don't know how this could have been improved to me and still allowed players to choose Solas' ending for him, but I can actually think of a few different methods, none of which involve Rook condescendingly and patronizingly lecturing Solas as if Solas had never thought about a single aspect of this horrible situation he's in before that very moment that Rook lectures him lmfao.

All this to say... idk I'm writing this and I am not going back to edit it so it's stream-of-consciousness. But yeah

I just wanted the story to be complicated on a few more levels than I could have predicted. I genuinely don't care what happened, but I thought of a few twists like the Veil coming down and yeah, I was expecting A Single Twist or reveal to happen. In a Dragon Age game.

I wanted Solas to seem cool and capable and noble and smart, and actually feel like he was as old and experienced as he is.

I wanted a clear theme I could sink my teeth into

Like notice I didn't even say anything about Solavellan. Like I never in 100 years thought they were getting a happy ending where they were both alive in bodies, and I like that we got that, but I would honestly trade it for a more complicated story. To me, if a story is sad you can always write fanfic, but if a story isn't COMPLICATED, that's a much more urgent issue.

These 3 things DA4 didn't give me in a way that satisfied me but FFXIV did. anyway idk the way my hyperfixations work, I completely switch to a new subject so talking about Dragon Age is actually hard for me right now.

[xoxolilixx]

★𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙚★

𝙀𝙠𝙠𝙤 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

✩𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 - you help Ekko relax a little

✩𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 - Smut with plot, fingering, oral(reader receiving)

✩𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - heyyyy😅 ik it's been a while, I kinda disappeared off the face of the earth, MY BADDDDD😁 I figured since I've been gone for a good second, I should come back with a treat, so here you are lovebugs❤️ I hope you guys like it🩷🌺

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he worked. He was hunched over his desk, hands aching and mind clouded as he continued his repairs to his hoverboard. It was late –3 am to be exact– and Ekko’s been sleepless since the battle on the bridge with Jinx. You were worried about him. You knew how stressful this was for him; between failing to save his former best friend and making sure everything stays afloat with the firelights, he was basically drowning in his work and stress. Ekko was a relatively calm person, but whenever you tried to talk to him about everything, he would just shut down and push you away, so you learned to give him space, but tonight you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m surprised you haven’t frozen to stone like that,” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. His workshop door was cracked open and all the lights except for the one that sat right above his desk were dimmed. “...you should be asleep,” he whispered, not looking up from his work. His voice was weary and tired, you could hear the stress in his voice, it made your heart crack. “So should you, love,” your voice stayed soft, calming. The last thing you wanted was to be another harsh thing in his life right now. “The bed misses you,” you joked softly as you came up behind him, your soft hands landing on his shoulders. They were tense, his whole body was, and the tenseness didn’t falter when you touched him like how it usually did. “I’ll be there soon,” he uttered. “How soon? By the end of the month? Because I haven’t seen you in bed in 3 weeks,” you were sincere with a half joking tone as your hands gently ran down his body as you hugged him from behind, “I miss you baby…just…come on for tonight, get some rest. It’ll be here in the morning- I’ll even come in and help you with it,” you pleaded softly, your lips against his neck as you eyed his work from his shoulder. You didn’t want him to open up before he was ready, you didn’t want to push his limits, and you didn’t want to bitch to him about how closed off he’s been, you just wanted him to get some rest.

He sighed at your words, his hands pausing their movements for just a small moment, “Just-...let me finish this up, okay?” he uttered, his tone slightly softer than before. You huffed as you felt him lean into your arm, planting a small kiss on your upper arm as he started working again. You knew him, he wasn’t going to come to bed any time soon, he would just magically find something else that needed his attention and forget all about getting rest. “You’re helpless, you know that?” you huffed out against the shell of his ear, “your whole workshop is gonna be renovated before you come to bed.” He could hear the slight irritation in your words as you removed your touch from him, it made him tense up more. He knew you were being patient with him, and knowing that he was making it harder for you somehow made him feel worse than the stress did.

“Wait,” he uttered out before you got too close to the door. You immediately turn around, as if it was a reflex, “yes Ekko?” “...c’here,” he uttered, his hands abandoning his work as he looked over his shoulder. You didn’t fight the urge to walk back over to him. Soon, you were standing in between his legs and his hands were on your hips. “I’m sorry baby,” he sighed, his hands giving a loving squeeze to your body. His stress seemed to melt away the more you were around him, and you loved that, but constantly trying to get him to melt was frustrating, so you wanted to milk this as much as you could.

“Prove it,” you huffed, feigning irritation as you crossed your arms. For the first time in a while, he cracked a smile, chuckling as he immediately picked up on your game. “You want me to prove that I’m sorry?” he chuckled, his hands running up your waist, pushing up your (his) shirt as he did so. “Yea,” you huffed, your act almost breaking as he tugged you down on his lap, making you straddle him. “And tell me princess, how do you want me to do that?” he smirked as your hands rested on his shoulders as his hand gently grabbed your chin, running his thumb across your bottom lip. “Surprise me,” you smiled, finally breaking your act. It felt like he was a magnet, slowly pulling you closer, the space in between you closing at a steady pace. “Surprise you, huh? I got you~” he uttered before pressing his lips into yours.

This was the quickest you’ve ever seen Ekko forget about a project. Your lips danced with his as his hands roamed your body, running from your waist to your hip down to your thighs before finally resting on your ass, his hands giving it a soft squeeze. Your hands weren't much different; running from his shoulders down his chest to his abs and then back up to his blonde locs. It didn't take long for all restraint to disappear once his tongue slipped into your mouth, a soft whine escaping your throat as he explored your mouth. You felt him smile into the kiss, making your heart melt. If this was all it took to get him to loosen up, you would’ve been tried this.

You felt him remove one of his hands off your body, reaching behind you to tug his hoverboard off the table and onto the floor, giving him space to grab your hips and lift you up onto the table. You stayed connected in a messy kiss as he gripped your thighs and toyed with the waistband of your night shorts. You finally broke away, strings of saliva connecting you both as you panted softly, trying to catch your breath as you smiled down at him as he tugged at your waistband, a smile on his face as while. “There we go~” you cooed, your soft hands cupping his cheeks, “Finally got you to smile f’me,” you giggled, his smile only growing bigger. “Who wouldn’t for you, baby?” he chuckled as he tugged down your waistband, silently signalling to you to lift your hips, which you happily obliged.

He pressed soft, wet kisses all along your jaw and neck as he tossed your shorts somewhere behind him, pushing your thick thighs apart, revealing the damp spot on your orange, lacy panties, bringing a smirk on his face. “All that for me?” he smirked slyly, gripping you by your thighs and tugging you closer to the edge of the table. “No one else but you,” you giggled. “You must have really missed me,” he chuckled before pressing a kiss into your lips, swallowing the soft moan you let out when the pad of his thumb pushed into your clit through the flimsy fabric. The pretty sounds continued to spill out as he drew tight circles into the little bud.

At some point, he slowly stood up, his lips still locked with yours and his fingers still moving. “Lay back f’me baby,” he muttered against your lips lowly, but you weren't giving much of a choice when he placed a hand on your stomach and gently pushed you back. A shiver went down your spine as he placed soft, wet kisses down your body, making his way between your thighs, sucking hickeys over top of the stretch marks on your inner thighs. You leaned up on your elbows, looking down your body and watching him work on your body, allowing your eyes to lock with his. God damn it, he was fucking gorgeous like this; in between your legs, looking up with hooded but loving eyes, blonde locs falling in his face just a little. A gasped escaped your lips as he kissed your clothed cunt before he tugged the messy fabric to the side. Ekko bit back a groan as he watched strings of your arousal fall from the fabric as your pussy shimmered under the dim lighting. His dick leaked in his pants a little at the sight. “You’re so fucking pretty~” he cooed softly, making your heart melt and your cheeks flush, but before you could even respond, his mouth was on your cunt, coaxing struggled whines and moans from you as the sound of him slurping and licking your core filled the room. Your fingers tangled in his locs, tugging his head deeper between your legs as your head lulled back, your hips grinding against his face as he gripped your thigh with one hand, tugging you impossibly closer to him as he slipped one of his long, thick fingers into your tight hole.

He ate you like a starved man, but honestly the way he’s been locked up in his workshop, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was one. He now had two fingers pumping in and out of you, curling perfectly against that one gummy spot inside of you as he slurped and sucked at your clit, the juices from your previous orgasm pooling in the palm of his hand and on his desk under you.

He reluctantly detached from your cunt after your third orgasm leaving you a panting and shaking mess in front of him as he smirked down at you. “How’s that for proof?” he smirked, earning a breathless giggle from you as he licked your juices off his now dripping hand. “Ya know, I came in here to try and help you un-stress~” you giggled. “Hm, then you did a amazing fucking job baby,” he chuckled lowly, leaning down to lock lips with you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

“Lets go to bed~” he uttered, scooping you off his table, leaving a mess for him to clean up later.

[daryltwdixon]

Joel Miller x Reader Just Coffee II

part two to this fic

Summary: Joel picks you up after a long day, taking you somewhere small and familiar, where conversation flows as easily as the wine. As the night winds down and Joel insists on driving you home, neither of you are ready to say goodbye quite yet.

warnings: some plot mostly smut 18+ MDNI

notes: this fic takes place in fantasy land where pinv doesn't end up in pregnancy ok thank you have a nice day. wrap it up in real life ok? im obsessed with this pre-outbreak Joel. I feel like I read & edited this til my eyes were bleeding, please lmk if you find mistakes

The evening rush had just died down when Joel walked through the door of the coffee shop again that day, his presence filling the small space. It felt easier, more relaxed now that he’d gotten used to coming around more. 

You glanced up from wiping down the counters, already feeling the exhaustion from a long shift settling into your bones.

“I thought we were meeting later?” you asked, arching a brow as you tossed the rag over your shoulder.

Joel leaned his hip against the counter, arms crossed, his hazel eyes flicking over you—messy apron, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly frizzed from the long day.

“Figured I’d pick you up,” he said, ever casual. “Walk you out.”

You let out a small groan, rubbing your hands over your face. “But I smell like coffee and milk and—” you sniffed your sleeve dramatically, “—probably cleaning supplies. Real cute first date material.”

Joel smirked, one hand rubbing along his jaw. “Well, I smell like sweat and sawdust, so maybe it’ll cancel out.”

You snorted. “If you say so,”

He shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to suffer through it together.”

That made you smile, warmth creeping up your neck despite yourself.

“Don’t worry,” he added, his voice dipping a little softer. “Second date, I’ll take you somewhere fancy. But tonight, I got somewhere I think you’ll like,”

You swallowed, your heart giving a little unexpected flutter. A second date. Meaning he had plans on seeing you way more than just for one night. And damn did you like the sound of that.

“Fine,” you sighed, pretending to be more put out than you actually were as you untied your apron. “But if I smell like an espresso machine all night, that’s on you,.”

Joel just chuckled, stepping back to let you close up.

You expected him to take you to some hole-in-the-wall diner or maybe just grab a quick bite somewhere. But instead, he walked with you down the quieter streets of the small downtown, until he stopped next to a small, tucked-away Italian restaurant with a hand-painted sign and a cozy glow spilling from the windows.

It wasn’t flashy, wasn’t trying too hard—it was the kind of place people probably came to for years, passing it down like a family secret.

“You ever been here?” he asked as he held the door open.

You shook your head. “Didn’t even know it existed.”

The second you stepped inside, warmth wrapped around you—the scent of garlic and tomatoes simmering low, fresh bread baking, the low hum of conversation filling the intimate space. String lights hung loosely across the ceiling, casting a soft golden glow over the rustic wooden tables. A candle flickered at every one, pooling small halos of light between plates of pasta and glasses of deep red wine.

“You eat here a lot?” you asked him as he stepped in behind you.

Joel shook his head. “Did some work on the building a few years back. Owners fed me a few times.” He shrugged, like it was nothing. “Keep comin’ back when I can.”

As if on cue, an older man in a white apron emerged from the kitchen, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw Joel. He walked straight up to him, clapping him on the shoulder with a familiarity that made your brows lift.

“Miller!” the man greeted, grinning wide. He rattled something off in rapid, affectionate Italian, gesturing around the restaurant. Joel huffed out a low laugh, shaking his head.

“Good to see you too, Sal,” Joel said.

Sal patted his shoulder again, his thick fingers pressing into the fabric of Joel’s shirt like he was testing its strength. "Still workin’ with that stronzo fratellino, eh?"

Joel chuckled. “You bet.”

Sal scoffed, shaking his head. “Tsk. He was never as good with his hands as you.” He turned to you with a wink. “My best man here, best muratore in town! Fixed this place up when the siding was fallin’ off my dannata walls! Quick, clean—like an artista, eh?”

Sal laughed when Joel only shook his head, a red flush creeping up his face as he looked at you apologetically.

"Sit, sit! Please, eat whatever you like! I get you wine—" Sal finally let go of Joel, waving over the hostess with an urgency like he was hosting royalty.

“You’re quite the celebrity, Joel,” you teased, glancing up at him as the two of you followed behind to your table.

Joel sighed, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I promise I didn’t bring you here for that—the food’s just real good,”

“Uh-huh,” you smirked, amused, as the hostess stopped at a cozy table by the window.

Sal came back over with a bottle of wine, winking at you before heading back toward the kitchen. “Enjoy dinner, eh?”

You watched him go, then turned back to Joel, arching a brow. “So, you’re with your hands, huh?” remembering what the man said a few minutes ago.

Joel picked up the menu and hid his face. “Don’t start.”

You bit your lip, amused, and looked down at your own menu.

The dinner itself was nice.

The kind of nice that snuck up on you, unfolding in a way that felt natural, easy, like you’d done this a dozen times before.

Joel was quiet, soft spoken, but asked a lot of questions. Not just the polite kind, but ones with weight, ones that made you pause before answering. He wanted to know how you got into coffee—if it was something you always loved, or if it just happened. What made you decide to open your own shop instead of working somewhere else. If you liked being your own boss, if it was worth the stress.

And he listened, really listened, nodding as you spoke, his hazel eyes steady on you. Every now and then, he’d ask something that made you stop and think, something no one had ever really asked before.

“You ever picture yourself doin’ anything else?” he asked at one point, twirling the stem of his wine glass between two fingers.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess I never thought about it. The shop is mine. My whole world’s kind of wrapped up in it.”

Joel hummed, watching you carefully. “But it makes you happy.” It wasn’t quite a question, but more an observation. 

“Yeah, yeah it does.” you answered with a smile, then tilted your head. “What about you? Do you like what you do?”

Joel exhaled through his nose, thinking. “Don’t know if anyone likes workin’,” he admitted, then nodded a thanks to the waiter as he set down your meals. “But can’t think of anythin’ else I’d be doin’. Ain’t the type to be sittin’ in a stuffy cubicle and all.”

You smirked, picking up your fork. “Oh, I don’t know… I think you’d look real nice in a suit and tie.”

Joel let out a quiet huff, shaking his head as he cut into his food. “Yeah? And what, you see me sittin’ at some fancy desk, makin’ phone calls all day?”

“I dunno,” you teased, shrugging. “Something about you in a tie just works for me.”

Joel shot you a look, amused, before taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe I’ll show up to your shop one day in one, just to surprise ya,”

“Oh, that’ll be the day,” you giggle. 

The rest of dinner went by too quickly for your liking.

Joel told you about the different jobs he’d done over the years—how he liked working with his hands, how there was something satisfying about building something solid, something that would last. There was a quiet kind of pride in his voice, nothing boastful, just a man who knew the value of hard work, of making something real.

In return, you traded stories about your most memorable customers—the regulars, the weird orders like the ones who asked for 50 different flavors in one iced coffee. Joel countered with tales of difficult clients, stubborn contractors, and one particularly bad job where a homeowner swore they knew more about construction than he did.

And when Joel chuckled at a particularly funny story, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, you began to realize—God, you liked seeing him like this. Relaxed. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, he liked being here with you, too.

And before you knew it, the waiter was coming by with the check, and the night was ending far sooner than you wanted.

The evening air was warm as you stepped out of the restaurant, your cheeks still flushed from the wine and the lingering glow of good company. Sal had insisted on treating you both with large helpings of his homemade tiramisu—claiming you couldn’t leave until you were properly fed.

Joel had muttered something about not needing dessert, but you’d watched him polish off his plate without complaint.

Outside, the street was quiet, the warm light of the restaurant spilling out onto the sidewalk as the door swung shut behind you.

“That man is dangerous,” you groaned, placing a hand over your stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life.”

Joel huffed out a small laugh, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Could’ve said no.”

You scoffed. “And risk offending him? No way. I’d be blacklisted for life.”

Joel smirked, shaking his head before glancing around. “Where’s your car?”

You blinked up at him. “Oh, I walked.”

Joel’s brows pulled together. “You walk to work?”

“I live close by,” you shrugged.

Joel exhaled sharply, already looking like he was making up his mind, “Let me drive you—”

“Oh, no, it’s really okay—”

“I insist,” he said, and before you could argue, his hand found the small of your back.

Heat shot through you, electric despite how warm and gentle his palm was. You exhaled, smiling, and knew there was no point in arguing. Not when he was looking at you like that—stern, certain in a caring sort of way. So you didn’t fight it.

He walked beside you, his stride slow, deliberate. The night air was perfect with summer warmth and a cooling breeze, the quiet hum of the city stretching out around you, but you couldn't help the way that everything else had narrowed down to him—the sound of his boots against the pavement, the occasional brush of his hand near yours, close enough to feel the warmth but not quite touching.

He made a little conversation, but he was quieter now, more thoughtful. He asked about your family, where they were, if they ever came to visit. If you had much of a life outside of the shop or if it kept you too busy.

You answered easily, finding that with him, it was just...easy.

Joel didn’t fill the silence just to talk—he let it linger, let you breathe, let it settle into something comfortable, something that felt like it had always been there. 

By the time you reached his truck, you realized just how much you liked that about him. And how much you liked him.

Joel reached for the handle, about to open the door for you, ever the gentleman.

But then he hesitated. His fingers curled around the handle, but he didn’t pull. Instead, he exhaled, slow and measured, his jaw ticking as he turned to look at you.

His gaze flickered—your eyes, your mouth, then back again—just in time for you to feel it, that slow-building heat simmering between you.

“Screw it,” he muttered.

And then his hands were on you.

One at your waist, the other coming up to cradle your jaw, his rough thumb sweeping over your cheek as he pulled you into him, his lips crashing into yours with the kind of weight that sent your heart slamming into your ribs.

The breath hitched in your throat, and for a second—just a second—you forgot how to do anything but feel.

It was slow but heavy and intentional, like he’d spent all night trying to fight the urge and finally gave in. He kissed like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. It was steady, claiming, not the kind of frantic desperation you’d expect from someone who couldn’t hold back.

No, Joel took his damn time.

His lips parted against yours, deepening the kiss, pulling you further into him. His hand slipped from your jaw, fingers threading into your hair, holding you exactly where he wanted as he kissed you again, his tongue venturing past your lips, sliding along yours in a way that made you turn molten.

You gasped softly, pressing closer, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, needing something to hold onto because God—he was overwhelming in the best way.

Joel groaned low in his throat, like he’d finally let himself indulge, like this was something he’d been starving for. His grip on your waist tightened, guiding you until your back hit the truck, his body bracketing yours against the cool metal, broad and solid and so damn warm.

“You gonna open the door or what?” you teased breathlessly, between kisses, your lips brushing against his.

Joel huffed, his nose dragging along your cheek. “You in some kinda hurry?” Joel’s lips ghosted along your jaw, trailing down the column of your throat, pressing slow, lingering kisses against your skin, each one making you melt further into him.

You let out a soft, breathy sigh, and Joel chuckled low against your neck, his breath hot. “Didn’t answer my question.”

You barely remembered what he asked. Your brain was fogged, drowning in the way he felt against you, the way his body crowded yours against the truck, solid and warm.

“No,” you managed, voice breathless. “No hurry.”

“Good to hear,” Joel muttered.

And then, in one fluid motion, he scooted you over, swung the door open, and hooked an arm around your waist—lifting you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. A startled gasp left your lips as he set you down onto the worn leather seat of his truck before you could even process the shift.

You barely had a second to catch your breath before Joel climbed in after you, the door shutting with a heavy thunk, sealing you both inside. The space between you was nonexistent—all heat, all him, his presence pressing into you, crowding you in the best way.

You thanked whatever lucky stars you had that it was dark, that Joel’s truck had tinted windows, because none of it would’ve stopped you anyway. Not when you were already leaning back into him, your fingers trailing up, brushing over the scruff along his jaw.

Joel’s hand slid up your thigh, fingers curling, anchoring himself as he kissed you deeper, tilting his head to taste you fully. His other hand found your jaw, rough fingertips dragging over your skin, tilting your face toward him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

You sighed against his mouth, pressing closer, nails scratching lightly against the denim of his jeans. He groaned, low and deep, swallowing the sound. Then, suddenly, his grip shifted, strong hands wrapping around your waist as he pulled you forward until you were straddling his lap. 

A breath hitched in your throat, hands bracing against his broad chest as your knees pressed into the seat on either side of him. The new position had you flush against him, heat radiating between you, the space inside the truck growing impossibly small.

Joel’s eyes flickered up to yours, searching, giving you a chance to stop this before it went any further.

But you didn’t want to stop. So you kissed him again. Deeper. Hungrier.

Joel groaned, his hands sliding up your thighs, rough palms trailing over denim now, gripping just enough to make your breath catch. His mouth was hot, insistent, kissing you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your lips, the taste of you, the way you sighed his name when he tilted his head to deepen it.

“I don’t usually—” you began, panting as you broke from the kiss for just a moment, lips still brushing his. “I don’t usually do this on a first date, just so you know.”

“Me neither,” Joel muttered quickly, voice rough, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers laced through your hair, tangling at the base of your neck as he pulled you closer, like the space between you was too much to bear.

His other hand trailed down, squeezing at your waist before gripping the waistband of your jeans. His fingers dipped just under the fabric, teasing, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Think you can get these off for me, sweetheart?” he rasped, his voice thick with want.

Your breath caught, “H-here?”

Joel huffed, smirking just a little, his thumb brushing back and forth over the waistband, slow and teasing. “Ain’t nobody around. Just us.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, steady, certain. “Unless you really wanna stop.”

He was giving you another chance to pull away, to tell him no, and you knew if you said the word, he’d back off immediately.

But hell no. You shook your head, breathless. “No. No stopping.”

Joel’s smirk deepened, approval flashing in his darkened gaze. “That’s my girl.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the button of your jeans, fumbling slightly. Joel exhaled a soft chuckle, amused but patient, pressing another slow, open-mouthed kiss to your throat as his hands ran up and down your thighs, steadying you.

You finally got the zipper down, lifting your hips slightly as you started pushing them down, but Joel’s hands took over, firm and unhurried, hooking his fingers under the waistband and dragging them down your legs in one slow, smooth motion.

The second the denim was gone, his hands ran back up your bare thighs, gripping at the flesh of your ass, his gaze locked on you like he needed to commit this to memory.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel muttered, his voice wrecked, pupils blown wide as he devoured you with his eyes. “Knew you had a great ass—couldn’t stop starin’ at it this mornin’.”

A flush spread through your body at his words, pooling low in your belly, but you could barely focus, too wrapped up in him, in the way he felt beneath you. Despite his claim earlier that he smelled like sweat and sawdust, you thought he smelled addicting—pure masculine heat, sweat and musk, with the faintest hint of whatever cologne or deodorant still clung to his skin. It was him, and it made you dizzy.

Heat curled low in your belly, especially when he tugged you down against him, pressing you right where you needed him, letting you feel all of him—hard, thick, pressing into the thin barrier of your panties.

A quiet moan slipped from your lips, and that sound did something to him.

“Oh, you make the sweetest little noises, baby,” he groaned, his grip tightening as he rocked you against him, his hands guiding your hips so you could feel just how much he wanted you.

His lips found your neck again, kissing, nipping, working their way lower, and you whimpered when they reached your shoulder, his fingers toying with the hem of your top.

“Think I wanna see more of you,” Joel muttered, voice thick and rough like gravel. His hands dragged up your sides, thumbs skimming the curve of your ribs. “Lift your arms for me.”

And you did—because you wanted more too. Needed it.

Joel peeled your top off slowly, taking his time, hissing when your bare skin was revealed beneath the dim light filtering through the truck’s fogged windows. His hands ghosted over you, calloused fingertips brushing along your collarbone, down to the tops of your breasts, his eyes dark as they devoured you.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muttered, mostly to himself, his rough fingers slipping beneath the band of your bra, teasing. You squirmed in his lap, eager, desperate for something, arching into his touch.

Joel huffed a quiet chuckle, his lips curling as his fingers came up to pull the cups of your bra down and began palming your breasts in both hands, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.

“That feel good, baby?” he rasped, watching your reaction as his thumbs brushed over your nipples, circling, teasing.

“Y-yeah,” you breathed, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Joel smirked, then pinched lightly, rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingers. You moaned, head tipping back, arching into his hands.

“That’s it,” he murmured, leaning in, dragging his lips down the exposed column of your throat, over your collarbone. Then he licked along the swell of your breast before finally closing his mouth over your nipple, sucking slow and deep.

You gasped, gripping his hair, your hips instinctively grinding down against him. The friction sent a rush of heat pooling low in your belly, the hard line of him pressing right against you.

Joel groaned against your skin, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before switching to the other, giving it the same slow, torturous attention.

“Joel,” you whimpered, rolling your hips against him again, the need in you growing unbearable. 

He hummed, his hands sliding down, gripping your ass, grinding you down harder against him, “You’re so needy, baby,” he muttered, his lips ghosting along your jaw. “Bet you’re already drippin’ for me, huh?”

You nodded frantically, panting, whimpering, grinding against him, desperate for more.

Joel’s hand slipped between you, his fingers slipping to cup your covered mound, feeling the dampness that had seeped through the fabric. He sucked in air through his teeth as his fingers pressed firmly, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, baby. This all for me?” he teased, “Huh?”

You gasped when his fingers would press and sometimes skim along your bare skin, running along the lace, teasing, pressing just enough to make your thighs shake.

“Please,” you breathed, writhing against him, desperate for more.

Joel hummed approvingly, slipping beneath the fabric, his fingers spreading through your slick folds, teasing your clit before dipping lower, barely pushing inside.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice rough. “Takin’ my fingers so easy.”

You moaned, body shuddering as he continued to rub gentle circles around your clit before finally pushing two fingers inside, stretching you just enough to make your breath catch in your lungs. Joel groaned, watching you, drinking in every sound, every gasp, his fingers working slow and deep, curling just right to have your whole body shaking.

Your hips rocked into his hand, grinding against the heel of his palm, pleasure building fast, coiling tight in your belly. He smirked, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing tight, slow circles that had your legs trembling around his hips.

“You gonna come for me, already, sweetheart?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Come on my fingers before I fuck you?”

You gasped, “Yes, yes–” your fingers digging into his shoulders, your body locking up as the coil snapped in your belly, pleasure ripping through you in waves as you cried out, coming hard against his hand.

Joel groaned, his head falling forward to kiss your sweaty skin, feeling the way you pulsed around his fingers, his cock twitching hard beneath you.

“That’s my girl,” Joel muttered, his voice wrecked as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, slick and shining in the dim light. You stopped breathing as he brought them to his mouth, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reaction as he licked them clean, his tongue dragging slow over his fingers. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly, like he was ruined by the taste of you.

Once he licked his fingers clean, he brought them to your lips and rasped, “Open,”

A wicked smile crossed your lips as you parted them obediently, letting him slide his fingers onto your tongue. Joel groaned low in his throat, watching you intently, his pupils blown wide as your lips closed around his digits.

You didn’t just take them—you sucked, hollowing your cheeks, your tongue teasing along his fingertips, slow and deliberate.

Joel’s smirk fell as his whole body tensed beneath you, muscles going taut as his free hand dug into your hip, hard, like he was barely hanging on. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat, and suddenly, his slick fingers left your mouth, his hand moving to your throat—firm but careful—pulling you down to him, kissing you again. It was hungry, needy, open and wet, all tongue and heat, like he had to taste you again, like the last few minutes of teasing had finally broken something in him.

You moaned against his mouth, shifting in his lap, feeling the thick, solid length of him pressing right where you needed it most. Joel hissed at the friction, his fingers tightening on your waist.  Then his hands moved, gripping your hips, holding you there as he worked open his belt, the soft clink of metal making your stomach tighten. The zipper came next, slow and deliberate, the sound loud in the thick silence between you. You watched as he freed himself, his thick cock pressing hot and heavy against your inner thigh.

Joel’s eyes flicked up to yours, dark and dangerous, his jaw tight with restraint, “Still want this baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, kissing his face, his neck, nipping and biting at his throat as his hands worked himself. You lifted yourself up to give him better access to you. “Want you so badly, Joel.”

He grunted at the sound of his name on your lips, so low and wrecked and needy for him. Reaching down, he hooked his fingers beneath the soaked fabric of your panties, dragging them to the side. His other hand gripped his cock, dragging the tip through your slick pussy, teasing, pressing just enough to make you whimper.

“Joel—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with restraint, positioning himself right at your entrance. “Go on. Take what you need.”

You didn’t hesitate, sinking down onto him slowly, gasping as he stretched you, filling you inch by inch until he was seated deep inside you.

Joel’s head fell back against the headrest, his hands flying to your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there.

“Jesus fuck,” he gritted out, his thighs tensing beneath you as he held himself still. “You’re—fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so goddamn tight,"

You moaned, feeling every inch of him pulsing inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way. You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he rocked his hips up into you, and your head snapped up at the force, making you look up just in time to see a familiar face out the back window.

“Oh shit—Tommy.”

Joel’s entire body went rigid, “Please do not tell me you just—“

“No—Tommy,” you hissed, ducking down as far as you could, but it only added more friction, making Joel’s cock pulse inside you.

He grunted sharply, his fingers digging in harder to steady you, his jaw clenched like he was trying so hard not to react to the way you just squeezed around him.

Then, a truck door slammed shut.

“Hey, ain’t this Joel’s?” Tommy’s voice rang out, just outside, “Thought he left hours ago,”

Joel’s eyes snapped open, wild and alert. In an instant, his arm shot out, slamming the lock button with a sharp click.

Your heart raced, your hands scrambling to tug your shirt back over your head as Joel shifted beneath you, one hand still firm on your waist, the other reaching toward the door controls.

“Is he in there?” Tommy muttered to himself. The sound of boots crunching against gravel got closer.

Joel rolled down the window—but only a few inches, just enough for Tommy to see his face and nothing else.

Joel’s expression was thunderous. “The fuck do you want?”

Tommy’s brows raised. “Damn, hello to you too,” he muttered, squinting between the tinted glass. “I been callin’ you. You never got back to the landscaper—”

Tommy blinked. His brows lifted slightly.

“Well, hell,” he said, smirking. “That the coffee shop girl?”

You, still catching your breath, gave a little nod, “Hey Tommy,”

Tommy grinned. “Joel never shuts up about your coffee.”

Joel groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

Tommy’s smirk widened, shifting his weight onto one hip, arms crossed over his chest. “Well, you guys comin’ or what? Bout to head down to Jameson’s Bar down the street with some of the guys.”

The good thing was—from Tommy’s point of view—it probably just looked like a hot and heavy makeout session in the truck. He couldn’t see that Joel was, in fact, inside you. Your eyes flicked up to Joel’s face, still locked in frustration, his jaw clenched, his breathing ragged. And just because you could, just because you had to—you rocked your hips just a little. Joel choked on his own breath, his whole body seizing, his hands flying to your waist in warning. His eyes darted to you in a look that might kill you if you didn’t feel the betraying feeling of his cock twitch inside your cunt.

You bit your lip, eyes flicking down at Joel, voice sweet as honey, “Was just about to.”

Joel’s eyes flashed, his fingers pinching your ass hard in retaliation. You yelped, causing your body to twist up and into him, and he had to swallow his groan.

Then, suddenly, Tommy’s expression shifted.

His eyes flicked between the both of you—Joel looking wrecked, breath uneven, a little too flushed for the cool evening breeze, and you, doing your best to keep your face neutral while subtly adjusting yourself in his lap.

Tommy’s head tilted. His mouth parted.

And then, slowly, a knowing smirk crept onto his face.

“No way,” he breathed, realization dawning. “You are not—”

“Tommy—” Joel ground out, voice low and warning.

But it was too late.

Tommy burst out laughing, doubling over, hands on his knees.

Joel exhaled sharply, hands twitching on your waist, his patience hanging by a thread. “Swear to God—”

You, on the other hand, were trying very, very hard to keep a straight face.

Tommy finally straightened up, wiping at his eyes, still grinning like an idiot. “Man, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Get outta here,” Joel said between his teeth.

Tommy held his hands up in mock surrender, taking a step back from the truck. “Hey, hey, I ain’t judgin’—I just never thought I’d see the day my big brother was gettin’ it on in a goddamn parking lot like a damn teenager.”

Joel groaned, glaring daggers at him. “You done?”

Tommy smirked, but started backing toward his truck. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” He shot you a wink. “You take care now, darlin’.”

You smiled sweetly. “I will, Tommy.”

Joel huffed sharply, clearly done with this entire situation.

You kept an eye on Tommy as he finally slid into his truck, still shaking his head as he fired up the engine. Before he pulled away, he called out—

“Don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do!”

Joel slammed the window up before you could reply.

The second Tommy’s taillights disappeared down the road, Joel let out a long, deep breath, his grip on your waist still iron-tight.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You giggled, biting your lip, still settled in his lap, still pulsing around him.

Joel’s gaze snapped to you.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, voice thick, dark.

You blinked at him innocently, then, just to test him, you rolled your hips slowly, feeling his cock move deep inside you again. Both of you moaned at the feeling.

“You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice low, rough.

“Mmm but you love it,” you smiled.

Joel growled, his patience finally snapping. His hands tightened, yanking you down against him, grinding your soaked heat over him slow and deep.

You gasped, your fingers flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he began to set a rhythm, his hips rocking up to meet yours, filling you over and over again.

“Fuckin' hell, girl,” Joel gritted out as your forehead dropped against his, “You love this, don’t you?”

You could barely breathe, pleasure pooling low and hot, winding tight in your belly, “Y-yes, feels s–s–so good,” you gasped, rolling your hips faster, chasing the high that had been aching inside you since the moment he first touched you.

Joel’s lips crashed into yours, swallowing the moan that tore from your throat as his hips snapped up into you, deep and slow at first, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him. You whimpered, fingers fisting in the shoulders of his shirt, clinging to him as the pleasure started to coil, winding tighter and tighter with every drag of his cock inside you.

“Oh god,” you gasped, barely able to breathe, barely able to think beyond the feel of him filling you, stretching you, hitting the perfect spot over and over.

“That’s it, baby—just like that,” he murmured, his voice rough, his arms wrapping around you as he rocked up to meet you.

You moved with him, rolling your hips, your body seeking more, chasing it, the friction and heat spiraling higher, hotter, pleasure building until it felt like you were seconds from snapping.

Joel must’ve felt it, the way you were trembling, the way your body clenched tighter around him, because his grip on you tightened, guiding you faster, pushing you closer, until—

“Come on now, hunny–you all talk or you really gonna cum?” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with need. “Let me have it, wanna feel you.”

And that—his words, his voice, the command in it—was what undid you.

A sharp, wrecked moan tore from your lips as the pressure snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your whole body shuddering and twitching as you clenched tight around him, pulsing, shaking, coming undone in his lap.

Joel groaned loudly, his head tipping back against the headrest, his jaw tight, his breath shattering as he thrust up into you, once, twice—

And then he followed, his grip bruising on your body as he buried himself deep, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat as he came, spilling hot inside you, his whole body locking up before relaxing, spent, wrecked.

The truck fell into silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing, the sticky heat between you, the feel of his arms still gripping you, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Holy shit.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a huffed-out chuckle against your chest. “Yeah.”

You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you moving, just breathing each other in, the moment settling between you.

Finally, Joel ran a slow, warm hand up your spine, his voice still gravelly when he spoke.

“So.” A beat. “We ain’t goin’ to Jameson’s, huh?”

You laughed, shaking your head against his shoulder. “Not a chance.”

Joel smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

“Good.”

[jetii]

Warm

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader

Words: 10,262

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends with benefits to lovers, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, first date cuteness, accidental love confessions, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral (m recieving), fingering, dirty talk, creampie, inappropriate use of scomp, very loving soft sex actually

Summary: For the first time since the Republic fell, you and Echo find yourself on Pabu with nothing to do but relax, and you're determined to make the most of it. You just have to convince Echo.

A/N: I said this was pwp but I lied, the plot got me girl. This is some of the sweetest smut I have ever written. Echo deserves nothing less.

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"What are you doing?"

You barely pause to look up as you shove another bottle of sunscreen in your bag, casting Echo a wry smile. 

"We're going to the beach, so I'm making sure we're stocked up on sunscreen." You give the bottle in your hand a little shake, as if to illustrate your point. Echo's eyes flick down to it, then back to you, and he crosses his arms over his chest, shifting his weight and making the muscles there ripple distractingly. But you're not going to let him derail you.

"And... why are we going to the beach?" he asks, his tone bemused. You frown at him.

"We're supposed to be taking a break, right?" you ask. "And it's a beautiful day. I figured that we could enjoy it."

The two of you had arrived on Pabu last night, after what had seemed like the longest journey of your life. The moment you'd finally docked, you'd immediately felt the tension in your body start to bleed away, and it only took a few more minutes for Echo to follow suit, his shoulders relaxing and his expression going soft as the two of you walked down the streets toward where the rest of the Batch had made their home.

Now, the two of you are in the kitchen, with its cramped counters and low ceiling and ancient appliances, and for the first time in weeks, neither of you have anything to do. It's a strange feeling. You've been here for less than a day, but already you can feel the weight of all the work and stress and anxiety slowly lifting off your shoulders, leaving you feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Echo, however, does not look particularly pleased at the prospect of having some time to himself. You know he'd rather be working, or training, or just about anything else, really. It's the exact opposite of what you're hoping for.

"Come on," you coax him, "don't you want to have a little fun? You deserve it."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you see him glance out the window toward the beach.

"I don't... think that's a good idea," he says, his voice hesitant. "It's— we're here because—"

"I know why we're here," you cut in. You set down the sunscreen, crossing your arms and leveling him with a look. "And I'm not asking you to swim, or even go near the water. Just sit in the sand, maybe enjoy the sun for a few minutes. I'm sure there's a place to get a decent cup of caf nearby, or maybe one of those little pastry things you like."

He's still looking skeptical, and you know you need to change tactics, so you step closer to him and slide your arms around his neck, tilting your head back and smiling at him coyly. His gaze drops down to your mouth, then flickers back up, and the corner of his lips tugs upward.

"I mean, if you're too scared to come outside with me..."

Echo scoffs, the sound almost offended. He pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist, and his voice is a low rumble in your ear.

"You really think that'll work on me?"

"No, not at all," you say with a smirk. You press a kiss to the spot just below his jaw, and he shivers, his fingers flexing against your back. "But I did just get a new swimsuit, and I thought maybe you'd want to see me in it."

The reaction is immediate. You feel Echo's whole body go rigid, his grip tightening around you, and you bite back a smile, trying not to laugh. You look up to see his ears are tinged red, and his eyes are fixed firmly on a point over your shoulder.

"Really?" he says, his voice strained, and you nod.

"Mhm."

You can see him considering it, and when you tilt your head a little more, leaning closer and making sure his attention stays fixed on you, you spot the exact moment his resistance breaks.

"I think you'll like it,” you continue. You're grinning now, knowing that you've already won. "But I guess if you're not interested, I can go to the beach by myself. I'm sure plenty of people will appreciate it."

You step away from him, already starting toward the bedroom the two of you had shared the night before. Before you can get more than a couple steps, though, Echo's arm shoots out, wrapping around your waist and hauling you back against him. You turn to find him smiling down at you, his eyes dancing with amusement, and he leans in, brushing his nose against yours.

"That's not going to happen," he murmurs. He leans in and kisses you, and for a moment, all the stress and tension seems to melt out of his body. He pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours and letting out a little sigh. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to get a little fresh air. But if I get sand in my joints, I'm not going to be happy."

You smile triumphantly and lean forward to peck him on the cheek.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," you murmur, and his ears turn bright red. You grin and duck out of his grasp before he can reply, and Echo lets out a little huff as you head for the stairs, tossing a "get your sunscreen, you're going to burn!" over your shoulder.

When you return a few minutes later, your new swimsuit snugly in place under your clothes, Echo is standing in the doorway, and you stop, staring at him. He's wearing a pair of board shorts, a navy-blue color with a white stripe along each side. They fall a couple inches above his knees, and his broad chest is bare, his skin glowing in the sunlight. You've seen him shirtless plenty of times, but there's something about him wearing these casual clothes, something about the way he looks, relaxed and at ease and not quite as tense, that makes your heart do a funny little flip in your chest.

"Is this okay?" he asks, and you realize you've been staring at him. He has a button down shirt in his hand in an obnoxious floral pattern, one you know he got from one of the boys as a joke. You hadn't expected him to actually wear it, but it makes you smile to think that he's actually embracing the beach-vacation vibe.

"You look good," you say, and your voice comes out a little bit breathy. You clear your throat and try again. "I mean, it's fine. You look fine. Great. I'm—we should go."

You can't read the expression on his face, but his lips are twitching as he tugs the shirt on over his shoulders, and you grab the bag of supplies before turning toward the door.

"Come on," you say, jerking your head for him to follow. "Let's get out of here."

He follows you out, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire time, his gaze lingering on the skin that's visible between the bottom of your cropped shirt and the top of your shorts. When you catch his eye, he grins, not even trying to hide the fact that he's ogling you.

"Shut up," you mutter, but he only grins wider.

The two of you have never done anything like this before. There'd been a couple nights, during the brief respites the two of you had gotten on different missions, where you'd both gone out and had a little fun, but that had always ended the same way, with you heading back to one of your rooms or to a secluded corner and spending the rest of the night wrapped up in each other.

But this, the two of you wandering down the streets together, stopping at a café to get something to eat, laughing and joking together like a real couple... it's nice. Really nice.

You can feel Echo relaxing the longer the two of you walk, and he doesn't hesitate before ordering a caff for the two of you, getting yours the way you like it without having to ask. He holds the door open for you and pays for both of your meals, and by the time the two of you are walking down the beach toward the spot you'd had in mind, his arm slung over your shoulders, you're practically beaming.

The spot is far enough away from the main strip of shops and restaurants to avoid most of the foot traffic, but not so far away that the two of you will have to walk for miles to get back. It's quiet, with most people including the rest of the Batch at work or school or who knows where, and the sound of the waves is soothing.

Still, Echo stays close, his arm hovering near you as if he expects you to suddenly collapse, and he tenses a little whenever someone passes. When the two of you finally reach your spot, he pulls away, turning his back to you while you lay out the blanket.

"Checking for traps?" you ask dryly, and he shrugs, not looking at you.

"Or enemies," he says, and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, right."

"Just because we haven't seen any doesn't mean they're not out there," he argues, and you can tell he's about to launch into a full-blown speech, so you reach out and wrap your hand around his wrist, tugging him down to the blanket.

"We're fine," you say. "Really. It's the middle of the day, and I don't think any undercover Imperials are going to try and jump us in the middle of a public beach."

"You never know," he says, and the look on his face tells you he's completely serious. "It wouldn't be the first time."

You roll your eyes and settle down on the blanket, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Well, I'm sure I'll be safe with a big, strong ARC trooper protecting me," you tease, and his expression turns sour. You wink, and his scowl deepens.

"Ha ha," he says, not looking amused.

"I'm kidding," you say, nudging him with your shoulder. You tilt your head, and Echo's eyes are drawn to the long line of your neck. "Let's just... try and forget about that, okay? Let's pretend, for just a little while, that we're normal. We're just a normal couple, and we're having a normal date. Okay?"

He's still frowning, his brow furrowed, but after a moment, he sighs, his shoulders slumping a little.

"Okay," he mutters. "I can do that."

You smile, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, and Echo turns, his mouth finding yours. His hand comes up, his thumb brushing across your cheek, and he pulls you closer, kissing you softly.

You let yourself sink into it, the sound of the ocean and the feeling of the sun on your skin making everything feel a little bit like a dream.

When you break apart, he's smiling, and some of the tension has finally melted from his body.

"So," you say, grinning, "what do you think? About this normal-couple-on-a-date thing?"

"I think... I could get used to it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners, and the sight of him, relaxed and smiling and looking happier than you've seen him in weeks, sends a flood of warmth through your chest. "It's kind of nice, actually."

"Good," you say. "Now take off your shirt. You're going to need a little sunscreen."

Echo's eyebrows lift. “What?”

"Come on," you wheedle, shaking the bottle at him. "Don't worry, I'll help."

"That's not—" he begins, but he doesn't seem to be able to find the words to finish. Finally, he sighs and shrugs out of his shirt, folding it and placing it on the blanket. Before he can say anything else, you move behind him, squeezing a generous amount of the lotion into your hands and rubbing them together.

"I'm going to start with your back," you tell him. You smooth your hands over his shoulders, feeling the soft skin beneath your palms, and his muscles flex beneath your touch. You move your hands over his broad back, covering every inch of exposed skin, and Echo groans as you hit a knot just below his shoulder blade.

"Right there?"

"Yeah," he says. He's practically melting under your touch, and you keep working, kneading your thumbs into the spot. "Force, that feels good."

You don't answer, focusing instead on getting the last bit of sunscreen in his skin. After a moment, he seems to gather himself, and you see him glance at the bottle, his brow furrowing.

"Why do I need sunscreen?" he asks.

"To keep you from burning."

He looks confused.

"You have sensitive skin, remember? And we've been traveling a lot lately, which means you haven't gotten much time in the sun. You don't want to burn."

Echo opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already climbing into his lap, your hands skimming over his shoulders.

"I should get your front, too," you murmur, and his eyes darken. His hand finds your hip, his scomp skimming up your back, and he's looking up at you, his expression open and vulnerable. You can feel the warmth of him through your clothes, and a familiar heat starts to coil in your stomach.

"You're distracting me," he mutters, his gaze flickering down to your lips.

"Is it working?"

"Yes."

You smirk and lean in, brushing a kiss against his mouth before smearing a line of sunscreen down the bridge of his nose. He yel and you pull back, laughing as his face scrunches up in distaste.

"What—"

"That's what you get," you say, grinning. "Come on, let's get the rest of you covered."

Echo grumbles a little but settles back against the blanket. You're thorough, taking care to spread the lotion across his arms and legs, over his broad chest, and down the smooth planes of his stomach. He's warm and pliant under your touch, letting out little noises of contentment whenever you find a particularly tight spot. By the time you've covered the last inch of skin, he looks thoroughly relaxed.

"There," you say, smiling at him. You run your hand down his side, and Echo shudders. "All done."

"Thanks," he says. He opens his eyes, squinting against the sunlight, and frowns. You’re already standing up, dusting sand off your legs, and you see him tense.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

You pause, your hands on the hem of your shirt.

"What does it look like I’m doing?”

He pushes himself up onto his elbows.

"It looks like you're taking off your clothes."

"I am."

You strip off your shirt, and you toss it over his head, smiling as he pulls it away. He freezes, staring at the scrap of fabric in his hand, and his eyes drop to your chest.

"This is..."

"I told you I had a new swimsuit," you remind him as you drop your shorts and step out of them, "and now you get to see it."

He looks like his brain is short circuiting, and his gaze rakes across your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin and the tiny bits of fabric covering the parts that aren't. You grin and turn around, slowly bending over to pick up the discarded shorts. You look back over your shoulder and his eyes are wide, and he swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

"See something you like?"

"Uh huh," he says faintly. He licks his lips and tries to drag his eyes up, but they're fixed firmly on the swell of your ass, the way the fabric hugs the curve of it and leaves the skin exposed. His mouth opens, and you know he's trying to find the words, but instead, all that comes out is a faint croak.

"Good," you say. "I'm glad."

You grab the bottle of sunscreen and settle down on the blanket.

"I'm going to need a little help, though," you say. "I can't get my back."

You tilt your head back and Echo nods, the motion slow and almost hypnotized. He stands, crossing the blanket and kneeling down behind you. He waits for you to dispense some into his hand, and his fingers trail across the nape of your neck as he smooths the lotion over your skin. His touch is warm, and gentle, and the feeling sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

It’s rare for the two of you to have this much time alone together, and you can't help but let yourself enjoy it, leaning into his touch. You're not even trying to tease him, but his breath still catches every time his hands sweep lower, his fingers tracing along the waistband of your swimsuit. He takes his time, making sure that not a single inch of skin is left uncovered, and by the time he's done, the tension between the two of you is practically crackling.

He sits back, his hand still lingering on the small of your back, and the two of you are quiet. He's staring at you, and there's something different about the way he's looking at you, something almost... reverent.

You've always known he wants you, have been able to read it on his face and in his touch, but this, the way he's staring at you now, is more than that. It's desire, yes, but there's something deeper, something softer and sweeter, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

The two of you haven't done anything like this before. Even your previous trysts had been frantic and rushed, a matter of stolen moments in darkened rooms and shadowy corners. But here, the two of you are exposed, out in the open where anyone could see, and yet the thought doesn't fill you with dread or worry. It's thrilling, in a way, and the fact that Echo doesn't seem to care either way just adds to it.

But despite that, neither of you make a move. You sit there, both of you watching each other, and you know that if you gave the slightest indication, he'd pounce, and the two of you would be wrapped up in each other, just like all those times before. But for the first time, you don't want that. You want him to stay just like this, watching you, and for you to watch him in turn.

So, instead, you reach out and brush your thumb over his bottom lip, and he sighs, his eyelids fluttering closed. He's warm under your touch, his lips slightly chapped from the wind, and he leans into you, pressing a kiss to your palm. His scomp skims up your back, the metal warm from the sun, and he pulls you close.

You press yourself against his chest, tucking your head into the space between his neck and shoulder, and his arm comes around to wrap around your waist, holding you there.

It's peaceful, the two of you sitting together like that. It feels normal, and right, and the feeling that settles over you is warm and comfortable, like being wrapped up in a blanket. It's perfect, and you never want it to end.

But, like all good things, it eventually has to, and Echo's comm chirps. The noise seems to echo across the sand, shattering the fragile bubble of peace the two of you have found. He pulls away, digging through the pockets of his shorts, and he swears under his breath.

“Rex,” he says as he holds up the comm. You nod, and he activates it, and the captain's voice crackles through.

"Echo, I just sent over some new intel. Can you check it out? It might be a lead on the ship."

"Yeah, of course," Echo replies, though his tone is a little hesitant. He glances over at you, his brows drawing together, and you force a smile, ignoring the way your heart has plummeted into the pit of your stomach.

"Duty calls," you say, trying for levity.

Echo hesitates, glancing at the comm and back at you, and he lets out a sigh.

“Everything okay?” Rex asks.

Echo doesn't answer, not looking away from you. You give him a reassuring smile, and his expression clears, his mouth twitching a little as if he's thinking.

"Everything's fine," he says finally. “I'm a little busy right now, but I'll look over the intel and get back to you later."

There’s a moment of silence, and you hold your breath, wondering if Rex will call him out. But instead, he laughs.

"Busy, huh?"

Echo rolls his eyes.

"Yeah," he says. He shifts, pulling you closer, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Something like that."

"All right, fine," Rex says, and he sounds amused. "Glad you’re enjoying your vacation."

"I'm— yeah. Thanks, Rex."

"Bye, Rex," you add, leaning closer and raising your voice a little. Echo smirks, and he cuts the transmission.

"So," you say, "you're just going to ignore the fact that we got called in for work, huh?"

"No," Echo replies, looking defensive. He sets the comm aside, reaching out to take your hand. "We're on a break. They can handle things without us for a day or two."

You smile at him, and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, his eyes soft.

"Who are you and what have you done with Echo?" you tease. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, but when Echo's grip on your hand tightens, you freeze, a jolt running down your spine.

He scowls, his mouth twisting, and his eyes flicker away from you, looking out across the water. His hand falls away from yours, and his shoulders slump, the easy happiness that had surrounded him moments ago bleeding away.

"Don't say that," he mutters.

"What? Why not?"

"I just..."

He looks frustrated, and a little lost, and you wait, giving him time to find the words. His mouth is open, but he closes it, letting out a harsh sigh through his nose. His brow furrows, and he stares down at his lap, his jaw clenched tight.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, your hand finding his. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I—" he stops, closing his eyes. "I know."

He takes a deep breath, his hand turning to lace his fingers through yours.

"I'm tired," he says finally, his voice small. "I'm tired of... not getting to be with you, because we're always running, or on a mission, or just never in the same place. We never get a chance to be alone, and it's..."

His brow furrows, and his lips press together, as if he's frustrated.

"It's not enough," he says, and there's a note of finality to it, like the decision has been made. "And I'm done with it. So unless the galaxy is literally ending, I'm not leaving until we've had a chance to enjoy ourselves a little."

"And what if the galaxy is ending?"

"Then I'm sure Rex and the rest of the boys will take care of it," Echo says. He grins at you, looking proud of himself, and you laugh, shaking your head. "Until then, I'm staying here with you. And," he adds, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the side of your jaw, "you can distract me from thinking about work, if you want."

You lean into him, letting him press another kiss to your neck.

"Hmm," you murmur, pretending to think. "I guess I could do that. After all, we are supposed to be on a date."

"Exactly," he says. He smiles against your skin, and the feeling makes you shiver. "Come on, we can't let the day go to waste."

"I mean, there is one thing we can do," you say, grinning mischievously.

Echo's eyes darken, and his voice is a low rumble.

"What's that?"

You smile and stand, reaching down and tugging him up.

"Swim!"

He groans, and you laugh, ducking out of his grasp and darting for the waves. He's faster, though, and he catches you easily, his arms wrapping around your waist as he lifts you off the ground.

"Echo!" you yelp. You can hear the waves lapping against the shore, and you struggle in his grip. "Don't you dare! Don't you—"

"Sorry," he says, not sounding the least bit apologetic, and you shriek as he tosses you into the surf. You land with a splash, the cool water enveloping you, and you break the surface, pushing the wet strands of hair out of your face.

Echo is watching you, looking smug, and you glare at him.

"What's the matter?" he asks, feigning innocence. "Not having fun?"

You splutter a little, wiping the water from your eyes, and you launch yourself at him. You can't actually pick him up, and he doesn't fall, but the move does throw him off balance, and he stumbles backward, almost falling into the water. You laugh and try to shove him again, but his arm comes around your waist, holding you steady.

"Is that how it's going to be?"

You grin, and the two of you wrestle, the sounds of your laughter carrying over the waves.

"Oh, no, please!" Echo yelps. He tries to fend you off, and you laugh, ducking around his arms and splashing water up at him. "Mercy!"

"Never," you declare. You grab his shoulders, and he lets you push him under the waves. He comes up sputtering, and his arm comes around your waist, dragging you down with him.

You both surface, and Echo is laughing, the sound loud and free and happier than you've ever heard him. It sends a surge of warmth through your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you're leaning in and kissing him.

Echo kisses you back, his hands finding your waist. He's warm against you, even with the cool water lapping around your bodies, and his lips are soft and gentle. It's the opposite of the way you usually kiss him, all tongue and teeth and bruising hands, and it makes your chest ache, makes the longing that's always present whenever he's around swell a little bigger.

He must feel it too, because his grip on you tightens, and he hauls you closer, the two of you clinging to each other like your life depends on it.

When you break apart, he doesn't let go, and neither do you. The two of you stand there for a long time, breathing in sync, and for a moment, everything seems to slow. There's no war, no missions, no responsibilities or tasks. There's just you and him and the feeling of the ocean around you, the two of you pressed so close together it's hard to tell where one of you ends and the other begins.

“So,” he starts, his forehead pressing against yours. “What else do normal couples do on dates, anyway?"

You grin and step back, taking his hand.

"Come on, I'll show you."

And you do. The two of you spend the afternoon walking along the beach, collecting shells and talking, and occasionally, the two of you find yourselves making out like a couple of teenagers, hands roaming over each other and mouths moving frantically together. It's not until the sun is beginning to set that the two of you finally wander back up the hill to the house, and by the time you're back in the kitchen, Echo has you pinned against the counter, his mouth hot and demanding against yours.

"We're supposed to be getting ready for dinner," you mumble, even as you tilt your head, giving him better access to your neck.

"Fuck dinner," Echo growls. He nips at the skin just below your ear, and you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."

You're both still wet from the water, and you can feel him, hot and hard and pressing insistently against your hip. Your own desire surges, and suddenly the thought of a crowded restaurant or a stuffy dining room is the last thing you want.

"I've got a better idea," you murmur, and he groans against your neck.

"Tell me," he breathes, and the feeling of his breath against your skin makes you shiver.

"Shower," you manage. The word has barely left your lips before he's pulling away, tugging you after him as he heads for the stairs.

The two of you don't make it far, and neither of you seems to care. As soon as the door to the bedroom is closed behind him, he's crowding you up against it, his hands sliding under your shirt and his mouth hot on yours. You can feel him, hard and insistent against you, and he groans, grinding his hips against you.

"Gods, I missed this," he pants. He nips at your ear, his teeth scraping across the skin. "Missed you. Missed touching you and kissing you and—"

"Shower," you repeat, gasping as he bites down on your shoulder. "Now.”

"Whatever you want," he mumbles.

He pulls back, and the two of you race down the hall, stripping out of your clothes as you go. He's in the fresher before you, the water already on, and by the time you step in behind him, he's got his back pressed to the tile, his cock hard and heavy between his legs.

You step inside, the water cascading down around the two of you, and Echo's gaze drops, raking over your body. You can see him, taking in the way the water streams over your skin, and the way his eyes darken sends a thrill through you.

You don't bother teasing him. Instead, you push him up against the wall, dropping to your knees and pressing a line of kisses down his stomach. His hand drops to your hair, tangling in the wet strands, and he lets out a choked moan.

"This is a date, right?" you ask, smiling innocently up at him. He nods, his gaze fixed firmly on you, and his grip on your hair tightens. "Good. I've always wanted to give someone a blowjob on a first date."

"Oh, fuck," he moans, and his head thumps back against the wall.

You take him into your mouth, and his fingers tighten in your hair. You look up at him, watching as his expression twists, his brow furrowing and his jaw clenching, and the sight sends a thrill through you.

Echo isn't big on talking during sex. Most of the time, it's just groans and whines, with the occasional curse or muttered endearment. But now, his words seem to be spilling from his lips, the filthiest things you've ever heard pouring out as you suck and lick and take him deeper into your mouth.

"Yes, just like that," he groans, his hips jerking a little. His scomp slides up the wall, searching for purchase, and the sound of the metal scraping against the tile sends a rush of heat through you. "Your mouth is so good, sweetheart. So perfect. Fuck, I can't wait to get inside you."

His fingers are tangled in your hair, not pulling or tugging, just holding you in place. You're practically dripping, and you can feel your cunt clench, the ache in your core growing with every filthy thing that falls from his lips.

"Look at you," he mutters, his voice ragged. His eyes are fixed on the spot where his cock disappears into your mouth, and you hum, the vibrations making him shiver. "Gorgeous. Look so good on your knees for me."

You keep going, working him over until his voice is cracking, his words dissolving into incoherent moans and gasps.

"Fuck," he hisses, his hips stuttering a little. He's close, you can tell, his muscles trembling and his breathing ragged. "Stop. Need— want to—"

He tugs at your hair, trying to pull you off, and you ignore him, keeping up the pace. His words dissolve into a string of curses, and you look up at him, blinking innocently and hollowing your cheeks.

That's all it takes.

"Shit," he manages. "I'm— I'm gonna—"

His cock twitches, and his eyes squeeze shut, his face twisting as he comes, his mouth falling open. He shudders, and you swallow, keeping your eyes on him as his chest heaves, his muscles quivering.

You keep going until he's trembling, his hand pushing weakly at your head, and you let him slide from your lips, sitting back on your heels and grinning up at him. He's slumped against the wall, looking absolutely wrecked, and you smirk, reaching for the bottle of shampoo and standing up.

"Feel good?" you ask, and he nods, his eyes glazed and his lips parted.

"So good," he mumbles. "Need a minute."

"Take your time," you say, stepping around him and putting a generous amount of shampoo in your hands. You work it into your hair, feeling him watching you, and you smile to yourself, humming as you wash the salt from your skin.

"You're evil," he murmurs. He presses up behind you, his mouth dropping to the side of your neck.

"I think the term you're looking for is generous," you tease.

"That, too."

He kisses the spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing against the skin. His hand finds your waist, and his scomp slides up your arm, tugging your hand away from your hair.

"Let me," he murmurs, and you nod. He gently works the suds out, his hand running through your hair and sending pleasant shivers down your spine. His scomp slides down, brushing over the side of your breast, and his other hand joins, the water raining down on the two of you.

"You're beautiful," he says, and you turn your head, looking back at him. He's watching you, his expression open and unguarded, and there's a look in his eyes that makes your breath catch in your throat. "I'm so lucky."

"Echo," you start, but the words die on your lips as his scomp skims lower, brushing against your hip and slipping between your legs. The tip finds your clit, and you gasp, arching back against him.

"So beautiful," he repeats. He rubs tight circles over your clit, his scomp moving slowly, almost lazily, and you lean back, resting your head on his shoulder. His arm comes around your waist, and his hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb rubbing against the nipple. "You're amazing, sweetheart. I love watching you."

You moan and turn your head to press your mouth against his. He kisses you, his hand cupping your jaw, and you gasp as his scomp moves a little faster.

"I love the noises you make," he murmurs. He nips at the corner of your jaw, his tongue darting out to soothe the sting. "Love the way you taste, the way you feel."

He's everywhere, his lips pressing against the side of your neck, his hand sliding down your stomach and between your legs, his fingers brushing against where you're aching for him. He presses them into you, and his thumb replaces his scomp, the tip  tracing patterns over your thigh as his fingers curl, finding that spot inside of you that makes you shudder.

"Echo," you gasp, the sound practically a sob. You reach back, grabbing onto his neck, and he hums, his arm tightening around you.

"I love being inside you," he says, and his voice is ragged, the sound sending a pulse of heat through you. His cock is hard again, pressing insistently against your ass, and his hips grind forward, the feeling of his body against yours sending a rush of warmth through you.

"Want that," you gasp. "Want you."

"You have me," he murmurs. He adds a third finger, and you whine, your nails digging into his neck.

"Not enough."

He grins against your skin, and the motion makes something inside you snap. You're suddenly desperate for him, for the feeling of him filling you up and driving away the ache that's been building for weeks. You try and turn, but his arm keeps you in place, and he chuckles, his thumb moving a little faster.

"Wait," he says.

"Echo, please," you beg, and he groans, his teeth grazing over your skin.

"Patience," he murmurs. "You can wait a little longer."

He presses his lips to the side of your neck, and his fingers work, curling and thrusting and making your whole body go tight. His arm is solid around you, holding you in place, and the thought of him, surrounding you, pinning you to the spot and taking what he wants, sends a rush of heat through you.

"Please," you whisper, and his fingers twist, his thumb moving faster. "I'm gonna—"

"Yeah," he breathes. "That's it. Come for me, sweetheart. Let me see you."

The sound of his voice, the feeling of his fingers moving inside you and his cock pressed against you is too much. You break, coming with a loud cry, and he keeps going, working you through it. Your body goes limp, and Echo holds you, keeping his fingers buried inside you and his scomp drawing tight circles over your clit. You whimper and try to push him away, the sensations too much, but he doesn't stop, not until a second wave hits and you're writhing, clinging to him for dear life.

By the time he finally pulls away, your legs are trembling, and you're panting, slumped against him and unable to do anything but whimper as he turns the water off and steps out of the shower.

You don't register him drying you off or lifting you and carrying you down the hall, and it's not until the door to the bedroom closes behind him that your brain finally clears enough to form coherent thoughts.

"Echo," you say.

He looks down at you, smiling softly, and he kisses you, the press of his lips warm and gentle. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. He lays you down on the bed, his eyes drinking in every inch of you, and it's so tender, so sweet that the emotion wells up, filling your chest until you're sure it will burst.

It's only been a few weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. The longing, the worry, the fear... it's been eating away at you, and being here with him, like this, makes the stress and anxiety from the past month melt away, leaving you feeling more at peace than you have in weeks.

He's always been the calm in the storm. You've lost track of the number of times you've lain awake at night, wondering if this was the last time, if this would be the one where something went wrong and neither of you came home. He's always been there, a solid presence, an unwavering support, and the thought of losing him is almost too much to bear.

But here, in this moment, there's nothing but the two of you. There's no war, or missions, or fighting or running. It's just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, safe and warm and together.

And in that moment, you're so happy, you think your heart might explode.

He lays down next to you, his hand finding your waist, and you kiss him, your hands cupping his jaw and stubble scraping across your palms. It's gentle and unhurried, the two of you taking the time to relearn each other. The feeling of his mouth against yours, his skin under your hands, his body pressed against you is almost overwhelming, and you find yourself clinging to him, holding him as close as you can and trying to commit the feeling to memory.

It's not until he rolls on top of you that the slow, lazy pace breaks.

You gasp, his mouth hot and demanding against yours, and his cock presses insistently against your thigh. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he groans, grinding his hips down.

"Want you," you manage. Your hands run over his back, sliding down and gripping his ass.

"You have me," he says, his voice rough. He kisses down your neck, nipping and biting at the soft skin.

"Inside," you gasp, and he moans, his mouth dropping lower, his lips moving over the swell of your breasts.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, I want that."

"Come on," you say, pushing at his shoulders. He sits up and kneels between your legs, and he reaches down, stroking his cock and giving it a firm squeeze. He looks massive from this angle, his broad chest and shoulders towering over you, and the sight makes something clench deep in your core.

"I don't want to rush," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to the apex of your thighs. "Want to take my time."

You sit up, and his hand finds your waist, pulling you forward and into his lap. Your arms wind around his neck, and his scomp slides up the length of your back, pressing you closer.

"We have time," you tell him, and his eyes are dark and soft and full of a tenderness that makes your heart flutter.

"Yeah," he says. "We do."

You press a kiss to his cheek, and his hand drops between the two of you, gripping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. His mouth finds yours as the thick head slides into you, and it's slow, so agonizingly slow, you're sure he's trying to drive you insane.

You don't remember him being this big.

You know that's ridiculous, that of course he's still the same size, but the thought has a whimper falling from your lips. You try and grind down, needing more, but his arm comes around, pinning you to his chest, and he shakes his head.

"You're killing me," you mutter, and his teeth flash in the fading sunlight, his eyes dancing.

"I can stop," he teases.

"Don't you dare," you say, and he chuckles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He keeps going, the steady, agonizing pressure of his cock pushing inside making your whole body go tense. You can feel the way he's stretching you open, the way your body has to make room for him, and the thought makes your mind blank, the ache in your core growing.

By the time he's finally, finally all the way inside, the two of you are breathing heavily. He’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been, and the stretch is just shy of painful. It makes your hips jerk a little, and Echo lets out a moan, his hand finding your hip and his fingers digging into the soft skin.

"You're perfect," he mumbles, and you laugh, the sound turning into a moan as he grinds his hips up, pushing a little deeper.

You cling to him, his arms coming around you and pulling you closer. His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you wrap your legs around his waist, letting him pull you closer, as close as possible. The two of you stay like that, holding each other and letting the sensation wash over you.

Eventually, the pressure becomes too much, and you start to squirm, shifting and rocking your hips. Echo takes the hint and starts to move, and the first slow, lazy thrust makes the both of you moan.

He starts a rhythm, and it's like the entire galaxy has narrowed down to just the two of you. Nothing else matters, just the feeling of his cock sliding into you, the warmth of his breath on your neck, the feeling of his heartbeat against your skin.

You know how much he loves being inside you. He's always told you, whispered it against the skin of your neck, moaned it in the dead of night, panted it while you rode him, the words falling from his lips like a prayer. He never seems to tire of it, always desperate to get as deep as possible, and sometimes, you've wondered if there's a part of him that's afraid this will be the last time.

But he's never done it like this.

He's never held you in his arms and pressed kisses to your skin, his hand and scomp running reverently over every inch of your body. He's never taken his time, his hips rocking forward in a steady, measured rhythm, his mouth finding yours again and again. He's never let himself drown in the feeling of it, his eyes half-closed and his face twisted in an expression of pure bliss.

He's never made love to you before.

You've never put a name to it, the way the two of you are together. You've always been careful not to call it anything, knowing that doing so would cross a line neither of you wanted to. It's dangerous, the sort of thing that can break hearts and destroy lives, and you'd both known it. So you'd never said it, never acknowledged it, and had kept it to yourselves, locked away where no one else could ever see.

But now, with his arms wrapped around you, his touch tender and his mouth soft against yours, there's no other word for it. It's the only explanation for the feeling, the one that's welling up inside of you and threatening to swallow you whole, and the realization sends a thrill through you, settling in the pit of your stomach and burning like a sun.

He's making love to you.

You hold him closer, your hand gripping the back of his neck, and his lips find yours, warm and soft. He doesn't say anything, his gaze fixed firmly on your face, and his brow is furrowed, his jaw clenched and his eyes burning.

"So beautiful," he mumbles. His hand runs over your waist, squeezing lightly, and he lets out a shaky breath. "I love this. Love you."

Your breath catches, and for a second, it feels like the world stops. The only sound is his breathing, the only feeling is his hand on your skin, and the only thing that exists is him.

"Echo," you whisper, and his name is a question, the only thing you can manage.

He doesn't seem to hear you, or maybe he doesn't understand.

"Love seeing you like this," he mumbles, his gaze flitting over your face. "Love touching you, love being with you. I don't—"

He breaks off, and his head drops, his nose brushing against your jaw. His breathing is ragged, and his grip on you tightens, and something tells you he didn't mean to say that, didn't mean for those words to fall from his lips.

His hips slow, and he holds you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck and taking a deep, shuddering breath. You can feel him, his entire body trembling, and you pull him closer, your fingers cradling the back of his head and holding him against you.

"It's okay," you say softly, pressing a kiss to his temple.

His scomp skims down your back, the metal still warm from the sun and the warm water. It's a tender gesture, and the fact that he's using it to hold you, instead of his hand, is a testament to how far the two of you have come.

"I love this," he murmurs, and you know what he means.

He doesn't want to leave, doesn't want to go back to the war and the fighting and the constant struggle. He wants to stay, with you, just like this, forever. And as much as you want that, the two of you both know it's not an option.

"Me too," you murmur.

"I wish..."

"Yeah," you breathe. "Me too."

"I love you," he says again.

You swallow, and there's a lump in your throat, a feeling that seems to settle over you, making your skin feel warm and your pulse thrum. You're not sure what it is, but you know that this, whatever it is, is important, that it means something, and the sudden urge to run from it, to shove it down and push it away, is strong. But Echo’s always been there for you, a steady, unwavering presence, and even though you're terrified, the knowledge that he's here, that he won't leave, settles something in you, and the feeling starts to shift.

Instead of the warmth, it's like a fire, burning away the anxiety and the fear, and the knowledge that comes with it makes you feel lighter than you have in months. You're not sure what it means, or what you'll do with it, but there's a sense of comfort in it, and the smile that stretches across your face is genuine.

"I love you, too," you say.

He makes a strangled noise, and his grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into the skin.

"I love you," he repeats, the words falling from his lips. "Force, I love you. So much. I love you."

He says it over and over, the words spilling out of him. He's still hard inside you, and the feeling sends a bolt of heat through you, your cunt clenching around him. He gasps, his hips grinding forward, and he moans, the sound muffled against your skin.

"Please," you whimper, your nails scraping against the back of his neck.

"Anything," he gasps, and his hips start to move, slow and steady.

It's not frenzied, or frantic, and it doesn't need to be. You have time, all the time in the world, and for once, neither of you are trying to race the clock. He's gentle, his movements languid and unhurried, every thrust like a wave, pulling you deeper and deeper.

He's murmuring the whole time, his voice low and rough, the words tumbling from his lips. He's talking about everything, about the way he feels about you, about the things he wants, the places he wants to take you. It's filthy, and sweet, and so perfect, and you let the words wash over you, reveling in the feeling of him inside you and the way his voice makes your stomach clench.

"Echo," you whine, your thighs tightening around his waist. "Close."

"I've got you," he murmurs. His hand slips between the two of you, his thumb finding the swollen, slippery bud of your clit, rubbing slow circles over it. "That's it, sweetheart. Come for me."

The pleasure builds, slowly and steadily, until you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel. It's intense and intimate, Echo's eyes fixed firmly on your face, his lips parted in awe. You feel open, exposed, vulnerable, and the only thing that makes it bearable is the fact that he's right there with you, his expression twisted and his muscles trembling, his control slipping more and more with each passing second.

"Please," you beg, and his hips speed up, his rhythm faltering as he starts to lose his grip.

"Come for me," he gasps. "Let go. I'll take care of you."

And you do, his words sending a flood of warmth through you, spreading out until you can feel it everywhere, in every part of your body. Your cunt pulses, clenching around him, and Echo groans, his eyes squeezing shut and his mouth dropping open.

"Fuck," he chokes out. He doesn't slow, doesn't stop, just keeps fucking you through it, and you're shaking, clinging to him and shuddering as the pleasure keeps building. "Shit, sweetheart. You feel so good."

"Love the way you feel," you manage, your voice hoarse and strained. "So full. Love your cock, love you."

He curses, his hips jerking, and his scomp digs into the skin of your back, holding you tighter. His hand leaves your clit, and he grabs your thigh, wrapping his arm around your leg and hiking it higher. The angle changes, and he hits something inside of you that makes you sob, his hips snapping forward.

"Again," he grunts.

You nod, the feeling so intense that you can't manage words. You're practically sobbing, the sounds falling from your lips without thought, and Echo's gaze is fixed on you, his expression hungry and awestruck.

"Fuck," he growls, his thrusts getting more and more erratic. "Come on, sweetheart. Want to feel you. Wanna watch you come. Gonna fill you up. Make you mine."

It's filthy, the things he's saying, and you're lost in him, his hand gripping your waist and his scomp pressed into the small of your back. His gaze is burning, and it feels like the room is spinning, like the world is coming apart at the seams and there's nothing left but the two of you, moving together.

"I can't—"

"That's it," he encourages, his voice rough. He's shaking, and you know he's close. "One more. Come on."

You can feel the tears sliding down your cheeks, and his eyes are wide, his expression stunned.

"Please," you gasp. "Echo, please."

"Fuck," he breathes.

It's like a switch has been flipped, and the slow, steady pace falls apart, his thrusts hard and fast. He surges forward, your back hitting the bed, and his scomp slides under your back, lifting you off the mattress.

It's too much, the new angle and the way he's staring at you, and a sob breaks from your throat, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Gorgeous," he breathes. "You're perfect. I love you."

There's a moment, a heartbeat where it seems like everything is suspended. His eyes are wide, and he looks almost... shocked, as if he can't believe what's happening, and something tells you that it's not just about this, about the two of you. It's bigger, somehow, deeper and more profound and the feeling that washes over you is pure, unadulterated joy.

And you can see it on his face, in the way his eyes widen and his mouth drops open. He looks like he's about to burst, and it's so raw, so perfect, and the realization hits you like a blaster bolt.

He's happy.

He's the happiest you've ever seen him, and the fact that it's because of you is overwhelming.

"Love you," he murmurs, and it's the last thing either of you say before the feeling crashes over the two of you.

You cry out, and the dam breaks. The pleasure rushes through you, hot and cold, and the waves break, sweeping over the both of you and carrying you away.

You come with a choked gasp, his name on your lips and his fingers digging into the skin of your thigh. His hips snap forward, and he grinds into you, his face twisting and a loud moan falling from his mouth at the way your body pulls him in, squeezing and pulsing around him.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes.

You cling to him, your eyes fixed on his face. He's beautiful like this, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed, his expression twisted into an expression of pure ecstasy. He holds himself there, buried to the hilt inside you as he starts to come, the first pulse of heat making you whimper.

You can feel his cock twitch, and his brow furrows, a broken sob falling from his lips. His grip on your thigh tightens, and his hips start to stutter, grinding into you and filling you up, his come dripping from you. He lets out another choked noise, and he falls forward, his weight settling on top of you and his mouth finding yours.

"So perfect," he pants, his hips rocking forward a few more times, his movements lazy and slow.

You can't respond, still gasping for air, and you can feel the way he's twitching, the way his body is shaking. It feels like forever before the feeling finally fades and Echo pulls back slightly, mindful of his weight. You can feel him dripping from where the two of you are connected, and you bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Hi," you whisper, and he laughs, the sound breathless and a little giddy.

"Hi," he replies, grinning.

Echo's chest is heaving, his muscles quivering, and he looks absolutely wrecked. He's staring at you, his lips parted and his eyes wide, and he's looking at you the way people look at the sun after they've spent too long in the dark, like he's seeing something for the first time and never wants to look away.

"I love watching you," he says, his voice raw and hoarse. "Wish you could see yourself."

"Yeah?"

He nods and reaches up, brushing a strand of damp hair out of your face.

"So gorgeous," he murmurs. "Perfect. Wish I could stay inside you forever."

You hum, and his gaze drops, watching as he finally slides out, a trickle of his release following. He swallows, and he reaches down, his thumb slipping between your folds.

"Echo," you whine, your hips jerking a little.

"Gonna miss that," he mumbles, his tone almost dreamy.

"We've got a few days," you remind him. "And I'm not done with you yet."

He grins, and it's so boyish, so genuine and unguarded, that you find yourself reaching for him. Your hands slide up his chest, over the broad expanse of his shoulders and his neck, and your fingers brush over the spot just below his ear, tracing the edge of his jaw.

Echo leans into your touch, his eyes closing, and his head turns, his lips pressing against the inside of your wrist. You shiver and lean forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. He wrinkles it, his eyes still closed, and you can't help the laugh that falls from your lips.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," you say, and he cracks one eye open, looking suspicious.

"You're laughing," he accuses.

"Because you're adorable."

His lips part, and his eyebrows rise. He doesn't say anything, but his face flushes, his cheeks going pink, and you grin.

"That's the last word I'd use to describe myself," he mutters. “Especially when I’m still inside you.”

"I think I'm the best judge of that," you point out, and he smirks, his eyes glinting.

"Well, if that's the case, I'd have to say the same about you," he teases, and he leans forward, nipping at the soft skin just below your ear. You yelp, and he chuckles, pressing another kiss to your shoulder before he pulls away, searching for his pants.

"Where are you going?" you whine.

"To order food," he says. He tugs his pants on, and the sight of him, completely naked except for the loose fitting black cargo pants, is enough to make your mouth water. "I'm starving, and if I'm going to keep this up, I'm gonna need my strength."

"You mean it?" you ask.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Did you really think I'd pass up the opportunity to have sex with the woman I love all day? In an actual bed? With an actual door that locks?"

Your heart flutters, and you grin.

"No, but I'm still glad to hear it."

"Good," he says. He walks back over, leaning down and kissing you, his lips warm and his stubble scraping against your skin.

"Order some food," you murmur, and he nods. "And maybe a bottle of wine."

"Whatever you want," he says. He steps away, and his gaze flits over you, taking in the way you're sprawled across the bed, still naked and covered in sweat and your combined release. He swallows and shakes his head, backing toward the door.

"I'll be back soon," he promises. He points a finger at you. "Don't move."

You give him a salute, and he grins, his eyes dancing.

"I love you," he says, and it's so easy, the words falling from his lips like they've always been there.

"I love you," you tell him, and the smile he gives you is enough to light up the entire room.

The door closes behind him, and you collapse back onto the pillows, closing your eyes and letting yourself revel in the feeling of the bed beneath you, the cool air drifting over your heated skin, and the lingering ache between your thighs.

This isn't how you imagined this week would go. You'd thought that it would be a brief respite, a chance to relax before heading back to the fight. You'd expected a week of stress and anxiety, of wondering if it would be the last one, and whether or not you'd get to spend any of it with the man we’re falling for despite your better judgement.

Instead, you're here, lying in a bed, in a place where there's no war and no missions and no responsibilities. For the first time in months, there's no one depending on you, no one waiting for you to save them, and no one demanding things from you that you're not sure you can give.

It's peaceful, and it's perfect, and the thought that Echo, the man who's seen and experienced more than anyone should ever have to, feels the same makes you smile.

For the first time since the war started, everything is good.

You let your eyes fall closed, and the sound of the waves is soothing, the faint noise carrying up the hill.

In the end, it's not the ocean or the house or the fact that for once, you have nothing to do.

It's him.

Echo.

He's the reason this feels like home.

And in the end, you know that's the only thing that really matters.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @champagnejaig

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

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@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

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@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

[requiemforthepoets]

the proposal ⟢ FA14

⟢ part four of this time, i’ll love you much better

𖤓 series masterlist ⟢ playlist ⟢ part five ☽

PAIRINGS: fernando alonso x ex-wife!reader

SUMMARY: the twins thought that they have all the time in the world to devise a plan on how they would get you and fernando back together. that is until fernando had told the news to jullianna, prompting to put their plan in motion.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, named character (except for reader), parent trap inspired fic + plot, google translated spanish and french, single dad!nando and single mom!reader (for the time being), evil fiancé, twin switching, inaccuracies with information, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: part four of the series!! i have a lot of things going on, so that’s why it always takes a long time for me to update my series/post new parts to fics. as always, this series is open for taglist, so just comment or message me if you wanted to be tagged, and your comments/reblogs are highly appreciated, i hope you’ll enjoy this new part of the series! :)

The sunlight filtered through the curtains as Jullianna pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail, already dressed in a crisp white tennis outfit. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, adjusting the collar of the polo shirt she wore. Jullianna’s focus, however, was more on the bubbling frustration in her chest. It was not just about the day ahead or the tennis session with Fernando—it was about everything Sofia had dropped into her lap without any warning.

As if on cue, Jullianna’s phone buzzed on the bedside table. She picked it up and saw Sofia’s caller ID flashed on the screen. Narrowing her eyes, she swiped to answer, voice immediately sharp.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Jullianna began, tone clipped. “I’ve been waiting for you to call, and now you finally do.”

Sofia’s tone was light, almost too casual. “Why good morning to you too, Disney princess. How’s it going?”

“How’s it going? How’s it going?” Jullianna repeated incredulously. “Comment ça va? Vraiment? Tu es sérieusement en train de te moquer de moi?! Sofia, do you have any idea of what you’ve put me through?”

There was a pause on the other end. “What are you even talking about? You know how I can’t understand any of what you’re saying, right?”

“Oh don’t you play innocent with me,” Jullianna snapped. “Karting, Sofia. Karting! You didn’t even bother to tell me how to drive the freaking damn thing! I had to watch youtube videos just to figure out what I was supposed to do. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

Sofia chuckled nervously. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would be a big deal, papá would’ve helped you.”

“He did,” Jullianna admitted begrudgingly. “But that’s not the point! You could’ve warned me!”

“Fine, I’ll make it up to you,” Sofia said, tone placating. “But seriously, Jules, it’s only karting. You survived, right?”

“Barely,” Jullianna muttered, crossing her arms. “And you’re lucky I did, because I would’ve switched back and made you deal with the mess.”

The line went quiet for a moment, and then Sofia’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, Jules. I didn’t really mean to make things harder for you. I’ll give you all the details next time, okay?”

Jullianna exhaled, some of her frustration easing. “Fine. Alright. But that’s not all we need to talk about.”

“Oh?” Sofia sounded wary. “What now?”

“Stephanie.”

“Stepha-who now?”

“Exactly,” Jullianna said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. “She’s some woman papá had apparently been seeing, and she keeps on coming over to the house like she owns the place. I had to deal with her the other day, and let me tell you, she’s awful.”

Sofia’s voice hardened. “I haven’t heard of her before. When did this start?”

“Eh, probably while we're at camp,” Jullianna said bitterly. “Alejandra told me this woman had been coming around, and from what I’ve seen, she’s trouble. Fake, loud, annoying—you name it, she got it. The worst part? Papá seems completely oblivious to it.”

“Well that doesn’t sound good,” Sofia said. “Keep an eye on that woman. If she’s really as bad as you say, we’ll figure something out. But don’t let that woman get to you, okay? She’s not worth your energy.”

“Easier said than done,” Jullianna muttered.

The twins were so engrossed in their conversation that Jullianna barely registered Fernando calling out for her downstairs. “Sofia! ¡Vamos! It’s time to go!

Jullianna jumped up, glancing at the clock. “I’ve got to go, papá’s waiting for me. We’re going to play a few rounds of tennis.”

“Alrighty. Good luck, Sofia,” Sofia teased.

“Oh shut up.” Jullianna rolled her eyes.

“But seriously though, keep me updated about Stanley.”

“Fia, it’s Stephanie,” Jullianna replied, and Sofia just blew raspberries at her. “And will do. Talk to you later, ugly.”

“Hey! We look just th—” Jullianna ended the call before Sofia could even respond.

Jullianna stuffed her phone into the tennis bag and grabbed Sofia’s tennis racket from where it leaned against the wall, and headed downstairs. Fernando was waiting by the front door, dressed in an equally sporty outfit like Jullianna and holding his own tennis racket.

“Finally,” he said with a smile. “You ready?”

Jullianna nodded with a smile. “Ready.”

The sun was high overhead when Jullianna and Fernando stepped onto the private tennis court—air was warm but pleasant, with a light breeze that rustled the nearby trees. Jullianna adjusted the grip on the racket, movements fluid and confident. Playing tennis was her forté, and it was surely worlds away from the stress and confusion of karting or dealing with unwelcome houseguests like Stephanie.

Fernando took his place on the opposite side of the court, bouncing the tennis ball a couple of times before looking up at Jullianna with a grin. “You ready, chiquita?”

Jullianna smirked. “Yup!”

Fernando laughed, tossing the ball into the and served with precision. The ball zipped over the net, and Jullianna moved quickly, her racket connecting with a satisfying thwack! as she returned the shot.

The rally began, and for the first few minutes, the only sounds were the rhythmic hits of the ball against the racket, quick and hurried footsteps against the clay surface, and the occasional grunt of effort. Jullianna found herself smiling as she played, thoughts drifting briefly to when her and Sofia had shared a match back at camp walden. It was an intense match, filled with playful trash-talking and endless determination to outdo each other.

But then, Fernando broke the silence, tone casual yet curious. “So,” he began, returning a particularly fast shot, “what do you think of Stephanie?”

Jullianna hesitated, her focus briefly faltering before she sent the ball back over the net. “Stephanie?” she repeated, trying to buy herself some time.

“Yes, Stephanie,” Fernando said, voice light but persistent. “You’ve spent some time with her now. I just want to know what you think of her.”

Jullianna tightened her grip on the racket, her mind racing. She couldn’t very well tell him the truth—that she finds Stephanie insufferable, fake, and most certainly not the right woman for Fernando. Instead, she decided to tread carefully, masking her irritation with forced politeness.

“Well,” she began, returning another shot, “she’s…very put-together. Always dressed nicely, very stylish.” she paused, muttering just loudly enough for herself, not my style, though. Mamá’s much better.

Fernando chuckled, clearly amused by Jullianna’s side comment. “So, you think she’s stylish. That’s good to hear, and it seems like you two are getting along.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jullianna murmured, keeping her tone neutral. She didn’t elaborate further, focusing instead on the ball.

Just when Jullianna thought that the conversation about Stephanie is done, turns out that it’s not. Fernando wasn’t done. As the rally continued, his tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious.

“Sofia,” Fernando said, eyes following the ball as it sailed over the net, “I’ve been thinking about the future, and you know that I’m not getting any younger. Sooner or later I’m about to retire soon from Formula 1, and I want to know what you think about Stephanie joining the family.”

Jullianna froze for a split second, the racket nearly slipping from her hands. The words hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable. She knew exactly what he meant, but she decided to play dumb, her voice laced with forced confusion.

“Joining the family? What do you mean, papá? Are you planning to adopt her or something?” Jullianna said jokingly.

Fernando let out a hearty laugh, clearly amused by Jullianna’s sarcasm. “No, chiquita. Not adoption.” he hesitated for a moment before continuing, tone filled with quiet excitement. “What I mean is that I proposed to her.”

The words hit Jullianna like a freight train. For a brief moment, she stood frozen in place, staring at her father as if she had not heard him correctly. Then, as the reality of his statement sank in, something inside her snapped. Jullianna’s next hit was ferocious, with the ball rocketing past Fernando so fast that he barely had time to react. He turned to watch it bounce out of bounds, a look of surprise on his face.

“Wow,” Fernando said with a laugh, jogging to retrieve the ball. “That was quite the shot, eh?”

But Jullianna was not done. Her hits became more aggressive, each one more powerful than the last. She was not just playing tennis anymore, she was channeling all of her anger and frustration into every swing. Fernando was struggling to keep up, missing shot after shot as the intensity of the game escalated.

“Sofia, mi vida,” he called out, tone now tinged with concern. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Jullianna didn’t answer, her jaw clenched, and eyes burning with a mix of anger and betrayal. Finally, after one last blistering shot that Fernando couldn’t even attempt to return, she threw the racket with force—destroying it in the process and turned on her heel.

“Sofia!” Fernando called after her, voice filled with confusion as to why his daughter was acting up. “Where are you going?”

But Jullianna didn’t look back. She walked briskly off the court, chest heaving with unspoken words, and tears of frustration stinging her eyes. When Jullianna reached the front door of the house—still angry and frustrated, she grabbed the handle and turned it open, but in her haste and anger, she twisted it the wrong way. The door didn’t budge.

“¡Por favor!” she hissed, shaking the handle violently.

When it still refused to open, Jullianna growled in frustration, yanking the door with all her strength. Finally, it gave way, and she stumbled inside, muttering to herself. She glanced at the door handle, relieved to see it hadn’t broken. Once inside, she marched into the living room, pacing back and forth, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the floor.

“Comment peut-il penser que c’est une bonne idée?” she muttered, throwing her hands in the air. “Who even is she? Elle est insupportable!”

Jullianna’s rant alternated between languages—English, French, and Spanish, as her thoughts tumbled out uncontrollably. “He proposed? To her? ¡Dios mío, papá, estás loco!”

She stopped pacing momentarily, pressing her hands to her forehead. “This is not happening. This cannot be happening. I can’t handle this alone, I’m only one kid.”

Lost in her tirade, Alejandra peeks around the corner of the armchair she’s been sitting in with a cup of coffee in her hands. Alejandra initially assumed Sofia was in one of her usual moods, but the erratic pacing and the odd blend of languages caught Alejandra’s attention.

When Jullianna finally turned around, Alejandra cleared her throat gently. “¿Tienes algo que quieras compartir con la clase, mi chica?”

Jullianna froze mid-step, head snapping up—to which she immediately regretted because of the strain of her action. Her eyes widened in shock, the usually composed façade already slipping. Her heart was racing so fast, and quickly straightened her posture, smoothing her tennis skirt and forcing a smile.

“Alejandra! I didn’t see you there, you gave me a fright!” she said, tone overly bright.

Alejandra sat her coffee cup down at the side table, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stood up from the armchair and slowly approached Jullianna.

“You didn’t see me? Gave you a fright? I’ve been sitting here the whole time, chica. You were so lost in your own thoughts, or rather, in frustration, that you didn’t notice.” Alejandra folded her arms, studying Jullianna closely. “¿Qué está pasando? En serio.”

“Nothing, I swear!” Jullianna replied too quickly, smile tightening. “Just…a lot on my mind lately.”

Alejandra tilted her head, gaze sharpening. “¿Seguro que no hay nada de lo que quieras hablarme?” she asked for the second time. “You’ve been acting strange, mi niña.”

“Strange?” Jullianna echoed nervously, the forced smile on her face faltering. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Alejandra took a step closer, expression skeptical. “Sí, extraño. For one, you’re acting too proper—using expressions like you gave me a fright, the way you eat—you barely touch your food now, and even the way you speak sometimes, it’s different. I didn’t even know you speak French.”

Jullianna opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. She tried to come up with some silly excuse, anything to divert Alejandra’s growing suspicion, but her mind went completely blank.

“Alejandra,” she trailed off, “I changed a lot over the summer, that’s all.”

Alejandra’s gaze softened, though her tone remained firm. “Si no lo supiera, diría que es casi como si estuvieras…” she paused for a little bit, “Ay dios mío, no importa, eso es demasiado imposible.”

Jullianna hesitated, the weight of the secret she had been carrying threatening to crush her. “Almost as if I were who, Alejandra?”

“Nadie, nadie. Chica tonta, olvida que lo mencioné.” Alejandra chuckled. “Why don’t I make your favorite food, huh? I think that tennis session with your papá had made you hungry.”

Finally, Jullianna sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She couldn’t take it any longer, so she’ll take the chance now. “¿Casi como si fuera Jullianna?”

Alejandra’s eyes widened. “What?” her breath hitched. “You know about Jullianna?”

“I am Jullianna.” Jullianna breathed out.

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Alejandra stared at her, mouth opening and closing as she’s trying to process what was happening. Then, tears welled up in Alejandra’s eyes.

“¿De verdad eres Jullianna?” Alejandra asked, voice trembling.

Jullianna nodded, her own eyes glistening. “Yes, it’s me.”

Alejandra’s hands flew to her mouth as a sob escaped her. “¡Mi niña!” she cried, rushing forward to embrace Jullianna.

The hug was tight, almost crushing, but Jullianna didn’t mind. She wrapped her arms around Alejandra, feeling an unexpected wave of comfort.

“No puedo creerlo!” Alejandra said through her tears. “The last time I saw and held you, you were just a baby—barely a year old. You and your mother left for France after the divorce. I thought that I would never see you again.”

Jullianna blinked back tears. “I’ve missed you too, Alejandra.”

Alejandra pulled back slightly, cupping Jullianna’s face in her hands. “¡Oh, mírate!” she said, voice filled with awe. “All grown up, but still the same little girl that I used to hold in my arms. But why are you here in Spain? Where is Sofí?”

Jullianna hesitated, unsure how much to more of her and Sofia’s plan she could reveal. “It’s…complicated,” she said finally.

Alejandra nodded, sensing that Jullianna wasn’t ready to share everything just yet. “Alright,” she said gently. “But you have to be careful, mi niña. If your papá finds out—”

“I know,” Jullianna interrupted, voice firm. “That’s why I need you to keep this between us. Please, Alejandra.”

“Of course,” Alejandra nodded. “Haría cualquier cosa por ti.”

Fernando stepped inside of the house, chest heaving as he called out, “Sofia! ¿Dónde estás?” his voice echoed through the house with urgency.

The sounds of Fernando’s footsteps grew louder as he entered the living room, and Jullianna stiffened, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. Alejandra had sensed the tension, so she placed a comforting hand on Jullianna’s shoulder.

“Está bien,” Alejandra whispered gently. “I’ll leave you two to talk, I’ll be at the kitchen and prepare you some snacks.”

Jullianna nodded, watching as Alejandra quietly exited the living room and headed towards the kitchen. She barely had a moment to collect her thoughts before Fernando appeared in the doorway of the living room, looking left and right for Jullianna. When he saw her, he paused, hands on his hips, exhaling deeply as though trying to steady himself.

“Sofí,” he said softly, tone coaxing. “Come, sit with me, princesa.” Fernando gestured to the couch.

She hesitated but eventually walked over and perched on the edge of the couch, arms crossed defensively over her chest. Jullianna’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor, refusing to meet her father’s eyes.

Fernando sat beside her, leaving a careful distance between them. “Why did you run off like that mi vida?” he asked, voice gentler now.

Jullianna did not respond, jaw tightening.

“Sofía,” Fernando pressed, leaning forward slightly. “I proposed to Stephanie the other night. It was a very special moment for us—”

“Stop. I’m gonna stop you right there,” Jullianna cut in sharply, standing abruptly. The words struck a huge nerve within her, and she could not hold back any longer. “Just stop, papá, please.”

Fernando blinked, surprised by her sudden outburst. “¿Qué te pasa? Why are you acting like this?”

Jullianna turned to face Fernando, eyes blazing with nothing but anger. “Because it is outrageous!” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re marrying her? That woman? Marrying Stephanie?”

He frowned. “And what is so outrageous about that?”

“Oh my god, papá! That woman’s practically young enough to be my sister!” Jullianna shot back, pacing back and forth as her emotions spilled over. “Do you not see how absurd this is? All of it!”

“I never knew you would be reacting like this,” Fernando stood, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Sofía, calm down, por favor. There’s no need to—”

“Je suis calme!” Jullianna shouted like a maniac, clearly not calm at all. She began to switch to French again without even realizing it, her words tumbling out in a torrent. “Comment peux-tu faire ça? As-tu même pensé à ce que cela signifierait pour nous? C’est insensé! Je ne peux pas croire que tu ferais ça. Elle n’est pas la bonne pour toi, papa. Pas du tout!”

Fernando furrowed his eyebrows, stepping in closer towards Jullianna. “What…French? Desde cuándo hablas francés?”

Jullianna stopped pacing, momentarily caught off guard. “I-I um, uh, learned it at camp,” she said quickly, brushing past the question. “But that’s not the point!”

She faced Fernando. Taking a deep breath, she began, voice softening slightly. “I’m sorry for my outburst,” she said, brushing her hair back from her face. “But we need to talk about this rationally.”

Fernando nodded, motioning for her to sit again, but Jullianna preferred standing. “Alright, alright,” he said. “Let’s talk. But in a language we can both understand, por favor mi vida.”

He sighed, patience already visibly thinning. “Sofía, I don’t understand why this is upsetting you so much. Stephanie has been kind to you, hasn’t she? She’s made every effort to—”

“Kind?” Jullianna scoffed, cutting him off. “That’s not the issue, papá. This isn’t about her being nice, this is about you thinking you can just bring someone into our lives and marry them without even considering how it affects everything!”

Feenando’s brows furrowed deeply. “I have considered it. Stephanie is someone I care about, and I thought you would—”

“Well you thought wrong!” Jullianna interrupted, voice rising again. She felt the heat of tears threatening to spill but blinked them back furiously. “You can’t do this, papa. You can’t marry her—or anyone else! It will ruin everything!”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before Fernando could even say a word, Jullianna already turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her tennis shoes squeaking against the floor.

“Sofía!” Fernando called after her, voice tinged with frustration and confusion. But she didn’t stop despite how many times Fernando called out for her.

Jullianna slumped into the St. Anthony’s face-to-face swing, letting her head fall back against the smooth wood. She exhaled sharply, crossing her arms over her chest, still reeling from what she had just learned. Fernando had proposed to Stephanie. Proposed. The word itself made her stomach churn.

This was worse than she and Sofia had imagined. They had time, or so they thought. But now, with a ring on Stephanie’s finger, the entire course of action had been changed—everything was moving too fast. Jullianna and Sofia had to quickly put their plan into motion if they even want to stop this wedding from happening, they need to act now. But there was only one viable solution: they had to get you and Fernando back together.

Jullianna was deep in thought, brainstorming ways to subtly, but not-so-subtly, bring you to Spain or maybe one of his races so that she and Sofia can just push you both back towards each other, when a sudden knock against the wooden frame of the swing had startled Jullianna. Her head snapped up, and saw Stephanie.

“Mind if I join you?” Stephanie asked, voice light and airy, as if she had just wandered into the garden without a care in the world.

Before Jullianna could even answer, Stephanie lowered herself onto the vacant seat of the swing, facing her directly. Jullianna barely stopped herself from grimacing, just looking at Stephanie made her want to barf.

Stephanie clasped her hands together, tilting her head slightly. “I can imagine how surprised you must have been by the engagement news.”

Jullianna forced a tight-lipped smile, words laced with passive aggression. “Oh, shock doesn’t even begin to cover it, honestly.”

Stephanie just chuckled, completely oblivious to the sharp edge in Jullianna’s tone. She relaxed herself on the seat, movements elegant and poised, as if this were just another casual afternoon chat. Forcing herself not to groan, Jullianna braced herself for whatever nonsense Stephanie was about to spew.

“You know,” Stephanie began, leaning slightly forward, “eleven is such a very wonderful age.”

Jullianna arched an eyebrow. What in the actual world does that have to do with any of this?

Stephanie smiled wistfully, as if she was reminiscing about something so precious. “When I was eleven, I had my first beau.” She let out a soft laugh, eyes sparkling with nostalgia.

“It was the first time I really started to feel like a woman.” she sighed dramatically. “That’s when I realized love was this fantastic, exhilarating mystery, one that takes a man and a woman on the most magical journey.”

Jullianna’s hand was tightly gripping the armrest of the swing, jaw now clenched, and resisting the great force of rolling her eyes. Oh, for the love of all things holy. She kept her expression neutral, pretending to listen, but internally, Jullianna was already pulling her hair out and screaming.

Stephanie continued, completely unaware of Jullianna’s growing irritation. “And believe it or not, you’ll understand that feeling soon,” she said with a knowing smile.

Jullianna just stared at Stephanie, fingers curled slightly now against her arms. She was not sure what was more annoying—Stephanie’s patronizing tone, or the fact that she spoke as if she had somehow unlocked the secrets of the universe. She certainly did not want to sit there, listening to this woman yap on about love like she was some kind of modern day Aristotle.

Before Stephanie could continue her sickly sweet monologue about love and magical journeys, Jullianna lifted a hand slightly, cutting Stephanie off.

“You know, I don’t want to sound all jerky or anything, because, from what I can tell, you’re trying really hard to be all mushy and sentimental.” she tilted her head slightly, letting her eyes linger on Stephanie’s with something close to amusement. “And I think I finally got it.”

Stephanie blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Get what, exactly?”

Jullianna leaned forward slightly, lips curling into a knowing smile. “What my papá sees in you.” she continued, voice still laced with that same passive aggressiveness, but now there was something else woven into it—a challenge. “You’re a beautiful woman. Sexy, even, and my papá? Well, he’s only human, after all.”

Stephanie’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out just yet. Jullianna’s smile widened just a little, though her eyes were sharp.

“But if you ask me, marriage is supposed to be based on something more, don’t you agree?” Jullianna let the question hang in the air for a moment before her smile turned almost innocent. “Something more than just…fornication. If you don’t know what fornication is, it means sex.”

Stephanie’s entire expression shifted. Gone was the light, airy persona. Her posture stiffened just slightly, and the sweetness in her eyes dimmed, now replaced with something sharper, something calculated. Jullianna didn’t flinch though, in fact, she was thoroughly enjoying every bit of it.

She smiled, but it was a whole lot different now. “Oh boy, your papá really underestimates you, doesn’t he?”

Jullianna let out a small, breathy chuckle. “Oh?” she mused, cocking her head slightly, as if intrigued. “And you don’t?”

Stephanie studied her closely, lips still curved, but her eyes darkened. Jullianna could feel it now—she was starting to get on Stephanie’s nerves. It was a beautiful sight and symphony for Jullianna. Good. People always tend to overlook her, underestimated her. People would assume that she was just a kid who did not know any better. She liked it that way. Because nothing thrilled Jullianna more than a good challenge, and judging by the way Stephanie was staring her down, she had just found herself a new one.

She then let out a light laugh, though there was no real humor behind it. Stephanie tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just a bit as she studied Jullianna with thinly veiled annoyance.

“So what if I’m young and beautiful?” Stephanie mused, voice airy but carrying an undertone of sharpness. “Last time I checked, being young and beautiful isn’t a crime.”

Jullianna simply raised an eyebrow, keeping her smirk firmly in place, which only seemed to annoy the hell out of Stephanie even more.

“And for the record, I know what fornication means, thank you very much. I love your father, I adore him. Your father is exactly the kind of man I’ve always envisioned myself marrying. This—” she gestured between herself and Jullianna as if making some kind of grand declaration, “is the real deal, honey. Nothing, and I say nothing, is going to come between us.”

Jullianna barely blinked at Stephanie’s words. She just leaned back against the wooden swing, one arm lazily draped over the armrest, completely unbothered, and yawning out of boredom to piss off Stephanie more.

While Stephanie, on the other hand, was growing impatient. She leaned forward slightly, gaze piercing as she said, “you need to understand something, sweetheart. This is the reality now, you have to accept the fact that you’re no longer the only girl in Fernando Alonso’s life. You need to get over it.”

That did it. Jullianna’s lips curled into an even bigger smirk, one that was almost too smug, too knowing. It made Stephanie’s fingers twitch slightly, as if she were resisting the urge to wipe the expression right off her face. She leaned in slightly as well, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared Stephanie down.

“Oh? That’s the reality, huh?” she drawled, voice dripping with amusement.

Jullianna continued, her smirk never wavering. “So, just to be clear that we’re on the same page here, papá’s money has nothing to do with any of this? No part of you thinks that marrying him just so happens to come with a very very comfortable lifestyle?”

Stephanie’s expressions had immediately tightened, but she quickly schooled her features back into something neutral. “Are you insinuating that I’m marrying your father for his money?” she asked, feigning offense, though her voice was just a little too even to be genuine.

Jullianna simply shrugged, the smirk on her face never fading. “I’m not insinuating anything, but if that’s what you think, then feel free to think of such things,” she said innocently, though her eyes were gleaming with mischief. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen this in a film before. I mean, come on, I’ve watched cinderella more times than I can count.”

Stephanie’s brows furrowed slightly, unsure of where this was going. Jullianna sighed dramatically and shook her head. “And if this whole shazam isn’t about money, then great! But personally? I’d rather not end up scrubbing the floors and befriending the neighborhood birds while you have breakfast in bed, smiling down at me from your throne in papá’s house.”

Her entire face stiffened at what Jullianna just said, lips pressing together tightly as the words settled between them. For the first time in their entire conversation, Stephanie had no response at all, and that? That brought nothing but pure, unadulterated joy.

However, Stephanie’s entire demeanor changed the moment Jullianna’s words sank in. Her perfectly poised expression faltered, just for a second, before her brows furrowed and her lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. It was the exact reaction that Jullianna had been hoping for. She had successfully gotten under Stephanie’s skin, and now? Now she was really starting to see the cracks in the woman her father wanted to marry.

Stephanie inhaled sharply, composing herself before leaning forward again, but this time, her face was mere inches from Jullianna’s. She locked eyes with her, the intensity of her gaze enough to make most people shrink under the pressure. But not Jullianna.

“You are unbelievably out of line, jovencita,” Stephanie said in a low voice, tone dripping with controlled frustration.

Jullianna simply blinked up at her, her smirk never faltering. Stephanie exhaled through her nose, clearly trying to keep herself from snapping. Then, with slow precision, she spoke, enunciating each word carefully.

“Listen to me, and you listen good,” she began, voice dangerously soft. “I’m marrying your father whether you like it or not. So if I were you, I’d quit playing whatever little game you think you’re playing and stay out of my way.”

Jullianna raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as if contemplating Stephanie’s words, but said nothing. Stephanie leaned more closer, voice dropping even more lower.

“You are way in over your head, sweetheart,” she continued, tone carrying a hint of condescension. “So I suggest you don’t tangle yourself up in things you clearly don’t understand.”

There was a heavy pause. Stephanie studied Jullianna’s face, waiting for some kind of reaction, for her to look intimidated, or at least acknowledge the warning, and Stephanie took Jullianna’s silence as an agreement, she leaned back on the swing, arm draping over the armrest.

Instead, Jullianna just smiled. Not a polite smile, not a nervous smile. But a slow, teasing, infuriating smirk. Then, she shrugged, Stephanie’s eye twitching. Before the woman could say another word, Jullianna stood up, stretching slightly as if this whole conversation had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience for her. Without a warning, she bent down so that she was now the one at Stephanie’s eye level.

“Je comprends parfaitement, Cruella.” she said smoothly. Stephanie blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

Jullianna smiled again, that same mischievous, knowing grin that had been pushing all of Stephanie’s buttons. Then, because Jullianna was still eleven after all, and feeling particularly childish, she blew raspberries right in Stephanie’s face, wherein the woman recoiled, visibly appalled. Jullianna giggled, straightening up before giving her soon-to-be stepmother a playful wink.

“Au revoir, Stéphanie,” she said cheerfully.

Jullianna turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the woman completely dumbfounded.

taglist : @qghosty , @seonghwaexile , @linnygirl09 , @tallrock35 , @madnesstaking0ver , @akulici , @scopeiguess , @ferakillia , @exactlycoralfox , @iambored24601 , @mx13sworld , @tibadi , @chainsawangel

[alittlesongbirdchirps]

🐦🔫 HONEY I SHRUNK THE ROBINS

Damien shoved Tim as they entered the cave.

“Drake, your foolishness allowed the cretin to get away.”

Tim quickly caught himself before falling and turned around glaring at Damien, his eyebrow twitching in irration.

“Bat protocols; hit with anything unknown, return the cave, someone who never lets anyone forget they are the blood son of the bat should know that.”

Damien's jaw tightens

“And someone who should know their place imposter should not order me around.”

He stated through gritted teeth, before turning away and going to hang his sword up when Tim scoffed and muttered something under his breath; as he was about to press his comm to let the others know they had returned and briefly report why there returned earlier, Damien's snarl cut him off.

“What was that, Drake?”

It was more like damned than a question, Damien’s grip grew tighter on his sword as he stepped away from the wall mount.

Tim rolled his eyes in response, not fazed at all.

“I said nothing, You are hearing things again, demon.”

Damien suddenly launched at him, Tim quickly moved his hand away from the comm dodging quickly, before shoving Damien back, who instantly prepared himself to launch another attack at him.

This time, however, he pointed his sword in Tim’s direction.

“You dare mock me and then try to fool me,you are a coward, but that’s nothing new, Drake.”

He snarled, raising his sword high, ready to charge,Tim quickly ready himself, preparing for the assault.

But it didn’t happen,he watched as Damien let out a cry before falling to his knees, clutching his side.

Tim let out a scoff.

“A bit of a delayed reaction, and I didn’t even shove you that hard, trying to use a tactic like that,that’s low even for you demon spawn and-“

“shit.”

Realisng Damien wasn’t faking, he quickly rushed forward.

“Damien?!”

Panic was in his voice as he reached to check his vitals, while his other hand was about to press on the comm until he suddenly felt intense pain, just like Damien falling to his knees.

Overwhelmed by the searing, crushing pain in his bones, Tim couldn’t scream,unlike Damien.

His eyes slammed shut instinctively, but as soon as the pain subsided, he tremblingly opened his eyes and hurried to see if Damien was okay.

A groan escaped Damien’s lip, which quickly prompted Tim to recheck Damien’s vitals and his body for any injuries, finding none.

Which in Tim’s mind could only mean one thing: that the Ray that they were both hit with earlier was the cause.

He pressed his comm in attempt to update the others. Only to be met with static, leaving his brow furrowed in confusion.

“comms are down?”

That wasn’t the only strange thing he was beginning to notice, as a strong smell hit him it smelt damp except the smell was so strong it smelt like it was coming from everywhere.

Along with that, he now noticed the environment was different, instantly thinking the worst, that they may have led the villain back to the cave and now they were kidnapped.

That dark theory was quickly disproven as his eye continued to scan the surroundings, leaving him with the shocking realisation, no they were still in the cave, it’s just everything seemed to have grown, or maybe it didn’t grow, maybe they shrunk.

Damien’s voice cut him out of his train of thought.

“what’s going on Drake?”

he asked, sounding rather groggy.

Tim let out a breath of relief.

“Good, you’re alive.”

Damien looked offended

“of course I am. I am not a weakling unlike you.”

Damien spat, as he began to push himself up, legs wobbling, almost looking like a faun.

Tim grinned.

“wipe that look off your face, Drake, before I slice it off.”

Tim faked pouted

“But you’re just so precious.”

He mocked his older brother’s voice. Damien’s eyes narrowed probably plotting out Tim’s death before Damien finally noticed their environment.

“I’ll ask again, what’s going on?”

He damned looking around at the unfamiliar environment, but Tim didn’t even need to answer as he seemed to already figured it out,he looked rather bewildered

“This is the reason we go to the cave when hit with an unknown.”

He told in a smug tone.

Damien scoffed in annoyance before looking around once again at how massive everything was now, his grip on his sword growing tighter.

Tim pressed his comm again as if hoping it would work, but it didn’t.

He sighed.

“At any point, while we were coming back, you didn’t happen to let anyone know, did you?”

Damien scoffed.

“That’s not my job,besides the point why does that matter to our current predicament?”

Tim paused, trying not to snap because this situation was serious,he needed to treat this like a mission gone wrong.

Tim’s hands were clutched together tightly as he spoke.

“Comms are down, which means we can’t tell them of our current predicament, which also means they don’t know we returned, which means they don’t know we were hit with an unknown.”

Then Tim gestured to their surroundings, dust floating past them.

“They aren’t gonna see us,I mean, look at how much bigger everything else is in comparison to us right now..”

Damien’s face fell.

“Are you implying that no one will know we are in here? Father and Grayson won’t see us?”

Tim groaned in annoyance, rubbing his temple, and sarcastically responded.

“Who would have guessed you only mention those two. The others as well, Damien.”

“Their the only two who matter.”

Damien sneered.

Tim rolled his eyes, placing his hands in front of himself almost defensively.

“Let’s just not fight for a second. I need to figure out how small we are.”

Damien went to respond, but Tim held one finger up in front of his face.Shushing him.

“How dare you think you can-“

Tim cut him off

“Where a quarter of an inch at most, comparing us to other items in the cave right now.”

Damien growled.

“Your calculations must be off, because that would mean there are insects who are bigger than us!”

Damien’s eyes bored into Tim, but seeing how serious Tim was caused him to falter. The situation finally fully sinking in.

“Most insects eat smaller insects in their diet, we are smaller than most insects....”

It was almost a whisper.

Tim’s face softened, getting closer to him. He would have crouched if he wasn’t sure that Damien would have slammed his elbow into his gut.

“I know Damien. Unfortunately, that’s not our only issue. As we established, the others won’t see us, which points to a high probability of being squashed, then eaten by bugs.”

Damien’s face grimaced before growling.

“How dare you even imply father would break his no-kill rule?”

Tim wanted to hit his head against a wall. He thought he was getting through to him, so he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“He doesn’t have a sixth sense for shrunken people Damien, and neither do the others.”

He stated in frustration.

“Look Damien, our main issue right now is to avoid being squashed.”

“So our first priority should be getting to higher ground and our second property should be to find a way to alert the others of our current situation. Which our best bet would be the bat-computer.”

Damien looked around before spotting the giant bat-computer. He could barely make out because how large it was, as well as how far it seemed.

“It looks like a mountain Drake, how do you even think we could get to it?”

Tim sighed.

“I know that’s why I said second priority because that’s at least a two-day walk, not even thinking about any other issues that might come up.”

He quickly smiled.

“besides that’s still a positive.”

Damien made an Are you serious face.

“A positive? Are you serious Drake, you said it’s at least a two-day walk, not to mention how long it could take us to climb it!”

Tim shrugged.

“it is a positive because we aren’t further away than we could be.”

Damien's hands shock angrily by his side before he sarcastically responded.

“Oh, but I guess we could use our grapples, but wait, everything is a hundredth our size.”

“They won’t hook to anything!”

It’s taking everything in Tim not to strangle the brat. He quickly moved his hands through his utility belt pouches.

“Listen, Brat, I have things in my utility belt for a situation where I can’t use a grapple.”

“Oh, do tell Drake.”

He snarled.

Tim begun to pull out a pair of suction cups.

Damien gaped, and he looked rather confounded.

“How do they even fit in there?”

Tim smirked.

“The unknown mystery of the bat uti-“

He was cut off, as there was a very loud rumble.

He and Damien’s hands instantly went to cover their ears in hopes of blocking out the almost ear-shattering sound.

Tim quickly took his hands off his ears, pointing to his utility belt. Damien stared down in confusion before watching Tim pull out the earplugs,his eyes widened and quickly did the same.

They could still hear the sound, but it wasn’t as painfully loud as it was. These were, after all, Canary-proof earplugs.

Tim was trying to decide what to do next and quickly because he and Damien both knew that loud rumbling could only belong to one thing; an engine of a vehicle.

But before he could think too hard, his body moved on its own and he flung himself in Damien’s direction, grabbing the now thrashing boy in his grip.

If it wasn’t for the earplugs, he could bet Damien would be screeching at him.

Damien’s thrashing was making it harder to hold him.

It was clear he hadn’t realised what Tim did and right before Damien broke out of his grip, a giant boot slammed down right next to them and the sheer force sent them flying back.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Dick jumped out of the Batmobile first, doing a stretch, moving his arms and legs.

“First one back, how unlike you.”

Dick teases before Bruce lets out a grunt, coming around the other side of the vehicle.

“Unfortunately, I have a report I need to make to the league.”

Dick only smirks, hands behind his head.

“Well, whatever the case is, baby bat will probably celebrate staying out longer than us.”

Bruce nodded, a slight smile appearing on his face.

“Yes, I hope those two are getting along.”

“You say that as if neither of them are smart enough to realise what you were trying to do.”

Bruce sighs, going towards the bat-computer, slumping against the chair tiredly.

“Let’s just hope it works.”

Dick only grins

“They’ll be fine. Give it enough time and they’ll be getting along.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim groaned in pain and was thankful for all his gear.

He quickly took the earplugs out before slowly getting up.He felt rather dizzy and sore.

“Damien?”

He coughed out, a bit winded.

When Damien didn’t answer, his heart stopped. He quickly dragged himself up and his face fell for a moment, only to calm down when he saw Damien already sitting up. He seemed to be in a state of shock, fear across his face.

“Are you okay?”

Tim’s voice was soft as he spoke, concern and worry laced within it.

Damien’s head moved in his direction, processing what Tim had just asked before his face of fear slipped turning into anger as he glared up at him.

“I’m perfectly fine, you imbecile. I didn’t need saving, especially not from you.”

Tim could have taken this moment to tell him without him, he would be mush on the ground, but he didn’t.

All he said was.

“Okay.”

Damien didn’t move from his sitting position, but he spoke.

“What now? You claim to be so smart Drake, you must know what we should do now.”

Tim paused.

“Yeh-Uh.”

Now he was beginning to process,how their lives nearly just ended. His nails were digging into his palm as he thought, but he shook his head, snapping out of it.

He needed to put processing this to the back of his mind. And start thinking logically.

He took a deep breath in before speaking.

“Like I said earlier, we need to get to higher ground, so where out of harm’s way.”

His eyes quickly moved around before spotting and pointing something in the distance.

“I think that’s the med-table. I can’t tell at this size, but it should be about an hour’s walk. It’s the closest thing.”

It was silent between the two; before Damien let out a shaky brief and pushed himself up.

“Then what are you waiting for, you fool let’s go.”

(Hope you like it. I was trying to use more descriptive words lol, sorry for any grammar mistakes.)

I think I’m slowly getting better at writing lol.

[fandomgeeknerd]

ok so there's a lot of words and thoughts so it's under the spoiler

so i imagine the movie like this

the start: stone is very sad and depressed we see mourning and grief and somewhere along the way he thinks abt what he could have done to prevent it, the main thing that he remembers is sonic and his friends and thinks if he never let them into the crab this would have never happened and so plots revenge against them bc Gerlad is already dead and cut to stone building metal sonic.

cut to sonic at the end of the movie, we get to re-see sonic getting ambushed by the metal sonics and amy saving him, they talk obviously and tbh i didn't think abt anything right here so lets skip a bit

the middle: stone's causing chaos cus at this point they figured out it was stone (i was thinking something along the lines of tails going to check up on stone and inadvertently figures out stone's the villain and sneaks out of the newly repaired crab in horror but um spoiler alert stone saw tails figuring out he's the villain but idk). They have a mini battle that leaves stone retreating, after that but not right after shadow comes back with news that robotnik is alive and that we have to save him and they do, at the same time maddie decides to take matters into her own hands to figure out why he's doing this and also goes over to check on agent stone and tldr stone wants revenge bc sonic and his friends got the love of his life killed and he knows the doctor sacrificed himself but he still wants revenge and maddie is able to go home safe and sound bc she's good at acting normal

before the end: after making sure robotnik is ok they tell him stone is going crazy and robotnik doesn't believe them at first until they share stories and proof and then robotnik is like "oh shit! we gotta stop this!" (no one has brought up that he's in love with robotnik and the doctor thinks stone wants revenge bc he's his boss not bc he loves him) and there's a cool getting ready and prepared montage with tom, maddie, sonic, shadow, amy, tails, knuckles and robotnik

the end: there's not really much to it just as they see each other when getting ready to fight (i haven't thought much abt the 'how is stone gonna get revenge' aspect) stone sees robotnik and gets more angry bc he thinks they somehow cloned robotnik to get him to calm down but he sees right through it (even tho stone's completely wrong). They fight and he FINALLY lets slip (in front of the real robotnik mind you) that he's doing this bc they killed his doctor the love of his life AND HOW DARE THEY MAKE A CHEAP IMATATION, robotnik doesn't have time to process that stone loves him bc they keep fighting, eventually it looks like sonic and the gang won't win until robotnik makes it very clear that it's him the REAL him and that he's ALIVE (i was thinking something only the real robotnik and stone would know) and everything stops and a tearful but happy reunion ensues and the badniks make the heart eyes at them, stone says sorry to everyone and robotnik, robotnik says sorry and he loves stone too. Everything returns to normal with shadow beginning to live with stone and the doctor and at this point the doctor and stone are tired, and they want to stop going after sonic and his friends and they do and get to be slightly friends with them and tom and maddie and yayyyyy happy ending

the post credit scene: if there's other sonic villains besides robotnik one of them appear with sinister music in tow

i believe this would be the best course of action for sonic 4 it just feels like it goes full circle and snice apparently, they're willing to go full mcu for the sonic movie franchise i've heard this'll be great to do

SEGA AND PARAMOUNT

MAKE AGENT STONE THE BIG BAD OF SONIC 4

AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[yellowwwcrayon]

Second portion of Mister Right is up:

“What’s going on here?” A cool voice asked from somewhere far far away. Gihun’s face hurt, the side that had scraped against the wall was throbbing like a second heartbeat. “Nothing, mind your own damn business and turn around, ajusshi.” “Ajusshi?” There was amusement now. Whoever it was had decided not to walk away. “You look older than me.” Gihun heard the sound of rustling plastic. He lifted his head and squinted through tear-blurred eyes. There was a man wearing all black standing behind Kim Jeong-rae’s associates. The guy in the red jacket kicked Gihun again, this time in the stomach. His vision went bright white for a few painful seconds, ears ringing and diaphragm spasming. When he finally got his lungs working again, the men were gone and a pair of black leather shoes were standing in front of him. His savior bent down, and Gihun felt cold fingers graze his cheek and lift his head. A bright light shone in his eyes, and he groaned, batting at the phone camera flash with a weak hand. “Good, your pupils are responding normally,” The familiar voice said. Gihun blinked past the massive halo in his vision and squinted up at the shadowy figure. “Who…” “Hwang Inho,” he said, “remember me?”

Inho saves the himbo again and Gihun is nosy.

This will probably have a few more chapters (loosely mapped out). And yes, it will get explicit lol. But I am going to just keep adding them sporadically, so won't be guesstimating the number of chapters for the moment.

And I lied about no one getting hurt in Material Girl 😔 but it's for plot-ish(?) reasons?

[redgoldsparks]

January Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut. You might notice the layout image looks different! I have switched to using the Storygraph wrap up and I'm now linking to the Storygraph reviews as well :)

The Sweetness Between Us by Sarah Winifred Searle 

Perley and Amandine are both readjusting to high school life after a major health crisis. Perley was diagnoses with diabetes; Amandine was turned into a vampire after a car crash nearly ended her life. They bond in remedial classes over just wishing their lives could go back to normal. Perley tentatively rejoins the knitting club; Amandine wants to rejoin a sports team but struggles with exhaustion; both of them have less energy than they had before. Their friendship develops into something more, but can they maintain a romance when they are both still figuring out their own shit? This is a very sweet slice of life story with a fun dash of the supernatural. I wanted a little more from some of the queer themes; I spent most of the book unsure of Perley's pronouns. But I was absolutely rooting for these two oddball teens to find their way back to each other.

LaserWriter II by Tamara Shopsin

This is a novel, loosely, but more so it's a little window back into a specific era of repairable technology and the people who were drawn to it. Set almost entirely in a (real, I think) Mac repair shop in New York City in the 1990s, this book jumps from backstory to backstory, introducing a range of self-taught computer fanatics. The cast and the story both feel wide but not deep. I didn't get to know anyone well, not even Claire, the newest hire and lead character. It did give me some serious nostalgia, even though I was really too young in this era to really have any meaningful relationship with it's technology. A weird but charming little book.

The City in Glass by Nghi Vo, read by Susan Dalian

The demon Vitrine has been nurturing, building, challenging and haunting the port city of Azril for hundreds of years when the angels come to burn it to the ground. She tries to defend her people from the heavenly attack but only succeeds in cursing one of angel, embedding a thorn of spite in his side. When his brothers leave, he is forced to stay, and since he has nothing else to do, he watches her begin the long, painful process of cleaning and rebuilding. This is a dreamy stream of consciousness book with less plot that I'm used to from Nghi Vo. I'll admit this one captured me less than her work usually does though the prose is very beautiful.

The Concierge at the Hokkyoku Department Store vol 1 by Tsuchika Nishimura 

Akino is a new hire at the Hokkyoku Department Store, a store build to serve talking animal customers including many unusual and nearly extinct species. Akino must find a way to be present, polite and helpful without hovering or intruding on the customers experience. This is harder than it sounds, especially with fussy managers always watching the store floors! Sweet, silly, and very warm hearted. I like the delicate, retro lineart style.

The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting by KJ Charles read by Cornell Collins 

Another fun historical m/m romance from KJ Charles, this one more in the comedy of manners genre. I had a good time with it, I liked the leads, and as usual the secondary characters really shown. I did wish the enemies part of the enemies to lovers plot had lasted a bit longer, and the overall silliness of the story isn't going to make this the first Charles book I rec to anyone unfamiliar with her work, but it kept me entertained.

Noodle and Bao by Shaina Lu 

Momo loves living in Town 99, a historically Chinese neighborhood where she knows everyone and all the best places to eat and hang out. But things are changing. Her parents are worried about making rent, and her favorite restaurant was kicked out of its location and now operates out of a cart. The owner of the new restaurant, Fancé Cafe, has big plans to buy out the whole block and upscale everything. Momo rallies her friends and neighbors to fight back against the gentrification. This is a very sweet book for young readers, with talking animal characters and whimsical food battles interwoven with community organizing. An epilogue explains the issues around gentrification for a child who might not have encountered it before.

Brownstone by Samuel Leer and Mar Julia 

Almudena grew up with her white mom, always wondering about the Guatemalan father she'd never met. Until one summer mid-high school when her mom heads off to Europe for a dance tour and drops her off at the Brooklyn brownstone her father, Xavier, is renovating. Almudena has to navigate around a language barrier, an through unfamiliar neighborhood, and into a close knit Latino community many of whom see her as not brown enough to count. But Almudena is determined not to let this opportunity to know her father slip away. This is such a warmhearted book, funny and kind, with a really well developed cast. The art and the writing make a perfect whole, capturing a deeply specific mid-1990s moment. I've been following the artist's self published releases for years and I'm so happy to see their work shine in a full length book!

Leap by Simina Pepesco 

Ana is a college student in a contemporary dance program in Budapest, but her heart has fallen out of dancing. She skips her own classes to spent time rehearsing with her secret girlfriend, Carina, an ambitious ballerina in the classical program. Her new roommate, Sara, transferred out of classical and into contemporary and is thriving in the new, more supportive environment. She's also starting to develop feelings for the kind teacher, Marlena, who helped her transfer. Both of them are struggling to figure out their relationships with their art, as well as their sexualities, as well as how safe or not safe it feels to be out at their private, gossip-prone school. This is a really well told and well drawn coming of age story; I also really appreciated it as a story of queer friendship which complicated some of the standard narratives around first crushes/first relationships/coming out being kind of anti-climatic, half affirming, half disappointing. Definitely recommend!

Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar 

What a book! Several of my friends called this one of their top reads of last year and I can see why. The book centers around Cyrus Shams, a poet and recovering addict, who was raised in the US by a single father. The pair left Iran when Cyrus was a baby after his mother was killed in a passenger plane, shot down by mistake by the US army. In his late 20s, Cyrus is mostly drifting through life, working weird part time jobs, sometimes writing, trying to stay sober. He wants to write about the concept of martyrdom, about dying for a cause, or what makes people consider a death meaningful. When he hears of a Persian artist literally hosting her last weeks as she dies of cancer in the Brooklyn Museum of Art, Cyrus flies to New York City to speak with her. Their conversations will impact him more than he could ever have dreamed. This is an usually structured book, full of flashbacks, alternate POVs, dream sequences. It's rich with layers of symbolism and meaning, especially with repeated references to names, to lineage, to legacy, the lingering trauma of violence and revolution, and what a life of art demands from the artist. This book surprised and moved me. I'm delighted that it was chosen by my book club, so I've got a lengthy conversation with friends about this book to look forward to!

The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde read by Susan Duerden 

The Eyre Affair is a mystery-crime-sci-fi-comedy novel for the literary nerd. It is set in England in an alternate universe version of the 1980s, in which cloning of extinct animals for household pets is common, time travel looked down on as wretched career choice, and literary crimes get their own whole division in the police force. Thursday Next is a veteran of the Crimean War (which has been running more than a century) and a Lit Crimes special agent- her expertise is immediately needed when a priceless Dickens' manuscript is stolen by a thief whose image does not register on film. Things quickly get strange- and also hilarious.

Re-read in 2025: I revisited this after reading and loving Jasper Fforde's stand alone sci-fi novel Early Riser last year. Unfortunately, The Eyre Affair suffered in comparison- the main villain of the book is very weak, and I can now see the pacing issues of this debut novel. I still found it very funny and probably caught more of the classic lit jokes than I did last time, but it's no longer the Fforde novel I'd suggest people start with. Try one of his more recent works! 

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat vol 3 by Sakaomi Yuzaki translated by Caleb Cook

This series just keeps getting more and more adorable! This volume introduced two new characters, and I braced for a moment hoping they wouldn't be rivals to the main couple, who are very slowly beginning to flirt. I should not have doubted!! Both newbies immediately seen that Nomoto and Kasuga are interested in each other and begin to cheer lead/wing man from the sides. Plus, in the author's note, the author talks about selling merch for a Japanese organization supporting marriage equality. I can't wait to read more!