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leonalovesalot · 2 days ago

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Hopin' you would come through II

ArtDonaldson x Reader

In which Art has feelings for Patrick's girlfriend.

18+ MinorsDNI (mentions of sex, but no smut)

(Gets a little angsty at the end but part 3 will have a happy ending)

wc: ~4.4k

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

When Art flopped on his bed to sleep later that night, his mind kept replaying your conversation. It was so incredibly embarrassing. You must hate him now, he thinks. Enough to walk out on him without a word, at least. He screwed everything up, didn't he? Not just any chance of the two of you getting together, but also his relationship with Patrick. He pictures you on the phone with Patrick telling him everything in a worried manner. And Patrick would probably say something like, "I'm gonna kick his ass."

He should have kept his mouth shut.

But on the other hand, it felt good to be free of this heavy secret. He'd had these feelings for you for a long time. Even before you and Patrick became a thing. He still remembers the day Patrick casually told him that he'd started seeing you. Art was nodding along, even though the words blurred into the background after, "dude, last night... Y/N and I ... we kinda hooked up."

Patrick proceeded to discuss, in detail, all the ways he touched you and how you liked to be kissed. Art had no choice but to listen like it wasn't making his ears bleed. And he felt like he could cry when Patrick mentioned, with pride, that he was your first kiss.

This is what he deserved though. For not making a move on you sooner. It cost him this wonderful life he could've had with you. Dinner dates, movies. laughter, kissing, fucking. All the things you now did with Patrick, could've been his.

He wasn't angry with Patrick since it wasn't his fault. Patrick was charming and had no problem relentlessly flirting with pretty girls (and guys). And you, not being given a lot of male attention in the past, were quick to fall for him.

So he couldn't be upset with anyone really. It was just about timing.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

You avoided Art like your life depended on it.

Hanging out with him at the party didn't go how you expected. It was a little disappointing, you thought. On your drive back home, all you could think of was how your friendship with Art was probably ruined now. How could you recover from this? You were dating his best friend! And he was trying to get with you? His best friend's girlfriend? Who would do something like that? Really. Like, what was he expecting?

You wished he just kept his mouth shut.

You got home finally and dialled Patrick on your way in.

"Hey, baby." Patrick's groggy voice cut through your never-ending thoughts.

"Hi," you close your bedroom door. You weren't sure what to say. Which really sucked because you had been impatiently waiting for this conversation and had so many things to catch him up on. Now you couldn't remember any of it.

"'M sorry I fell asleep. I've been so sleep deprived," you hear shuffling sounds, "and I think it's catching up to me 'cause I lost a match today."

He really did sound tired. And hearing about the poor outcome of the match, you knew he needed cheering up. You did plan on telling him about Art and seeking advice on what to do. But, you didn't want to upset him further.

"You should sleep then, Pat. I don't wanna keep you up." Concern evident in your voice.

"No- no. What? No. We both planned this for today and... and it's more important than sleep." He was quick to comfort you. He was always great at that. You were quite the type A, anxiety ridden over-thinker. And Patrick was the opposite. He didn't take life too seriously and everything was easy-breezy. Being around him made you feel calmer, instantly.

"We'll keep it short then." You sit down on your bed.

"Uh uh," he shakes his head, even though you can't see. "So, how was your day? It was your last exam, right? How'd it go?"

He remembered.

"It was okay. I mean... I didn't leave anything blank, but it was harder than I thought." You play with the pink duvet.

"I'm sure you did better than you think. My smart girl." He snickers.

"Hm." You bite the inside of your cheek, unconvinced. "I also uhm- Art threw a party."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah- to uhm... to celebrate the end of the semester.” You pause. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Nope. This is the first I’m hearing of it.” Patrick sighs and you hear shuffling again. You assume he’s switching positions on his bed. “Honestly, I can’t remember the last conversation I had with Art. I guess he’s too busy for me.”

“Oh, I see.” You noticed a hint of sadness at the end of his sentence.

“The party though— tell me about it.” You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, “I’m surprised, actually. Parties aren’t really his scene.”

“They aren’t mine either.” You mumble.

“I know.” Patrick smiles to himself, “you two can be quite similar.”

That comment made your stomach churn. Maybe it’s time to hang up, you think. But this was how you wanted to spend the night. Listening to his sweet voice lull you to sleep. Oh God, how you missed him. You sometimes wished he wasn’t so adamant about being on tour. Instead, deciding to get a college degree and share the years of youth with you by his side. But you learned that once Patrick had made up his mind, nothing could change it.

“Y/N, you there?” He chuckles.

You snap out of your thoughts, “oh— yeah? Hm?”

“You okay? You seem a little… blue.”

Blue. Your favourite colour and your current emotion.

“I… I just,” your eyes well up suddenly and you’re not sure why, “I just miss you.”

It had been a long day. A whirlwind of emotions and now you were just so fucking tired and confused. That explains the tears.

“Aw, baby.” You picture him pouting. “I miss you too. But don’t be upset… you know I get a week off soon. I’ll come to you.”

You sniffle, “that’s not enough.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

Patrick could hear you quietly crying on the other end of the phone and it made him feel helpless. The long distance aspect of it all was a lot harder when the relationship was new to begin with. The stage where you just can’t get enough of the other person was always compromised. It sucked.

He proceeded to whisper sweet nothings into the phone and you eventually calmed down. The conversation shifted and Patrick began telling you about a tv show he started last night. You nodded and listened attentively to his words.

You wanted to be in his arms.

"Can I join you?" You blurt, "on tour- I mean."

Patrick stopped his rambling and wondered if he heard you properly.

"What?"

"I could take next semester off. It's summer anyway... lots of people don't take classes." It seemed like you had thought this through.

"I don't know what to say," Patrick was caught off guard.

"Say yes." you say under your breath.

"I- yes. Yes, of course."

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

Art sat alone in his astronomy lecture. He took this elective with you because you didn't share a major with him, but still wanted to take classes together. Yet, here he was, at the back of the lecture hall sweating and catching his breath, since ten minutes was not enough to make it on time from the courts.

He hadn't heard from you after the party but he wasn't surprised. He knew you probably felt awkward about the whole situation whereas Art felt guilty.

What did surprise him, though, was that you were nowhere to be seen. He swung by your dorm and even gathered the courage to knock on the door, but only your roommate was there. And she was the one who told him where you were.

Art forced a smile and turned to leave like he didn’t just get the worst news ever. You really just packed up and left to be with Patrick. He pictured you two on the road together, staying in hotels, and you cheering him on during matches. It made him so envious.

He was sad too. Because this meant that his confession to you didn’t meant anything. Or maybe you were still oblivious. So many questions and no one to answer them.

Art eventually dropped his astronomy elective. There was no point in taking it if you weren’t there. You were the one who liked space and all that stuff after all. Not him.

The summer continued to pass slowly. Painfully slowly. The heat of the sun usually made him feel alive and refreshed. He’d get out early on the courts and play until he was covered, head to toe, in sweat. But this time, it was irritating. Sweltering. Oppressive.

He was lonely. And he missed you. He didn’t pick up any of Patrick’s calls because he didn’t know how he’d react if he heard your voice in the background.

When the semester finally ended, he went home. Spent an entire week on his couch making his parents wonder if something was wrong. But when they’d raise the question, Art would shrug them off. He didn’t want to voice what he was going through because he felt pathetic. For now— and maybe forever— he’d suffer in silence.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

You walk to and fro class with your head in the clouds. But, this time, the clouds are dark and cold and mucky and dumb and stupid and you're angry and annoyed and don't understand how your dreamy life suddenly turned to shit.

You don't even notice that Art was calling your name the moment he saw you leaving the lecture hall. You continued trudging down the hall so he jogs after you.

He was worried you were avoiding him. He had taken it for a whole summer. But he wouldn't let it go on any longer. He was desperate to talk to you.

"Hey!" Art called out, "Y/N! Wait up." He reaches out and grasps your left shoulder making you jolt in surprise.

You turn with wide eyes when you come face to face with him. His hair was a little longer, and falling over his eyes. He was also a little tan. It suited him.

"Oh my God. You scared me." You step back and take your earbuds out.

"Sorry," Art drops his hand stuffs them in his jacket pocket. The fall was kinder. Breeze and drizzle. It reflected his state of mind. And he feels like he could say the same for you.

You shake your head with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes, "you're good."

An uncomfortable silence settles over the two of you.

Art finally speaks up.

"You... uhm... did you do something different to your hair?"

What the fuck was that?

The frown on your face was quickly replaced with confusion.

"No... I- no. I guess it's a little longer. I don't know." You shrug.

"Cool, yeah. Looks... yeah- looks longer." He wanted to lock himself in his dorm and never come out.

Another difficult silence.

"I should—"

"How've you—"

You both pause to let the other continue. You gesture and chuckle awkwardly telling him to go on.

"How've you been?" He asks softly, "I feel like I haven't seen you in... forever."

You look down at your shoes, which used to be white, but now looked grey.

"Honestly," you meet his gaze, "not great."

His brows raise, clearly not expecting that answer. He thought it was all rainbows and sunshine with you and Patrick.

"Is everything okay?" He tilts his head, empathizing with your gloom.

"In the grand scheme of things, yes." You try to joke weakly.

Art hesitates, unsure what to say next. His eyes were studying your face closely and something was telling him you were about to cry. He didn't understand what happened, but he really wanted to. Seeing you like this hurt him deeply.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks softly.

Your eyes widen slightly and he noticed their glassy appearance. Why were you hurting like this?

“Really?” You ask with round eyes that drew him in.

You thought it would be uncomfortable to discuss the issue with Art seeing as how your last conversation went. Did you imagine it or had he not inadvertently told you he liked you? But if he was so eager to see if you were okay… maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he really did just want to hang out with you alone that night. It was true that you had been paying less attention to him since you began dating Patrick.

That problem kind of solved itself though.

“Of course,” he nodded. “I… you can come by tonight. My roommate’s out for the weekend at the regatta.”

Your bottom lip began to quiver. “That sounds— thank you. I- I haven’t had anyone to talk to so I- I really need this.”

Art felt good. He was going to help you through whatever this was and he was happy that there was no resentment from your end. Since, he was trying to make a move on you last time.

“I’m free all evening. How about seven?”

“That’s perfect, Art.” You felt an overwhelming urge to hug him. But you didn’t understand how things were between you two so you just gently patted his forearm. “You’re such a good friend.”

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

Art sprinted back to his dorm and burst through the door, making his roommate, Nathan, fall off his chair in shock. Art panted and closed the door behind him.

“Dude, what the fuck?” His roommate recovers and gets back on his feet.

“Sorry,” Art catches his breath, “but I need you out of here.”

Perplexed, Nathan responds, “what? What’re you talking about?”

Art exhales heavily, “I need the room to myself.” He adds, “just for the evening.”

Nathan was no longer annoyed and, instead, wore a smirk, “really? Why? You got a girl comin’ over?”

Art pauses. He knew what Nathan was thinking but it wasn’t like that.

Right?

Fuck! No it wasn’t. And he can’t risk thinking that way. He’s just being a good friend to you today. That’s all he has to do. That’s all you want from him.

“Yeah… but we’re just hanging out.”

Nathan walks over to the closet and grabs an overnight bag and packs a pair of pyjamas. “Well, I’ll stay at Aiden's just incase.” He winks at Art.

“Seriously, it’s not like that.”

“Whatever, man. Don’t forget to put a sock on the door.” He laughs and walks out.

That was the last thing Art needed to think about right now.

He shakes his thoughts away and zips around the room, picking up all his things off the floor. The dorm was always a mess during the week. And on weekends, Art was too lazy to tidy up. But your coming over was a good excuse to clean. (And he totally wasn't doing it so you'd notice and compliment it because he remembered one time you mentioned that you found cleanliness attractive.)

After "cleaning" (shoving everything under his bed or stuffing things in his closet), Art stood and waited. He had too much nervous energy to relax, so he just waited for the minutes to pass.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

Two soft knocks sounded at the door. Art took a deep breath and opened it. You were twiddling your thumbs and met his blue eyes when he came into view. He noticed you'd changed your clothes-- now wearing a hoodie with flared leggings. You looked cozy. He guessed these were your lounge-at-home clothes. And it was a relief you were still comfortable enough around him to wear them.

Art steps aside without a word and lets you in. He closes the door and turns to see you sitting rigidly on the edge of Nathan's twin bed.

The room felt a lot smaller now.

Art walks across the room and sits on the floor, resting his back against the side of his bed. You furrowed your eyebrows at his action, but he shot a smile your way assuring you he was fine.

"I’m… I’m all ears, Y/N” Art brings one knee up and loosely drapes his arm around it.

You chuckles softly, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You both share a comfortable silence. Soaking in each other’s presence after so long. It felt… nice. Humans really aren’t built for isolation, you think. Being in a shitty place all alone is never the solution. We need each other.

“So, I took last semester off.” You begin.

“I know.” Art purses his lips, “I found out when I was sitting by myself in Astronomy.” He chuckles softly. He didn’t feel too bitter about it anymore. Time healed some things.

An apologetic look crosses your face, “yeah— sorry about that. It was just… spontaneous.” And I was avoiding you because I thought you were in love with me and would be upset if I left you for Patrick.

“I understand.” He grins (but he knew you were just sugarcoating the real reason).

“Yeah well… I missed him. And I thought—you know— it’s time to take matters into my own hands. So I joined him on tour.” You stare at Art as you tell the story but he could tell you were looking through him and picturing your perfect vacation. It stung.

“And— oh, Art— it was amazing. I understood why Patrick was so sure about not going to college. The… the real experience— real life— is out there.” You were speaking so passionately.

Art was starting to have a little trouble listening to you. It seems his feelings were still as strong as ever and that for the past few months he was merely under the illusion that he was slowly getting over it.

“But then,” Art’s ears perk up, “the whole dreamlike sequence ended because it was time for me to leave.”

Art nods and listens closely.

“And it got us talking about our relationship. And… and I felt selfish for wanting to keep us both in this long distance thing,” you inhale shakily. “Because it is just… so… so hard,” your voice cracks.

Art panics as your uneven breathing turns into quiet crying. He reaches for his nightstand and grabs a box of tissues. He crawls forward and hands it to you. You mumble a “thank you” and he leans back against his bedside.

“Sorry,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes and nose. “I didn’t come to just cry.” You chuckle weakly.

Art looks down at his hands trying to give you privacy. “It’s okay. Really. Take your time.”

You collect yourself and clear your throat but your voice still comes out a little hoarse. “We broke up.”

You nod like you were finally realizing that it was over between you two. “Yeah… I— we had a long talk on my last day. And it just seemed like the reasonable thing to do.”

Art sits there stunned. He couldn’t believe you two called it quits. He guessed something was wrong with your relationship because that’s why you were down. But he didn’t think you’d actually… break up. He tried his best to not let his thoughts get out of control. This was upsetting. You were in pain. And Patrick was too, probably.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He offers quietly sounding slightly disingenuous.

“It felt like we were putting our lives on pause all the time. Like I wasn’t a hundred percent here. And he wasn’t a hundred percent there. And that’s not fair to either of us. We can’t just be… pieces of ourselves.” You take a deep breath, “and I… I think I also began getting a little paranoid.”

Art furrows his brows, “paranoid?”

You nod slowly, “I mean… you’ve seen the way people look at Patrick. He’s magnetic.” Art nods.

You gather the courage to finally say, “when you— at your party—”

Art freezes. He can hear his heart thumping in his ears. Knowing he couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, he sits still and hears you out.

“—when you said what you said,” you dance around the topic. “I couldn’t help but think that… Patrick had probably experienced the same thing.” You wipe the corner of your right eye and avoid his gaze. “And I thought, ‘there will be a day when he wouldn’t have it in him to resist the temptation.’”

Art felt a rush of blood to every inch of his body. His face felt red and hot.

Temptation.

Had you been tempted that night?

Did you reciprocate his feelings?

Did you want to?

He stays silent as you confide in him further. Your words blur and all he hears, over and over, is temptation.

“Can you say something?” You were looking at him now. So much emotion in your eyes.

“I think you did the right thing.” Art blurts. He quickly adds, “I mean— uhm… long distance isn't for everyone. And… and maybe one day when you’re both settled, you can give it another shot.” He feels good about what he said (even though he didn’t really mean it).

“Yeah, maybe.” You say under your breath.

The room was silent other than the sounds of your breaths. You stared at the wall, deep in thought, reminiscing about your relationship. You took a full course load this semester, hoping the mountain of homework would leave no room for thoughts of Patrick. But he was a force. Even if he wasn’t on your mind, he haunted your subconscious.

"It's kind of stupid but," you inhale deeply, "I always had this- this premonition that... the first person I'd date, I'd marry." You shake your head and run a hand through your hair, feeling vulnerable. "And I think that's part of the reason why this has been so hellish."

"It's not stupid, Y/N." Art reassures you. Nothing you could want would ever be stupid.

"It is. Because it was narcissistic—like I was entitled to it." You exhale. "I actually thought it would all be so easy. Like, why would anyone ever want to break up with me?" You chuckle bitterly. "Little did I know... I'm too 'needy.'"

"Who told you that?" Art snaps his head up.

You look at him like the answer was obvious. Art was puzzled. How could Patrick say that to you? You being needy was something Art would never mind. He'd cherish it. Because it would mean you wanted him around. That you loved him. How could that ever be a problem?

Art decides to close the space between you two. He scoots closer to you and stands on his knees in front of you, almost eye-to-eye. You swallow and pick at your nails in your lap.

"You're not needy. If anything, Patrick was so detached he couldn’t even see that your wants and expectations were completely normal."

You paused your busy hands and rested them on your thighs. They were sweaty. This felt good. Even though a part of you had a feeling he was just saying this to comfort you. The other part felt warmth and seen. So you weren't a burden. That's all you needed to hear. You were so fucking grateful for Art.

You stared at him with misty eyes. They weren’t exactly tears of sadness. Or—at least, not only sadness. There had been a storm knocking down everything inside you for the past few weeks, and for the first time you felt a ray of light peaking through the monstrous clouds.

Art noticed your eyes welling up, but there was something else in them too—something he wished he could bottle up and drink every day. It looked like you were realizing, maybe for the first time, that he cared about you just as much as—if not more than—Patrick ever did.

There was already a small distance between you. But it still felt like you were a lightyear away. Without realizing it, Art began leaning closer. His hands came to rest on either side of you, gripping the edge of the bed, quietly trapping you between them.

So pretty up close.

You were too lost in your thoughts to notice what was happening. So when you felt a soft sensation press against your lips, your eyes widened and you were immediately snapped out of your daze.

Art felt you freeze up and knew you'd pull away any second. But this was like a dream come to life. So for the few milliseconds your lips were touching, he let himself soak in every bit of it.

It happened so fast he questioned if it happened at all.

You were standing up and heading to the door to leave, while he was slouched on the floor with his lips buzzing with your trace.

Art quickly gets up and reaches out to hold your wrist, desperate to keep you here. The last thing he wanted was to scare you off. And he knew he'd gone too far but he didn't know if he'd ever get the opportunity again.

"You're unbelievable." The tear tracks on your face glistened in the soft luminescence of the streetlight peering into the room.

"I—fuck—I'm sorry. I was just—" he stammered, panicking.

"How could you possibly think that was okay?"

You were staring at him with so much contempt he almost didn't recognize you.

"Y/N, I just wanted to make you feel better," he said quickly. "You're hurting."

"No—no, Art. That’s not true. You’re just selfish. You’re—yeah—that’s what you are."

"I’m selfish?" he asked, offended.

You nodded.

"I'm not the one who packed up and left everything behind. You left me like I meant nothing to you." He chokes out, "you didn't think I deserved an explanation? Why? Because you didn't want to have that uncomfortable conversation with me? I'd say that's pretty fucking selfish." He looked away and huffed as his own eyes began to water. "I'd do anything for you. And you wouldn't even bat an eye."

"I never asked for any of this." You sniffle. "And if me not reciprocating your feelings makes you resent me, then... I don't think we can even be friends anymore.

"Fine."

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failed an entrance exam and wrote this to distract myself

i hope it's not too all over the place

thank you for your patience and for reading <33

#challengers #art donaldson #challengers fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fanfiction #art donaldson fic #Spotify

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lumosinlove · 6 hours ago

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Vaincre

july part i

(Bit of a shorter chapter to make the others start and end where I want them to, but still fun and beachy!)

Nate: What’s up everyone, this is Nate here with my co-host, Jade, welcome back to the Lion Pride Podcast. Okay, this episode is titled ‘Maybe Now I Can Come Home’ and for good fucking reason. Like congratulations to the Rangers, whatever, this is a Gryffindor Lions podcast but—but I am a Logan Tremblay lover and—oh my God, I can’t.

Jade: No, seriously, because guys think about this. We have to talk about this. I haven’t seen anyone actually break this down which surprises me endlessly because it is an insane fucking story. Logan Tremblay is not known for being particularly out there, or candid with the media. I mean, on a scale of Sirius Black to Thomas Walker, he is far, far closer to the Black side of things.

Nate: For sure. At least in public.

Jade: Right. I mean, you’d know.

Nate: Ha.

Jade: Don’t give me that smug little ‘ha.’ I KNOW you see them all the time having pizza.

Nate: I would never TALK about that on here. But yes, I do.

Jade: Okay, we’re talking about Tremzy.

Nate: Yes, yes, we are.

Jade: I mean—we did do a Harvard Years podcast when Logan was first public about them on that mic’d up segment during the Lions-Rangers series.

Nate: [Tearful] Hey, seventeen.

Jade: Hey, Ten. [Squeals]

Nate: My heart.

Jade: But this is just—okay. I mean, I’m skipping ahead but, I’m sorry maybe I’m the only one who saw the way Logan got kissed by Leo Knut and Finn O’Hara. Was everyone else doing something during that moment? That wasn’t a kiss that was a KISS. That was a mother fucking die-hard love confession and no one actually said anything. I didn’t quite understand the Tremblay trade when it happened—trade away MVP?

Nate: And also I don’t think anyone missed that it was hard on him. If you put photographs of him during those last months of being in Gryffindor beside photos of those first months in New York…

Jade: Two different people.

Nate: Two. Different. People. And O’Hara and Knut, too. There’s a photograph—like game day walk in photograph—of O’Hara that just breaks my heart every time I see it.

Jade: Near the concussion?

Nate: No, right after the trade. I have never seen someone look so exhausted.

Jade: I know. When they traded Tremz, I thought there must have been something wrong in the room that they were keeping hush-hush. That we didn’t, like, pick up on.

Nate: Maybe someone thought their relationship was wrong in the room.

Jade: Well, fuck ‘em then, there was nothing wrong with those three, except that one of them has been forced to another city.

Nate: For real. Like, let’s unpack. Logan has just won his second Stanley Cup in two years. That’s insane. Like, on two different teams? He is looking like THE difference maker. He’s finished a one year contract, could demand, like, any amount of money he wants. Should be the happiest guy around. And yet he falls into his sister’s arms—that was Noelle, one of his three sisters—and what does he say?

Jade: Maybe I can come home now.

Nate: Just knock me out, Logan. Knock me flat on my face.

Jade: Maybe I can come home now. I mean, hot mic for real, oh my God. No, it’s everywhere. I’m sure this is not what Logan wanted, more drama surrounding him. Plus, that’s not exactly what an organization wants to hear after your player has just won a Cup, but I gotta say, if the way fans are reacting says anything, it’s that it was a raw moment and maybe one everyone saw coming. There’s no more confusion. He’s separated from his family. Okay, they’re not married, they don’t have kids, that’s been some people’s favorite thing to point out, but they live together, they are together. That would be hard.

Nate: ‘Oh, but that’s part of the lifestyle, blah, blah’ — Yeah. We know. That doesn’t make it less hard.

Nate: Right. Rangers fans are obviously a little upset but—they don’t really know him. Ha, sorry, I sound like a creepy fan, I’m not saying we know him, but we know him as a player. As our player. This guy has been a Lion for his entire NHL career—a team he met two partners on. Well, not Finn.

Jade: Oh, Finn. Oh boy.

Nate: Finn is a whole new can of worms.

Jade: For a different episode. But anyway—Can you imagine if this actually changed things?

Nate: Do you think it could? He has lots of star power. I’m not sure that matters though. Not if no one is willing to talk about a move. The Lions are up to their ears in big salaries already, I mean, maybe not quite yet with Lupin, but Potter, O’Hara, Black, like, this is no joke. And Knut is about to make big bucks and they’ll need a long-term goalie back up solution—more money. A few years ago, I was wondering about a rebuild, now I feel like we have an All-Star team which is unsustainable.

Jade: Like ow. I’ll protest. I’ll literally drive to New York with a hand-painted side, let Logan Tremblay go home to be kissed in the way Finn mother-fucking O’Hara and Leo Knut kissed him on that open ice—Actually, though.

Nate: New headline: Hot mic costs New York Rangers their top forward due to protests from romantics everywhere.

One moment, his headphones were being pulled out of his ear, the next, Sirius was being kissed. It was an off-center thing, Remus having leaned over the couch behind him and only half landing it on his mouth.

“I show you the podcast app one time and I’ve created a monster.”

“This one had Logan’s name on it,” Sirius said. “It’s Nate. From Sid’s.”

“I know who Nate is,” Remus laughed. He came around the sofa and sat snugly against Sirius’ side. “Is this about what Logan said on the ice? About going home?”

“You already heard it?”

“Well, it’s all over the internet. Everyone’s talking about it.”

“It’s…” Sirius shook his head. “It’s kind of amazing. The…” He pressed his lips together. He didn’t even know how to say it.

“I know,” Remus said softly.

Sirius smiled. “Of course you do.” He dropped his phone and headphones to the side and wrapped an arm around Remus’ waist, scooping him closer. “Ça va?”

“Well. My mom has left to go grocery shopping with James—God help her. Lily just texted me that her and my dad just arrived in town for grill stuff and extra ice and more beach chairs—they’re also going to take Harry to story time at the library, which is in an hour and a half…”

Sirius blinked in surprise when Remus’ threw a thigh over his lap and settled there, all muscle and warm weight for Sirius to get his hands on.

“Regulus just took Julian to the skate park,” Remus continued. “And no one is supposed to arrive here until this afternoon.”

Sirius hands tightened on Remus’ waist. Suddenly, he could see it. He didn’t know how he had missed it before. Remus’ cheeks were flushed with anticipation—anticipation for Sirius. He wanted him. It was in the curve of his shoulders and the way he arched slightly into Sirius’ hands.

“Are you…” Sirius blinked around the house. Quiet. So quiet. “You mean—we’re alone?”

The breath Remus let out had a soft, needy sound in it. “We are so, so alone.”

“Oh…” Sirius managed, and then Remus pressed a hard, open kiss to his mouth.

Sirius’ world went a little blurred at the edges. Remus spread his knees around Sirius’ thighs and pressed his hips down. He was already half-hard, maybe just at the thought of coming over to Sirius, and Sirius spread his palms over Remus’ ass to press him down harder.

“God,” Remus whispered into his next kiss.

They had been careful. Good, quiet, and careful. Remus’ hair was sun-warmed as it slipped through Sirius’ fingers.

“We—” Sirius pushed his hands up and under Remus’ shirt.

“Upstairs,” Remus said.

Sirius thought of that creaky, creaky bed and had never wanted to be anywhere more. He couldn’t help laughing as they stood. He felt jittery. A sugar-high but it was all Remus. In the bend of the tight staircase, Sirius found himself pressed up against the wall. A picture frame holding a print of the oil-painted lake rattled as his shoulder knocked it. By the time he looked away from it, making sure it wasn’t in danger of falling, Remus had sunk to his knees.

“Re,” Sirius breathed. The laugh that followed was more a breath than anything. Just a tumble of pent up energy that was beginning to realize the gates were open and the sun and sky were being let in.

Remus just looked up at him. His hazel eyes were glassy, pupils dark. He reached for the elastic band of the shorts Sirius wore, but only tucked his fingers into them as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Sirius to the material. Sirius felt his ab muscles jump at even the glimpse of heat. He pushed his fingers into Remus’ hair and tightened his grip, enjoying the way Remus’ eyes slipped closed, the soft smile that crossed his face.

“Don’t make me wait,” Sirius said. He moved his free hand to push the material of his shorts down until he could grip himself freely. The word alone had nearly been enough for him, like every inch of him knew how long it had been.

Sirius’ body, his whole world, curved towards the heat of Remus’ mouth. His nails dug into the backs of Sirius’ thighs, little pin-pricks of sharpness to accompany the all-consuming blush of pleasure that made him sigh. Sirius’ head thumped back against the wall, his mouth open and his breath shallow. Remus wasn’t making him wait. His pace was fast, his tongue pressing the underside almost too firmly. Sirius was going to come too quick. He could already feel it rushing towards him, drawing him taut.

“Wait, okay, wait, wait,” Sirius panted, tightening his fingers again to ease Remus to a slower drag. “Re, I’m so close. I’m so fucking close.”

Remus made a soft noise and pulled off. He stood, steadying himself with a hand on Sirius’ chest. Sirius cupped a hand over where Remus tented his shorts and pressed the heel of his palm down hard.

“Me too,” Remus said through a shaky laugh. He pushed into Sirius’ hand and Sirius watched the way his jaw tightened. “Oh…”

Sirius knew that, if one of them didn’t move, they were going to end up grinding against each other in this stairwell. He wanted more than that. He wanted Remus completely bare and spread out beneath him.

“Come here,” Sirius said. He turned Remus so he faced the stairs.

“Can you…” Remus stopped just halfway up, his head falling back against Sirius’ shoulder. He covered Sirius’ hand with his. Sirius let Remus guide his hand up his clothed shaft for only a few moments, kissing along his neck, before he eased them forward again again.

Sirius had dampened the snug front of his boxers by the time they were falling onto their bed. The mattress gave a whine, drawing a brief laugh from both of them, but there was no one to hear. Alone, giving a voice to the pressure in his chest, it only turned him on. It shifted when Sirius did, pulling Remus’ shirt and shorts away, and creaked again as Sirius bent over his body.

No one was crafted like Remus Lupin. No one. Sirius set his mouth against the strong cut of his hips. They pushed up against his mouth and Sirius tugged his own shorts away. His t-shirt followed, left to share a heap on the floor. Sirius kissed the pale line of skin where his swim trunks hid him from the sun, then the fainter ones along his biceps and neck. They got lost to grinding against each other again, all skin now, their own desperation turning it into a smooth glide.

“Where’s—” Sirius began to question, but Remus shook his head almost wildly.

“I don’t know,” he panted. “I don’t know, I don’t know, don’t get up, just—” He looked almost frantic. “Oh, fuck…”

Sirius had pressed them together again, aligned so perfectly that they could feel all of each other. He reached down for Remus’ thigh and coaxed it around his hip.

No, he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t leave this warmth right now, not for anything. He tucked his nose into Remus’ neck as he ground his hips forward. He smelled like heat. Like the soft forest that surrounded them. Remus’ heel pressed into Sirius’ back and his hands went into his dark hair.

The bed groaned in time with Remus’ soft sounds. Sirius’ only warning that Remus was coming was when those sounds choked off and missed a beat. The warm flood between them had Sirius setting his panting mouth against Remus’ shoulder. A knocking momentarily startled a gasp from Sirius, but it was only the bed against the wall as he fucked forward, watching Remus’ golden, hooded eyes.

“Oh, God,” Remus’ voice went tight, his neck arching up, head pushing down into the pillows. “Keep…Sirius—”

It sounded so good, the rest of his life. Remus saying his name like that. It sent him right over the edge. Remus lifted his head for a sloppy kiss that had a sated, finally sort of smile in it. His foot slipped from Sirius’ back to the mattress.

Maybe not the most romantic of their moments, but Sirius glanced towards the bedside table. They had over an hour. That had been over too quickly for Sirius’ liking, but the second Remus had crawled into his lap he’d known he was a goner.

“Next time,” Remus whispered. “We’ll be married.”

“Mm, not next time,” Sirius said. He pushed himself up on his elbows. He brushed their noses together. “Next time is going to be in just a few minutes.”

Remus stretched out against him, laughing. “Oh, good.”

Sirius could only hope they looked normal when they heard Hope’s car pull back into the driveway. They’d lay there three rounds in, sort of kissing, sort of fading in and out of an afternoon nap, but naked with the sheets pushed down and the warm breeze coming in front the open window, tangled up in each other in a way they usually couldn’t—not when Julian really, really didn’t know how to knock on doors first. Remus had groaned after a few hours, saying they were pushing their luck and that a car could be back any moment. No sooner had Sirius finished getting dressed again than had they heard the crunch of gravel.

“Hey, Hope,” Sirius said. He adjusted his shirt and held out his arms to help carry the groceries inside. He still felt hot. He still felt Remus.

“Hello, honey,” Hope said, handing him two bags. She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Remind me to never take James Potter to a grocery store again.”

Sirius laughed. “Okay?”

“I asked for green onions and he brought me asparagus.”

“Wow,” Sirius said. “I’d make fun of him, but I can’t say I wouldn’t have made the same mistake.”

He brought the bags into the kitchen where James was unloading things into the fridge and cupboards.

He held up two limes and raised his eyebrows, a look Sirius returned with silent questions.

“How’s it going?” James asked.

“Good? You?”

“No, no,” James waved a lime. “How’s it going. You look a little…” A smile fought at his mouth. “Sunburned.”

Sirius scoffed. “I’m not.”

“Little flush.”

Oh. James’ eyes flicked to Remus, who they could just see through the windows taking more stuff out of the car.

“James,” Sirius grumbled.

“Did you get some…sun?”

With a roll of his eyes, Sirius nodded.

“Atta boy.” James’ laugh was knowing, and he patted a hand to Sirius’ chest. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m welcome?”

James leaned in conspiratorially. “Here are some things you should know about me.” He held up a fist and opened up a finger as he spoke. “One? I am a terrible grocery shopper. Ask Lily,” James said. “I make the thing take three times as long.” He took out his phone. “Two? My son takes after me and loves a good story time. A little help from Google.”

Sirius just shook his head. “I can’t believe…And Regulus and Jules?”

“Well. I was ready to slip Jules a twenty, but…” James shrugged. “I think they just wanted to hang out.”

As if on cue, a second car pulled into the driveway. Sirius and Remus’. Regulus put the car into park and opened his door, then, from the back, out tumbled Julian, talking a mile-a-minute. Both of them were sweaty, the sweat showing in Julian’s mussed hair and at the neck of Regulus’ t-shirt, and bother were—laughing. Real laughter. Hard laughter. It was a sight, to say the least, to see Regulus holding a pair of skates—even if they had wheels instead of blades—and smiling like that. As Sirius watched Regulus tossed an arm around Julian’s shoulder and messed up his hair even further.

Sirius took a bag from James and began to unpack it as he watched—he ended up just holding a pack of hamburger buns and staring. They ditched their skates and went over to help Hope and Remus. Julian was given the bag of ice to carry. He didn’t even seem to mind the cold as he walked happily between Sirius’ brother and his own.

“Nice to see him like that,” James’ voice came.

Sirius, when he went to speak, found his throat tight. When James’ hand appeared on his shoulder, he didn’t flinch, but leaned into it. “You have no idea.”

The cars started arriving around three. First, Thomas and Noelle.

“Okay, Lupins,” Thomas called as he shut the driver’s side door. He lifted his sunglasses to perch them on his head. “I see how it is, secret spot, personal paradise.”

Sirius followed behind as Remus jogged down the driveway and threw his arms around Thomas’ neck. They stumbled a little, rocking, and Thomas’ slapped him playfully on the back.

“We are so ready to party this shit up,” he said—then looked at Hope and put his hands to his mouth. “My apologies, Mrs. Lupin.”

“We are ready to help with dinner,” Noelle cut in. She came around and opened her arms to Sirius. “And literally anything else that needs help.”

Sirius smiled. “You’re our guests. Thanks for making the drive. Where’s your brother?”

“Probably being wrangled—with Finn—by Leo into actually remembering to pack their suits.” Noelle said, then nudged her shoulder against Sirius’. “You should call him. Nothing will get his ass into action than a call from you.”

Sirius laughed. “I count on that.”

“I have such a surprise for you,” Thomas said.

“Don’t panic,” Noelle added. “He means that in a good way.”

“A good way?” Sirius asked skeptically.

Noelle laughed. “It’s a good surprise. Now, go call my brother otherwise they’ll get here at eight. Also—” She held up a bag. “I brought some wine that should go somewhere cold.”

Sirius laughed and nodded towards the house. “I’ll show you.”

It was an interesting feeling, walking with Noelle. She had a similar presence as Logan, soft but steady.

“Have you, ah…” Sirius had wanted a moment to ask her, but now that it had come, he wasn’t sure how.

“I didn’t know the mics would catch it,” Noelle said, her face going a little drawn. “I…I mean, he basically said it in my ear, I didn’t think…” She sighed as Sirius opened the screen door into the house for him. “At least he said exactly what he wanted to say. That’s all I mind.”

Sirius took the wine from her, two crisp looking bottles of white. “Did he tell you about me?”

“You?” She blinked, confused.

Sirius turned and opened the fridge—already pretty full, but managed to slot the bottles somewhere between two bags of lettuce. He swallowed, letting the fridge’s coolness wash over his face. He switched to French. Somehow, it was easier in French. “We’re not the same team without him.”

He turned to face her again. “And I don’t just mean on the ice.”

Noelle had Logan’s features. The full mouth and the thick eyelashes that shaded green eyes. They went interested and sad in just the same way as her brother’s.

“It was hard on all of us when he got forced out,” Sirius said. “Especially—well, Leo was…sort of okay, I guess. Sometimes okay. Trying to be okay. But Finn…”

“Finn and Lo…” Noelle sighed. “Yeah, they don’t really do distance very well.”

Sirius nodded. He fiddled with a magnet on the fridge that held up a photograph of a young Remus, maybe just seven years old or so.

Sirius didn’t know what else to do other than just…say it.

“I’d like to have a few of us to take a pay cut so we have the space to bring him back,” Sirius said in a rush. He swallowed when Noelle’s mouth dropped open. “Home. And—and, of course, I would be one of them, I’d never ask that without being—”

But Noelle had already thrown her arms around him.

“I don’t know if it’s going to work,” Sirius said. Slowly, he settled his hands on her back. “But I wanted—when I heard what he said to you, I wanted you to know what we’re trying.”

“Sirius,” Noelle began softly. “You…You changed his life.”

She pulled back to look at him, her hands holding his shoulders. With her soft eyes, Logan’s eyes, Sirius didn’t mind so much.

“I hope you realize how much you helped him. You…He’d kill me for blubbering over it to you of all people, and I know, I know none of it was easy, but I am so, so grateful to you. And Remus. And I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m really happy to be here. With Thomas, yeah, but also just…because I appreciate you two. More than I can say. You…” She had to stop, green eyes filled up. “Sirius, you saved by baby brother’s life in so many ways.”

“That’s him for me, too,” Sirius managed. “And…Really, I’m going to do what I can.”

“I know,” Noelle said. “Fuck, I know you are.”

They stood by the fridge until Sirius heard Remus and Thomas laughing as they came into the house.

“On that note,” she laughed wetly, patting his shoulder. “Go call him and see where he is.”

Sirius wandered out towards the lake. He shook out a beach chair until the joints clicked into place and sat down while the phone rang.

“Sirius Black,” Finn’s voice came. “You gave us just enough time for the hangovers to disappear, and I thank you for that.”

Sirius snorted. Well, Finn sounded all right, at least. “Hey. How were the Cup parties?”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Finn laughed.

Sirius thought of the podcast he’d listened to that morning—though, after Remus, it felt like years ago. “As long as you guys are good.”

“We’re—” Finn sighed. “The phone is being snatched from me. See you soon, groom.”

“Cap,” Logan’s voice came. “Is my sister there?”

“Yeah. Where are you?” Sirius asked. “I want to see you.”

“We’re about to get in the car.”

A rustle, then Leo’s voice, like he’d pulled the phone towards him. “I’ve been trying, Cap, believe me.”

Sirius laughed. “Thanks for coming all the way out here. I know all you probably really want to do is relax.”

“Oh, ouais.” Logan again. “It’s so hard to come to a beautiful lake to watch my best friends get married.”

Sirius smiled, eyes on the water. “It is pretty gorgeous.” He reached down and trailed sand through his fingers. “You’re all over the internet.”

Logan didn’t reply for a moment. Only the sound of suitcase wheels and something being shut—a drawer maybe—filled the silence.

“I am all over the internet,” Logan finally repeated. “I am ‘a player of a generation.’ And I am in love with two boys, which no one can ignore now.”

“Two boys?” Sirius heard Finn’s voice. “Where is this other boy—oh, there he is, howdy…”

Logan let out a sound that sounded all smile and hopelessly smitten. “Mm…Ah, what were we talking about?”

Sirius couldn’t help his smile. It actually hurt a little. “I thought I was a player of a generation.”

“You are the player of a lot of generations.”

“Shut up.”

“You are!” Leo shouted from the other end of the line.

“We’ll be there soon,” Logan said. “We’ll come straight to you.”

“And…” Sirius hoped his hesitation was enough to let Logan know he was asking about their cabin.

“Uh-huh, all good there.”

“Does Sirius Black know your secret?” Finn asked. “The one you’ve been keeping from us.”

Logan’s laugh was bright. “He does.”

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, then jumped a little when someone fell down into the sand beside him. Regulus just raised his eyebrows in greeting before looking out onto the water.

“I do,” Sirius said. “Drive safe, okay?”

He heard the click of Logan hanging up. It left him to the waves, the sun, some music now coming from the house, and the quiet ways of his brother. Regulus was frowning at the waves and picking at one of his nails like he was nervous.

Sirius reached out, hesitating for only a moment, and settled his palm lightly on the back of Regulus’ neck, scratching gentle fingers through the buzzed hair there. To his surprise and relief, Regulus leaned into his touch.

“Salut,” Sirius said. “You okay?”

Regulus nodded. “Tomorrow,” he began, then cleared his throat. “There’s someone coming tomorrow night.”

“D’accord,” Sirius said. Phone calls taken on the porch.

When Regulus looked at him, the angle of the sun made his already pale eyes look almost clear. “And she’s important.”

Remus never wanted to see the cabin any other way again. Thomas, Noelle, Kasey, Natalie, Alex, Cole, Layla, Moody, Arthur, Pascal, Celeste, and all the Dumais children. Katie Dumais, facing away from Remus, had clearly just said or done something that had Julian looking after her darting away figure, slack-jawed.

He was happy to stand at the grill with his dad and let a steady rotation of his friends keep him company. He liked watching Sirius across the beach, standing with James and Kasey in only his swim trunks with the sun making water gleam across his chest. He felt like someone had stretched out every single knot in his muscles after that afternoon. Getting his mouth on Sirius, getting his warm skin slick against his own. Remus flipped a burger with his eyes still mostly on Sirius and nearly sent the whole thing to the floor.

Only the sound of car wheels on the gravel drive made him look away.

“Fucking finally,” Remus shouted as Finn popped the driver’s side door. “You were going to miss dinner.”

“It’s not my fault someone can’t use Google maps,” Finn called.

“I can,” Logan said, pushing out of the back seat. Leo, coming around from the passenger’s side, gave Remus and smile and an eye-roll.

“Sorry, Loops,” Leo called. He went to the trunk, popping it before emerging with two coolers.

“Oh my God,” Remus said. “What did you do?”

“My mama’s famous crab cakes,” Leo said. “The best french onion dip you’ve ever had, and some fresh sourdough bread, baked this morning.”

Remus handed the tongs off to his dad and went to the the coolers. “You’re the best, you really just needed to bring yourselves.”

Up close, Remus finally got a proper look at Logan, tucked under Finn’s arm. He had a taped-up cut along his cheek, a fresh looking black eye, and scraped up knuckles.

“Oh God,” Remus snorted. “Your face.”

“He’s going to ruin the wedding photos,” Finn said. “So sorry.”

“You said I looked hot last night,” Logan replied.

“You do. But in wedding photos? I don’t know.”

Logan hit his chest weakly and slipped out from his grasp to go find Sirius.

“Ice that knee of yours!” Remus shouted after him, and Finn cackled.

Remus watched Sirius’ eyes find Logan walking towards him. He watched Logan hug him tightly, despite the fact that he was wet. Logan pointed to the dock, and held up his hand. By Sirius’ smile and nod, Remus guessed he had asked if that was where the ceremony was going to take place. Sirius kept talking, fast for him, fast like he was telling Logan a play while they were on the ice, as they walked over to the drinks table. Finn was already there, pouring coke into a cup for Logan and a gin and tonic for Leo and himself.

The sweeter sight was the expression on Sirius and Logan’s face when Pascal came up behind them and put an arm around them both.

“Leave this, yeah?” His father appeared at his side, squeezing his shoulder. “Go hang out with your friends, bud.”

“Oh, thanks, dad.” Remus handed off the tongs.

“And try to keep your brother from bouncing off the walls at Alex O’Hara’s presence.”

Remus laughed. “He’d just lose it over someone else.”

Remus made it about six steps before Thomas Walker cornered him.

“All right, Lupin, it’s time.” Thomas leaned back against the side of the house and crossed his arms. “Let’s talk party.”

“Ah, yes,” Remus said. “It’s you against my beautifully sleepy town.”

“It really is,” Thomas nodded sagely. “And guess what? I’m going to win.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “My God. Come here.”

Remus got himself a beer and steered Thomas towards where Sirius, Regulus, and Leo were sitting around the easy-burning campfire Hope had gotten started. Remus took the spot beside Sirius, Thomas beside Leo.

“Tell him to chill,” Remus said to Sirius. “In your Captain voice.”

Sirius blinked at him, cleared his throat a few times, then shook his head. “I think it only happens when it has to.”

Leo laughed. “What, you can’t summon it on command?”

“He would if he could,” Regulus said, then stood up. “Come on, Le. I have a feeling more wedding talk is about to happen, and I’ve had enough of that to last me a while. Let’s get some food.”

“Bring me more chips,” Sirius tilted his head back as Regulus walked behind him.

“No,” Regulus said.

Sirius cleared his throat again and said in a deeper voice, “Bring me more chips.”

Regulus laughed. “No.”

Sirius popped the last of the ones on his plate into his mouth. “No captain voice, sorry.”

Thomas clapped his hands, then rubbed his palms together and leaned forward. “I have sat you both down here today to discuss—le parties.”

“It’s not French by adding le,” Sirius said.

“La parties,” Thomas grinned.

“I was trying to explain how sleepy—” Remus began.

“La parties,” Thomas tried again.

Sirius reached for Remus’ plate and threw an olive at him.

“—this town is,” Remus grabbed the second olive out of Sirius’ fingers and ate it. “And I mean that in the most loving way possible, quiet. So. I recommend we go to some of the bars and not have anyone lose their minds.”

“How do we make sure you don’t end up at the same bars?” Thomas asked.

“I’m going to be at the house Logan rented mostly,” Sirius said.

“And I want to go to that pub on main street,” Remus said. “The owner and I go way back, he’ll give us the roof.”

“Also,” Sirius said. “Would it really be so bad if we ended up at the same—”

“Not at all, baby,” Remus said at the same time as Thomas’ enthusiastic, “Yeah.”

“T,” Remus laughed. “We—this isn’t exactly the world’s most traditional wedding. We’re already getting married on a dock. You really think we can’t be together for—what?” Remus raised his eyebrows. “Our ‘last night of freedom?’”

“All right, all right.” Thomas held up his hands in surrender. “Think of it this way, then.” He pointed to Remus’ beer. “Can I have a sip, I have a speech and no drink.”

Remus handed it over, sharing a smile with Sirius.

Thomas’ sip turned into draining half the bottle and handing it back to Remus with a grin.

“Think of it this way,” Thomas said. “It’s not just for you. It’s also for me.” He raised his hands, looking over both shoulders at the yard, the fire, the tables where people sat eating. “It’s for us.” He looked towards the beach and smiled, pointing. “It’s for them.”

Remus followed his gaze and smiled, too. Finn and Logan were in the water, Logan in Finn’s arms, their heads bent close together.

“You’re together,” Thomas said, and when Remus looked back at him. “And it sort of feels like you always have been together. You have a long time to be together in your togetherness.” Thomas tilted his head, thinking, then spread his hands again. “This togetherness is for us, too, to appreciate and celebrate both of you in the ways you deserve. Not just as a couple. But as yourselves.”

“You enjoying yourself there, T?” Remus asked, trying not to smile.

“Well, only if you let me throw you some parties.”

Sirius laughed. “D’accord. Throw us parties.”

“For the record, I was never not ready for a party,” Remus stood and sat beside Thomas, settling his arm around his shoulders when Thomas did the same. “But I liked the speech, T.”

Thomas grinned. “Just wait for your wedding day, Re.”

Logan walked through the entire Lupin cabin, moving between having to squint against the setting sun, which angled perfectly into the lake-front sitting room, and blink so his eyes adjusted to the darker rooms. He’d even gone upstairs, where he’d heard Hope direct people towards to change out of wet bathing suits. It was a bit of a maze. Not because it was large. The house was on the smaller side—though Leo would make him reevaluate what he considered small—but had been divided up into more rooms than usual. Bedrooms, cozy but tiny. He poked his head into what must have been Sirius and Remus’.

No Finn. He used the top window to better search the yard, then went back downstairs and onto the porch to search the beach. Finally, he found him. In the water, floating alone near the end of the dock. His toes surfaced every once in a while as he floated on his back and Logan wanted—he didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted him, wanted to be in that water where the sunset had turned the lake into rippling orange and pink glass.

When Logan reached the dock, Finn must have heard the shake of the boards because he turned.

“Oh, hi there, baby,” Finn grinned.

“Hi.” Logan set his drink down as he lowered himself to sit at the very end, putting his feet in the water.

Finn’s chest was pale beneath the water as he stroked towards him. He stayed low as he stopped in the water just below Logan. His shoulders took on the pink of the sky and Logan leaned forward as best he could and brushed his fingers over the freckles there. Finn caught one wrist and kissed the inside of it. Logan let him, admiring the way the light caught on his face and how the water had pushed his hair back.

“Where’s Le?” Finn asked.

“Catching up with Reg.” Logan nudged his toes against Finn’s chest. “Been looking for you.”

Finn wrapped his hands around Logan’s ankles and gave a small tug. “Come in with me.”

Logan bit his lip, smiling. “Okay.”

Finn watched as Logan stripped off his shirt and drained the last of his drink.

“Cold?”

“Not at all,” Finn said.

He had barely submerged in the water before he was in Finn’s arms. Finn dunked them anyway, and the sounds of the party momentarily silenced in the clear water. Logan felt Finn’s mouth press to his, and then they were in the evening air again, and Logan blinked the water out of his eyes. Finn’s skin was warm as he coaxed Logan’s legs around his waist.

“You need a haircut,” Finn said.

“I know,” Logan said, wiping his hair back. “What about the beard? Sirius was making fun of it.”

“I’d call it scruff.” He smiled at Logan’s scoff. “And I think you should keep it a few more days.” Finn leaned forward and bit gently at the stubble on Logan’s jaw and lowered his voice. “Will you suck me off later? Scratchy.”

Logan groaned and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m in a wet swimsuit, you can’t say that right now.”

“But you have to before you shave,” Finn pressed his smile against Logan’s cheek. “Promise?”

“Ouais, ouais, promise, now shh.” Logan looked down. “Are you standing?”

“No, I’m the most still water-treader in the world.”

Logan splashed his hand down and Finn spluttered through a laugh when he got a face full of water.

“Yes, I’m standing,” Finn said. “And I could hold you like this for hours.”

“Do it.” Logan sighed and let himself relax into Finn’s hold. “I love everyone, but I’m tired of talking to anyone but you and Le.”

“Well, I’m right here.” Finn tilted his chin up and kissed Logan quick. “What do you feel feel like saying?”

Logan blinked. It could have been the feeling of water running down his back and shoulders. Or the sun setting. Or the warm air. Or just that he was alone with Finn in a large body of water and with his muscles still aching from the play-offs, he could imagine that it was his heart aching instead. He’d had just one drink, he needed to drive them to their cabin later, but it was recent enough that everything went soft like those colors in the sky, and, for a moment, Logan wanted to fall apart.

“Hm?” Finn asked softly, but Logan could tell he knew. “What’s that look for? I was just messing.” His brown eyes—but no, the light slanted across them, it turned them lighter, so light that Logan thought he could see deeper into them and might find the right words there. The words that Finn always seemed to have. Finn blinked, and a drop of water fell down his cheek.

“Don’t,” Logan said in a rush, putting a panicked hand on Finn’s cheek. “Don’t cry, je t’aime, I love you—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Finn said, eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’m not crying?”

He blinked again, and Logan watched two more droplets fall. Water, he realized. Lake water caught in his eyelashes and brows.

“Oh,” Logan said softly. He let his hand slide to Finn’s neck. He closed his eyes, shaking his head at himself. “Oh. Good.”

He couldn’t see Finn’s kiss coming, but it wasn’t a surprise.

“We’re all right,” Finn said. “I love you, too.”

Logan nodded. He kept his eyes closed, tightened his hold on Finn. He wouldn’t bring it up. That midnight in the water, years ago. All the words that had pent up in his chest. He didn’t need to be comforted through it.

“And I’d ask you to race me to the raft,” Finn whispered. “But I’d definitely win.”

Logan smiled, his laugh falling between them. “I’ll win tomorrow.”

“Mm,” Finn said. “This mystery of yours.”

Logan smiled and pushed his hands through Finn’s hair until he could cup his jaw and pull him into a kiss. Finn brought him closer, hands on Logan’s ass in a way that wasn’t any better than him biting at Logan’s jaw. Logan hummed at the brush of Finn’s tongue against his and locked his ankles tighter around Finn’s waist.

“Do you think anyone—” Logan gasped out the words as Finn got his teeth on his throat. “—would notice…”

Finn’s kisses dissolved into a laugh and he pulled back to look at Logan. “The house is right there, Lo.”

Logan looked over his shoulder towards the shore, frowning. “Hm. Ouais.”

Finn’s laughed harder, head tilting back. Water lapped against them as he hoisted Logan closer. “Your face.”

Logan snorted. “Well, I…” He looked pointedly down at Finn’s bare chest.

“Are we not going to have our very own private beach soon enough?”

Logan opened his mouth. “Quoi—that’s not—” He leaned down and stopped Finn’s laugh with a kiss, keeping their lips close as he growled, “You don’t know anything.”

“I know you,” Finn replied.

“You said I was a mystery.”

Finn laughed hard. “I said it was a mystery, but you are also a baby mystery of your own.” He slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Logan’s swimsuit to feel his bare, smooth skin. “I love solving you…”

Logan took Finn’s lower lip gently between his teeth and pulled playfully before letting it go.

“Finn, Finn, Finn…” Logan whispered, and Finn’s gaze went melted. Logan pressed a kiss to one corner of his mouth. “Je t’aime.” He pressed a kiss to the other. “Je t’aime, je t’aime.” He brushed their noses together, back and forth three times.

“I know where you went,” Finn said softly.

Finn, Logan thought. Ocean. Nice. Say something, anything—

Finn spanned his hands up Logan’s back, thumbs swiping back and forth over the high of his ribs. “Just now. Just for a second.”

Logan nodded quickly. “Just for a second.”

Finn’s smile started small. “And where are you now?” He squeezed Logan tighter, a small pulse of his arms, like a reminder.

As if Logan needed one. Logan grinned, amazed, absolutely giddy with relief that they were both grinning at each other through this. He pressed a thumb over Finn’s lower lip, feeling his smile. “Ici. I’m here.”

Sirius was coming up the stairs to change out of his wet swimsuit when his bedroom door opened and Finn and Logan stepped out.

Immediately Finn had his hands up. “Just dry clothes were put on. Cross my heart.”

Sirius laughed, eyeing Logan’s face. “Oh yeah?”

Logan was blushing, but Sirius figured he’d probably be doing that either way.

“Ouais,” Logan said, fingers curling around Finn’s to push his hands down. “He’s telling the truth.”

Their hands swung lightly, tangled between them.

“Pretty jumpy for the truth,” Sirius said. “Hey, actually—” He nodded to Logan. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Logan’s eyebrows went up, but he nodded. He looked up at Finn. “Meet you…wherever Leo is.”

“Deal,” Finn said. He patted Sirius’ shoulder on his way down the stairs.

Logan followed Sirius back into his bedroom and sat on the end of the bed. Sirius did a double-take, but someone—Remus—had made it up from earlier that day. He cleared his throat and turned towards the dresser.

“What just happened?” Logan asked in French, amused.

“Nothing,” Sirius said. “So, parties. Tomorrow night.”

“My house, yeah.”

“But also—” Sirius took a fresh shirt from the dresser and turned towards Logan as he pulled it on. “I talked to your sister. I hope that’s okay.”

Logan’s green eyes went soft. Maybe worried.

“Shit,” Sirius said, hands on the ties of his swimsuit. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Logan said. He wet his bottom lip. “I just…”

Sirius reached for his underwear and shorts while Logan settled on words. When he turned back towards the bed, Logan gave him a helpless sort of shrug.

“I don’t mind. I just don’t want everyone to get their hopes up too much.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “But the entire fanbase—both of them—are calling for you to go back where you want to be.”

“Well, not all of them.”

Sirius nodded. He’d seen the hateful stuff, too. He knew however they ignored it, it still dug deep. “How are you with all that?”

Logan flashed him a half smile. “Captain.”

Sirius laughed and sat beside him on the bed. “Yeah.”

“I’m fine,” Logan said. “Which is…” He gave his head a sharp shake, like he was clearing it. “I…I was talking about this with Noelle, actually.”

“Hm,” Sirius said.

“I think about how long I dreaded it,” Logan said. “I mean, at school, just staring at Finn, completely gone over him, and dreading it. But now it’s here. And I have them. And I’m…so perfect.”

Sirius feigned a cough around his words. “Back to back Cups.”

Logan shoved him.

“Really, though,” Sirius said. “I know it’s partly that they want your talent in their own city, but people also want you and Finn and Leo…” Sirius shook his head. “I am sorry you didn’t see the microphone when you talked about going home, I know you probably didn’t want all this sort of attention, but…It’s incredible, Logan. It’s not just that they want you to be where you think home is. It’s that they want you to be with who you think home is. A couple years ago, if I had told someone I thought Remus was home…” Sirius shook his head.

Logan didn’t say anything. He twisted his silver pendant between his fingers.

Sirius frowned. “Tremz?”

Logan cleared his throat. “Ouais. It’s even more than I had hoped for.”

Sirius hesitated. He tried to think of what he’d said that was wrong, peering closer at Logan’s face. When he did, he saw that the silence wasn’t distress. Logan was biting back a small smile.

“Oh…” Sirius laughed lightly, disbelieving. “You saw it.”

Logan gave a funny little shrug.

“Oh my God, Tremz. You knew the mic would catch it. You wanted them to hear you.”

“I am trying to get home.” Logan sighed. “I thought it might get some more people on my side.”

“Fuck. Do the boys know?”

“Still trying not to get their hopes up,” Logan said. “But…Leo really likes that I said it. Leo also really, really missing me being home. I mean, Finn, yes, of course, but Leo and I…” Logan swallowed. “We’re quiet together in a way that’s just for us. I miss him so much.”

Sirius nodded. Remus was that for him. But he was also someone he could be louder with, more free. It must be interesting, to be in Logan’s shoes. Different needs met by two different people.

“I also couldn’t have done it without you,” Logan said. “And Remus. And I know nothing happened the way you wanted it to, but…I couldn’t have done anything without both of you.”

Sirius put an arm around Logan’s shoulder and Logan clasped his hand. “And a lot of people will say the same thing about you.”

“Well…” Logan was pink-cheeked again. “Ouais, I hope.”

They sat there in silence for a long moment, smiling among the sounds of their friends and family outside.

“Okay, truth, before we go,” Sirius said and gestured towards the bed. “Did you and Finn…”

Logan scoffed and hit him in the chest. “No.” He paused. “Almost. In the ocean.”

“Tremz, that’s not a fucking ocean.”

Logan paused, then laughed, closing his eyes. “I meant lake.”

“Jesus Christ.” Sirius rose and stretched, then went to the mirror to try and wrangle the wet tangles of his hair.

“Don’t tell me you and Remus haven’t—”

“Are you joking? If Julian so much as sees us on the beach, he comes with us.”

Logan snorted. “Oh shit. Maybe you two should take our cabin for the night.”

“I accept.”

“Non.” Logan stood up. “Not a chance, that was a joke.” He moved to the doorway. “But hey.”

Sirius was still laughing as they walked down the stairs together. “What?”

“Tomorrow night’s going to be fun.”

Sirius nodded, then put a hand out to stop Logan from turning out of their quiet hallway just yet. “Hey.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Even if it doesn’t happen next season,” Sirius said. “We keep trying.”

A small flash of fear—because of course Logan was scared of that—but he nodded. “We keep trying.”

“I’m not kidding,” Finn said, squinting through the windshield from his place in the back seat as Logan drove slowly down a dirt road. “It looks like you’re taking us somewhere to kill us.”

The headlines illuminated the complete darkness save for a few solar lamps that illuminated house numbers. Each one was different—a 38 on a cluster of carved pines, a 46 on a bear raised on its back legs, a 50 on the silhouette of a lighthouse.

“We’re almost there,” Logan said.

“It looks like forest,” Finn protested.

“Harz,” Leo said from the passenger seat. “It is forest.”

“And I’m not taking you here to kill you,” Logan said. “You’ll see what I’ll do to you soon enough.”

“Hell yeah,” Leo reached over and squeezed the back of his neck.

Finn was quiet, but when Logan darted a glance in his rearview mirror, he was biting his lip against a grin.

“All right, then,” Finn said.

Leo threw his hand out. “Deer, Lo, deer, stop, stop, stop.”

Logan eased the car to a stop just as Finn let out a low whistle.

“Wow,” he whispered.

Three does, eyes reflecting at them in the headlights, stood at the side of the road, half hidden in the trees.

Leo rolled down his window, letting in the cool night air. “Hi, babies, hi.”

Their ears twitched at Leo’s voice, listening.

“Stay away from the road, sweethearts.”

Finn reached up and hit Logan’s arm, and they smiled at each other before looking back at Leo.

The deer looked on for another moment, tails twitching, before they darted into the trees, disappearing in a handful of silent seconds.

Logan found the right drive and turned in, letting the headlights wash over the house.

“Oh, Lo…” Leo leaned forward in his seat, peering up through the windshield.

Logan cut the engine. “My mystery.”

Leo grinned at him before opening his door.

While they got the bags, Logan checked his email again and then turned up the flashlight on his phone to find the small rock that the owner had hidden the key beneath. It smelled like pine inside and Logan felt right at home. He flicked on lights as he went, revealing a spacious living room with windows facing the lake and a kitchen large enough to host in. He smiled as he listened to Finn and Leo’s voices mixed with suitcase wheels hitting the floor and their footsteps following his.

They settled in easily, tired from the drive. They crowded each other in the bathroom, and when Leo snuck into the shower while Logan was washing the lake off of him, when and both of them emerged sated and flushed, Finn just grinned and turned the page of his book.

“That was fun to listen to.”

“Was it?” Leo straddled his knees and hooked two fingers into the band above the tight front of Finn’s pajama pants. He bent to kiss over the shape of Finn, then looked at Logan and tilted his head.

Finn cursed under his breath and closed his book. “I love us and vacations.” Logan watched as Finn tilted his head back and knit his brows when Leo bent to take him in his mouth.

Later, with a still fast beating heart, Logan lifted his arm and Leo knelt on the soft mattress until he could curl against his side. He pushed his nose into Logan’s neck and breathed in.

“Mhmm…” Leo hummed contently. He kissed Logan’s skin. “I think I’m going to sleep so damn good tonight.”

Logan smiled. It was Leo’s favorite sleeping weather. Logan had spent probably too long seeking out the very scene in front of them—porch doors of their master bedroom, currently thrown open with screens in place, letting cool night air in with the sound of lapping waves.

“I know you are,” Logan said. From the other side of the bed, Finn held out a fist, which Logan tapped with his own.

Logan could all but feel Leo relaxing, heavy against his side, his breathing already leveling out.

In the early dawn, and he wasn’t sure what had woken him, Logan found that Finn was staring up at the ceiling. Logan watched the hand on his stomach rise and fall with his even breathing, his fingers fiddling with the tie of his pajama pants. The string had gone wonky in the wash, one side far longer than the other. He looked to Leo. He was already looking back, his blue eyes gray in the dark room. He had his head on his own pillow, not Finn’s shoulder like Logan, but his hand was curled protectively around Finn’s bicep.

It felt good to all be awake. Just being together, laying quiet with all the time in the world tomorrow morning. This was home. It didn’t matter if he’d never slept in this bed before, if the sheets smelled like a forest he didn’t know.

Logan held out his hand, fingertips towards the ceiling, palm towards them. Without a word, Finn picked up his hand and high-fived him. The slap was loud in the room. Logan just clicked his tongue scoldingly and kept his hand there. Leo’s laugh was a short release of air, and he held up his hand, too, palm towards Logan’s, questioningly. Finn pressed his palm right against the back of Logan’s, softly this time. An owl picked up a song somewhere outside. Low notes cooed through their window as Logan slipped his palm away.

Logan picked up the longer tie of Finn’s pajamas, the flat woven strand cottony to the touch. He heard the sound of Finn opening his mouth, probably to ask what he was doing, but he stopped himself as Logan nudged Finn’s and Leo’s hands together. Leo settled his fingers briefly into the spaces between Finn’s, squeezing once before straightening them again.

Logan took the string and threaded it carefully around Finn’s ring finger, then crossed over diagonally and wrapped it around Leo’s, just behind it. He wrapped that path twice more, three small figure-eights binding them together, then dropped his hand to Finn’s chest.

Finn’s heart was beating hard and fast, so fast that Logan felt his cheeks get warm.

Neither Finn or Leo moved. When Logan glanced them over, they were both staring at the string, at their linked hands, bound by Logan’s makeshift rings. Finn’s chest had stopped moving beneath Logan’s head, but it started up again in a deep, easy exhale. Logan cupped their palms and lowered them to rest over the pounding of Finn’s heart. Leo threaded his and Finn’s fingers together and kissed Finn’s shoulder through a smile. Logan settled his hand over theirs and closed his eyes, wishing there was something to bind them together like this every where they went.

#vaincre lumosinlove #coops #wolfstar #sweater weather lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finnlo #lelo #sunfish #smut #fluff

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manifestingitgurlll · 3 days ago

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omg THANK YOU for your 3D/4D post. a lot of blogs say the 3D is past assumptions and i'd get so confused because i persisted for weeks on something, but on another thing it literally manifested within an hour and i'm just like??? that's pretty instant when i declared it an hour ago versus other thing i'm persisting in... so basically 3D isn't past assumptions, but telling me i simply had not fully formed the assumption yet? and that's ok because that's what persisting is for, to form the assumption?

YES. THE 3D/4D DOESN'T MATTER!!

the past assumptions thing doesn't even make any sense. bcs i dont remember mirrors ever showing you a time lag lol?

honestly, i think its just used as an easier way for people to cope. it leads right back to the thinking that there are two different realities. and its easier for the human ego to swallow that, so people would rather follow that idea than recognize the truth that it's the exact same 🤷🏽‍♀️

for the rest of your question, i'm gonna go a bit deep into it, cause you're almost there but not quite. ill prob make a separate post on this too.

when it comes to persisting, this is where i follow non dualism more than loa. loa says you need to create a dominant assumption by saturating your mind and persisting via affirmations. and yes affirmations are just thoughts, and you should persist by thinking in your favor.

but most people take this as meaning they have to go out of their way to affirm hundreds or thousands of times a day (like the 10k or 50k affirmation challenges). and i mean, if that makes you feel good and you feel it works, continue! but you don't HAVE to.

in non dualism, you simply decide. there is no affirmations (again, i mean the going out of your way 50 thousand times way), no need to create a "dominant assumption" or "saturate the subconscious mind." whatever you decide is done, period.

the "3d" is completely neutral. meaning it has no meaning, unless you GIVE it meaning.

so if you decide that it's telling you that you don't have your desire because you're not fully fulfilled with your decision, that you're wavering, and that you have to continue persisting for it to happen...then that's gonna be the reality.

but why would you want to identify with that? it's just continuing to enforce the fact that you DONT have your desire, and you need to do more to get it.

the "3d," like a mirror, conforms instantly. yet you still think it doesn't. why? because you're STILL thinking with the human ego. thinking that because you can't see it, then it didn't happen.

i know i keep repeating it, but its true -- YOU ARE NOT A PHYSICAL BEING. you NEED to stop identifying with it. this is the number 1 fact im gonna keep bashing into your guys heads lol cause its true!

you are consciousness. self. and self doesn't rely on or follow the human ego and its senses. it lives and creates in imagination.

lets say you're manifesting an sp. you want them to ask you out. you sit there and decide, feeling fully fulfilled and confident in your decision, knowing that they asked you out.

but then you look out into the "3d," and see nothing. you go "aw damn, it didn't work. guess i'm not completely fulfilled. i must be wavering ☹️ i'll do more affirmations to make it happen."

meanwhile! the SECOND you decided your desire was your truth, your sp started thinking, "wow so and so is actually rlly cool and cute...i wonder if they'd go out with me? maybe i should ask them out."

BUTTTT!! the second you contradicted and went back to identifying with the human ego, who only believes what they see, your sp changed their mind. "nah i dont even know them, what am i talking abt lol?"

you see? the "3d" IS instant. if you didn't rely on the human ego and it's senses, then you wouldn't doubt that for a second. but you keep identifying with it.

trust me, i know it can be difficult. you're so heavily aware of that ego, ofc you believe it's you. but you have to snap out of it. correct yourself when you find yourself claiming those thoughts as yours.

now, this should be your internal knowing and understanding. but at the end of the day, you shouldn't be thinking about the "3d" at all.

whether it conforms or not, has nothingg to do with you!!

again, you're NOT a physical being and you DON'T live in the "3d."

the goal isn't to have it in the physical, the GOAL is to have it in imagination. that's the one true reality!

the "3d" ? it's literally just a byproduct. and the only one who cares abt it is the human ego. who, again, ISN'T YOU!! 🙃

i know that was a lot, but i really hoped it helped 🩶

#nondualism #consciousness #nonduality #law of assumption #loassumption #loa tumblr #loa #loablr #void state #asks #loa blog #manifestation

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htfs-ranked-on · 1 year ago

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ranked on how their kiss feels? (sorry)

no apologizing!! this is a fluff friendly blog!!

cuddles: like everything he does, his kisses are fast and a little bit rough, but full of passion and excitement.

giggles: queen of classic romance, her kisses look and feel like something straight out of a hallmark movie. most likely to smile while trying to kiss her partner

toothy: probably the gentlest kisser because he's had to learn to work around the teeth

petunia: she keeps her kisses short and simple, but they're remarkably pleasant all the same

handy: he has a tendency to lean into it and there's a non-zero probability that he'll overbalance the both of them and send him and his partner to the floor, but the kiss itself is a good balance between gentle and passionate

nutty: this man kisses with his whole body. it's rough and a bit extreme, and he'll DEFINITELY knock the both of them over, but there's no denying he's excited about it. he'll also follow up one kiss with a dozen more peppered all over his partner's face and neck (´-ω-`)

sniffles: there's a very predictable pattern with him, where he starts off with a very gentle, plain kiss, and then about two seconds in he gets overwhelmed with affection and leans in to deepen it. he does this every time and it's incredibly endearing

pop: nothing super remarkable about his, just a quick and gentle smooch

flaky: they always manage to catch their partner by surprise with the amount of energy they put into their kisses. they're fast, but they really grab on and lean in with it!

the mole: like everything else he does, his kisses are not super high energy, but he likes to draw them out. very soft, but he'll be there kissing his partner for a good couple minutes.

disco bear: if it's someone he really cares about, he's shockingly restrained about it, at least at first. he's the most likely to put a hand on his s/o's jaw, but other than that, he mostly lets them decide how intense they want that kiss to be, because he's afraid if he tries to take too much he'll scare them off. his kisses get more passionate as he gets more secure in the relationship.

russell: he kisses like he learned how to kiss from a 1950's etiquette book. it's not unpleasant by any means, but it's very clear that he doesn't do this that often

lifty: his kisses are casual, until they aren't. he'll start with a quick kiss, but if nothing stops him after the first one, he'll spend the next 45 minutes in a full makeout session, completely disregarding location or if people are nearby. most likely to bite his partner's lip (gently!)

shifty: very fond of dragging his s/o in by the shirt for a messy kiss. very likely to follow it up by kissing and biting at their neck if they don't stop him

mime: partial to quick, rapidfire kisses all over his partner's face. will smudge face paint everywhere if he isn't careful

lammy: the best way to describe her kisses is "cheerful". she's also very likely to smile while trying to kiss her s/o, and she's the most likely to start laughing from how happy she is to have someone special in her life

flippy: it always takes him a second to relax, but once he does, he completely melts into it and kisses his partner like it's the last thing he'll do. he takes their face in both of his hands and it's like he's trying to pour himself into them. it's very intense!

splendid: his kisses are as dramatic as he is. he's the most likely to turn a simple kiss into a full spin and dip moment if he isn't stopped from doing so

splendont: 50/50 on his kisses either being fast and rushed (he's a man on a mission), or lazy and drawn out (he just wants to enjoy it). either way, he's a lot gentler than any other time

#htf ranks #anonymous #hey. hey guys! do you want to know a fun fact about the mod (me)?#i am actually aroace and have very little romantic experience #all my romance headcanons are a shot in the dark and the ones involving petunia and splendont specifically tend to be a leetle bit projecty #but you guys keep coming back for more so i must be doing something right 🙌#by NO means am i saying to stop sending them though they're very cute #ranked by character #romance ranks #mod's favorites

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f1owermoon · 9 months ago

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sorry i just. need to rant for a second

#cause dude the whole joost situation is SO fucking upsetting #he's mentioned over and over again how overwhelming this whole overnight success thing has been for him and to respect his boundaries #and instead of yk respecting his wishes “fans” go and make things worse by constantly overstepping and being creepy and weird like hello???#like why can't we all just be normal and take a step back and enjoy things #these people are gonna end up driving him off the internet and i wouldn't blame him one bit #and the worst part is the people who should get the memo obviously don't (or refuse to) bc this isn't an isolated instance #like its been going on for a while now #idk man i just think about how hard it must be for him rn #one of the things that turned me into a joost fan (besides his music) was his personality #like i obviously dont know him on a personal basis #but from the little bits ive seen he comes across as a really genuine and sweet and kind dude #super thoughtful as well. like i just love the way he thinks and his take on things #like i remember watching his eurovision interviews and just thinking oh man this dude's a ray of sunshine LMFAO #also the literal definition of resilience like dude's been through so much stuff and hes always managed to come out on top despite of it #and thats something i really admire about him too. like the way he put it as not letting your traumas be just that #but also something that can drive you forward #but yeah dude's had more than enough like he deserves to be happy and have some peace and ppl keep ruining it for him and it makes me upset #like i actually slept like shit last night and woke up feeling terrible and i wonder if what went down yesterday w the whole live thing #has anything to do with it lmfao #and you may be like ok well youre taking it too personally and letting it affect you #and yeah maybe youre right LOL but i cant help it i care about the guy and i want him to be okay #he seems to have a really good support system though so i hope things blow over soon and he can finally have some peace #anyway. rant over! 💋#raquel speaks

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snail-day · 18 days ago

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Clubbing with Roommate!Suguru is… painful. For him.

He’s not a clubbing guy. Never has been. It's all too loud, sweaty, and far too many hands that grab without asking. He’d rather stay home, finish folding laundry, maybe light a nice candle, and pretend he’s the kind of man who doesn't ache every time his roommate walks into the room with that sweet little smile.

But when you asked, tilting your head, lashes batting, biting your pretty glossy lips, he said “sure” before he could think better of it.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He does. He just doesn’t trust every other scumbag in that club. Especially not with you. Not with your too-short dress, or how you keep turning to beam up at him, all radiant and warm, grabbing his hand as if you both are something more.

And he knows that you don't know what it does to him.

He's been good. He has. Clean dishes. Rent on time. Never crosses the line, never watches you sleep when you're napping on the couch no matter how soft you look. Never touches you for longer than he should.

But you're making it so damn hard tonight.

Clinging to his arm when the crowd gets too tight. Throwing your head back laughing at something he didn’t even say, then tucking yourself under his chin like a lover. Like this is normal.

He should go home.

He should let you have fun and stop being a possessive freak. But the moment he steps even an inch away, he watches a pair of hands start to inch toward you, and he’s behind you in seconds, hands curling around your waist like it’s his right. Pulling you back against him, grounding you.

“Careful, princess,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice low, controlled. “This place eats girls like you alive.”

You just giggle, arm curling around the back of his neck like it’s a slow dance and not a crowded bar. You lick the sweat from the column of his throat, lips brushing warm skin, and he goes still.

Dead still.

Because he knows it’s the alcohol. Knows this isn’t real. Knows you’re just tipsy and touchy and you do this to all your friends, right?

Right?

But it’s him you’re grinding on. It’s him you keep pulling close, whispering all your secrets to. And it’s him you end up leaning on in the elevator, too tired to stand upright, blinking up at him with that soft, sleepy pout that ruins him.

“I don’t wanna be single forever,” you mumble, voice thick, fingers curling into the front of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll slip away.

He swallows. Hard. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say -

“You’d be such a good boyfriend, Suguru.”

His breath catches.

He doesn’t answer. Just chuckles, low and strained, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as he cups your face. “Alright, pretty girl. Let’s get you to bed.”

It should end there.

But no. Of course not. Because you’re tugging at the hem of your dress with lazy fingers, swaying on your feet, and now he has to help you undress like some kind of saint. He must be some kind of idiot.

“Hands up,” he says gently, not looking at your bare thighs as his shirt falls over your head. “One foot at a time - whoa, okay. I got you.”

You catch yourself on his shoulders, giggling sleepily as your fingers curl against his broad shoulders. His throat is dry. His jaw tight.

He helps you into bed. Tucks you in. But you groan, turning your face into the pillow, then looking up at him, makeup smudged and eyes glassy.

“I hate makeup,” you whine.

He smiles, the expression soft and too fond for his own good. “Then come here. Sit pretty for me.”

You huff, but obey. Legs swinging over the side of the bed as he kneels between them, cotton pad in hand, wiping your cheeks with tender, practiced strokes.

“You’re so bossy,” you mumble.

He laughs under his breath, eyes fixed on your lips.

“You’re so pretty,” he says without thinking.

Your eyes flutter open. Looking up into his violet ones.

He stiffens.

“Okay,” he says quickly, flustered, “Bedtime.”

You curl up on your side, breathing soft, face peaceful. But then you groan again, clutching your stomach.

“…Feel sick,” you whisper.

And that’s all it takes. He’s under the covers with you, just hovering. Just watching. Just making sure you’re okay.

Not because he loves you.

Not because he’s dying to touch you.

Just… for safety.

He’ll tell himself that again tomorrow.

When he’s doing the dishes. When your bra’s still hanging off the bathroom door. When your sleepy voice whispers his name in the middle of the night and his heart damn near breaks.

He’ll remind himself: you’re just roommates.

And you’re making it so hard.

#TW: Drinking/Clubbing #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #geto suguru #Geto x reader #Suguru x reader #Geto Suguru x Reader #JJK x Reader #Suguru isn't safe from the yearning #Suguru geto x reader

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corkinavoid · 10 months ago

Text

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #tim drake #batfam #batman #dani phantom #danielle phantom #eldritch danny #but he wont admit to it #cork prompts #i wrote this as a way to relax #theres zero plot to it #just danny being petty #and dani saying mildly concerning shit in camera #it was her first day in the new school #all in all it was a fairly okay first day

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luveline · 9 months ago

Note

could you please write something with bombshell reader and spencer where there is a misunderstanding and she thinks he is cheating on her?? or anything angsty? love your work and just want to tell you how you are the best author in this fandom! besos <333

thanks so much, hope this is okay! fem, 1.2k

You bend forward and breathe.

Rough breathing. Audibly disjointed, and panicked, and drawing attention. You clasp at the side of the counter in the office kitchen and everyone standing around you goes silent.

Someone must tell someone who tells someone, because Anderson makes his way to your side soon after. “Y/N, do you need me to get someone?” he asks.

“Hotch?” you ask.

“Sure. Do you want to sit down?”

Your mouth isn’t calibrated to your mind. Your answer takes time. “I’m okay.”

You blink hard. Your lashes are sticky, mascara wet in the corners and pulling on each other as you force yourself to keep them open. When Hotch collects you, it is with an immense tenderness, and a poorly concealed confusion. “Hey, come on,” he says, guiding you toward the office doors, “let’s find somewhere quieter.”

You’re three steps down the hallway when you stop. You cover your face with both hands.

Your entire world just got rocked… you don’t even know how to say it. You can’t stop seeing it, his hand on her shoulder, his head tilted to one side like he always does with you, like he’s going to kiss her cheek. And she’d just let him do it.

“What happened?”

“They were kissing.”

Hotch looks down at you patiently. “Who?”

“Spencer and JJ.” You swallow down bile. Your voice sounds far away, “They were so close…”

“Are you sure?”

“No… Just, it looked like they were. She had her arms around him, he…”

You blink hard again, but the panic, the agony remains. You could see it, Spencer kissing her, and it just tore you to pieces right then and there. How could he do that to you? The stereotypical you’d always expected to be above races through your head. Weren’t you too much to lose?

“They were too close,” you say more firmly.

“Alright,” Hotch says softly. Then, because he’s your friend, even if you’ve thrust him into an awkward position. “I can work this out for you, if you want. I can kill him for you if necessary.”

“That’s not funny,” you say, because even if it were, it’s way too soon.

“I’m not joking. If Spencer ever did that to you, I’d… well, I wouldn’t hurt him, but he would lose my respect, and he would lose yours. Do you believe Spencer would put that at risk?”

“You think I’m overreacting.”

Hotch gives you a look. Full Hotchner. Understanding, patient, a little humorous. “I honestly can’t imagine a world where Spencer does something that would hurt you, that’s all. I’m not trying to mock you. I’m not saying you can’t be upset.”

You realise after a few deep breaths that he was trying to drive you from a panic attack, and he did it successfully. You swallow a nervous lump.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I think I can kill him.”

“I don’t doubt it. Do you want to?”

“Depends on what I saw,” you mutter, turning away from the glass office doors as they open.

“Well… perhaps you can–”

“Hey, what are you guys doing out here?” Spencer interrupts, breathless as he slides around Hotch and takes your arm in his hand. “Angel, I need your help, urgently. JJ’s earring got caught in my hair, I’m pretty sure I’m bald.”

You squint at him, still a little breathless yourself.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, looking between you and Hotch with regret. “What’s wrong? You look sick.”

“What did JJ do?” you ask.

“Angel?”

He squints. When you fail to offer a reason, he tips his head down to show you the top of his head. “Am I bald? She dropped her pencil case and I tried to grab it, and she yanked back. I tried to stop her from ripping it out, but she said I had to stop being a big baby.”

He laughs. Hotch lets out an audible breath.

“I’m hideous,” Spencer surmises from your silence.

“I didn’t really look.”

Spencer looks at Hotch. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

You send Hotch a look that says please, don’t.

“I just felt a bit panicked,” you confess, a half truth to spare your dignity.

“I brought her out here for some quiet,” Hotch says.

Spencer frowns and holds your arm again with more softness. “You did? Are you feeling better now? You know, the sudden onset of panic is often caused by a process called overbreathing, have you felt that happen to you recently? It’s accidental hyperventilation. Low carbon dioxide in the blood.” His frown deepens. “Unless it’s not that. Are you worried about something?”

You watch as his hand glides further up, his thumb rubbing into the soft fat of your upper arm.

“Worried about your hairline,” you mumble.

Look, you’ll tell Spencer eventually, maybe. But for now your head hurts and you really had almost spun yourself into an anxiety attack, and you need the rest, and meeting his eyes isn’t easy.

If he were lying about the earring, you’d be able to tell. If he’d kissed JJ, the guilt would be pouring off of him.

“I can trust you to look after her?” Hotch asks.

“When can’t you?” Spencer asks sincerely.

Footsteps. A door opening.

You and Spencer alone, his voice warm with concern. “Are you okay? Really okay?”

“Can you hug me?”

“Sure I can.” He slips his arms through yours and pulls you in. “Do you need something? Listening to music can help, I have my headphones on my desk. Or we can just– walk.” His hand spread wide over your shoulder. “You’re shaking.”

“I am?”

“Just a little…”

You try your best to stand completely still.

“Oh,” he says softly, pulling you with more force toward his chest, “I’m sorry, I had no idea you weren’t feeling okay today. But it’ll be okay, I promise. I got you.”

It’s not often you feel like the smaller person in your relationship, and he doesn’t make you feel small, but the depth of his promise gives him this bigness that dulls the panic. Spencer… he really wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You aren’t at fault for thinking they were too close, but there’s an explanation, and for now that’s enough to make you feel better.

“How much hair did she rip out, sweetheart?” you murmur, leaning back just far to see his face, not wanting to disturb the stable quiet. “Does it hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. Honestly I’m more worried about you than my hair.”

“Can I explain it to you later?”

“You’ll sleep over?” he asks, lips thinning into a smile.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says.

You close your eyes as he cups your face with both hands. Later, when you tell him, he isn’t offended, just sorry. Necessary or not, he apologises and holds you with so much tenderness you’re assured again that Spencer hurting you would only ever be an accident.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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melminli · 5 months ago

Text

Ddakji Man

summery - you were always struggling to make ends meet, despite having three separate jobs and you doubted that that would ever change. it felt like you were working out of your own casket and it would probably be more sustainable to invest in one at this point.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: slight arguing, cursing but nothing too graphic tbh

"Are you sure that you don't want to come?" One of your friends asked you a little sadly since you were about to leave the group. They rarely got to see you anyway, did you have to leave so early? "You never come with us when we go out for a drink, we miss you there, you know?"

You smiled a little tiredly as you strolled casually through the streets. "I'm sorry guys, I just have to work tonight." you tried to explain. Besides, I'm fucking tired and just want to get some sleep before then. I miss my bed.

Your best friend pouted as she hugged you from the side and you welcomed it, even if it made walking a little more difficult. "It's always work this work that. Live a little for once, all this stress is not good for you. You need a break." she spoke up before a thought came into her mind that made her a little furious. "Don't tell me that you're using work as an excuse to cancel on us. We can do something else if you want to. I'll even invite you, come on!"

You took a tired breath. I don't have any energy for this. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to get drunk with you and I'm not being sarcastic or anything." you clarified. Besides, I wouldn't work this much if I didn't have to.

"All right." she gave in unhappy. "We'll catch you one of these days, I can feel it..."

You laughed softly. "Please do," you replied and stopped in front of the stairs that led to the subway. This was the place where you had to part ways with the others and you did with a few more hugs. You enjoyed spending time with them and loved your friends with all your heart, but you were still happy to be a bit on your own now.

So you plugged in your cable headphones and played your current favorite song at the loudest volume before checking when the next train was going to arrive. Another twenty minutes? The last one must have just left. You decided to just sit down on a bench and wait while staring blankly around and quietly mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

A few minutes later, a person sat down next to you and you could see out of the corner of your eye that it was probably some kind of businessman or something. You didn't look closely out of politeness and turned your gaze somewhere else after checking the time on your phone.

"Excuse me." the unknown man tried to get your attention, but as expected, you could barely hear him over the booming music. He placed his briefcase in the space between you before leaning closer to your figure and looking towards you with a smile and finally, you seemed to notice his stare and turned in his direction. You took out one of your earbuds as you met his gaze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The man leaned back again. "I haven't said anything yet. I wanted to ask if I could talk to you, do you have a moment?"

You looked around a little uncomfortably as he maintained uninterrupted eye contact with you. "Ehm, well..." you stumbled slightly over your words. "I'm not religious or anything, sorry," you replied, having no patience for another discourse about Jesus and the church. This is the fourth time this week, lucky me. You thought to yourself as you were about to put your earplug back in.

The salesman held a hand in the air to stop you from doing that to keep your attention. You just looked at him uninterestedly and waited, it was going to be a while before your train arrived anyway. A smile graced his face after you were willing to listen to him again. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, I just want to offer you a chance."

Your face tightened a little in disgust and you were quite irritated by now. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer and didn't say anything else, so you had no choice but to interpret his words. He doesn't look like that kind of guy, but I guess it's always the ones who look the most decent. "Listen to me asshole," you said openly this time, all politeness gone as you pointed at his chest with your index finger. "I don't know you, maybe you're one of those men who try to talk in riddles to seem mysterious or something, but right now it just sounds like you're looking for someone cheap to fuck." you replied as you tapped his tie with each syllable and leaned a little closer to him as you whispered. "And I'm not cheap, so you might want to look elsewhere."

This time it was you who grinned as he looked at you in surprise and he let out a small grunt after you finished your sentence. The salesman straightened his tie while watching your figure before reaching for his briefcase and revealing its contents, "That's too bad, but also not what I was talking about," he replied as you looked at the money and colored paper in confusion. "Have you ever played Ddakji?" He asked you as he took out the red and blue paper. You just shook your head. "That's no problem at all, we can still play it if you're up for it."

Your gaze alternated from his hand to his face. Oh, so he's crazy. You finally concluded. I guess he is too handsome to be just a normal guy, huh. You turned your head away from him, something about the whole thing just seemed perverse to you. "No thanks, I'll pass."

"You sure?" He asked again, knowing he'd convinced you as soon as he brought the money into it. These people are all the same, she'll snatch the paper right out of my hands after I start talking a language she understands. "Every time you win, you get 100,000 won from me." He began, watching the look on your face. "But if I win, you owe me 100,000 won and -"

You sighed and interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure. I still don't want to play with you, okay?"

This time the man looked at you with a cold, icy stare. A few minutes passed like this and you just tried to ignore his gaze, but then he started talking again. "All right. 200,000 won." he finally said, but couldn't seem to get your attention back. He tried again. "Is it because you've never played the game before? We can have a practice round if that would make you feel more comfortable." he tried again and got irritated when you continued to ignore him. He looked around the area as he considered his next move. Is she waiting for me to increase the prize money further? These people usually jump up happily at the first amount since they're so desperate. He tried to collect himself again. "500,000 won." he finally said. "I've got the money right here, you just have to go for it."

When is this stupid train coming. "Look, I don't want your fucking money, understand? I'm not a gambling addict or -"

"You may not want it, but you need it," he said, annoyed. This has never happened before, is she stupid? He then spoke out your name and described your miserable living situation as if you didn't already know about it yourself. "You also have quite a lot of debt for someone who is still relatively young, are you seriously going to turn down the money I'm offering you? For what, to prove a point or something?"

You didn't know what this man's fucking problem was, he should be glad that you didn't want to take his money, and how did he even know all this? You got up from your seat next to him when the train finally arrived and turned to face him one last time. "Fuck you," you told him and then went to the doors. You even looked out of the window at him as soon as they closed before you, to show him your the middle finger.

The man in the suit watched your figure irritated until it was gone and then, took the little card out of the inside pocket of his suit, that was meant for you. He turned it over a few times in his hand before closing the open briefcase with his other one. He had already played and lost a few Ddakji games in his life, which was the point of the whole thing - to recruit players for the actual game. However, the thought of what awaited them there meant that he was still in control of the situation. He was always in control of the situation. "I didn't loose, we haven't even played." he tried to reassure himself.

And yet the whole conversation with you left him feeling like he was utterly defeated.

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daenysx · 5 months ago

Text

tangerine x fem!reader, fluff/comfort ♡

-tangerine has this habit of crawling back to you.

cw; soft!tangerine, this man yearns and he's not ashamed of that, tangerine being a bit dramatic, exes to lovers (?), title is from do i wanna know by arctic monkeys, kissing many many times, my first time writing for him- please let me know what you think

wc; 1.5k

CRAWLIN' BACK TO YOU

It's not healthy to do this every night, is it?

No, because Tangerine doesn't know how to stop and it bothers him. It bothers him more than Lemon's insistent talks about Thomas the Tank Engine, so this is serious. He's a strong man, but- you sigh in content and he's glad to be witnessing this.

He really should stop watching you sleep.

You look peaceful like this. Happy, blissfully unconscious. Your pretty lips let out tiny breaths and he swears he will collapse. Something squeezes his poor heart. He wants to be closer, you look warm but are you really warm? He wants to drag his fingers on your skin, to touch you like he used to. Stained fingers, red with blood. He washed them before coming here, but it doesn't matter. He'll never be pure enough to touch you.

"Pretty girl," he whispers in the dark. You don't hear him. He gets encouraged by that.

He takes a hesitant step towards your bed.

"Look at you, sleeping so deep," Tangerine whispers again. "Always in peace when I'm not here, aren't you?"

Technically he is here, but you don't know that, and that's all he cares. He doesn't try to be a creep, he's just in love. He swears this is the only reason why he keeps coming back to his ex's apartment. He promises this is the only reason why he lies to his brother as he crawls back to you.

His fingers ache to reach out and touch you.

If he could be a better man, he'd be in your arms right now. He'd be kissing your collarbones and his rings would collide nicely with the soft fabric of your tank top. He's a coward, really. He's glad you're the only one who knows this side of him. It would be terrible for his job options otherwise.

You take another breath. Tangerine watches the softness of your cheeks move when you curl your lips in your sleep. You must be dreaming. He hopes you see him being good for you in your dream. Being the man he never could be in reality.

He really should stop using the keys you gave him months ago.

"I wish I could be-" he starts saying some stupid shit again. Oh, come on. He rolls his eyes at himself. "Pathetic. I'm being pathetic."

"You really are," you turn to your side. Fuck. Tangerine flinches.

"Wha- Fuck me-" he takes a step back. You were sleeping two seconds ago. He's shy all of a sudden as if he's not the man who keeps coming back to his ex after breaking up with her by saying 'you deserve better, love'.

You blink, looking so exhausted as you do that. Leaning on your elbows, you look up to him. His hair is messed up, his blue eyes are wide open. It's a good look on him. Objectively.

"You really did think I wasn't aware of you coming back here every night, didn't you?"

"Um- then why did you-"

"You really are being pathetic, Tangerine," you say. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No, of course not-"

"I know you still have the keys," you say. "I knew you'd use them at some point, you never offered to give them back."

Tangerine finally manages to close his mouth. Clever girl, aren't you? He feels poorly, now that he can't call you his.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asks.

You blink a few times. "I waited for you to say something first."

"Sorry to disappoint, love," he says, genuine this time. "I've been acting too cowardly around you."

You sigh, you really want to sleep. You wish he could just stop with this pity party and come to bed. Silent promises ring in your head, you want him back. He kept saying he's doing it for you, breaking up because he doesn't want you to get hurt. He swears even telling you what he does for living was the toughest shit he'd ever gone through. Who wants a guy like him anyway?

"Will you please- come here? Let's just talk about this in the morning, I'm so tired."

He blinks a few times. You have a death wish, don't you? Why the hell would you want him to get close if you don't?

"It's 'cause I know you still love me," you answer. Shit, he asked it out loud. "I know you're trying to make a stupid decision for both of us, still, but tonight I want none of that. Come here."

You pat the empty spot next to you and Tangerine obeys. He has no choice, his entire body feels like it's on fire with the distance between you. He takes off his suit jacket, lets himself be bare in front of you just like how you always want him. No unnecessary clothes in bed, you once said. I want to know you're here.

He lies next to you hesitantly. For a brave man, he's acting pretty fearful tonight. You wrap your arm around his chest, your fingers touch his skin as you draw a small circle right there.

Tangerine takes a breath. It's good, being here. He finally feels like he's where he belongs. You snuggle closer to him, always the bold one in the relationship. Many would expect it to be different, he knows, but he feels entirely yours and this is something he can't explain. He'd let you do anything you want, if you want to cuddle him, kiss him in public, or snuggle to his chest like a cat, so be it. He wraps an arm around you.

"Oh," he breathes. You smell wonderful. "My girl."

Fuck, he missed this. He melts right there, how can he be stupid enough to let you go? He turns to his side to hold you better, you put your head to the curve of his neck. His cologne hits you like an old memory, but that's nonsense. You never let him go.

"Missed this," he says. "Missed you."

"You're an idiot."

"That's what I am."

You tangle your legs with his, he kisses his way on your neck all the way to your shoulder. You close your eyes, let yourself be okay now that he's here. He can finally admit that he never left, he couldn't do that if he tried. He yearns for this, for every bit of affection he can have.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. He doesn't think he can wait until the morning to tell you this. You must know how sorry he is for even trying to go out of your life, how desperate he's been since the day he told you he wants to break up. How angry he made Lemon (even Lemon) because he's been a restless bastard and he doesn't even know what he's doing. "I'm so sorry."

You lift your head to see his eyes. Under the soft moonlight in your room, they sparkle. Just a deep blue, you've always loved his eyes. He's genuine and he's only a man. He looks like he can beg for forgiveness on his knees.

"It's okay," you say gently. No need for arguments, the bed is warm and he's here. You'll find the right time to talk about this. For now, though, you choose to put your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

Tangerine kisses your head. You like having shower before bed and he can smell your shampoo. He holds your hand under the covers and slides his hips to get closer to you. The pillows are soft and inviting beneath his head, he closes his eyes.

"Will you stay for breakfast?" you ask. He can stay forever if you want. Fuck, yearning turned him into a fucking romantic.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks instead.

"Yes," you reply, getting closer to his pulse point. You put a small kiss on the tiny spot under his ear. He lets out a quiet hiss when you bite there playfully.

"Or maybe I should crawl back here with flowers in my hand," he says, adjusting his neck to give you more space to kiss. He can feel you smile against him.

"You really should," you tell him. "Later. Not tomorrow."

Your sound unsure. Hesitant with your loving as if he scared you. He did, though, didn't he? Tangerine is a man of sin and he really needs to atone for some of them.

"I'm not gonna leave," he promises. "Not again."

You nod, his loving girl. You could give him hell, but you're exhausted. He tightens his arm around you and lets you settle down on him.

Your breath is nice to feel against his neck. Tangerine relaxes. You fall asleep in the next minute or so, he isn't sure when. He just knows that this feels like home, and he'd been the biggest fool in the history for trying to leave it as if he actually could. He has to get you those flowers just as soon as he can.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine fic #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fanfiction #bullet train #bullet train fanfiction #tangerine imagine #bullet train fic #bullet train imagine #aaron taylor johnson

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sluttywonwoo · 1 year ago

Text

fuck the neighbors

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f reader

summary: curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back- at least, that's what they say.

warnings: swearing, blood, asshole!wonwoo, mingyu is canonically a whore, light blasphemy, smut (18+ ; mdni)

smut warnings: hard dom!wonwoo, allusions to voyeurism, degradation, oral (f receiving), blood play?!?!? (just a little bit!!!), wap!reader, massive cock!wonwoo, choking, protected sex

word count: 3.3k

reader notes: reader is significantly shorter than ww + described to have long-ish hair

You’ve never felt as small as you do right now. Wonwoo looms over you, smirking. He isn’t even that much taller than you, you just seem to shrink into yourself when you’re around him, which seems to be happening more and more often lately.

“Found you,” he whispers.

“I... wasn’t hiding,” you say, your voice coming out in a squeak.

“You know it isn’t nice to lie,” he chides, taking a step closer to you. You take a step backward in kind, only to be met with the cool concrete wall against your back. “It also isn’t nice to eavesdrop.”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to,” you insist.

Wonwoo tsks. “I don’t believe you. What did I just say about lying?”

“Well, it isn’t nice to be super loud all the time either!” you scoff. “You have neighbors, you know.”

The overhead light flickers. You and Wonwoo both stare at it, the inconsistent hum of electricity filling the silence before the light eventually decides to stay lit. You breathe a sigh of relief. You really needed to stop overlooking sketchy apartments for the sake of the rent, especially if you were going to have to deal with people like... him.

Wonwoo cocks his head to the side. “What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean what am I talking about? Listen, I don’t care who you fuck but if you could be just a little quieter-”

Wonwoo cuts you off with a laugh. “That’s what this is about? That’s why you were snooping outside my apartment? What, were you hoping to catch a glimpse of her leaving or something?”

So you had been right... you’re not sure whether or not you’re happy about that. What you are sure of, though, is that you’re offended that you’re being accused of snooping. You open your mouth to defend yourself but stop short.

“You’re bleeding,” is what you say instead.

Wonwoo touches his lip, thumb brushing across the cut he must not have noticed until you mentioned it. He looks down at his fingers briefly then back up at you.

“Come with me.”

“Wha- huh?”

“You want to know what’s so loud, right? So come on.”

You follow him blindly back down the hall to his apartment, the one right next to yours. You’re doing everything a final girl in a horror movie shouldn’t do, but you’re dying to know what’s been keeping you up at night.

Wonwoo unlocks the door and stands aside to let you in first. With a gulp, you cross the threshold and slip off your shoes. He does the same.

The apartment is quiet, for once. It looks a lot like yours but mirrored. The kitchen is off to the right instead of the left. The half bathroom is on the wall opposite to yours, likely connected via plumbing.

The place is a lot cleaner than you expected too. It’s sparse, typical for a single guy, but still relatively well decorated.

Wonwoo heads straight to the kitchen and turns on the sink. He wets a paper towel and dabs at his bottom lip, wincing as he cleans the wound.

“Why am I here?” you ask when he doesn’t offer an explanation.

He doesn’t answer right away. Granted, the man was still bleeding but he’d dragged you here for a reason and now you were just standing in his kitchen.

Eventually, he disposes of the paper towel, washes his hands, and walks across the living room without saying a word. You know he expects you to follow him but you almost don’t want to. You do follow him, you want to leave as fast as possible, but you consider it.

He opens the door to what you know is a bedroom and points inside. You stare at him blankly.

“What am I looking at?”

“This isn’t my room,” he says.

“What?”

“It’s my roommate’s.”

“You have a roommate?”

“I do. I have a roommate. He’s the one you share a wall with. He’s the one banging a different girl every night. Your issues are with him, not me.”

Now that you were thinking about it, you have seen a slightly taller, beefier man around the building. That must be who Wonwoo’s roommate is. He definitely had the face to pull all the girls Wonwoo was referring to. Not that Wonwoo didn’t-

“So take it up with him.”

You shake your head and purse your lips. “No, that doesn’t explain everything. I’ve heard your voice too. Unless you’re the one he’s banging...” you trail off, letting the implication hang in the air.

“He’s not my type,” Wonwoo says flatly.

“Okay, then what is it?”

“C’mere,” he says, moving along the wall to what you use as a breakfast nook in your apartment.

In his, the space is empty save for a punching bag hanging from the ceiling.

“You box?”

“It’s a hobby.”

“Is that why you were bleeding?”

“Yeah, I just got back from the gym.”

“And that’s what I’ve been hearing?”

“That’s what you’ve been hearing.”

You nod but don’t say anything else, half waiting for an apology that he doesn’t offer. He just leans against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Well, do you think you could practice your hobby before midnight? Or at least try to keep it down when you do?” you huff in annoyance.

He sighs like what you’re asking is the biggest inconvenience he’s ever been posed with but concedes.

“I guess.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll have to talk to Mingyu about his... hobby, though. Or get noise canceling headphones. That’s what I did.”

“Oh, okay.”

Silence stretches between you again, heightening the tension in the room. You don’t know what to do. Were you supposed to show yourself out now that you had your answers? Wonwoo isn’t giving you any indication that he wants you to leave but he isn't giving any indication that he wants you to stay either.

You don’t have the time or energy to deal with this. You can’t read the man’s mind. No matter how hard he stares at you from across a room. With a definitive breath, you turn on your heel to head for the door just to be stopped by Wonwoo’s voice echoing behind you.

“Are you disappointed?”

You stop but don’t turn around. “What?”

“Are you disappointed that it isn’t me you’ve been hearing?” he clarifies.

Heat rises to your cheeks. “Wh-what do you mean? Why would I be?”

You feel him approach from behind, his shadow closing in on you before he does.

“Because it isn’t my voice you’ve been touching yourself to.”

“What?!” You do turn around this time, whipping around so fast your ponytail almost whacks Wonwoo in the face.

“You don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me when I pass you in the hallway?”

You scoff, breathing a subtle sigh of relief. All he had to go off of was a look but if he had heard you through the wall, if he had that irrefutable evidence, it would definitely be over for you. “If that’s what you think lust looks like, I feel bad for all the girls you have slept with.”

“Resentment and lust have a very long history together,” he whispers.

“You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?”

You feign ignorance. “About what?”

“About you.” He measures you up with his gaze, something triumphant flashing behind his eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he presses. “Tell me you’ve never gotten off to the thought of me and I’ll drop it.”

You weigh your options. You could lie. You could save yourself the embarrassment and lie right to his face, although given your track record thus far he’d see right through it. Or, you could tell him the truth. You could admit to wishing you were the one in what you thought had been his bed all this time.

You settle on silence and let him draw his own conclusion. A smirk tugs at one side of Wonwoo’s mouth. So he did think highly of himself.

“I fucking knew it,” he murmurs.

Before you can deny it, he straightens back up and starts walking toward the back of the apartment.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he announces.

You don’t move from where you’re standing, unsure of what he wants you to do. Was he hinting at you to leave? Was it an invitation?

Wonwoo looks back over his shoulder at you. “Are you coming?”

“Hopefully,” you mutter.

“Hm?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

The water is already running by the time you slip into the bathroom after Wonwoo. You watch quietly as he undresses, letting the door click shut gently behind you. It occurs to you that you should be taking your clothes off too but you can’t look away.

Wonwoo’s kind enough to snap you out of it. “I didn’t ask you in here just to watch me.”

“You didn’t ask me in here at all,” you point out, “you just expected me to follow you.”

“And you did.”

Damn, he had you there.

With a noise of indignation, you pop the button on your jeans and start to wiggle out of them, unable to bring yourself to look at him again now that you’re also exposed. You can feel his eyes on you, though. It has the same effect his presence always has on you, and you attempt to cover yourself with your hands.

“Shy?” he muses. “Cute.”

“Shut up,” you sputter.

You don’t think you’ve felt this self conscious since college and then he laughs at your response which does nothing to help.

“I can’t call you cute?”

“Not if you’re patronizing me.”

“How do you want me to say it, then?” he asks, sinking down to his knees on the floor in front of you. You stare at him in disbelief. “You want me to say it like this? Want me to tell you how cute, how pretty, I think you are, from down here? How pretty I think this pussy is?” Wonwoo leans forward as he talks, further and further until his hair is tickling your tummy and his lips are moving against your skin. “Spread your legs for me, baby,” he murmurs.

You do, taking hold of the countertop so that you won’t fall as Wonwoo slots himself between your thighs. You take a deep breath to brace yourself for the feeling of his mouth but absolutely nothing could have prepared you for the way he presses a gentle kiss to your pussy before diving in. The softness of the action compared to everything that led up to this moment, compared to the way he was now drowning himself in you, is enough to make your knees threaten to give. Your grip on the counter tightens and you bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep from moaning out loud. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, though you’re sure he already knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

Wonwoo hitches one of your knees over his shoulder so that he can get even deeper inside of you with his tongue. He drinks you in, breathes you in, douses himself in you like he’s trying to baptize himself in order to atone for his sins.

If this was his apology for all the noise, he’s forgiven ten times over.

You can feel callouses on the palms of his hands as he traces them up your legs and over your ass, pulling you even further into him. The force of his grip causes you to stumble but he catches you before you can fall and helps you to regain your balance.

“I’ve got you,” he assures you, backing you up into the sink. “Here, hop up on the counter.”

“What about the shower?” you ask, suddenly remembering that the water had been running this whole time.

“Oh shit-”

Wonwoo turns around and reaches to turn it off, drying both his hand and his face with a towel that had been hanging on the wall.

“Now, hop up on the counter.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, glancing at all of the skin and hair care products scattered across it.

Wonwoo pushes them out of the way then nods.

“I’m sure. Mingyu won’t care, trust me. He’d be a hypocrite to.”

You sigh but hoist yourself onto the counter anyway, too horny to worry about it any longer. Wonwoo steps in between your legs and lets you wrap them around his waist. He leans down, you think he’s going to kiss you, but he goes for your neck and kisses you there instead.

“Why are you pouting?” he asks, voice muffled and vibrating against your throat.

“Want you to fuck me,” you lie.

It’s not a complete lie, you do want him to fuck you, but it certainly isn’t the full truth either. You’re afraid that if you’re honest with Wonwoo about wanting him to kiss you it’ll turn him off. He’s not about to make love to you, that much is clear, so was kissing off the table? Was that too intimate for a hookup like this? Would he think you wanted something more if you asked?

“I was getting to that,” he insists lowly. “So impatient.”

“You’re the one who ate me out as soon as you got me alone. You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

There. Maybe if you challenged him he’d give you what you wanted.

“Oh, you want me to kiss you, huh?”

He wraps a hand around your neck and pulls you in, finally pressing his lips to yours. Men were so easy.

He tastes like you imbued with unfamiliarity. Blood, you realize when you pull back and see the cut on his lip had reopened. It isn’t much, just enough to make him look vaguely vampiric. You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip and push it into his mouth for him to suck on.

He does, but he has the audacity to pretend not to like it.

“You’re sick,” Wonwoo scoffs.

“And you’re still hard.”

“Two things can be true at the same time.”

He kisses you again before you can get another word in, dropping his free hand between your legs to ensure you're truly unable to talk back.

He uses his fingers to tease you for a moment or two and then he teases you with the head of his cock, pressing it right up against you and making you whimper into his mouth.

“Tell me, what have you been thinking about all these months,” he murmurs, “when you’re in your bed all alone listening through the wall?”

“I- it’s embarrassing...” you protest.

Wonwoo draws back, tonguing his cheek as he gazes down at you. “Tell me or we’re done here.”

You’re not sure whether or not he’ll make good on his threat but you don’t want to call his bluff and risk blowing your chance to actually live out the fantasies you were too embarrassed to share.

“I thought about... this,” you say hesitantly.

“This? You thought about me fucking you here?”

“No...”

“You’re going to have to be more specific then, angel.”

“It was, um, in your bed.”

“You mean Mingyu’s bed.”

“I didn’t know that at the time,” you whine.

He smiles. “I know. You know, if you had just paid a little closer attention you would have realized he sounds nothing like me.”

“I was a little distracted at the time,” you whisper.

“Yeah? Distracted pretending it was you in those girls’ positions?”

You nod reluctantly.

“Poor baby,” he pouts, “must’ve been so jealous but so wet you just had to touch yourself, huh?”

You hate that he’s right. You hate that the condescension turns you on even more.

While he’s talking, Wonwoo snakes an arm behind you and grabs a condom from a jar on the counter. Did he and Mingyu just keep them out for guests like they were cotton swabs or something? Did they get laid that often?

He tears the foil packet open with his teeth and rolls the condom on as you watch and unconsciously spread your legs even wider for him.

“Ready?” he asks, holding your face with both hands.

It’s probably the first earnest interaction you’ve had with him. His eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation and even when he finds none, he waits for you to answer.

“Go ahead.”

You keep your eyes trained on his face as he guides himself inside of you, watching the way his eyelashes flutter and his breath hitches when he feels the heat of you around him. He pushes himself in slowly but the stretch still knocks the wind out of you, leaving you gasping for air.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. You’re okay.”

You can hardly hear him over the roaring in your ears but you do your best to listen, chest heaving as you desperately try to anchor yourself to him.

Wonwoo doesn’t move until you urge him to by wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing his hips with your thighs. It isn’t easy at first, despite how wet you are for him. He’s that huge.

You almost wish he wasn’t just because you don’t think it’s fair for any man’s ego to be warranted, especially one as big as his. Though you suppose it’s fitting.

After a few rough strokes, he starts to play with your clit again to get you to relax a little. It works, your eyes roll and your head falls back against the mirror as the tension eases from your muscles.

“Does it feel as good as you thought it would?” he presses.

“B-better,” you admit.

“That’s because it wasn’t me you were hearing.”

You groan, annoyed that he still hasn’t let it go. You doubt he ever will.

“It’s okay. I’ve thought about this too,” he confesses.

“You have?”

“Have you seen yourself?” he scoffs, “Don’t sound so surprised. I’d s-see you in the hallways, see the way you’d glare at me- fuck... who knew all this time you were right next door fantasizing about me while I fantasized about you. We could’ve been doing this so much sooner.”

You want to tell him that you have all the time in the world to make up for it now but you can’t find the words. They’ve dissolved on your tongue and left you with only his name to repeat over and over like you’re in a trance.

“Louder,” he pleads as fucks you even faster.

“But our neighbors-”

“Fuck them,” he spits. “They already hate us because of Mingyu, let them know my name too.”

Apparently you aren’t the only jealous one between the two of you. You want to laugh but you physically can’t, too caught up in the incandescent feeling in your stomach that threatens to engulf you entirely.

“Fuck, are you about to cum?” Wonwoo gasps, lips parting in concentration.

You nod. “Just a little more,” you beg, “yeah, exactly like that... oh fuck-”

“I’ve got you,” he assures you. “Let go, I’m right there with you.”

It’s surprisingly sweet of him and you think he might realize it too because he grabs your jaw and pulls you in to kiss you as you fall apart together so that he can’t say anything else.

Once you come down, he’s the first to start putting you both back together.

“Wanna actually take a shower now?” he asks, holding out a hand to help you down from the counter.

Your knees wobble on your landing but Wonwoo’s quick to wrap an arm around your shoulders wounded-soldier style and sit you on the closed lid of the toilet.

“Take your time,” he tells you, kneeling on the tile in front of you.

“Thank you.”

“Do you want to stay the night? I mean you can hardly walk. There’s no way you’ll make it all the way home.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “All the way next door?”

“Exactly! It’s better not to risk it, right?”

You chuckle. “I guess.”

Wonwoo grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you home myself in the morning. I’m a gentleman, after all. And then we can piss off your neighbors.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

#fuck the neighbors #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen x female reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x female reader #jeon wonwoo smut #svt x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #flashing tw

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yanderenightmare · 6 months ago

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♡ TW: stalking, yandere, anxiety, paranoia, isolation tactics

♡ GN reader

You’re anxious. You probably shouldn’t be, and you tell yourself that. You’re being silly. Utterly silly. It’s most likely just coincidences—a string of oddities, enough to freak you out. And you’ve always been too easily spooked.

You just happen to have the same situation and routine, is all. So what? You live in the same building, both of you grab coffee at the same cafe on your way to college, where you both happen to go, both of you get off at the same time despite having different classes, both of you go grocery shopping every Monday before coming home, and both of you do laundry down in the basement every Sunday before bed.

It’s not such an original schedule, you tell yourself. Jeez, he's not stalking you! No. It’s natural to buy everything at the start of the week and even more standard to do laundry at the end of it. It’s normal! Totally normal!

You’re just imagining the rest. The way he looks at you. You’re just freaking out because it’s your first time living alone, out in the big world, all on your own. He’s probably in the same shoes as you. New city, tiny apartment, big campus, long lectures, broke shit.

Yes! That’s why he offered to do laundry together. One washer, one coin, one dose of detergent—that’s two for the price of one and half the price for both of you. Of course! That must have been it—and not any of the creepy things you’ve suspected. Obviously, he isn’t asking to do laundry together to steal your underwear like some freak—what are you even thinking!?

You’re such a bad person. It’s not like he’s done anything directly off-putting. Asking you over for dinner is a nice thing, after all. Again, it saves money and keeps you both company. It’s lonely living alone, after all. It’s not like you think it’s swell spending every evening with your nose in your textbook, just waiting for the school to plan a social gathering or something so that you can make some friends.

You’re such a dumbass. Wanting to make friends, yet shunning the one friendly guy in your building just because he’s been a little too forward. It’s not as if he’s asked you out or anything! He’s just being nice! You’re the one being weird! Thinking weird things—condemning him of doing weird crimes he hasn’t even done!

“Hey, neighbor,” he says. Right on time, just like always. Doing his laundry at the same exact moment as you.

“Oh–hey,” you greet back.

It’s not weird, you have to remind yourself. You’re here on time, aren’t you? How come you’re allowed to be consecutive, but it’s suddenly weird when he is? How does that make sense? It doesn’t. You’re being paranoid.

Oh, but then he picks the empty washer right next to you, even though there are plenty of others to go around. No one else does their laundry at this hour.

He’s being friendly, you tell yourself. Neighbourly. It would be awkward if he chose a washer at the other end of the room, wouldn’t it? Yes. Yes, that would be awkward.

“D’you do anything fun this weekend?” he asks as he empties his basin into the tub, pouring a cub of powdered detergent over it—the same type you use.

Leaning against your machine, you watch him from out of the corner of your eye, trying to silence your inner thoughts—at least enough to not let any of your unfounded suspiciousness leak into your voice. “Mh-no, not really. I just studied. What about you?”

He turns the machine on, smiling lazily while saying, “Nah…” then turns around, mirroring your leaning stance, standing shoulder to shoulder. “Though I heard one of the frathouses had a party…”

He tilts his head down, looking at you—friendly-faced, asking, “You didn’t go?”

You try to stop yourself, but you blanche despite the effort. Head hot, you fold your arms over your chest, hugging yourself a little.

There was a party? When? This weekend? How come… nobody told you?

You swallow, unable to look back at him—suddenly feeling a little bit sick.

“Uhm… no,” you say. “I didn’t feel up to it...”

His eyes slim at your obvious lie, but you don’t see it—now too wrapped up in your own embarrassment to pay attention.

His smile curls. You’re an open book if there ever was one.

But you don’t have to feel embarrassed. Of course, you didn’t go to the party. You didn’t even know there was one. And how could you? When he broke into your locker and took the invitation—just as he’s done with all the other party fliers every single week.

“Not your thing?” he says, trying to hold back his glee.

You still don’t look at him—too chagrined—looking like you want to dig a hole and bury yourself in it. “I guess so…”

Oh, he could just lick that expression right off your cute little face.

“Not mine either,” he chuckles, rummaging through the bag at his hip, pulling out a book, and flashing the cover to you with a grin. “I’m more of a book club type of guy.”

You blink. Reading the title with big round eyes.

“Have you joined one yet?”

You look at him then, shaking your head, “Oh, no—uhm, I couldn’t decide…”

He hands you the book. You receive it in both hands. Your fingers brushing each other.

“You should join us then,” he offers. “You’re gonna get burned out if all you read is textbooks, y'know?”

He watches your eyes widen—looking like a peasant, beholding him as a saint who’s just offered you shelter from the storm.

“Thank you...”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shinso ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Megumi, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Sugawara, Kuro ♡ CSM – Aki, Yoshida ♡ AOT – Armin ♡ DS – Tomioka, Tanjiro, Zenitsu ♡ HxH – Kurapika, Leorio ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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gay-dorito-dust · 26 days ago

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yelena: why are you lying on the floor?

you: didn't know it was 'interogate (name) on a shit day' day

ava: that's not what she's trying to do, we haven't seen you all day since you've been cooped up in here.

you: maybe i want to be by myself, left alone and not being bothered.

john: negative, no can do, besides how long have you been lying there for?

you: since yesterday...or was it the day before? i can't remeber becuase nothing matters and i shouldn't give a shit.

alexei: dorogoya, don't say such a thing.

you: but it's true, so unless you want to keep at this, then you should just leave. all of you.

bob: i'm afraid i can't do that, you've been alone with your thoughts too long. *he walks to lay down on the ground next to you, staring up at the ceiling* so i'm staying here until you feel like talking, or just feel like you've got someone to have your back.

yelena: hope you've got room for one more, i have nowhere to be ayntime soon, so why not keep my friend company and stave off those thoughts of yours.*she lies down on your other side, resting her head to your shoulder*

ava: we're a team and we shouldn't leave one out becuase they tell us to, because you tell us to, so you're stuck with us. *lies down next to Yelena*

john: *lies down by your feet, lifting them into his lap* so stop being stubborn and let us in. we're here for you whether you want it or not. we're here.

Alexei: *lies down next to Bob* you may not feel okay now dorogoya, you might not feel okay for a long while, but it's something we all must come to terms with in due time that we're not meant to feel put together. we're meant to have days where we are reminded that we as humans are extremely complex and some aspects of ourselves are hard to grasp, we're meant to somedays lie on the floor and feel our feelings but why not do so in the company of friends, of family.

you: *smiles* i love you guys, every single one of you stubborn bastards.

bob: *holds your hand tightly in his* we love you too, even if we don't say it, we show it.

yelena: so don't think we don't care, we do and we just show it really, really weirdly.

you: *laughs* i'm highly aware of that now and i wouldn't want to be paired with any other group of loosers then the loosers right here. my family.

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militaryapple · 3 months ago

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A KNIGHT'S OATH

synposis. it has been many moons since you have lost your love, your knight. until one day he comes back, and shows you that he's here to stay.

cw. cunnilingus, p in v (stay safe girliepops), oral (reviving), lwk kinda angsty, oh knight caleb how i miss thee, hes a pretty chill guy, hi knightly caleb! here to save our hearts and - oh..

add ons. kinda sucked with this one sorry to let u guys down </3 hopefully u guys enjoy the smut still very plot heavy too ah.. i will fall in love with you over and over again also writing in like.. medieval times is LWKK HARD DONT GAG ME

wc. 3.9k

it was finally time to find a husband. you couldn’t delay your mother any longer, a princess cannot go so long without being wed. it was something you didn’t look forward to at all, something you wanted to hide away from. marriage. your heart felt heavy, and you curled into your bed.

you felt as if the world seemed crumble, any other soon - to - be child would be thrilled to get married. have children and rule an entire kingdom with one they shall call their husband for eternity, yet it didn’t feel right. maybe it was because your mother was trying to get you wed to some prince in a well off kingdom, or how unhappy you would be in such marriage.

yet those were not the reasons you felt such sadness. your hands made their way to your head, and your eyes began to swell due to the mere thought of why you felt so upset, so alone, so empty.

you had missed your knight, your darling knight so dearly.

muffled cries came out of you, your face red and puffed. oh how you missed him, how you loathed him for leaving you alone in such a world. how could he do this to you? if it was any other lowly girl, he wouldn’t have left in such a manner. without a trace — anything.

your heart was heavy remembering how your guard left. how one day, he was gone without a trace. how you had asked around your castle to hear the sighs of nearby guards or the scowls of your maids on how you should keep out of peasant business. a day where you realized fairly quickly, he was not to come back to your kingdom.

many moons have passed since this, many nights of sobbing in your chambers, waiting. waiting for a letter, a call, a man to come back into your arms to assure you that no matter what, he would never leave your side again, he was to not let you get hurt once more. "you will be alright, your highness." was what he would whisper to you before you hid away in your chambers from the world that asked so much of you.

you were naive, foolish. your mother should have you as her own personal jest for even believing that one day you were to marry the knight you fell so stupidly in love with. how could you let yourself get this silly? what witch had cursed your mind of the plague you called love? you must put yourself together. you are royalty, not a village girl. there are reputations you must uphold.

you sniffled, wiping your tears. no amount of sobs, pleads and cries will bring him back to you. no matter how much you beg to the gods above, to the stars and heavens, he was to not see you again. you had to accept this, move on. you were to be queen, and queens do not let love - no. emotions, get in the way of how they rule their kingdoms.

getting up, you had called for your maid. was moving on always this hard? was leaving the person you truly loved behind this disheartening? was your heart not ready to move on after so much ache? your mind flooded, it was scary. new. you haven't felt such ways in so long. the sound of your chamber doors whisked you out of the hole you called your mind.

it was your maid, she was here to dress you for the ball today. you stood, making your way to the folding screen and moving so she could dress you properly. "your highness," the woman whispered. "you shall't ask for that lowly knight anymore after this day, do you understand?" she had huffed out, fixing your corset before patting your skirt down and fluffing it out.

you nodded, silently. biting down on your lips as you held your tongue. she's always known what was best for you — she was your mothers old maid after all, so she knew best. the woman moved back, examining you. "oh dear," she said softly, putting her hands together and wiping away her tears. "you look.. perfect." she moved towards you, embracing you tightly.

you couldn't help but let out a stifled sob. the woman letting out a small "oh," before patting your head. "i know," she coo'd to you. her hands going from the crown of your head down to the end of it. "i thought, we were going to get married," you sobbed out, returning her touch.

the woman hitched her breath in, her hands now bringing themselves to your face and looking down at you. "you sound like your mother when she was younger," the woman chuckled softly, wiping your tears with her thumb. "if he was yours truly, he would find you no matter what, but alas he is not here. you are. you must proceed with your duties without him, it is time for you to become a woman. no longer shall you be a girl after this day." her hands were warm, and her gaze was like watching a sun set over the great horizons.

you could only nod in agreement, letting her finish on your hair and makeup. soon the woman was out of your chambers and gone in the quarter hallways of your palace. moving towards your mirror you couldn't help but look at yourself. oh how you longed for the man that was gone. the knight holding you closely, whispering sweet nothing's in your ear as he stared at you in the reflection. beauty, such natural beauty he saw in you, and in your imperfections.

letting out a deep sigh, you finally left your sleeping quarters, moving down the hall. your back straightened and head held high. another man, in the back following closely behind you. though, instead of laughing with the guard. smiling and looking back, you walked. forward. your face; straight and your heart heavy. you felt empty.

it wasn't until you had finally found your mother, her arms opening out to you as you embraced her. "darling, good news, we have found you a suitor! prince zayne!" she said, her arms opening wide out to your castle. you cringed. you've heard of him before. the stone cold prince who cared for no one, and only focused on the economy of his kingdom. he seemed as if he didn't care for love, like he didn't care for his future. yet, you stayed silent. "wonderous news, mother." you said softly avoiding her gaze.

"good, you shall dance with him tonight, do you understand? the final dance is reserved for both you and him." she turned to you, fixing your dress that had moved due to the walking. "smile dear, you shall rule over the world you know of now. the people need you, the people need a king." the words making you turn away.

she fell silent, your mother stepping away from you, not pressing the subject any further.

you had a duty, not a dream.

the night had fallen over the kingdom, darkness engulfing the second and third floor of your castle. your body sat still next to your mother as she encouraged you to go and make talk with the people who had danced around your ballroom. yet you didn't want to do that, you didn't want to do anything.

your eyes followed the people who moved, who swayed and spun around in happiness. yes, right. a day for you, for your wedding that is to be announced soon tonight. before you got up, a tall frame appeared in front of you. you looked up, seeing prince zayne. his hand out, waiting for you. reluctantly you grabbed his hand and followed down the stairs with him.

your arm wrapped around him, your hands intertwining with his. the music making you both sway so slowly. the prince leaned down, whispering in your ear. "we are to be engaged." he said softly. you shriek at the sound of it. "i know," you replied, the words coming out like a heavy weight on your chest. "you must know, as my wife, we shall't sleep in the same bed until your days or reproduction." his words were cold, you guess the rumors that floated around were true.

he spun you, your dress twirling before you latched back on to him, your face now shriveled up in disgust. "we shall't sleep together at all your royal highness." you muttered out "if we shall be wed, i shall wed with a man i love. you are not convincing me enough." your words cut through him like a knife, his interest in you piquing.

"our children will know of our loveless marriage, our kingdoms rely on both safety and security. the security you can give and the safety I can lie down." his words made you shiver, you so desperately wanted to push him away, yet all eyes were on you.

zayne noticed your unease. how your steps followed uneven with his — how you looked as if you have been shot with an arrow. he sighed before pulling away and bowing to you, speaking loudly. "apologies to cut this short your highness, yet i must go. hopefully you can save me a dance for another time." and with that, he was gone. your heart bubbled, and your eyes swelled. you ran.

you ran as fast as you could. it was all too much! marriage? unhappy children? a bleak life with a kingdom you will no longer have any urge to live for? not to mention your soon - to - be husband is a man who will take control and leave you with little to none! oh how you couldn't contain your sadness any longer, you've bottled up for so long just for it to pour out in a singular afternoon.

you ran to your chambers, the only safe area that allowed you comfort. your dress falling with you as you hit the ground the moment your door shut with you inside. the darkness swallowing you whole while you sobbed. you missed him, your knight, your love, your everything. yet he was not here, and you were to be wed to a man who cares not if you lived or died!

you were angry, upset and frustrated. you managed to wiggle yourself out of the dress that weighed you down and put on a more comfortable dress, breaking down bit by bit.

the quietness allowed your sobs to echo throughout your bedroom. your heart hurt and your body ached. it wasn’t until you heard ‘knock knock’ at your door. you sighed, wiping your face before getting up and sighing on your end of the wall. “i cannot come out this instant,” you said trying to keep your voice up. “return to me once the sun has risen.” you turned to walk away.

“has her royalness forgotten about me already?”

your eyes widen, turning straight to your door. that voice, so familiar yet so far — a lump forming in your throat. it has been so long, maybe — maybe it was some sort of curse. a curse of remembering, a curse to haunt you. yet, you couldn’t help yourself, holding the door gently.

you pushed it open. your hands making their way to your lips in a gasp, then holding out. there, in front of you stood a man. he was tall, his frame big yet lighter than you remember. his hydrangea hued eyes that once shined with such brightness, now softer and exhausted. “is it you? my caleb?” you asked, gently placing your hand to his cheek, caressing his broken smile.

his hand followed, cupping your hand as he sighed nuzzling into your touch. his hands were rough, more rough than what you have been used too. like instead of holding his sword high to scare off any wandering eyes, he had been put into action, far too much more than he needed to be. “you are gentle, treating me as if i am to break at some point.” he jested. your eyes followed around his body. his armor was dirtied, and his helmet stayed to his side exposing his face.

“have my prayers been heard? have they finally sent you back to me?” you whispered, your hands caressing every part of his face, how real he felt. he spoke like your caleb, he had to be him.

caleb couldn’t help but embrace you. his arm wrapping around you so easily like they have done many moons before. “i have spent a eternity coming back to you,” he said softly. “yet the love you feel for me, is not for me. i am not the same man you loved, i have hurt people. i am a monster,” his voice low.

you push him back, making his loose his footing before balancing himself. “you accuse me of not loving you? you surely jest!” you yelled. your hands balled into a fist as you glared at him. “i have waited! waited! you left without a trace! not a soul would speak a word about your absence — your existence! i have yearned and prayed for your return, your touch and protection! and you dare call me a fake!” it was pouring out of you. your anger and sadness.

“your highness — ” his voice cut sharp off. “what have you done? you claim to not be mines? what have you done in his place? what makes you have the right to claim that the man whom i love is no longer here? in front of me!” your hand now point at him, poking and pushing him.

calebs hand grabbed yours in retaliation. “i have hurt people! killed! i have slaughtered over dozens of men and used people! i had to — i needed to get back to you! it was all to get back to my lady! to get back to you!” his response loud, a match between voices to be heard, listened to. caleb dipped his head into yours, “i must protect you, as that was my swore oath to the queen. my oath to you.” he said softly.

he let go of you, his hands dropping yours, instead of your hands returning to your body they reached out for him. your arms holding over him, embracing him. “that does not wipe you away from me,” you said softly, bringing his gaze to yours. “does that mean i am not in love with the same man who has served and protected me? am i not in love with the same man who has stayed by my side for what had seemed like an eternity?" your voice seemed harsh, but laced with comfort.

"my lady," he said softly, you moved away from him. his gaze unwavering from you. "hush now, into my chamber. i shall call off the ball at once," you pushed him into your bedroom but he quickly grabbed your arm stopping you. "do not, you can hear the music from here. I shall have a dance with you," he said pulling you into his arms as your door closed on its own. his wrecked smile now blooming into a genuine one, his eyes beaming as they used to.

"you shall have a dance with me? sir caleb, if one does recall.. you are supposed to ask a lady to dance. what if I wish to dance alone?" you hummed in amusement. though it was already too late and he had already taken you both hand and waist. the slow movements of the music seemed to be more happy than when you were dancing with another.

caleb had spun you around, making you giggle in response. "if her royalness is to dance alone, surely that means she is waiting for some big, handsome knight to sweep her up off her feet and take her into his arms." before you could respond, he had picked you up and twirled you around making you laugh, more than you have ever in so long. it showed to him, he set you down, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"my fair lady," he bowed to you. "a lovely dance we had together." he hummed, you did the same. your dress pulling up as your legs crossed and you bowed down. "i can only say the same to you." you replied. before you knew it, the kingdom was entirely dark. the stillness surrounding you as you both realized that the ball had come to its end.

you looked back at the knight, worried. "you shall't leave!" you said quickly, the obscure switch of your emotions throwing him off as you pushed him to your bed, rushing to your door and putting a chair up to it, then back to him. "the night is still young, you must stay my love!" you whined out crawling on top of the poor knight. caleb let out a chuckle, "my lady," he hummed out. "if i were to leave i would've done so already, i am here to stay." his hands wrapping around your hairs that fell down your face, tickling him.

"yes but, what if you leave again? you had left me! you were gone without a word, no one would tell me anything! I cannot just trust that you will stay again, that you shall't hurt me once more," you bursted, your voice quieting down after each word. you choked back tears, oh how your knight hated seeing you hurt, his hands going from your hair to your cheek as he held you gently.

he hummed, his eyes grazing over you, "then if my lady does not believe my words," his hands brushing your cheek before moving down to your neck. "then I shall show her with my actions, shall I not?" caleb brought his hand to the crown of your neck, bringing you down to kiss him. he was gentle with you, steady. his mouth finding every part of your skin to kiss on.

his free hand traveled around your skin, unlacing your dress as he slipped his hands right between the fabric that had hidden your skin. "princess," he murmured, his gaze avoiding you then glancing back. "oh the things you do to me," he whined softly. you couldn't help but get up, moving away quickly as caleb sat up also. "was I too demanding? have I asked for too much of you?" he said worriedly, it wasn't the fact that he had just caressed you, touching you places no unmarried princess should allow anyone to touch - you were nervous. you shook your head. "i shall allow you to undress your armor first," you said looking away from him, and all caleb did was return a laugh.

"i am your knight, am i not? you will be the one taking off my armor, what is mine is yours." he stared as you crept closer to him, letting your top half of your empire gown fall. your tits pretty as you set next to the knight. you carefully helped him take off his armor, his eyes fixated on your pretty breasts.

once he was bare, he leaned in. kissing your neck as you let out small moans. "there you go," he hummed moving away from you, his hands now sliding against the skin of your thighs. he got off the bed, and knelt down to you, his eyes looking up at you. "may i?" he asked so nicely allowing you to return his question with a nod of approval.

calebs hand slid your dress up, his mouth following between your legs as he placed small kisses here and there, then his mouth latching on to your sensitive nub as he kissed and suckled on it. one of his hands still placed on your thigh, while the other rubbed small circles on your clit. oh how you felt so good, you moaned grabbing on to the softness of his hair. your legs twitch while he held one spread. "my gods, you are divine." he mumbled out.

the feeling made you gasp. it was new — and it felt so good. your hips rolling at the feeling of his tongue. your hand gripping his hair, while you whined. caleb hummed, his vibrations sending shivers down your body as you twitched. “uh uh princess,” he said softly, his hands holding your legs open while he could better a taste.

how he made you feel so good, your whines becoming begs and pleads, his pace quickening at the sounds of your moans. your hips practically rut against his mouth, his tongue coating every bit of your slit and folds, he wanted to make you feel good, make his princess know that he shall never leave her again. he was evil for leaving you; making you suffer.

you felt a heat rise in you, your heart thumping while you mindlessly whined. “i know,” he said softly, licking your clit as his hands rubbed furiously on your nub. “do you feel good here?” he looked at your swelled eyes, “a yes it is,” he said softly. placing his last kisses on your sobbing cunt, watching you shake and twitch on his mouth, waves crashing together as you felt your high come down.

caleb moved away, his body finding its way up and over you. his hands tugged on your dress, completely pulling it off you. he flipped you over; his cock pushed up against your sobbing cunt. “please, i’ve been waiting so long — let me make you feel good m’lady” he whined. you let out a small ‘go ahead’ he pushed inside of you shuddering at the feeling.

he stilled, waiting for any sound or moment of discomfort or pain but instead he was met with a moan. your hips rocking against him, his hips only moving in a rhythm agreeing with yours. you gasped, moaning and gripping your sheets. he coaxed you in adoration, and sweet murmurs of ‘i love you’ — grabbing your hips and rutting into you.

“we — ngh, are to be wed,” he groaned. his eyes falling on your pretty back, “and i will not leave you, mh, you will bear my children, and we will stay together. as king or queen, or as too common folk.” his thrusts were sloppy, hitting a spot that made you roll your eyes back. caleb kissed your body, worshipping every part of you that he could.

you felt the waves again, the heat of your climax. you sobbed as caleb took that as a sign. his pace quickening, snapping his hips into yours will harsher thrusts. “apologies, princess,” he groaned, his cock hit every angle of you, the sounds of ‘ah’ and ‘oh’s filled your room before you began to twitch, your waves crashing down as you climaxed. your juices leaking over his cock.

it didn’t stop caleb, his cock leaking inside of you as he continued to thrust himself inside your sobbing cunt. his breaths now sounds of your name, his arms wrapping around your body lifting you up so he could go deeper inside you.

his thrusts were nasty against you, “m going to protect you forever,” he whined. “is that all right, princess?” his lips kissing your neck — you too far out to respond. his hips becoming faster before he slammed into you, spilling himself inside of you. he gave you slow strokes before pulling out. watching you numb on your bed as you pant and fight for air.

he couldn’t help but kiss your head, petting it slowly and lying down next to you. “i told you,” he hummed. “i shall’t be leaving you anymore, my love. i am your knight, and yours alone.”

taglist for my pipsquirters : @rcvcgers @neigepomme @tsumoorin @hannasarah @sleepyvivikitty @loldoll @rivifying @allmightyfishdick @criedallday

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buckyschair · 3 months ago

Text

FLIRTING NEVER GOT YOU NOWHERE

Pairing: Azriel x Day Court! Reader

Summary: You’re an archivist from Day Court visiting Velaris, what happens when you visit a nightclub and things go wrong? Or do they go oh so right? AKA you flirt with Azriel in a bar and sex ensues !

read part 2 now - AFTERGLOW

A/N: I’m lowkey tired of shy insecure self insert fics so I wanted to write a piece about a bold unapologetic bitch who gets what she wants :) This is a very self indulgent fantasy based on rude things men have said to me at bars and how I wish someone had shown up for me. Like yeah I can stand for myself but also what if Azriel stepped up. I also made her bisexual because I’m gay 💅

Content Warnings: smut, cunnilingus & oral (so like m&f receiving), unprotected PIV sex (I am not going to spend my one precious life researching faerie contraceptive methods, so just imagine you’re on magic birth control or whatever. Or don’t, if you’re into that!), female reader (w nipple piercings ooo), gross liberties taken with whatever Day court has going on, unwanted advances from a guy in a bar, uhhh minor gay slur, it’s maybee more OC than self insert cause I gave her a lot of personality, shamelessly self indulgent, no use of Y/N

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. AND I MEAN IT !

Word Count: 12.4k

read on AO3

The flashing lights and lively music that had been a tonic just minutes ago now pounded through your skull, as jarring as the words you’d exchanged with some dipshit at the bar moments ago. You set your eyes back on the dance floor. Where was that group of females you’d mixed with earlier to save you now? You’d come to Rita’s to let loose a little after being cooped up in dusty corners of libraries for weeks now. You wanted to experience Velaris’ famed nightlife. Despite this place coming highly recommended, you were beginning to wonder if you shouldn’t have trusted that shy priestess’ taste in nightclubs.

“Come on, what’s wrong with you?” The male’s whiny voice didn’t quite hit the macho tenor he was aiming for as he yelled after you. You whip back around, incredulity written on your face.

“What’s wrong with me?” you snarl. “I’m so glad you asked, buddy ,” you see his pretty boy attitude shift into a sneer at the moniker, “cause I am not the one. What the fuck is your problem?”

Two steps and you’re back up in his space, just as he had invaded yours moments earlier when you’d rejected his advances. He didn’t seem to enjoy the treatment either, now that it was clear you wouldn’t stand for his shit. You could buy your own liquor. Especially when the other offer came from someone who thought appropriate eye contact involved breasts and an introduction equated to wandering hands.

“What, are you one of those carpet munchers or something?” he tries to deflect. Your eyes narrow. This fucker is in for it now. You can’t blame a guy for wanting to get his dick wet. However, you can blame him for being an entitled bigot about it.

“You son of a bitch,” you start, your face hardening into a sneer, your stance subconsciously shifting to a defensive position. At this, his eyes widen and his mouth parts but before he can speak– “You think just because someone doesn’t want you, they must be categorically repulsed by males?” You snort, eyeing him up and down. “I’m surprised you haven’t been laughed out of this bar yet. I’ve seen dog’s piss land more artfully than your attempts with females tonight. If you’ve somehow hidden some sense behind that ego, I suggest you take it with you when you leave.”

He chokes on air, eyes wide and face taught. Okay. Weird. You know you can be ruthless, but typically your feminine stature in a mini skirt meant you had to work harder than that to make a bastard sweat in fear.

His glassy eyes are focused over your shoulder. You turn your head, keeping the corner of your eye on the sorry male in front of you. When you catch the hulking Illyrian form behind you, you lose that focus as you take in wide shoulders and simmering rage. Rage directed at the whelp still pissing himself behind you at the bar. This new male’s face is a hard mask, his lip curling in disdain.

“You heard the lady.” Your stomach drops at his voice, deep and resolute. “I suggest you take her advice.”

Azriel watches the slimy bastard hightail it out of the crowded club. You miss the pathetic scene of his flight, only catching how the male in front of you relaxes when his target finally makes an exit. You’re glad he’s been keeping his eyes on the other guy, cause you’ve been staring in shock. His muscled arms, toned chest, looming wings, thick thighs– okay. That you could handle. Under ordinary circumstances. But two shots deep, in your most revealing outfit, and through the swirling lights, seeing the tattoos that peak out over the top of his vest at his collarbones and pecs… you swallow, forcing your mind back to the situation at hand as his eyes shift from the figure disappearing behind you.

His pinched brows relax as he takes you in. “Looks like you had it under control,” he says, raising one eyebrow- one glorious eyebrow, a hesitant grin making its way onto his face, as if he was impressed.

“Not the first time I’ve had to put someone in their place,” you shrug, off balance from the abruptly ended confrontation. Before this male appeared, you’d been gearing up for a fight. Boundaries are simple for you. Cross one and you remind them where you stand. He nods, his face solemn in understanding.

“I saw things getting heated. He looked like he was about to… grab you.” His lips twitch, like he still hasn’t decided if he should do something permanent about it. “Then you were removing yourself from him. And here we are.”

“Here we are,” you repeat. His words, simple as they were, made your spine itch. “Thanks for having my back.” You meant it. You know you could have handled him on your own, but nonetheless, it was nice to have the cavalry arrive right on time.

He flashes you a brief tight lipped smile, the picture of courtesy, “Anytime.” He shifts, like he means to leave you to yourself now that the drama had concluded without any blood.

“Can I buy you a drink?” you blurt out, almost in reflex at the male now in front of you. “As thanks.”

His eyebrows raise momentarily in surprise. Curious, you think. Surely the hunk of male was used to females showering him in liquor and more. You notice the lights around him go blurry– oh shit. Those are shadows. Fuck.

Realization hits you. No fucking way you just asked the High Lord’s inner court shadowsinger if you could buy him a drink. You kick yourself inwardly, but keep your face a mask of coy request.

“There’s no need to thank me,” he says genuinely, slightly shaking his head, even as his cheeks flush lightly, his eyes skirting up your figure. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Of course I don’t,” you smirk, confidence rushing through you at his reaction. “Consider it an unnecessary but kind gesture, tit for tat,” you tease, since you both know that his presence alone certainly scared off the unwanted male, even if he didn’t need to lift a finger. He cracks a grin at that, the minor barb landing exactly as you’d intended.

“Sure,” he shrugs.

A simple acceptance, so casually offered, lands you deeper than you ever could have expected to get with a high ranking member of a foreign Court. He lets you order him something neat, grunting in appreciation when he catches a whiff of the dark liquid in his glass, same as yours.

“Cheers.” You clink your glass to his, hiding your smile with a drink. It burns down your throat, grounding you. His hand had gently hovered over your lower back as you’d taken your seat at the bar again, ready to help but also blocking anyone’s view. Even though he hadn’t touched you, the ghost of his hand may as well have scorched your skin for how you felt it.

“What’s your name?” you ask, suddenly realizing that while you know who he is, you’d never caught his name. Was it confidential information?

“Azriel,” he replies. “Yours?” You tell him, and he hums, repeating it. Your name on his mouth makes your insides burn, but you remind yourself it’s probably just the liquor.

“Am I allowed to say your name out loud? Or is it a court secret?” you ask, and he graces you with another grin. He looks around conspiratorially before leaning in, which sends a thrill through you.

“My friends call me Az,” he murmurs lowly. “Just to be safe in the eyes of the law,” he adds with utter seriousness, only betrayed by the glimmer in his eyes. You laugh at that, excited apprehension making you sensitive to his every word.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Az.” You swear his shadows twitch at your words. You’re enjoying sitting here with him next to you, his body curved towards yours, knees almost touching. Your body relaxes, all the tension of the evening’s events replaced with a pleasant thrum of vitality.

“Likewise,” he says gruffly. You wonder if he feels the same intoxicating energy between you. His hazel eyes blaze even in the dim light of the quiet corner of the bar, his soft hair sticking slightly to his forehead in the heat of the packed bar. You want to brush it away, but you resist the sudden urge. You’re not sure what to say next. Ordinarily, you’re adept at conversation, but the powerful presence before you renders your mind blank.

You’re relieved when he says, “I haven’t seen you here before.” His gaze pins you. What is he seeing? What is he looking for? You’re not sure what he finds that causes him to elaborate, “I would have noticed you.”

“I would have noticed you, too,” you breathe.

“Doubtful,” he drawls in a playfully contrarian tone. His shadows dance along his wings over his shoulders, swirling almost in arrogance around the horns at their apex.

“What? Do they normally keep you hidden in the shadows?” you prod, flashing your teeth. He exhales sharply from his nose, rolling his eyes at your ridiculous implication. Encouraged, you place your hand on his knee under the bar top.

“Do they bully you?” you ask sweetly, dropping your voice quietly in mock concern.

He coughs a little laugh at that, then schools his features into a pained expression.

“Yes. Yes, they bully me.” You bite your lip at the image of him playing fragile, wounded. Your hand on his thigh is on fire. “Horribly,” he adds, voice wobbling.

“Let me know if you need help with that,” you tell him, with equal sobriety. “I could lend you my services, I have a certain skill in intimidation.”

His composure breaks at that, and he laughs from his gut this time, and you join him. The sound is prettier than any music.

“My hero!” he exclaims, gasping through his laughter, grabbing the hand that you pull away from his knee. You giggle as he grasps your hand securely, bringing them to rest together at his knee. His thumb brushes your knuckles while he smiles at you. It takes all your discipline to fight the shudder that threatens your body.

“This is my first time here,” you answer his initial prompt, gesturing around the lively bar. “I’m actually visiting from Day Court.” He quirks his head at that. He looks strangely adorable like this, curiosity cracking his typically closed off expression.

“You’re from Day?”

“Yeah.” Several of his shadows break away from his form to explore you, like you’ve suddenly become an irresistible object of interest to them. “I was an archivist at one of the central public libraries, and recently… I’ve been brought on to work in my Lord’s personal collection.” Azriel looks curious at that, so you continue, “Lord Helion is a generous boss.” His eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Not like that!” you defend, blushing, aware of his reputation. “He trusts me,” you amend.

“So I’m here for your libraries. After…” You’re remiss to mention Amarantha, despite her destruction coloring every sphere of your work. “Well. We all lost something, didn’t we? Now my role is to see what information can be recovered and preserved in my Court once more.”

Azriel listens intently, seeming to understand exactly what gave you pause. He nods as you finish. He also works in information, he tells you, although his intelligence operates in a different arena. You tell him more about your research when he prompts; the long hours in dimly lit rooms, the sweet but introverted colleagues, and, despite what an endless endeavor it was, the excitement when you discover just the right source.

If someone had asked you that morning, you’d have been certain that an archivist’s work would bore anyone with such a high profile role as his, but he sees the heart of your contribution, the valuable work of recovery.

His concentration on your every word would be unnerving, if it weren’t so enthralling. He maintains eye contact even as you gesture wildly with your free hand, snorts at all your jokes, and asks questions to keep you talking. It doesn’t escape you how he poses these questions just as the conversation might have naturally turned towards him. He deftly pulls information out of you with subtle cues, a question here, a curious look there. Once you’ve dazzled him with stories of your life back in Day and bored him with the details of your work, (although you did your best to pepper in your favorite stories, like the time you discovered an entire catalogue of ancient erotic court poetry), you dare to ask him about his own life here at the Night Court.

You expected him to continue deflecting, as he’d been so fascinated by your home court, but he actually responds with some substance. Azriel pauses before pointing out his family, a group of equally breathtaking and imposing fae in a booth at the other end of the bar. He keeps it brief, but shares how he met Cassian and Rhys in a training camp and hasn’t known a moment's peace since. Despite his harsh words, you catch the tenderness even as he grumbles on about Mor and Feyre, and Amren, who isn’t here tonight, which he says you can detect by the lack of frightened screams. You’re equally shocked and delighted by the casual humor with which he treats them all.

It’s not lost on you that he’s just told you about his family when you had asked about him. Yet between his calculated words and their meaningful tone, he’s actually sketched quite an intimate picture of his life and his values.

You like the rhythm of his curt words, how he says a lot with a little. Occasionally, his dry humor will catch you by surprise, and he’ll grace you with a wry smile as you laugh. The spymaster can be quite unexpectedly cavalier at moments, much to your delight. He meets your playful verbal sparring with just as much fire.

After chatting amiably for a while, a comfortable silence falls between you as you nurse your drinks. Azriel surveys the crowded room, ever on alert. You take the chance to brazenly observe him. You can’t pick what to focus on. The slope of his nose fascinates you, you wish you could reach out and trace it. The elegant planes of his face are punctuated by strong features, his brows, chin, and jaw all bold. You wonder how he’s such a successful spy when he’s built so distractingly. Especially with such expansive wings, currently tucked behind where he perches on his stool. His careful arrangement of them does little to hide their imposing glory. You suddenly wish you could see them splayed out in full spectacle.

Over the duration of your research at Night Court, you’d come across descriptions of Illyrians, read about their culture, their physical traits. Their wings were closely guarded, sensitive parts. You were curious about flying, what it felt like, if they enjoyed it. You feel his rough hand on yours still, noticing their size and the thick veins under his scars. You force yourself to reel your mind out of the gutter, instead diverting to wonder at the marks that cross his hands. When you look back to his face, his unreasonably fashionable lashes flutter as he finally catches you observing him. You see high color in his cheeks, but he doesn’t call you out. You finish your drink, noting that his glass is also empty.

You motion your glass to the bartender, chatting briefly while he pours you two fresh ones. You can barely focus on the pleasantries you exchange, aware of Azriel’s eyes on you. His expression is soft, yet heady. Intense. His gaze traces your features in the same way you had just admired him.

You turn back to him eventually to push his drink into his hand. His eyes reluctantly move from your exposed back and briefly over your lips before meeting your eyes. You immediately look away, scanning the bar absentmindedly as you flick your hair over your shoulder. The motion exposes your neck, testing, aware of his gaze still on you. He takes a long, slow drink, his eyes never leaving you. When you swallow, you see his eyes follow the movement of your throat.

“Is this a gay bar?” you ask abruptly.

He chokes, coughing into his arm. “What?”

“Is this a gay bar?” you repeat, your nose scrunching in a wince at his reaction. You’ve never seen him so caught off guard, didn’t know it was possible. He catches your grimace, and quickly recovers, wiping his nose as he recovers from his coughing fit. He nods in confirmation.

“You must think us horrible,” he says, referring to his court, compared to Day, which was much more open around sexual attraction and orientation, he guessed, if their High Lord was any indication. He thought of Helion’s history of advances to him, and Mor and Cassian for that matter. “First, that bastard talks to you like that. Then–”

“No!” you interject. “No, your people are just more… reserved. I didn’t see anything indicating it… but I noticed a few ladies sitting together like we are. So I wondered…” you flounder. It’s his turn to wince.

“Why?” he asks. “Are you looking for a lucky lady?”

“Not tonight.” You hide your grin behind a sip, as his eyes widen almost imperceptibly at your meaning, his pupils dilating. You’d enjoyed your fair share of females, males, others… Your eyes narrow on him then. “Wait, why are you here then?”

“It’s Mor’s favorite club.” He shrugs. “And I don’t mind playing security in case any oblivious males wander in with big ideas in the wrong way.”

“Ahh. So you don’t usually come to the gay club to pick up females?”

He just snorts at that, shaking his head at your nonsense. You don’t miss how his shadows perk up at your choice of words. You grin, showing him your teeth as you prod further.

“So I should feel special then?”

You hear his sharp intake of breath, the only sign he understands your implication. He sets his drink down, his eyes on yours, questioning. Your heart thuds heavily in your chest as you watch his motions, tense with anticipation. You meet his gaze, confident and steady. You’d seen how he had devoured you with his gaze moments ago.

“What are you implying?” he grunts, voice thick.

“I think you’re smart enough to figure it out,” you whisper, your eyes on his.

He only hums, his hand coming to cradle your face, caressing your jaw. The touch arouses your senses, a slow flame flickering to life in your abdomen. His pupils are blown wide, like he’s found a mystical reality in your eyes. It’s his gaze flickering to your lips before finding your eyes again, imploring, that causes you to break. “Are you gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.” He squints, unyielding.

You whine. You whine . You’ve never whined for a male in your life. There’s a first time for everything, you suppose. After all, you were sent here for research. A new experience such as this could certainly fall within that wheelhouse. Azriel was generously helping you with your research, exploring your capacity to keen for someone in desperation. You take in his capable hands, his broad shoulders and wings, his delicate lips. The fantasies flashing in your mind force you to confront your desire. It’s been brewing all night.

“I want you,” you speak with utter clarity.

That’s all it takes and he’s tossing back the rest of his drink, his hand sliding down to catch your arm, unwilling to break contact. And then he’s ushering you out of your chair, ever the gentleman, and rushing you through the crowd until you hit the fresh air, your feet on the cobblestone street for the barest moment before he sweeps you up again, one hand gripping your hip, the other placed firmly on your jaw. His breath comes in short pants as his flared eyes meet yours, again questioning, allowing you control.

In answer, you angle your head up to meet his mouth in a furious kiss. Your hands circle his neck, grasping his hair, blindly trying to find purchase as your lips connect. All your sensory experience fades save for the burn of his mouth on yours, and the feeling of his hands pressed to your body. You taste the lingering spice of the liquor you’d shared and beneath it, something earthier, the taste of him. You pour all your passion and need into the contact, and you feel the same charge from him. His ravenous kiss is a window to the tempest inside, his desperation evident in every move of his powerful jaw against yours.

When he pulls away, he’s panting hard, a grin threatening to overtake his majestic features, his lips swollen and shining in the starlight.

“We doing this on the street, or…?” you prompt breathlessly.

He takes in the thankfully deserted street outside the noisy club. “Good a place as any,” he shrugs.

You scrunch your nose and tug his hair. His laughter dissolves into a groan at your actions. “Fuck. You’re killing me,” he breathes.

“I’m about to,” you say, exasperated with the delicious male entangled with you.

“My place?” he asks. You nod quickly, in desperation for his touch as much as desire to get out of the public area. He hums again, “And here I was thinking that you Day Court fae were so much more open and shameless about these things.”

You scoff at his words.

“You’d better be worth the trouble,” you grumble, hiding your mirth. He flashes you the cockiest grin, and you’d smack him if you didn’t want to preserve his mouth’s function for better uses.

“Trust me, baby, I am.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes flash at your taunting. “Hold on,” he growls.

You swallow a scream as his wings extend, and his legs bend briefly before leaping into flight. His arms wrap tightly around your frame, and you cling to his neck fiercely. You recall your fantasy about his wings from earlier in the evening. As you soar into the night sky, you find yourself admiring them once more, their power and his deft command of them.

“I can’t believe you’re admiring me instead of the view.” His voice interrupts your thoughts.

“If I look at the view, we might be seeing some of that whiskey from earlier again,” you admit, your stomach dancing from so many different stimuli on your nervous system. The flying, the anticipation of sex, the sheer proximity with the stunning male who carried you now.

“We’re not far away,” he assures. Sure enough, when you risk looking away from his elegant, aerodynamic form, you see the city below rising into the cliffside where the court’s residence was perched.

You barely have a moment to take in the magnificent columns and lavish ornamentation of the palace balcony after he sets you down before he reconnects your lips. His blistering appetite sets your own aflame again, his hands sliding along your form, pausing briefly at your exposed midriff.

When he first appeared behind you in the bar, he had been gallant and polite, the perfect picture of a noble courtier. As you’d flirted over your drinks, his wry humor had surfaced, and now this unbridled passion had emerged. There certainly was more to the shadowsinger than met the eye. Your insides fluttered at the intimacy of your insight into the divine male who you were currently swapping spit with. You thanked the Mother that you’d dedicated yourself to flirting all these years in good faith, without ever knowing that your dedication would be rewarded in such fine form. Against your will, your mouth began to curve into a smile against his.

With backbreaking effort, you break away from his lips. He goes to follow your lips, but you stop him with a chaste kiss before pressing kisses along his jaw and down his throat.

“Sorry for the turbulence,” he gasps out as you continue your assault on his neck. “I needed us to get here. F-fast.”

Your only acknowledgement of his words is the flick of your tongue over the spot under his jaw you’d just marked. How considerate of him. Even when he’s melting beneath you, he maintains his manners. The devil inside you wonders what it would take for him to abandon his civility. Between kisses, you glance down to see his leathers barely restraining him. You figure you might not need an elaborate plot to find out after all.

He growls as you notice his arousal. You look up from the crook of his neck, and his expression turns your core molten, desire written plainly across his face. His hands had wandered down to your ass, where he now taps gently, urging you up into his strong arms. Your heart leaps as he picks you up, but he doesn’t take off flying this time. He carries you further into the interior, your legs coming to wrap around his midsection, your arms secured again around his neck. He’s holding you by your thighs like your weight is nothing, causing you to burn in anticipation of how he might throw you around later.

Fire throttles through your veins at the incessant touch of his wet lips on your neck. He’s dedicated to returning the favor of your vicious attack on him moments ago. You have no idea how he successfully navigates the hallways despite being buried under your jaw, for all you know he’s using your moans and whines to echolocate.

It’s a short trip, but right when you were about to beg for him to just take you in the hallway, he walks you into a simply furnished room with expansive windows and another balcony that offers a sweeping view of the city. Starlight streams in, painting the room and the male carrying you in a silver glow. The breathtaking midnight ambiance does nothing to distract the soldier currently working through your meager defenses via bruising open mouthed kisses to your collarbone. His fervor makes your skin dance, it's been a while since your body has received such attentions.

“Fuck, am I glad I caused a scene with that bastard earlier. Got your attention an’ all.” You mean it as a joke, but his expression darkens with reserved aggression.

“That was meant in jest,” you clarify.

“He was leering at you all night,” Azriel growls, between wet kisses to your neck. “I still might tear his throat out.”

His words go straight to your core.

“He’s long gone,” you force yourself to say casually, despite how his words affected you. Between that and his tongue, it’s a wonder you’re still stringing together coherent syllables. “How would you even find him?” you laugh, attempting to divert the male’s intensity.

He pulls away from your neck and gives you a pointed look. “It’s… kind of my job,” he says.

“Oh,” you say foolishly. Right. Azriel is the court’s Spymaster. He probably has his shadows tailing the bastard at this very moment to make sure he doesn’t bother anyone else. He could easily eliminate anyone he so chose. “Right.”

He shakes his head at your antics, finally walking you over to the bed. In your research, you never came across anything about shadowsingers, so you’re not sure if his shadows had read your mind – but he throws you on the bed exactly as you’d fantasized, powerfully and precisely, your body bouncing as you gasp in shock and delight before he follows you, crawling onto the bed to hover over you.

His wings flare slightly as his legs settle between yours, one of his knees hooking under your leg, exposing your clothed core to his every brush.

“Do you want me to kill him for you?” he purrs into your skin. You gasp, at his words as much as the twisted thrill they send through you. You look into his eyes, and slap his shoulder at the mischief you see in his expression. He laughs at your indignation.

“I would if you wanted me to,” he reiterates, an arrogant grin spreading across his face. “I might do it just because it seems like it would turn you on.” You gasp again at his words, face flushing in embarrassment. “No need to be embarrassed, baby.” He returns to placing lazy kisses along your neck as you moan beneath him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice heady. You almost can’t bear it. He’s making you feel so good with just his mouth on your neck. You’re not sure how you’ll survive the night.

Azriel must be determined to take you within an inch of your life, you think. His next dizzying move is to grab your hands from where they’d begun exploring his body to trap them above your head. To your relief, he ends his siege on your neck, instead serving slow torture as he reconnects your lips in a sensuous kiss, your body singing as you lay pinned beneath him. You feel his hard length press into your thigh. By his quiet moans, you recognize the same ardor he displayed earlier, though at an easier pace now that he has you where he wants you. That just wouldn’t do. He can’t have all that muscle mass just to keep it covered, poised tantalizingly out of sight above you.

He’s reading your mind again, you think, as his fingers toy with the hem of your top in silent question. You sit up rapidly, his quick reflexes narrowly avoiding your head colliding with his nose.

“Yes, please! Finally,” you nod, his laughter echoing in reply at your eagerness. “You want to help?” you ask. His face is flushed from your activities but you swear it deepens at your words. You raise your arms, allowing him to lift the silky black material from your form. He’s silent, starlight flashing on the dark expanse of his pupils, blown wide. You would be unnerved if it weren't for the way his chest is rising and falling dramatically, the hunger in his gaze, in his parted lips. You see him start to crisply fold the slim fabric before his brain kicks in and he throws it aside haphazardly. While you love a tidy male, you do prefer one with such a proper sense of priorities.

“Good boy,” you coo absently, preoccupied with absorbing every detail of his reaction to your lace clad chest.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he sighs finally, his eyes flickering to yours as his hands hover above your breasts. You bite your lip and grab his hands to connect them to your waiting chest.

“Touch me, Az. Don’t be shy with that mouth either,” you order as he scowls playfully, already palming your tits with zeal. You see his eyes widen as he feels them, specifically the bars in your nipples. His mouth falls open, and it's your turn to flash him a smug grin even as he has you writhing from just his rough hands playing with your chest.

“I’m not shy,” he grumbles brattily. You allow his attitude given how he quickly follows it up by placing his mouth back to your chest, this time exploring further from your collarbones, moving to skim the tops of your bra and the valley between your breasts.

“It’s not my fault you make me crazy,” he groans, his eyes glistening like the spit dangling deliciously between his mouth and your skin.

You just moan in response. How are you supposed to respond to that coherently? Especially as he cruelly pulls away for a brief moment to shrug off his vest, revealing the inked expanse of his chest and the curling hair trailed low on his stomach to disappear beneath his leathers.

“Can I taste you, baby?” Scratch that thought. How are you supposed to respond to that coherently? “Gonna let me make you feel good, huh?” Azriel begs, his voice thick with need. You nod, delirious at the mere suggestion.

“I need to hear your words, angel,” he smiles, seeing the fog in your eyes, needing to know it's all for the right reasons.

“Yes, Az. Yes, please,” you manage. He presses a quick kiss to your lips, humming in satisfaction, before moving his touches down your body.

He handles you like you’re the most cherished thing he’s ever beheld, but not like you’re fragile. You can’t remember the last time a male handled you with such awe and respect. You whine as he kisses your stomach, making your center melt. You’re sure you’re dripping at this point, but you can’t be bothered to feel embarrassment in the presence of the Illyrian kneeling before you in reverence, his mussed hair a dark halo, his leathers conspicuously strained at his crotch.

He tugs you to the edge of the bed, carefully situating you with a pillow as he kneels on the floor. You feel like a boxing dummy that he’s strategically setting up just to destroy.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all night,” he admits as he sets your knees over his shoulders, your feet kicking his wings lightly. You realize you haven’t even taken off your boots, you’re not even sure when he took his off, but as you go to mention your shoes and your skirt, he kisses the inside of your knee and the words die in your throat.

He rubs his hands over the tops of your thighs, pulling pretty moans from you as he kisses along the inside of your legs, towards where you need him most. You’re really not sure what his plan is with your skirt and underwear– until he dives right in, licking you over your clothed center, eliciting a garbled sound you hardly recognize as yours.

Your skirt is so short it offers no real barrier, except slightly obscuring the tip of his nose as it digs salaciously into your clit. A shadow curls around his ear, and he makes eye contact with you as he hikes your skirt up slightly, so you can see his every move.

“Eyes on me, angel,” he commands softly, and any response you might have had chokes and dies on your lips. He deftly hooks his fingers in your undergarments, aggressively pulling them to the side. And then his mouth is back on your core, and it’s an overwhelming sensation, his warm tongue licking a stripe up your center, then relaying to repeat the motion down to your opening. You grip the sheets in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. One of his hands strokes your thigh while the other keeps your wild hips pressed firmly into the mattress.

He pauses only to murmur soft praises as you tremble at his caresses. At this point you’re seriously concerned about your erotic future. What if this male ruins you for everyone else? What if you can never successfully pleasure yourself again? You know you’ll never be able to replicate the bliss he’s currently delivering. His mouth scorches you, he’s taken on a slow and steady rhythm, lapping and sucking, that’s unstringing your body from your soul. You’re not sure that you’ll ever recover. You’re grateful that you have no plans tomorrow because you’re not sure you’ll be able to walk. Maybe you’ll be able to roll yourself down the palace’s endless steps and to the library where one of the priestesses might take mercy on you and nurse you back to health. You could pay them by recounting this experience, surely this prime fuel for fantasy would equate to some kind of currency. With a generous exchange rate.

Your eyes shoot open as his mouth leaves you, your moans taking on a pained note at the visceral loss.

“Baby,” Azriel chides. “I asked you to keep your eyes on me.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d closed your eyes as you’d been calculating the exchange rate of sexual fantasy fodder to gold. You will yourself out of the delirium, but his glistening mouth isn’t helping.

“Stay with me, angel,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing encouraging circles on your inner thigh as you babble something rude about his upbringing while he takes the moment to slip your ruined undergarment down your legs.

He’d given up on holding you down, so you grind into his face as he resumes his merciless consumption of your molten pussy. The vibrations of his moans on your core multiply your pleasure delectably. The whole glorious sky of the Night Court seemingly flashes across your vision as he lowers his rough fingers to add pressure to your sensitive bud, swirling pleasure explosive as shooting stars.

“You taste so good, baby,” he praises. “This all for me?” he asks as he gathers your slick with his fingers before resuming his strokes. All you can do is moan helplessly in affirmation.

When he finally sucks your clit into his mouth, the pressure has you gasping, gripping his hair to anchor yourself to him, to the pleasure he’s delivering straight to your weeping core. He alternates between licking and sucking your clit while he teases you with his thick digits. He looks utterly engrossed, devoted to your trembling form, working you meticulously.

“Azriel,” you warn. Your breath quickens just before your body stills, broken noises escaping your lips, falling like a beautiful reward on his waiting ears. The release is more powerful than anything you’ve experienced in recent memory, rocking you to your teeth.

He works you through the aftershock of your orgasm, continuing to lick and thrust until your spasms quiet, your breathing calmed from its fervent staccato as he cleans you out.

“Hey, are you still with me?” he asks, concerned.

You realize you haven’t said anything and he’s been sitting rubbing the tops of your thighs softly while you come down from your high. Too tired for words, you bend to guide his head up to meet yours in a luxurious kiss. It invigorates you, languid as it is, his tongue exploring the backs of your teeth as he sucks in a long breath before moaning into your mouth.

His arms come to cup your face, dislodging one of your legs that remain thrown over his shoulder. It falls with a loud thud as your booted heel meets the floor, your limbs like lead. The sound makes him jump and pull away guiltily as he takes in your state of collapse.

“I’ve never been better,” you confess candidly.

He smiles at that, ruddiness in his cheeks deepening at your declaration.

��I can’t believe they let you walk free about the lands,” you continue, egging him on, shaking your head. “You’re a goddamn menace! That mouth should be regulated! I should have gotten security clearance to have that experience.”

He buries his head in your knee, his shoulders shaking in mirth as he hides from your praise. He kisses your knee and you curse the rubber feeling in your legs, wishing you could kick him for his insolence. Instead you pet the back of his neck, soaking in the sight of him between your legs.

You don’t know it, but he’s soaking in your image as much as you are his. You look ethereal splayed out above him, his shadows skirting around the silver light glowing on your scalp, creating a kinetic halo fit for a queen. In your bra and hiked up skirt, catching your breath on his bed, your vitality is on full display for Azriel’s keen eyes, your pulsing life form beating and raw to his senses. Even in your state of undress, your appearance is regal, striking in command above him. He feels his shadows writhing in excitement, thrilled with your energy, matching the gravitational anomaly in his gut.

Azriel is reminded of the gravity of battle, how for centuries he has waded through enemies time and time again in a familiar yet shapeless pattern of destruction. Despite the wrathful chaos, there’s a rhythm he’s come to anticipate. Amidst the waves of common soldiers, every division or so, he will fall into the gravity of a real threat, usually an enemy commander, an opportunity to face a real contender. Their paths of destruction will orbit briefly before colliding in gruesome ruin. He knows he’s been lucky to emerge in the land of the living after these conflicts.

At this moment, he’s strangely reminded of that repulsive kind of attraction, of power to power, as he once again faces a real contender. It’s a total inverse, yet your magnitude presents a similarly brilliant polarity. The aftershock of your pleasure is a welcome sequence compared to the grim aftermath of such a battle. He much prefers your sacred subversion of that profane impact. As you stroke his hair, it feels like redemption. It feels like his twisted history of bloodshed could be transformed and redeemed as justice under your tender hand.

He kisses your knee once more, blinking away the stinging in his eyes. His thoughts return to the present as you shift above him, sinking to his level on the carpet to capture his lips with a kiss once more. You hum, tasting yourself on him now that your senses have recovered from his euphoric torment.

The impatient male lifts you up effortlessly, and you let him stand the two of you, until he moves to take you back to the bed. You twist, and Azriel allows you to spin him so that you’re backing him towards the cushions. He groans into the kiss as your fingers brush his lower abdomen, skimming the edge of his leathers. You feel the reverberation of it in your own stomach.

“Are you going to let me return the favor?” you ask with a devilish grin. The sight of your soft tongue and sharp canines makes his wings twitch, willing his shadows to relax their riot, but they betray him. His eyes shine with need, breath hitching as you dip a finger under the waistband of his pants.

“I need to hear your words, angel,” you mimic his earlier words.

“Do your worst,” Azriel grunts, instantly regretting his words as he catches your wicked look.

You push his shoulders so he throws himself dramatically against the bed, wings flared slightly in anticipation. His mouth falls open as you move away from him, but his protests die as he sees you reach behind your torso to unclasp your bra, finally revealing your chest to him fully. His throat thickens, fists clenching in the sheets as you run your hands along your form, massaging your breasts, relieved to be unconstricted at last. The moonlight glitters on the jewelry in your hard nipples, attractively ornamenting some of your favorite features. Looking at the male barely restraining himself in front of you, you almost feel bad for how riled up he is.

Taking pity on the simmering Illyrian, you cut your strip tease short, planting a slow kiss on his lips before kneeling before him. If Azriel was concerned about your magnetism earlier, he’s certain it’s fatal now. Your fluffed hair, dislodged skirt, and bare chest all poised to drive him insane with want. When you finally slide his leathers down his thighs, he’s relying on his centuries of training to keep himself under control. The sight of his impressive length, swollen and rigid against his stomach, has your thighs clenching.

You stroke his upper thighs, kissing along the inside of his knees. His dick twitches as you wrap your hand around its swollen girth. Your first experimental tug elicits a deep stuttering groan from the male. His expression is almost flustered, skin flushed and damp. Despite the sweat you’ve both broken, it’s not doing anything for the chafing. Dissatisfied with the dry friction, you use your brain, quickly locating the nearest source of wetness, which happens to be between your legs. Azriel’s jaw looks like it's about to break from tension, his eyes wide as he follows your hand disappearing under your skimpy skirt. When you grip his cock again, it’s to spread the slickness along his member. You look up at him innocently as you continue pumping, finding a satisfying rhythm.

“You like that?” you ask teasingly.

“You’re gonna kill me, angel.” He can’t contain the shudder that racks his body at the image and sensation of your firm hand pumping his dick. He’s worried about losing brain function with the lack of blood circulating anywhere else in his body. His chest heaves, and he forces himself to focus on breathing regularly as you drag your hand up and down him, squeezing occasionally at the base. When you lick flat along the underside of his length, his wings flap in a brief frenzy.

“Just like that,” he cries.

You grin at his reactions, his broken moans and spasms only encouraging your actions. After he just rewrote your pussy’s worldview with his tongue, you’re delighted to serve him the same experience.

“You look so stunning on your knees for me.”

He grasps your scalp, keeping a light hold on your hair as you bend to place shallow licks at his head. His strangled groan has you wrapping your lips fully around his neglected tip.

“Fuck,” he exhales.

The salty musk of him fills your mouth as you breathe through your nose to focus on his sensitive head. You use your hand to pleasure him from the shaft as you suck lightly on the end of his cock, swirling your tongue. His moans of rapture send thrills through you. You look up at him, entranced by the pleasure written on his face. You bob your head, taking him in further, causing him to curse again. You don’t bother with taking all of him, you’re not trying to choke and die even on this divine dick, and your mouth is full as it is, tears threatening your waterline. Your saliva mixes with your slick, coating him, delivering layers of pleasure through Azriel, vibrating from his spine to his toes. The wetness of your mouth and the warmth of your hand ease him stroke by stroke into his ecstasy.

When Azriel feels his wings seize up and his toes begin to curl, he tightens his fist on the back of your neck, pulling you abruptly off of his cock. You glance back up at him, appreciating his delirious arousal, his flexing thighs. His inked chest shines, slick with exertion, his whole form sharpened into an enticing point fit just for you.

“Sorry,” he wheezes. “I didn’t want to finish like this, I want to feel you.”

You nod, biting your lip.

“This isn’t over,” you promise in a whisper to his furiously hard member, placing one last tender kiss at the base of his cock. He shudders at the abrupt touch, and you laugh at your own antics. His eyes shine with humor and lust.

“Come here,” he begs, pointlessly, since he pulls you up to his lap effortlessly, and you offer no resistance. Your bent knees rest on either side of his thighs, your cores separated by mere inches as you straddle him, your feet coming to rest against his shins. He presses kisses into your mouth, jaw, and collarbone in manic succession, your hands coming to tangle in his hair.

“Fuck. Don’t tease now,” you chastise him as his mouth finds your nipple, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud, your back arching instinctively into his touch.

“What do you want from me?” he retorts, continuing his biting caresses.

“I want you to fuck me, Azriel,” you order, emphasizing your words with a sharp tug on his dark locks. He snarls against your chest, hips bucking involuntarily.

“I thought you liked putting in some work, baby. You sure seemed to enjoy being on your knees for me just now,” he taunts.

“You need me to do the work, huh?” you muse, and his motions pause at your jab. “Fine by me,” you sigh, swiftly gripping his length and sliding over him before he can comment. His head whips up from your chest, fiery response dying in a whimper at the sensation. You notch him at your entrance, pausing to make sure he approves your actions.

He catches your look, but instead of replying he takes advantage of your hesitance to grab your hips and rub himself against your folds, both of you groaning at the delicious feeling of your collision.

“Come on, baby. If you’re so tough, have your way with me,” he coaxes, the brazen words lacking any real bite as he strains beneath you. With shaking hands, you reach between your bodies, your skirt ridden up again to fully expose your dripping core, where you finally guide him to your entrance. His head falls into your shoulder as you take him in, moaning noisily as you adjust to his size and girth.

“Shit,” you pant, overwhelmed on all fronts between his groans nuzzling into your neck, his strong hands grabbing at your hips, and his delicious length stuffing you so completely.

“Baby. Oh, angel,” he chokes, equally impaired with pleasure.

You shift your hips tentatively, gasping. He throws his head back in bliss, his hands tightening on your hips.

“You feel so good around me. You feel so good,” Azriel chants.

His eyes squeeze shut as he rides the waves of euphoria from you swiveling in his lap. As absorbed as he is with his own pleasure, he’s still acutely aware of your body’s every response. Your breathy whines and moans, your clenching walls, your stuttering hips. You find a rhythm rocking against him, not so much thrusting as grinding, but your choking walls and the spectacle of your chest bouncing in his line of sight are doing it for him just fine.

“That’s it. Use me, baby,” he urges, moaning filthy encouragements as you ride him.

When your hips start to falter, he coos in sympathy, seeing your frustrated need. He uses his hands to guide your hips over him, leaning back so he can angle thrusts to meet each motion.

Your body feels like it’s fully alive, awakened by his actions. He meets your urgency with an unrelenting pace. His concentration is dead set on where your bodies join, watching his cock disappearing into you over and over. He loves this feeling, of giving himself over to you, using his body to create pleasure instead of pain.

“Let me hear you. Is this what you needed, huh, baby?” he coaxes.

The familiar burning sensation builds in your abdomen. When he hears your cries pitch higher, your restraint spent, he knows you’re close. It takes all your concentration to meet his blistering kiss as he fucks into you at a frenzied pace. You cry into his mouth as one of his hands comes to circle your clit, sending waves of pleasure deep into your core. There isn’t an inch of your body unaffected by his assault. You feel the pull of pleasure even in your teeth as it burns in your thighs and licks up your spine.

The pressure in your core builds until one particularly hard thrust has you seeing stars behind your eyelids, bringing your release crashing over you.

He fucks you through it, concentration moving to your face, to see every stage of your satisfaction play out. The severity of his gaze only heightens your sensitivity as you ride out your second orgasm of the night. You might have to give him an award or something if he keeps this up. You’re still shaking when his hands release your hips to rest on your thighs, stroking them in reassurance while you catch your breath. You feel him still hard inside you. You’re not sure what else you’re in for tonight, but you know your tenure on top is just about over, your stamina exhausted. He must see it written on your face because a lazy grin spreads over his stupidly charming face, his thriving male ego on full display.

“Don’t start,” you blush.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” he laughs, looking at you playfully from under his eyelids. You see a shadow slipping away from his ear. The fuckers! Have they been informing him on your feelings all night, telling him exactly what will drive you crazy?

“Okay, big boy,” you drawl. “How about using that endless stamina for a good cause,” you suggest wolfishly, signalling that you’re not waving a white flag just because you got a little winded.

“Is this arrangement contingent on the boots staying on, or…?” he searches, quirking a brow, still stroking your thighs that rest atop his. Your heart leaps, you totally had forgotten that you were still half dressed. You’re still wearing your skirt– well, you suppose wearing would be a generous description, seeing how it had scrunched into a thin band at your waist– but your boots were decidedly still on your feet. You’re surprised that your aggressive physical activities hadn’t dislodged them.

“Yeah, sorry. Boots stay on,” you shrug, swallowing a laugh. “Why? Aren’t you into them?”

Azriel laughs at that, and the sound and its vibration remind you that he’s still very much buried inside you. You clench around him and he groans, capturing your hip with a hand as he twitches.

“I’m very much into them,” he sits up fully to murmur into your cheek, humor muted by his evident desire. “You look dead sexy. I just wonder if they might hinder our joint agility,” he begins tactfully.

You laugh at his diplomatic words, and he chuckles along.

“I can’t believe they didn’t come off!” you admit.

He laughs at that, and soon the two of you are reduced to howling tears at how long you’ve managed to keep your shoes on. He wipes his eyes, shaking his head and mumbling about what an inappropriate yet compelling endorsement you could make for the responsible cobbler, sending you into another fit as he lifts you off of him, perching you on the edge of the cushions.

He stands to pull the laces of your stomper boots, delicately slipping them from your feet, your socks following, his hands rubbing soothing patterns along your calves. His actions are innocent, yet the look in his eye is anything but. He looks ravenous, but he’s giving you a moment. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy this bit as much as what came next. Azriel just made you come twice and then belly laugh in quick succession. You know he’s fully employed too. He is turning out to be a man of many useful talents. This is dangerous territory.

“I am a little sad to see them go,” he sighs, jokingly, once your shoes were finally sitting on the floor next to him.

“You know, if you want me to wear them in your bed, you could just fly me all around the city so they never get dirty,” you joke from your position laid on the cushions. He rolls his eyes, but he’s beaming at you as he comes to stand between your thighs, and you can’t help but grin back. It’s been a while since you’ve had this much fun with someone. Nor is it lost on either of you that you’d just implied you might end up in his bed again. You don’t mind the admission, even as it hangs in the air. He’s a spymaster anyways, one way or another he’d figure out what you’re thinking.

“Noted,” is all he replies to that. “Lift your hips for me, angel.”

You feel your breathing hitch, affected in unladylike ways by his respectful words. You lift up slightly so he can slip your skirt down from your waist.

The simple movement dissolves the momentary limbo of your activities, and all the passion of the evening returns to you in full effect as you lay nude before him. He leans over you from where he stands, his hulking form and silhouetted wings imposing. His appetite is apparent, his massive length waiting and ready at his abdomen, angry at having been abused without satisfaction. Azriel has been fighting all night, you realize, and now he’s poised to claim his rightful glory.

You reach out to pull him towards you. As he crawls over you, his wings flutter shut, as if he means to tuck them safely behind his form for the rest of the night.

“Don’t you dare put those away!” you huff in frantic offense.

“What?”

“Your wings!” you exclaim.

“My wings?” he repeats.

“I’d like to look at them,” you request, quite nicely, you think, as he settles between your legs.

Azriel isn’t fooled by your innocent expression. He captures your lips in a bruising kiss, jaw working to claim every inch of fleshy territory. Without warning, his wings flare out, fanning your face with a rush. Your eyes shoot open to see your spoils, the leathery panes blocking the dim light from reaching your entwined forms. Heat rushes through you as you examine them, the thin veins and small scars whispering of stories he has yet to tell. His mouth works along your jaw as you revel in his illustrious form above you, fully claiming you into his world of shadows. He pauses by your ear, scraping his teeth along the sensitive shell before speaking lowly.

“You think wings and murder are sexy, you keep your boots on while you’re getting fucked… My girl is a freak.” Your heart soars at his words.

“Your girl?” you question. He freezes in his next kiss, ego vanishing, as if he’s not sure if he should be bashful. “I like it,” you declare. He pulls back to see the honesty of it in your eyes, and you know your face is sporting a twin banner of blush.

“Of course you do, you freak,” he says affectionately.

Your resounding grin fades into a groan as he runs a scarred hand up the inside of your thigh. He looks at you expectantly, the question in his eyes.

“I do think your wings are sexy,” you admit. He snorts, and you know that’s not the answer he was looking for.

“Are you planning to just lie there, perfect and naked on my bed all night, or are you going to let me fuck you properly?” he huffs out in desperation, not one to be outdone.

His hips grind against your thigh in emphasis. He is well and done with your larking.

“Well, gods, let me think about it, at least!” you shoot back mischievously.

You’re just toying with him now, but in your defense, he makes it so fun.

Azriel’s head falls to your shoulder, growling. But his gnarled hand vanishes from your thigh and his hips pause their motions. You feel a rush knowing that if you decided you were done, he would stop everything, despite his evident need. All night, he’s been so generous with his energy, from defending you back at the bar, to helping you get off as you struggled to ride him. Your pussy throbs at the power he’s offering up to your pleasure, freely and without expectation. You don’t quite know why you’re being mean, he certainly hasn’t earned it.

He looks up at you, his cheeks ruddy, his shining eyes searching, and you find your answer. It was simply empowering to see Azriel, a male usually so meticulous in his presentation, fall entirely apart for you. Everything about him was tantalizing, but watching him wield his historic power for your pleasure was the most grievous indulgence.

“Tell me,” he urges, seeing the whirl of emotions on your face.

“I need you inside me,” you relent.

His growl is the only warning you get before he sheathes himself inside you in one swift movement, relieved to obey your command. Groans fall from both your lips at the feeling of him pressed into you so spectacularly.

“Oh, oh , Az,” you revel in the feeling.

“That’s it, baby,” Azriel coaxes.

He eases you into it with gentle thrusts, placing kisses down your chest. His pace is slow, languid, like he wants to take his time with you, tearing you apart with precision, thrust by thrust. His hands clutch your hips in an attempt to still your thrashing.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he coos.

Your hands are all over, his hair, his shoulders, his arms, urging him to move, move, move. He blows a hot exhale across your breasts where he’s been occupied, steadying himself mentally before looking into your face. What you see only fuels you further. In his gaze is raw desire, desire that he’s keeping carefully controlled as he gives you what he thinks you need. Even buried inside you, he reigns himself in, commanding his passion in preservation of your comfort. His mind is screaming at him to drive faster, so much so that it drowns out your sounds of agreement in his ears. His slow strokes are a torment to you both, a needless sacrifice on his end.

Typically, you might appreciate how considerate he was being. But also, typically, you didn’t have a male buried inside you while you claw at whatever part of his largeness you can reach. What you need right now isn’t his courtesy, what you need is the full force of his passion, unchecked, to do battle with your own. You aren’t used to settling for less than what you want, so everything in you feels confident when you pull his face up to yours, noses brushing as he gasps into your open mouth.

“Az. I need more,” you state clearly. His hooded eyes flare as he finally sees the enormity of your fervor, how it matches perfectly blow for blow with his own.

“Hold on,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to your mouth in acknowledgement.

You don’t know if he means it literally or not, but you’re taking no chances as you cling to him. He pulls out slightly more, just enough to give him room to angle your leg up, his muscled arm holding your bent knee, allowing his hips unfettered access to your center. The shift has you whining against him, writhing as he gives you exactly what you asked for. You’ve never felt anyone so deep inside you, kindling that burn so deliciously.

And then he’s pounding into you at full charge.

“Come on, baby, give it to me,” he gasps.

In the throes of your pleasure, you note how his chest heaves, though the steadily punishing pace of his hips never falters. Your legs are numb in some places where you had feeling earlier. You chase your high together in an uphill battle, both worn and equally dedicated to seeing this through to its fateful conclusion.

“Doing so good for me, angel,” he encourages, and you mumble curses at his tender tone while he sets a brutal rhythm on your cunt. Your hot breath mingles, his forehead pressed to yours, like he needs every part of you to be connected, like when he draws out of you, he’s acutely pained for that moment it takes before he’s enveloped by you again. Watching him is intoxicating. Raw, starved agony tightens the elegant planes of his face as your leg scrapes lightly against the edge of his wing over his shoulder, and he shudders.

The contact evidently rouses something deep within him, his shadows writhing impishly along his wings. They slip invisibly over his shoulders, under the canopy of his wings to trace infuriatingly over your torso. One ravishes your breast, phantom pleasure coursing down to meet the brimming well of your desire. Their delight at your convulsing form under their ghostly caress is only matched by Azriel’s own fixation. His stare borders on obsessed, eyes blown out. He blinks, failing to clear his carnal fixation, pressing a maddening kiss to your mouth in drunken bliss, muttering your name like a prayer.

“That feel good, baby?” he grunts.

“Yes, Azriel, please,” you cry, not even sure what you’re asking for.

His pace is ruthless, and, far from quieting your own ache, it's successfully unpinning your every inhibition. It's as if his shadows are scouting every crevice of your being to shake out a thrill from any and every forgotten corner. Something shakes loose deep inside your chest as his brutal magnetism pulls pleasure from you. You set it aside to focus on the ecstasy being painstakingly, greedily delivered to your drenched core. You moan his name at the heat pulsing through you.

Azriel looks fucked out, his brows slick with tension and his mouth gaping as he absorbs you with equal adoration. You see your own need reflected in his face, and you feel like you’ve taken a hand mirror into a reflecting pool for how endlessly your bliss echoes between you. It’s mind bending, how it drives you crazy knowing he’s crazy for how he drives you crazy– you could almost laugh at the absurdity of it if you had any remaining breath. And if it didn’t feel so riveting, the symmetry of your hunger.

“I’m close,” you hiccup, body heavy with expectation, the smoldering heat growing to a fever pitch as he pummels you.

“I’m with you, baby. I’m right here with you,” he gasps.

One of his hands snakes down to encourage your clit with tight, fast circles. His attention, though, is on your face, watching the way elation plays across your features. The added sensation sends you over the edge, your third release blowing through you in scalding waves.

You cry out as your orgasm staggers you, hands blindly tugging his hair, holding him to you as you shatter. The pulsing grip of your cunt pulls him along the edge as he works you with quick thrusts.

At the sharp scrape of your nails on his scalp, his own pleasure snaps, waves of bliss cresting over you both in lock step, smoothing twin grooves of delight in your souls. He fucks you through it, his face buried in the side of your neck, his kiss biting with teeth as he tries messily to stifle his groans. The guttural noise of his cries shakes the room, your own heartbeat barely perceptible in its wake. When the quaking stops, he slumps down over you, totally spent.

You lay there in a daze for gods know how long, struggling for air together. He presses kisses into your shoulder until your cries quiet down and your breathing comes more easily. Azriel has definitely fucked before, so he doesn’t know why his heart is beating so wildly at this encounter, why he’s still greedily tasting your skin, why he’s so reluctant to pull out of you. When he feels like he has it under control, he peeks his head out from your neck. A grin is plastered on his gorgeous face, his hair sticking up in a stupidly charming fashion, his eyes shining with frightening levels of energy and mirth despite his limp form atop you.

“I can’t believe I found you in a gay bar,” he states. You flick his ear, nose scrunching at his audacity.

“You are ridiculous. Is that really all you have to say?” you accuse breathlessly, still gone soft in a delicious haze.

Azriel chuckles, shifting over you, so that his head hovers over yours again.

“No,” he says carefully. He slides his hand to move yours from his hair, bringing it to rest on the cushions above your head, his fingers twining with yours. Your brows furrow at the delicate gesture, you’d blush if he wasn’t literally inside you still.

“I just thought ‘holy fuck, please marry me?’ might be a little intense to lead with,” he offers, and what you see dancing in his eyes holds too much gravity to be mistaken for pure humor.

Your insides flutter again at his words, dumbfounded.

He means it as a joke, but there’s something in his eyes you wouldn’t mind waking up to every day for the rest of your life that feels dangerous. This was a fun, sexy adventure with a fun, oversized Illyrian, you rationalize. You’d reassess that flicker in your chest again after you were fed, rested, and bathed.

Azriel has similar ideas it seems. He slips out of you, your body protesting at the loss. He must sense this because he places a mollifying kiss to your stomach as he gets up from the bed. He returns shortly to find you still splayed out in total content, and hands you a tall glass of cool water. You didn’t realize how parched you were until you drank half the glass in several gulps, refreshing your dry throat. Azriel appears again with some towels.

He takes the glass when you offer it back, but instead of setting it aside he brings it to his own lips, finishing it off in one long drink. Your mouth goes dry again at the sight. You’re well and truly fucked if the sight of him finishing your water gets you excited. It’s not like you hadn’t just swapped spit with him in more exciting ways. You’re certain he notices you staring, but he doesn’t comment.

“Can I clean you up? Or do you want to…” he gently motions with the damp towel once he’s done torturing you with his pornographic drinking. You allow him to wipe you down, his gentle motions confident and efficient. It makes your body hum in a new way, how he handles you with casual reverence, hands skimming your flesh to check for tender spots before he cleanses there. You see your own glow reflected in him, one of utter contentment.

He crawls onto the bed with you, pulling back the blankets and cushions around you in a swaddled sort of cocoon before settling on your chest, his arms wrapping around you, wings coming to rest on either side of your form. You brush his wild hair from his forehead, and he hums as he nudges his head more firmly into your palm. He lets loose a long sigh when you brush your hands through his dark locks, eyes closing in contentment. His sore muscles loosen as he curls into you. It’s a powerful image, the hulking Illyrian sprawled lazily atop you in utter calm.

“Bed time,” he declares, much to your amusement. His nose brushes your sternum, and he sleepily kisses your skin before cracking a yawn. His swirling shadows quiet as he drops his guard for the night. Your eyelids begin to sink, despite your determination to memorize your position tangled with him. You swear you hear a whisper in the dark, a wordless plea in your ear, stay . Not that you have much choice with his bulky form practically trapping you against his bed.

“Good night, Azriel,” you murmur.

Sleep must have taken you seamlessly after that because next thing you know, the cool light of dawn is streaming in his open windows, illuminating the peaceful figure still resting on your chest. You wonder what the protocol for this is, if he expects you to slip out before he awakes. On your occasional hook ups, you’d never slept over before. Usually you would have left after, or woken up in the night and skipped. This time, you didn’t have the same avoidant fear marching you out the door.

In the night, Azriel had shifted, so now he lay with only one leg slotted between yours, his grip on your waist loosened. You try adjusting your back so that your head can lay more comfortably on his pillow– his soft and supple pillow, you note. His grip tightens on your waist at your movements, his brows furrowing in irritation in his sleep.

A grin blooms on your lips at his unconscious gesture. You relax into his large bed, pride singing in your veins. He was certainly decisive about your spending the night, and now with the prospect of a quiet, intimate morning before you... You know it was an involuntary movement, but all the same. You’re starting to think he might be into you. And you’re definitely into his mattress, you muse, closing your eyes to submit to the allure of his plush bed. Though it’s his pleasant weight resting over you that really lulls you into sleep.

When you wake up later in the full light of morning, you find Azriel watching you with appreciation.

“Good morning,” you mumble, feeling your face flush.

“Good morning,” he agrees, his voice rough with sleep, pulling you into his chest.

Your muscles protest, still sore, but it's a pleasant sting, you decide as you relax into him. You could spend all morning like this, wrapped in his strong arms.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks sweetly.

You nod, sleepily praising how comfortable his bed is. He’s shifted to press you against his firm chest, his hand coming to rest on your back. As you shift to nuzzle into his shoulder, you feel his half hard cock digging into your hip. His words from the night before rise to mind amid the heated memories of your shared activities. My girl , he’d called you. You figure you should act like it. If you work this right, this could be the first of many mornings spent in his bed.

You press your hips into his growing erection, and his eyes flash in warning. The sleep fades from his gaze as his hand at your back holds you in place against him.

You begin meaningfully, “I don’t have any plans today–”

“Thank the Mother!” Azriel growls, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. Warmth flares in your chest at his eagerness. Little do you know how Azriel is plotting similar schemes even as you lose yourselves to the magnetic bliss of your connection. You’d always been a flirt, but it had never earned you such a glorious reward.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” you ask teasingly.

“You know I did.”

“Well don’t push yourself now, I don’t expect you to be able to outdo last night,” you sigh mockingly.

His expression unnerves you, the challenge registering on his face in a slow, wickedly sensual smile.

“Oh, but I intend to.”

A/N: THANKS FOR READING!! This is the first fic I’ve ever "published"! I really enjoyed writing Azriel, he’s fun to play with. Also yeah maybe I implied that they were soulmates cause I am a lover and casual isn’t in my vocabulary, baby! Let me know what you think, I meant it to be flirty and then smutty and then it became kinda sweet, so hopefully you enjoyed the ride :) Let me know if you want part 2 ??

#pls comment if you enjoyed reading #and if you didnt enjoy reading #keep that shit to yourself baby #azriel smut #azriel fic #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #upon reflection #i think the title is stupid #but i think its funny so #here we are #ao3 saw it firstttt :P #my writing

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